Have you noticed type sizes in books, magazines and newspapers getting smaller and smaller lately?
Or maybe it’s my reading glasses … perhaps the, um, magnification weakens over time.
Whatever the cause, I’ve been putting aside pairs of glasses that just don’t seem to do the trick for me anymore. And today I finally remembered to bring them with me to church so I could put them in the Lions Club “Recycle for Sight” box.
The Club collects the used specs, repairs them if need be, and sends them to developing countries to help those in need see the light … along with everything else!
If you’d like to find out where there’s a collection box in your area, click the link above. I hadn’t visited the Lions Club website for a while and going there today reminded me that they also collect sunglasses (prescription and non-prescription) and hearing aids.
I definitely have a retro collection of mod sunglasses that I can bring along next time. Gah-roovy baby….
P.S. A reader sent this picture of their garden stone and I wanted to share its beautiful message: “Heartsong: There is an exquisite melody in every heart. If we listen closely, we can hear each other’s song.”
I passed a young student today selling chocolate-covered almonds on a busy downtown corner.
The poor kid could never cut it as at telemarketer – the only telltale sign that he was selling something was the way he struggled to balance the stack of candy boxes in his freckled arms.
I had to go right up to him and ask if the boxes were for sale. Poor little guy looked bewildered by the whole process so I asked if he was selling them for charity and he showed me his official charitable status badge and explained the money would support the Kids Care Club.
When I looked up the organization online, I was truly humbled by the good works these young good-deeders are doing all across North America.
Just to give you an idea, here are some of the kind endeavours of one of the clubs – one that was named “Club of the Month” on the Kids Care website:
B.C. Kids Care Club
West Heights Caring
Kids Care Club
Mission, B.C.
The West Heights Caring Kids Care Club, in Mission, British Columbia, was started by Jacqueline Fisher, after she read and was inspired by the book “Me to We” by Marc and Craig Kielburger. She checked out the Kids Care Clubs website and decided to organize a Kids Care Club at her elementary school as a way to start teaching children the joy of giving, including her own six children which range in age from 10 months to 12 years.
The club is open to all and 11 to 15 children attend the meetings regularly. They start their meetings by discussing the issue (often in regards to poverty), and then they do a project that relates to it. The projects range from small local acts of cheer to more elaborate efforts to help children in third world countries.
Socks, Gloves and Scarves for the Homeless
What would it be like to be homeless? The children shared their experiences of encounters with homeless in their community. They collected socks and gloves to go in special parcels for the homeless. They made the scarves themselves from fleece fabric. They assembled lunches, made “Christmas Cracker” crafts, and wrote personal cards and letters.
Literacy Celebrations — Book Collection and Reading to Others
Books were collected and sorted for local charities and donated to the Reading Tree, and a school in Africa. During Literacy Month, club members read books to the Kindergarten class and wrote their own storybook about being a caring hero. Each child illustrated a few pages of the book that was later presented to an early childhood program. “I was excited that kids in Africa could read these really good books!” said a WestHeights Caring Kids Care Club member
Thank You to Firefighters
Community help and service was discussed and the children decided that they wanted to thank their firefighters with Valentines and a chocolate treat.
They melted chocolate in the school kitchen (microwave) and created delicious treats. The firefighters (all 50 of them!) were delighted with this surprise and sent back coloring books, stickers, pencils and pins for the club.
“Random Acts of Kindness” Week Contest
The West Heights Caring Kids Care Club discussed how one child can start “random acts of kindness” and what it can become. They shared ideas about acts of kindness that they could perform and set up a “Random Acts of Kindness” week at their school. They also gave out handmade “pass-along kindness cards” for keeping track of one’s act of kindness. The winning class did 700 acts of kindness during that week!
Kids Care Clubs commends this club for the extensive outreach they have done locally and especially globally in nine short months.
Kids Care Clubs is pleased to be joined by Quaker in providing special recognition for the Club of the Month. Members of the WestHeights Caring Kids Care Club will receive a special gift directly from Quaker to share with their families and friends.
It was very blustery in our fair metropolis today. Skirts were flying, debris swirling, toupees holding on for dear life. Good day for kites, not so much for hair-dos.
As I was walking to the subway, I approached a young saxophone player who was trying to set up his case and his music book so he could start busking. But the wind was flapping the pages of the book so hard, I though they might rip right off.
As I may have mentioned once or, ahem, twice, I have a soft-spot for buskers and I saw that this guy probably needed a paperweight more than a few coins.
I knew there was a little park behind where he was sitting, so I took a chance I might be able to find something to help him out.
Not sure exactly what I expected to find. A heavy boot? A stray anvil?
But I hadn’t walked more than 100 feet and there was my answer – a pile of loose garden rocks. It was like finding a poor man’s pot of gold at the end of a non-existent rainbow.
I rubbed my eyes thinking it was a mirage, but nope – still there. So I picked up a good paper-weight-sized one then realized it was technically city property.
Could I get fined for boulder tampering? Or would a rolling stone gather no loss? (Okay, I’ll stop now.)
In the spirit of GDADism, I took a chance and, fortunately, no sirens or silent pebble alarms were triggered.
When I approached the young sax player, he’d managed to position his feet awkwardly on the corners of the music book and was starting to play (I think it was “My Old Flame”).
I bent down and gently placed the rock on the corner of the flapping page to anchor it. He stopped playing for a second and laughed when he realized what I’d brought him.
“Thank you,” he said, smiling.
“No problem,” I said, smiling back. And I threw some coins into his case for good measure. I stopped a little ways on to listen to him play … no, he didn’t strike up the theme from “Gone With the Wind” ….
My good deeds today were small ones. I tried to be more thoughtful and considerate in my everyday dealings … even in the morning, when I’m usually a little slow on the uptake.
In fact, I enjoyed my morning coffee so much, I told the young cafe server who made it how good it was. Her kindness in return was to run back to the cabinet and pull out the packet so I could see what kind it was (Green Mountain, in case you were wondering).
Everyday Hero … the sequel
Last week, I named Luke Jerram, the British inventor and artist behind the international art project “Play Me, I’m Yours” as my Everyday Hero.
A reader in Australia (thanks, Eric!) kindly sent me a link to a story about another branch of the project Down Under and I found it so inspiring, I’m continuing Luke Jerram’s reign as E.H.!
You may recall that his project involved placing a number of pianos in public places (in cities in the U.K. and Brazil and Australia) for anyone to play, listen to, decorate or otherwise enjoy.
In reading the article Eric sent along, I came across some great stories of how these pianos have brought joy and magic into the lives of everyday people:
In Birmingham, U.K.
“There is another [piano] at Colmore junior school, where a teacher was persuaded into an impromptu recital dressed in white gown with veil fluttering in the icy wind. She had been on her way to her wedding.”
In Sao Paulo, Brazil
Jerram installed 13 pianos in São Paulo, Brazil….
“At ￡1,000 each (a year’s wage for some people) many people had never seen a real piano before, let alone been given permission to play one,” Jerram said later. “The project made national news there.”
On Jerram’s website, one commenter wrote that he had heard a piano being played on a Sunday morning at the Lux station … Bach, Tchaikovsky, then:
“The most incredible thing happened, (something I had never seen in my 10 years of musical studies) a beggar — tattered and dirty, and smelly — sat at the piano and incredibly started playing the first notes of the Moonlight Sonata (Beethoven).
Another commenter wrote:
First off I would like to thank you for bringing your project “Play Me, I’m Yours” to my city, São Paulo. You have no idea of the positive impact it has been causing in our community. Everyday I catch the subway at Estacao da Luz, where one of your pianos is located. This is a very busy hectic place, where most of the people are coming from or going to work in a fast pace so typical of a megalopolis.
It amazes me the power of the instrument, the magnetism that it generates among people.…. I believe we have to take art out of its common venues and make it more public, more accessible….
I usually wait for a co-worker right next to the piano, and as she is always late, I have the chance to observe people’s reactions. I’ve seen people walking by and coming back to listen to somebody play, I’ve seen people calling dear ones from their cell phones to share the music with them.
I’ve seen an ice cream vendor crying after listening to a song, I’ve seen a couple dancing, I’ve seen 2 blind guys with the subway employee ( in charge of guiding them) sitting down and taking their time to appreciate the music. I’ve seen children in total ecstasy jumping around while an old man played a famous Vivaldi piece (from a perfume ad here in Brazil)….I can feel the respect they have for the instrument, I’ve seen people caressing it gently, admiring the keys, the shape, all its contours…Thanks again! You brought slices of magic to us all!!!
I’ve given spare change to many panhandlers over the years — not everyone I pass, mind you. Some days I’m in a rush. Other times I don’t have any ready cash in my pocket. And, frankly, some of the people just plain scare me.
More often than not, however, it occurs to me that it could just as easily be me holding out that ball cap or paper cup.
And then today I saw a very unsettling sight. A young aboriginal man, no more than 17 or 18, sitting on the pavement, his hand outstretched, holding an empty cup.
He appeared lost and alone but stone cold sober. His eyes were clear and bright. And his tawny face wasn’t the weathered leathery roadmap of his older peers but smooth, almost glowing. But for how long, I couldn’t help wonder?
“Take care of yourself, young man,” I wanted to tell him. “Be safe.”
Instead, I placed my money in his cup, looked into his clear dark eyes and blurted out, “God bless you.”
I can still see his face….
P.S. Heard Stevie Wonder sing this today at MJ’s Memorial. Rest in peace, Michael.
My husband and I had a very loooooong drive home from Vermont and when it was my turn behind the wheel, I tried to be as considerate as possible especially on the highway.
The average speed was about 120 kph, so it seemed like a good idea not to follow too closely, to signal in advance of changing lanes and keep up with traffic without breaking the sound barrier.
When we hit the service station for a rest stop, my GDAD practice really kicked in, however. It was a combination gas bar/convenience store with one large bathroom at the back for both men and women. (Not at the same time, however … I don’t think. Never mind.)
I took my place in line and guessed from the high-pitched squeals and cries inside that it was either a parent struggling to take care of a group of little kids, or the sign on the door was wrong and it was actually the entrance to a day care.
They were in there so long, the young woman ahead of me in line baled, leaving me in the front. The guy behind me left as well and a dad took his place holding his young son’s hand. The boy, who was about 7 or 8, was doing the two-step known around the world as the Pee-pee Dance. (I believe in cultured France it’s called La Dance du Pépé, and in Rio, of course, it becomes a very awkward Tango.) But I digress….
The kid hopped from one foot to the other so fast he could have understudied for Riverdance. He wore a plaid peaked hat with a puffy crown, like an engineer’s cap, and his face was contorted into a knot of intense concentration his dad probably wished he’d use during math tests.
When the bathroom door finally opened and The Von Trapp family filed out, I turned to the little dancing guy and said, “Why don’t you go on ahead.”
He didn’t need to be told twice and raced through the door — or rather, hopped through in a flash.
His dad thanked me and asked which direction I was headed, east or west?
“East,” I said. “To Toronto.”
“That’s west,” he said.
“Oh, right,” I laughed, about to do the I’ve-Got-to-Go-Go myself.
When the boy bounced out smiling, he kept on bouncing past his dad and to the front of the store.
Or at least I assume that’s where he went. I had other things on my mind ….
P.S. Here’s a lovely song for a rainy Monday. Enjoy!
Baby grand: The jewel-box opera house that sits atop the 108-year-old Haskell Free Library.
Music was my refuge. I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl my back to loneliness.
– Maya Angelou
Opera is where a guy gets stabbed in the back, and instead of dying, he sings.
– Robert Benchley
These are two of my favourite quotes about music — one makes me cry, the other laugh — I guess that sums up the range of emotions songs and stories stir up in me.
I attended a very cool concert this weekend at the Haskell Free Library and Opera House (a recurring theme this week, you’ll notice). The concert marked the return home of a local musician named Steve Bertrand.
The tiny perfect jewel of an opera house (in which the stage is located in Canada, half the audience in the U.S.) was packed to the rafters and Mr. Bertrand put on a great show.
He grew up around the corner, and recalled riding his bike past the building and dreaming of performing at the Haskell someday — and there he was, with three successful CDs under his belt.
At one point, Steve brought his high school teacher and music mentor up on stage for a few songs and stories, and it was a magical moment — a dream fulfilled — for both of them.
He told us part of the proceeds of the concert were directed toward restoring the historical structure. Like most investors, their building fund portfolio had taken a serious beating in the market downturn and the opera house had been in danger of *gasp* closing down.
That would be a crime against … music … and history. Steve told us that The Beatles had wanted to play at the Haskell Free at one point but some bureaucratic red tape stood in the way.
Even without John, Paul, George and Ringo, it’s still a truly special place and I bought a commemorative book at the library today to help keep their doors open and music playing.
What’s your favourite place to read? To hear live music? I would love to hear about them!
It’s been a quiet, rainy day here in GDADville, so I took the opportunity to pay a visit to some of the “click for charity” sites listed on my blogroll.
I did a little good-deed googling, helped fund free mammograms, stop hunger and give free books to kids … all from my keyboard.
I also visited a great site called helpothers.org and found this heartwarming story. Hope you like it too.
Side by Side –posted by Aurelia
I was shopping at the local department store and noticed this young man in his late 20’s looking carefully for children’s clothing and putting together really cute outfits to buy. This is a small store and when I went to the checkout counters, they were closed and the courtesy desk called me over there to check out. Wouldn’t you know the young man was checking out there, too.
We were side-by-side and I could see and hear his conversation with the cashier. When the total appeared on the cash register he looked down and said I don’t have enough money. He put back a shirt, and he was still short for money. Now, I myself, am not overflowing with money because my hubby is unemployed, but when I saw this guy putting back underwear and socks, I was heartbroken. Here he was trying to buy some nice clothing and needed items for his children.
I asked, “How much money are you short?”
He said, “$5.”
I said, “I have it,” and I reached into my pocketbook and handed over the money to him. He about fell over and was so thankful to me. I asked that he “pay it forward” in some way. When he left, the two cashiers said they’ve never seen that before except on TV. I told them I had seen him spending a lot of time in the store shopping and I wanted him to be able to follow through on his good deed for his kids.
P.S. Happy 4th of July to my American cousins. Here are some fireworks just for you. Enjoy!
Haskell Free Library and Opera House: Books downstairs, music up ... for real.
I’m typing this in one of my favourite places in the Milky Way Galaxy: The Haskell Free Library and Opera House in Derby Line, Vermont/Stanstead, Quebec.
(I used to say it was my fave place on the planet, but now that I’m back here and reminded how truly wonderful and special it is, I’ve given it a promotion.)
The building stands directly on the Canada/U.S. border. In fact, a thick piece of black tape runs across the maple floor of the 108-year-old library to mark the precise border line.
Not that Canadians and Americans can only stay on one side or the other, that’s the beauty of the place. If you enter on the Quebec side and leave the same way, you’ve never left Canada. Ditto for the Vermont side.
Once you walk through the heavy carved door, you enter a land of books without borders, a country of imagination, of words, of thoughts, ideas and stories, thousands of stories. Passport? You don’t even need a library card. They keep your name and address on file and when you borrow a book, you just sign the date in pencil for them. Very cool.
Opera House ceiling ... niiiiiice.
The U.N. could learn a lot from this little library about cross-border common-sense and practicality. In order to better serve patrons and maintain regular hours over this holiday week, the American staffers came to work on July 1st (Canada Day, a statutory holiday up north), while their Canadian colleagues agreed to work on July 4th.
Oh, and my good deed? I made a small donation to their building fund and left a note in their suggestion box to say “thank you” and “merci bien” for keeping such a special place going.
P.S. Here’s Neil Young singing an Ian Tyson song. Enjoy!
There’s a garbage strike in the city at the moment so my Litter Lady duties are needed more than ever these days.
Trouble is, there’s nowhere to put the dang trash. Once I pick it up (mostly recyclables recently, but those aren’t getting collected either), I end up carrying it home because Scotch Tape elves came in the night and taped up all the public receptacles with signs that read, “Out of Service.” Peachy.
In the true spirit of recycling, however, here’s an inspiring story I read in my local paper. The artist who created this project, Luke Jerram is my Everyday Hero today.
The story comes with a warning: Beware the overwhelming urge to play “Chopsticks”!
Play Me, I’m Yours Excerpted from The Globe and Mail
by Elizabeth Renzetti
Alex Beck stepped out of his job at a call centre for a quick spot of lunch and stumbled into the middle of an impromptu sing-along. Actually, he led the sing-along – Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me, followed by Your Song – and accompanied himself on an old beater of a upright piano that had been left in Leicester Square in the hopes that something exactly like that might happen.
The piano is one of 30 scattered around London, which together form an artwork called Play Me, I’m Yours, by Luke Jerram. This is its latest stop after Brazil and Sydney, both warmer climates in all senses of the word. It’s part community activism, part act of faith; London is not a city where strangers often speak to each other, let alone raise their voices in song. Anyone can sit down at one of the pianos – each has a songbook, containing mainly Abba and the Beatles, but also the odd hit from the 19th century.
Look ma, piano hands*: Let you play on any surface, they say. Cool.
Beck sat down and played – first shyly, and then lustily, as teenagers and tourists gathered to join an Elton John moment. “It’s a brilliant idea,” he said when the crowd finally let him go after three numbers.
The 22-year-old is putting in time at the call centre, but he really wants to be in musical theatre. “Did you see the way the music brought everyone together?”
A few minutes later, Jack Hurd sat down at the same piano, ignored the fact that it needed tuning, and played a heartfelt Hallelujah. He’s a music teacher from Perth, Ont., on an exchange with a school in Glasgow. He had no idea that the piano would be here when he brought his students to London to see Phantom of the Opera; as he began playing, their voices joined his to sing Leonard Cohen’s lyrics: “You don’t really care for music, do you?”
Soon you couldn’t see the piano for the crowd. When he finished, Hurd graciously accepted a round of applause and gathered his charges: “That was just great,” he said. “I think everyone’s quality of life just got a bit better.”
* Couldn’t get Piano Hands link to work in the caption, so here it is, folks.
If you’d like to find out where there’s a collection box in your area, click the link above. I hadn’t visited the Lions Club website for a while and going there today reminded me that they also collect sunglasses (prescription and non-prescription) and hearing aids.P.S. A reader sent this picture of their garden stone and I wanted to share its beautiful message: “Heartsong: There is an exquisite melody in every heart. If we listen closely, we can hear each other’s song.”
It was very blustery in our fair metropolis today. Skirts were flying, debris swirling, toupees holding on for dear life. Good day for kites, not so much for hair-dos.
I’ve given spare change to many panhandlers over the years — not everyone I pass, mind you. Some days I’m in a rush. Other times I don’t have any ready cash in my pocket. And, frankly, some of the people just plain scare me.
My husband and I had a very loooooong drive home from Vermont and when it was my turn behind the wheel, I tried to be as considerate as possible especially on the highway.
It’s been a quiet, rainy day here in GDADville, so I took the opportunity to pay a visit to some of the “click for charity” sites listed on my blogroll.
