Uncategorized – My Second Running Life

Mysterious Japan: Part 2

This edition of my trip report focuses on our travels to two smaller destinations, both on the western side of Honshu, the main island of Japan. As mentioned in Part 1, our son Matthew was a great resource for the logistics and details of our trip, particularly this part of it. I hope you’ll enjoy this summary, and of course, do check back in soon for the final installment!

Outline of the Week

First, a quick overview of our travels for this part of our vacation. Picking up the story at Hiroshima Station, we boarded a Shinkansen for Okayama, the capital city of Okayama Prefecture. From there, we caught a city bus to the port of Uno, and then a passenger ferry to the island of Naoshima.

A couple of days later, we reversed course for Okayama, this time on a local train. Then we transferred to a bullet train bound for Osaka, a short distance to the east. We overnighted near Shin-Osaka Station. The next day we took a regional train to Kinosaki-onsen, a small town in Hyogo Prefecture on the northern Sea of Japan coast.

It’s worth saying at this point, again, how impressed we were by the transportation systems in Japan. We were worried about all these connections, but as it turned out, we had no trouble getting to any of our destinations. Every transfer was flawless, and every component of the system was on time, clean and efficient.

The Art Island of Naoshima

Naoshima is a small island in Japan’s Seto Inland Sea. The whole island is only about 14 square kilometres. The terrain is quite hilly. Ferries make the short hop from Uno to the main port (Miyanoura) in about 10-15 minutes. The economy in the north of the island has long relied on industry, mainly copper smelting and aquaculture.

You may ask, what is the attraction to Naoshima? Well, over the last several decades, the south end of the island has become a centre for art and architecture. Benesse House is an organization that works to incorporate art into the local landscape. And when I say into, I mean “into”. The hotel and art museum, which opened in 1992, were designed by renowned Japanese architect Tadao Ando to fit seamlessly into the landscape. One of the buildings, the Chichu Art Museum, is completely underground. There are installations across the island, including multiple sites around the Benesse complex and several conceptual “art houses”.

Copyright for all photographs on the site is mine, unless noted.

We thoroughly enjoyed our stay in Benesse House Park. The view out over the grounds and the sea was beautiful. Even in a steady rain, the setting was impressive—and in a way, the rain enhanced the appeal of the stark concrete buildings. The artwork at the site includes sculpture and photography. We made the short walk to the Museum, and stopped at a couple of the open-air installations along the way. And we had some great meals in the hotel restaurant. The striking feature image for this post was taken just as the sky cleared after dinner on our second day.

The most famous piece on the site, Pumpkin, is a large sculpture by Yayoi Kusama. Pumpkin sits on its own pier a short distance from the hotel. It is definitely the most popular piece too, judging by the crowds that were snapping selfies with it. (I finally managed to get a nice photo of it when I went out for an early morning jog.) The piece was created for a 1994 exhibition of open air works around the museum. Adding to its appeal, the sculpture was blown out to sea (and rescued) in 2022.

Kusama, who is now 97 years old, has been an avantgarde artist for decades. Her pieces often include polka dots, which she attributes to hallucinations she had as a child. Other works of hers are found in Naoshima. We particularly liked her Narcissus Garden, a free form sculpture of stainless steel balls, installed in an open-air pavilion called the Valley Gallery.

Another large and popular Kusama pumpkin—this one red—is installed at the Miyanoura port. It made for a colourful picture when the ferry was moored close by. We enjoyed a short stroll around the town, which features a public bath that doubles as an art installation. Maybe on our next visit…

The Hot Springs of Kinosaki-onsen

Our next major stop in Japan was similar to Naoshima in one respect—it was rather remote. However, its attractions were quite different. We headed to Kinosaki-onsen, on the northern coast of the Kansai region. Onsen are traditional Japanese hot springs, treasured for their mineral-rich waters. The town of Kinosaki is particularly famous, as it has seven public baths where visitors can experience the relaxing geothermal waters in a serene setting.

Our JR West regional train got us to Kinosaki at less than Shinkansen speed, but was just as efficient. While we had brushed up on the etiquette for visiting onsen, we really weren’t sure what to expect. We arrived at our ryokan, the comfortable Morizuya Inn on the town’s picturesque main street. Hatchi, the owner/manager, immediately made us feel welcome, even insisting on some photos on a scenic bridge over the Otoni River.

First things first, we put on our yukata (dressing gowns) and enjoyed a traditional multi-course dinner in the dining room. Crab is the local specialty, it was in season, and it was definitely a highlight of our meal.

Many visitors make it a goal to see all the traditional onsens in the town. They can even get a stamp from each one as a souvenir. We set our sights a little lower, having never been to a public bath in Japan. In the end, we visited two of them, and we enjoyed the experience. Very relaxing! We began to appreciate why this is such an important part of Japanese culture.

Later, we took part in another cultural experience—the tea ceremony, led by Hatchi’s mother. She is a lovely woman, and the ceremony was very special.

Here are a few pictures from our laid-back time in this unique place. The picture of two ladies looking at a store window reminded me of one of my favourite Fred Herzog photos. On our last morning in town, I had the streets to myself for an early morning jog, and I was treated to a magical sunrise. There was some overnight snow on the cars, but coming from Alberta that didn’t seem photo-worthy!

More Impressions

The middle part of our vacation brought many more positive impressions. We had been to opposite sides of the main island, and seen two very different places—the first celebrated man’s impact on the natural environment, while the other let us experience nature’s impact on us. The food was all extraordinary, especially the traditional Japanese meals. And the people were wonderful—so welcoming and respectful.

Up next were the major cities, Kyoto and Tokyo. Stay tuned for that.

Until then, be well and BE FAST!

Magical Japan: Part 1

Japan is definitely on a roll. The trend in its tourism statistics is astounding—international visitors increased 11 percent per year from 2010 to 2024. Many reasons are cited for Japan’s popularity: it has a rich cultural heritage, it’s safe, it has great food, and unmatched transportation systems.

Our son Matthew is an experienced traveller to Japan, and he was instrumental in our decision to plan a visit. In consideration of the tourism figures, we settled on the last few weeks of winter as a good time to travel there. I’ll be posting several articles to convey our full experience, so I hope you’ll stop by and read them all!

Outline of the Trip

Tokyo’s Narita Airport would be our entry point into Japan, but we decided to immediately head away from the capital. Our logic was simple: we would arrive shortly before the Tokyo Marathon, and we wanted to avoid those crowds. Instead, we would head to the western edge of Japan and work our way back to Tokyo at the end of our vacation. A bonus for Deborah was the chance to fly on Peach, one of Japan’s domestic carriers. We overnighted near the airport and caught an early flight the next morning, which was terrific. Our destination? Fukuoka!

Fukuoka: Gateway to Asia

Fukuoka is the largest city in the Kyushu region and the capital city of Fukuoka Prefecture, south and west of the main island of Honshu. Its population is 1.5 million. Demographically, Fukuoka is a young city, and we found it to have an energetic vibe.

We stayed at the striking Hotel Il Palazzo, a recently renovated boutique hotel located steps from the Naka River. The hotel was designed by Italian architect Aldo Rossi, an ambitious project that combined Eastern and Western influences. Rossi was inspired by the palazzos of Venice and the traditional temple of Kyoto.

Copyright for all photographs on the site is mine, unless noted.

We made the most of our time in the central Hakata district: we walked through the Kawabata pedestrian arcade to avoid the rain, strolled the grounds of the Kushida Shrine, and checked out the famous (and crowded) Nakasu Yatai Street after dark. Yatai are pop-up food stalls that Fukuoka is known for. In fact, Fukuoka has a reputation as a “foodie” city. It is perhaps best known for tonkatsu ramen, thin noodles in rich pork bone broth, which is one of my favourite noodle dishes. Of course, we enjoyed a fine bowl of this delicious soup while in the city.

Speaking of food, Deborah managed to secure us a reservation to Zaisho, one of Fukuoka’s best omakase restaurants. Our hotel was an easy walk from the restaurant. The young chef wowed us with six seasonal delicacies and twelve (!) nigiri (bite-sized sushi comprised of fresh fish served over rice). Delicious!

Given our short time in Fukuoka, we took advantage of the efficient subway system (and the versatile IC cards that we would go on to use extensively during our trip) to visit Ohori Park, a large urban park with a scenic central pond.

I had a secondary motive to visit the park—it is the start and finish location for the historic Fukuoka International Marathon. Now, it would take me a whole article to properly explain the significance of this storied race. I have written about it before, in my tribute to Jerome Drayton.

To be truthful, Fukuoka is now relegated from the upper tier of marathon racing. No matter. I was there, and I was determined to do a 4.22 km run—one-tenth of a marathon— by running two laps of the park’s perimeter path, in what I call the Fukuoka Commemorative Run. I changed at the convenient UNPLAN Hostel, and did my run on a beautiful morning.

As I revelled in the company of speedy young athletes, Deb walked and enjoyed the views. She even had an owl sighting, courtesy of an elderly birdwatcher. We enjoyed our first (but far from last) onigiri, delicious and ubiquitous stuffed rice snacks wrapped in seaweed. Then we strolled through the ruins of Fukuoka Castle, where we spotted the first seasonal plum blossoms. Not cherry blossoms—those come later! Already the crowds were growing in anticipation of this welcome sign of spring in Japan.

As we headed to Fukuoka Station for our first ride on the Shinkansen—Japan’s amazing bullet trains—it was already clear that our time in Japan was going to be memorable. Our next destination? Hiroshima!

Hiroshima: City of Peace

Naturally, our arrival at Hiroshima Station was right on time. Hiroshima has a population of 1.2 million, and our hotel (the CANDEO Hatchibori) was ideally located to explore the city.

Hiroshima will always be known as the target of the first nuclear bombing, on August 6, 1945. I’ve been aware of this sad event my whole life, because August 6 happens to be my birthday. We signed up for a two-hour walking tour with Viator. Our guide Moe was very knowledgeable about the city’s history and the bombing. Her grandparents were survivors. She took our small group through Peace Memorial Park, and later in the day Deb and I visited the museum—a must see destination in Hiroshima. The emotional power of the exhibits was overwhelming.

There is much more to Hiroshima than its wartime history. After visiting the museum, we walked through Hiroshima Central Park to the grounds of Hiroshima Castle. We heard the roars of a football match at the nearby Edion Peace Wing Stadium, a bold new facility. In case you’re wondering, Hiroshima’s professional sports teams are the Sanfrecce Hiroshima (men’s and women’s football), the Toyo Carp (baseball)—cool name!—and the Dragonflies (basketball).

A popular day trip from Hiroshima is to the island of Miyajima. We navigated the city’s tram, train and ferry systems to reach the island, and enjoyed some sightseeing in and around the expansive Itsukushima Shrine. The tide was going out, exposing the “floating” Torii Gate for which the shrine is famous. We were captivated by local rituals, like goshuin, the tradition of having a book signed at shrines and temples. Fans of the hobby were lined up to collect unique, hand-drawn calligraphy and stamps as a record of their visit. Rounding out a perfect Sunday afternoon outing was a delicious coffee ice cream.

While in Hiroshima, we (well, maybe I) wanted to sample okonomiyaki—a savoury pancake made with layers of batter, cabbage, meat, and noodles. Okonomiyaki Mitchan Sohonten is a local restaurant, well known for its version of the dish, and it was two blocks from our hotel. We joined the locals in busy cafeteria style seating and ordered a single plate, which was large enough for both of us to enjoy, with a cold Asahi of course!

First Impressions

After only a few days, Japan was weaving a spell over us. It was all so new, and yet welcoming. The people were kind and respectful. The food was beautiful and delicious. We couldn’t wait for our next stop. As it happened, the Nozomi N700 Series train service whisked us there in excess of 250 kilometres per hour.

Until next time, “genkide, soshite hayaku”… I think that’s close to “be well, and BE FAST!”

Urban Sustainability? Hardly!

We live in interesting times in Calgary. I’ve formed strong opinions about what I see happening in my city. For many reasons, I think we’re on the wrong track. From what I’ve seen recently in other large Canadian cities, the same things are happening there, too.

One of the first pieces I wrote for this blog was on the topic of sustainability. You can find it here. My focus then was on objects that are perfectly designed for their intended purpose. They are sustainable, in that they can be expected to work perfectly for a lifetime (or longer) if properly maintained.

As I walk around inner-city neighbourhoods in Calgary, I’m bothered by a pattern that I see being repeated over and over again. Homes that have stood for decades are being levelled and replaced by one of two things: large, contemporary boxes or large, multi-family boxes. And it’s not just homes. Commercial buildings are being torn down and replaced by high-rise residential towers full of small (you guessed it) boxes.

Boxes, boxes and more boxes…

Why is this happening? Well, it is now presented as common knowledge that housing is a critical problem in Calgary. City administration has prepared or commissioned studies to explain the situation and how dire it is. I’ve read their material, and I’m willing to admit that I don’t know. I’m not an urban planner or a sociologist. Maybe it’s a crisis, or maybe it isn’t.

What I do know is that if I exercise my right to ask questions or comment on proposed developments that directly affect me, by writing letters to my councillor and city planners, the usual response consists of boilerplate talking points about housing supply and affordability challenges. I used to write such letters, but I don’t do so anymore. When a response starts with the words “because we are in a housing crisis…“, then it will include justification for all sorts of irrational actions.

As I said, I have many problems with this trend, but let me come back to that word, sustainability. I define sustainability as encompassing the social, environmental and economic aspects of a project. In my view, nothing in the current teardown and build cycle is sustainable. I’ve noticed that the experts who tout densification and the bureaucrats who facilitate it—the same people who are quick to extol its benefits—tend to be silent on this point. This isn’t an oversight; it’s because the facts don’t fit their narrative.

How about an illustration?

Yesterday, I walked by a row of three post-war houses. All were small, neat and well-kept. They have been standing for decades, so we know they have survived many brutal Calgary winters. The owners of these homes have replaced roofs, tended lawns, and done the hundreds of other routine tasks needed to keep them functioning. They have put their personal touches on them. These houses are not flashy, large, or modern, but they definitely are sustainable. On the evidence, these are the type of structures that stand in the way of solutions to our housing problem.

The impediments to solving our housing crisis… really?

Let’s contrast this scene with another, where a transition has already occurred. The houses that used to stand in this location were like the ones pictured above. They have been replaced by multiple, multi-family dwellings; in this case, four fourplexes.

To get to this point, three houses were demolished and carted to the landfill. I estimate this would have generated 400 cubic metres (200 tonnes) of waste. That’s without consideration of the concrete foundations, which represent more waste to the landfill, and heavy waste at that.

Pouring new foundations generates significant GHG emissions, because cement manufacturing is one of the most GHG-intensive industries. Of course, there will be a continuous stream of waste while construction is in progress. And our lush urban tree canopy? Gone.

What are the main development scenarios for inner city locations?

If we see a custom contemporary house going up, it’s usually large and built to serve the needs of a couple or a small family. In other words, there will be a lot of space dedicated to a few people. Don’t get me wrong. This is a free country, and people can build to their own taste and budget. But on a full lifecycle basis, it’s hardly sustainable.

If it’s a multi-family dwelling, it’s almost certainly going to be built by a developer who will target the minimum building standards. There will be pressed board exterior walls, thin insulation and interior walls, plastic pipe and cheap finishings. Unlike the post-war houses pictured above, nothing built today will last. We can be sure of two more things: the developer will realize a healthy margin, and the finished units will not be affordable.

What about commercial properties? To round out my review, I checked the progress on the long-planned demolition of the Jimmie Condon Building at the corner of 17th Avenue and 14th Street. Some would say the building is (sorry, was) historic, and others would say its pagoda-style roofline was an eyesore. Either way, if a picture is worth a thousand words, then this one is a mouthful.

We hear a lot these days about the need to build more “climate resilient” infrastructure. In response, I’ll note that I’ve seen plenty of buildings shrouded in tarps a few years after construction, presumably to repair deficiencies in exterior construction or incorrect materials. That is neither resilient nor sustainable.

I’ll leave for another day related questions—like whether multi-family dwellings (or high-rise towers) will solve the apparent housing crisis that led to their construction in the first place. Or who ultimately pays for luxury condo units that sit on the market unsold, or peddled as short-term rentals. Or whether we should be replacing our city’s already small inventory of historic buildings with characterless, cheaply-built boxes.

To conclude, there’s a saying that a good crisis should never be wasted. I think our municipal government and administration are doing just that with their housing crisis. Their logic is simple: the more housing units that are built, the more tax revenue will be generated. So inner city buildings are being demolished at a rapid pace, with no consideration of what makes our neighbourhoods unique or desirable.

This is a trend that’s hard to justify if one is thinking sustainably. We’re targeting one objective—increasing the supply of housing units—at all costs. In this context, “at all costs” means neglecting environmental stewardship and economic sensibility.

Fortunately, the market has a way of correcting irrational behaviour. I hope we will soon see evidence that a much-needed correction is underway.

A Tribute to Gerard Rejskind

I don’t have hard rules for the topics on this blog, and there are times when I feel I need to write about something of importance to me. Or someone. This is one of those times.

Gerard Rejskind passed away a year ago to the day that I’m writing these words. I suspected something may have happened to him. As I’ve done occasionally if I’m unsure about someone’s personal situation, I reluctantly typed his name and “obituary” into Google. I was right… he died peacefully in Montreal in December 2023 after a short illness.

So who was Gerard?

It would not be true to say he was a friend. But as I wrote in a similar tribute piece almost two years ago, it is possible in our highly connected world to feel close to someone even if you’ve only spoken to them a few times on the phone. Through his writing, I came to know Gerard and understand him quite well.

Gerard wrote with passion, and he was the driving force behind an independent audio publication (UHF Magazine) that had a small but dedicated following. Through his reviews of audio equipment and recorded music, Gerard influenced many people, including me.

Let me first make a connection, between a subject that I do post about on this site… photography… and music. It isn’t a stretch to say that both these art forms have much in common. They are subjective; that is, they are things that cannot be quantified. If done well, they evoke an emotional response in us. And at their best, they are timeless.

When I found out that Gerard had passed away, I thought about the many ways he had influenced me over more than twenty years. Initially, I had been looking to upgrade my entry-level Sony CD player, a tinny-sounding thing. A colleague lent me a few back issues of UHF, and I was immediately hooked.

UHF (now defunct) was a publication unlike anything else I’d seen. With a modest budget and a small crew, Gerard managed to produce a magazine that bettered any of the big, commercial publications. It did so with a rare offering: totally honest reviews. There were none of the filtered, biased reviews that I read elsewhere. My favourite feature was a short, subjective paragraph from each of the review panelists about a particular piece of gear. This was invaluable for someone like me, who was new to the hobby.

Besides the magazine, Gerard also wrote a couple of books about “hi-fi”. Again, in plain language, he explained what the equipment did (or should do) and how it ought to be designed. This hit a chord with my engineering sensibilities. I found myself coming back to these books time and time again.

My wife will attest that I dropped everything when the latest print issue of UHF showed up in the mail. Because of their shoestring operation, the frequency of publication was, shall I say, variable. Gerard kept UHF going through COVID and his own health challenges. Those things only increased the appeal of the enterprise. I read every word of every issue, and I would save Gerard’s editorial page on the inside of the back cover until last. There, he would offer another nugget of audio wisdom, in his usual style… self-effacing, but with the authority he had earned over a lifetime of experience.

I’ve bought quite a lot of audio equipment and recorded music since I first encountered Gerard and UHF. In all that time, I wouldn’t think about buying anything unless I had checked to see if Gerard had reviewed the gear in question. If he liked it, that was good enough for me. If he really liked an item, he would become a distributor, which said a lot about his motivation. It was also quite convenient. I can honestly say he never steered me wrong.

Beyond all that, he made sure I and his other readers became more self-sufficient, by writing frequent articles and opinion pieces that educated us. In fact, the last edition of UHF, the 101st, consists of a series of introductory “101” pieces (in the usual nomenclature of first-year university courses) on various audio gear. It seems a fitting legacy to Gerard. The final paragraph of his last “State of the Art” piece is worth repeating here:

“The final rule is to do what we do: take notes, with details on
what you liked and what you didn’t. Concentrate on the music,
which is the purpose of the system in the first place.”

Gerard was a rare person: an honest businessman; a knowledgeable and generous resource; and above all, a gentleman. He will be missed.

Now I think I will go and put on a record and re-read some of his pieces.

“So It Goes”

Anyone who has read Slaughterhouse-Five (SH5) by Kurt Vonnegut will recognize this phrase. It stays with you after reading the most famous (or is it infamous?) and arguably the most representative of Vonnegut’s novels.

I’m not sure if SH5 is still required reading in high school English courses… I know it used to be. (I’d be reluctant to guess what required reading might be in high school these days, but that’s another topic.) For my part, I missed the opportunity to read SH5 when I was in school. Perhaps the book wasn’t considered appropriate fare for a Catholic school curriculum.

I’ve only come around to Vonnegut’s works in the last few years. I did read Galapagos in my early twenties, but I found it to be quite forgettable… it certainly didn’t convince me to read anything more by him. Maybe I wasn’t ready for the author’s unique style and keen critical eye.

Something must have changed, because I’ve read three of his books in rapid succession. In this post, I offer my thoughts on what may be his best-known novels. My comments are organized in my order of reading, which just happened to be in reverse order of their publishing date.

Kurt Vonnegut

The author of the books I’m going to discuss is worthy of some discussion himself. Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. (1922-2007) was born in Indianapolis, to German immigrants. He attended Cornell University but dropped out in 1943 after being placed on academic probation. He enlisted in the US Army and was deployed to Europe in 1944 as an intelligence scout. After the war, he pursued academic and technical career paths, never quite succeeding at anything. Vonnegut had a couple of stories published in the early 1950s, which persuaded him to give up other opportunities to pursue writing full-time. His success as a writer did not happen overnight.

Slaughterhouse-Five (1969)

It’s a challenge to summarize SH5. At its core, the story is an account of the Allied fire-bombing of Dresden, Germany in the final months of the Second World War. What genre is the book? Good question. There is an element of historical fiction, but it could just as easily be classified as science fiction. Given that the book was influenced by Vonnegut’s time in the US military, we could even label it as a biography. The author was captured by the Germans, and as a POW he witnessed the destruction of the city firsthand.

In Vonnegut’s signature style, there is a sharp satirical edge to the book. Vonnegut makes no secret of his disdain for “military intelligence”. The casual disregard for life in wartime is a theme repeated often in the book… almost sickeningly so. I think that’s exactly the response Vonnegut wants to elicit from us. That’s where the phrase “so it goes” comes from. SH5 was published at the height of the anti-war movement in the US, and it was the book that made Vonnegut a household name.

The main character in SH5 is Billy Pilgrim, a US draftee. The science fiction element to the story is that Pilgrim experiences time travel. He calls it coming “unstuck in time.” I think the message here is that history is bound to repeat itself. I found this to be a very effective tool; one that shows Vonnegut exercising his full prowess as a mature storyteller.

To summarize, I thought SH5 was brilliant. An amazing creative piece… forceful in its social commentary and totally original. Considering the current events in the world, it is as timely now as when it was written. Very highly recommended!

Cat’s Cradle (1960)

Where to begin in explaining this novel?

Cat’s Cradle is a first-person account of the narrator, Jonah, who travels to San Lorenzo, a fictitious and extremely poor island nation. Through an unbelievable sequence of events, Jonah becomes president of the country. At the subsequent inauguration ceremony, an unfortunate incident results in mass destruction on a global scale, when a material called “ice-nine” accidentally comes into contact with seawater.

The book deals with two important themes and manages to touch on several others besides. One major subplot in the book is a fictitious, hedonistic religion called Bokonism. It is the dominant religion in San Lorenzo, seemingly a response by the poor citizens of the country to their dire socioeconomic circumstances.

The book is also a biting commentary on the risks of technology. Ice-nine was invented for military purposes by a brilliant scientist who has complete and callous indifference to the great risks it poses. The obvious parallel is to the proliferation of nuclear weapons, which would have been in Vonnegut’s mind when he wrote Cat’s Cradle in 1960. The story takes the idea of a manmade technological threat to its logical and tragic conclusion.

Only someone with a vivid imagination, black humour and a gift for sharp insight… someone like Vonnegut… could have created Cat’s Cradle. It was a fascinating read, and like SH5, very relevant to the unstable world we find ourselves in.

Player Piano (1952)

Player Piano was Vonnegut’s first novel. It tells the story of Paul Proteus, an engineer and manager of the Ilium Works, one of many large industrial complexes that have radically revamped American society. Machines have replaced human beings in every facet of life. For his part, Proteus becomes increasingly uncomfortable as he is being groomed for an expanded role in the system he helped create. The story turns on a clever “double agent” plot, as Proteus finds himself aligned with other, like-minded rebels.

As compared to the other novels, I found the storyline in Player Piano to be the least risky… maybe even simplistic. There are no tricks with time travel here. I suspect Vonnegut was still finding his voice and his style when he wrote the book. Even so, it is a well-constructed story of an all-too-possible dystopian future. Such a future may have been easy to imagine in the early 1950s, as post-war innovations began to change American society; at least it was for Vonnegut.

Of the three novels, Player Piano had the most impact on me. I accept that as a result of my own work as an engineer and manager. Did my career path make me more sensitive to the sharp commentary that Vonnegut dishes out for these vocations in his grim novel? Probably. I don’t take any of it personally, but I do relate to his criticism of an unbridled drive for efficiency.

The world Vonnegut imagines in Player Piano is devoid of almost all pleasure, at least for the average citizen. For the elite (that is to say, the politically savvy) the upside is limitless, as long as the growing majority of displaced citizens are kept notionally busy and marginally employed. It’s a novel that heads to an inevitable tipping point.

The fatal flaw exposed in Player Piano is a conflation of an unstoppable quest for perfection (in countless industrial processes and even in human interactions) with human happiness. I found myself making connections to recent opinion pieces that assess the risks of the increasing use of Artificial Intelligence in our society. Again, Vonnegut’s story seems eerily relevant to our current circumstances.

I can recommend all three of these Vonnegut novels. In my view, his social commentary is timeless, and that keeps the books current. I want to continue my exploration of his work, to see how well his insights have held up in other areas.

Until next time, be well and BE FAST!

Carmela Kelly (1931-2024)

My mother passed away on July 6, 2024. The world was a better place while she was in it. Now comes the tough part.

Here’s some text from her obituary, which was published in today’s Hamilton Spectator.

With heavy hearts, we announce the passing of Carmela Mary Kelly (née Celi) in her 93rd year. Carm’s birth in a house on MacNab Street was made more joyous to her parents Giuseppe and Rosa Celi by the unexpected arrival of a twin sister, Concetta (Connie), who survives her. She is also survived by a brother, Anthony, and predeceased by a sister, Mary. Carm married the late Kenneth Kelly in 1958, and they had four children. Carm’s grandchildren … were a constant source of joy. Birthdays and holidays were better (and livelier) when celebrated at Gramma’s house, her home for many years. Carm was an avid crossword solver, a keen knitter, and an enthusiastic Tiger-Cats supporter. She enjoyed these activities most from her favourite pink chair. Her cookie tins were never empty, and her spaghetti & meatballs were legendary. She had an eye for fashion, and for years she enjoyed watching the Oscars. Carm was dedicated to her family, for whom she made countless sacrifices. Her generous spirit enriched many lives. Carm found great comfort in her faith, and she faced life’s many challenges with grace. We will struggle to deal with the loss of our beloved mother, grandmother, sister and friend. …

Carmela Mary Kelly (1931 – 2024) Photo: Shelley K

I wrote quite a bit about my mother in Stroke of Luck, and there’s a good reason for that. She was an inspiration. By doing nothing more than being herself, she made the lives of her family, friends, coworkers and neighbours better. That is quite a legacy.

My mother’s eyes are unmistakable in photographs from her youth. Her shy smile hints at her quiet, introverted personality, and tells the story of her growing up during the Depression and the Second World War. She worked as a secretary at Stelco for a while after high school but put aside her own ambitions once she was married. Years later, when we were all grown, she would take a job as a receptionist at a long-term care facility. She soon became indispensable to the staff and residents there. Of course, we knew that would happen because she already was indispensable to us. It was a small step, and one that let her regain some of the self-confidence that had been eroded by too much time and too much worrying about other people.

Mom has handled difficult times with grace and resilience, and she has faced more than her fair share of difficult times. Pain and grief entered our lives when I was in my early teens. This happened in two separate but related ways. At least they are related in my mind. What I know is that nothing was ever quite the same afterwards, and nothing could ever be taken for granted again. Had we crossed some kind of a dividing line, a transition from the innocence of youth to whatever was to come next? I’m not sure. As for my mother, I never heard her complain or shirk from what she had already accepted as her duty. Given her upbringing, I suspect she had never taken anything for granted as it was.

Goodbye mom. We will miss you terribly. May God bless you and welcome you.