We lost two wise, compassionate Islanders this week, both dedicated to service.

John Andrew died on Tuesday. I met John when he ran for the Green Party following the death of Josh Underhay, and found him a shy, intelligent, thoughtful person. His eyes lit up when, standing in his front yard, overlooking Andrew’s Pond, he talked about the history—human and natural—of the area. I’d always hoped, in the years since, to catch John’s eye as I canoed that pond; I’d have welcomed the opportunity to thank him for his dedication to enhancing such a brilliant and storied natural area within the city limits.

Two days later Mait MacIsaac died. I met Mait only a few times, through PEI Home and School Federation, an organization he held dear, and to which he devoted much effort. Mait was a legendary educator; I was a direct recipient of the spirit described in his obituary: “Mait was genuinely curious, could connect with anybody of any background and possessed a knack of asking just the right question or spending whatever time it took to listen.”  We are blessed to live in a province where so many educators, after retirement, take what they’ve learned from their formal careers and devote their lives thereafter to sharing, reflecting, discussing, improving; Mait was at the head of that class.

John, Mait, you will be missed.

I am entering week two of the Mother Of All Chest Colds.

Things started off slowly, a week ago Wednesday, with a fever of 38.6ºC for about 12 hours; the fever broke, all was well. I made English muffins. I cleaned up the back yard.

Friday was fine. Bullet dodged!

On Saturday, though,I developed a sore throat, a cough, and ever-worsening congestion; my time since then has focused primarily on phlegm management. Bonus symptoms: headache, fatigue, lethargy. The congestion’s risen up into my sinuses a few times, then settled back into my chest.

A trip to the nurse practitioner on Thursday showed my vitals are good, I’ve not got pneumonia, and, as it’s likely a virus at play, I’ve no choice but to wait it out. She reported that she’s seeing cases last as long as three weeks. Ugg.

For those of you similarly stricken, some tips from the field:

• Cepacol lozenges are the best I’ve found. They’re also less popular, so more likely to be in stock when brands like Halls are missing from store shelves.
• Mucinex was a help when I needed to loosen things up, and clear my most-congested chest. The only downside was that my nose ran for hours and hours.
• I’ve never been a taker of pain-relievers, but Advil has been my friend this week; I wouldn’t have been able to sleep without it.
• Secaris is a nasal lubricant I picked up on the recommendation of a clerk at Murphy’s Parkdale Pharmacy (it’s on the back wall near the cough drops); it really help when long nights of nose-blowing resulted in a raw nose.
• Head-over-boiling-water-in-a-bowl has really helped, a couple of times a day.

Every time I think I’m clear of this beast, it rears its head again; fortunately for the past three nights I’ve been able to sleep clear-through, which has been a big help (before then I was spending long stretches of the night on the couch, coughing).

This is the longest I’ve been sick in years, and compared to COVID, which, for me, was a walk in the park, this virus packs a wallop.

Wish me luck.

The Dating After Death episode of the Widow We Do Now? podcast covers a lot of terrain that’s very familiar to me. Anita and Mel interview the host of the datingafterdeath podcast.

In this Facebook thread kicked off by a friend and co-conspirator from the Peterborough days, Clifford Maynes, much is said about guitar solos, from people who know. Starting with:

A message about solos and fills for all guitar players, myself included:

• play fewer notes - mix in some long slow notes and bends - make it sing
• play melodic solos — the tune is a good place for inspiration - talk to the people - say something that needs saying
• don’t rush to go nuts in upper register in  the second verse - build slowly, keep something in reserve\

I appreciate the comment from Richard Connolly: “Stop chasing notes. The right notes in the right place are what works best. That is the quest.” It mirrors what Laurie Murphy tells us all the time when crafting improv scenes: the answer is right there.

My friend and improv teacher Laurie Murphy took a turn as the Spin Time DJ on CBC Mainstreet this afternoon, talking about her return to PEI, how she first got involved in improv, and what she’s up to now, with an eclectic trio of tunes (I know from experience that boiling a life-so-far down to 3 songs is a Herculean task).

Laurie was very kind to tip her hat to me and my improv experience to date; as I’ve written here before, it’s her skill as a teacher that is so responsible for so much of that.

Sonya Emerick was elected to the Minneapolis School Board. Her reason for running:

I had two choices: to move into litigation with the district or to try to move where I had access to influence systems-level problems and barriers. I chose the latter. When you litigate in special education, it’s a significant amount of time and financial resources. It’s very, very draining on a family emotionally. Even if you get the best possible outcome, it still begins and ends with one kid, typically. I decided I can do something with a bigger impact. That’s why I decided to run.

Sonya, a trans-woman, is the first autistic person elected to the board.

So You Want to Start a Town, by Ryan McManus. (via Why is this interesting?).

Kent Nerburn writes about life as a cab driver, and of one particular night:

When I arrived at the address, the building was dark except for a single light in a ground-floor window. Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a short minute, then drive away. Too many bad possibilities awaited a driver who went up to a darkened building at 2:30 in the morning.

We offered to Olivia a supper of takeout-inspired-by-Catherine last night.

Being a completist, Olivia decided that this meant that we needed to get entrees and desserts from both The Old Triangle and from John Brown Grille, two of Catherine’s favourite haunts.

As a result this, after a meal of sweet potato fries with curry sauce, haddock tacos, shepherd’s pie, and bruschetta, we finished off with sticky date pudding (John Brown) and bread pudding (The Old Triangle), both of which came with their own butterscotch syrup add-on. 

It was a heady night.

Despite—or, actually, because of—it being an emotionally charged day yesterday it was an important night to go to improv class. Lisa, bless her heart, cleared the way for me, and managed the household energy while I escaped.

It was a good night at the improvatorium, with a mixture of new people and veterans, and we had fun making scenes, doing a rant, and conducting character interviews.

As the night drew to a close, and my character interview was the last of them, I realized I had an extra dose of emotional sludge to unburden, and so I channeled it into embodying Jerry Coltane, 18 year old rock star.

At some point in the middle I left my body and I became Jerry.

It was exactly what I needed.