2021 Annual Year-End Card

 

Option- or right-click to download full-size version of card.

 

Folding the printed version once in each direction should create a traditional card.

Rather than being misnamed by absent-minded cartographers, Vancouver's Lost Lagoon became a permanent water feature for geese, otter, turtles, and tourists when the rise and fall of this diluvian marsh was permanently blocked by the construction of a causeway entering Stanley Park. In winter, the free-flowing Jubilee Fountain (artist's rendering on back of card https://evelazarus.com/the-lost-lagoon-fountain-in-stanley-park/) is replaced with a Christmas tree that hovers over the frigid water.

 

The photo for this year's card is the result of multiple, chilly attempts to capture just the right image of last year's electric evergreen and reflection. Buoyed by daily tips gleaned from watching an online photography course while pedaling on the exercise bike, I dutifully bundled up and trudged out to the park at dusk to experiment with various exposures and f-stops to do justice to this Yuletide sight. ("With all these exposures, Yule get cold, alright," I kept muttering to myself. The squirrels weren't impressed.) After several nights of disappointing results, this aspiring, condensation-puffing, Ansel-Adams wannabe finally captured some images that were card-worthy.

 

The stars were added as a tribute to all the souls the world has lost in the past year. Amongst these luminaries—and shining particularly brightly for Chris and me&mdashare three dear and stellar friends: Chris, Maggie, and Marc. You are so missed.

 

Decades ago, long before seat belts, a prescient physical therapist cautioned that a torn ACL suffered in an auto-mishap would eventually result in arthritis. This summer, that prophecy came true. Nowadays, an aching right knee goes hand-in-hand with slow, steady walks. Chris probably suffers more than I as exaggerated groans accompany halting attempts to arise after sedentary periods of sitting. Worry not, though. Once over the initial twinges, both knees still perambulate fairly well. For example, several weeks ago&mdashat over thirty-million lifetime meters&mdashI virtually rowed 'round the South Pole and am headed back to warmer waters and the equator.

 

After 18 months of teaching through e-mail, Zoom, and Skype from home, school finally opened in September for face-to-face meetings. Happy staff reunited with happy students, only to discover the digital courses we had (bit by bit) transitioned to were not available. Recently upgraded computers had no Internet access. Deftly switching back to paper-based mode, we were flummoxed to discover our printers also did not work without communicating with command central. After a couple of weeks of using pen and paper (Fortunately, we never regressed to clay tablets.), we were back in the cloud(s), ready for more mundane problems.

 

Several of the students need help with math, so I brushed up on algebra and trig. After working with one dubious student (who initially trusted incorrect answer keys more than me), I came up with the idea of just using Siri to offer proof. One student with an Android phone was puzzled, so I inquired as to what digital spirit she used, Alexa or Cortana. Her response, "Oh, I use Ask Todd."

 

No honour in one's own country Nelson Dellis is one of several memory champions that explain how to memorize a shuffled deck of cards in order. The key is to turn each card into a striking, graphic image. I had come across this technique often so finally gave it a try. Ever curious, Chris asked why I kept repeating Arnold Schwarzenegger while peering at the Ace of Spades (AS). She seemed puzzled but satisfied. After several days, she finally broke. "What's so hard about memorizing a deck of cards? There are four suits: clubs, spades, hearts, and diamonds. Each suit runs ace through king. Why is it taking you three days to remember that?"

 

While we both had a good laugh at the misunderstanding, I'm now on my best behaviour lest Chris seek legal guardianship after declaring me mentally incompetent.

 

Trouble in Paradise This summer's heat dome brought scorching temperatures to the West Coast, causing drought and destructive wildfires. Coupled with our more-recent catastrophic floods, even climate change deniers must have their doubts. Chris and I were lucky enough to spend the summer in our beautiful and wonderfully-cool abode on Gabriola. As part of our daily routine, we took long, early-morning walks in shady forest parks. One morning, we drove to a grove some distance from our house when Chris decided she was too hot and tired to complete the whole route. Promising to meet me back at the car, we parted, and I persevered. When I arrived back at the designated meeting spot, Chris and the car were nowhere to be found. She swears she wasn't hiding. Our neighbours (and the island paramedics) are suspicious, however, since she only drove up behind me hours later as I hobbled, sunburnt and dessicated, into the driveway. The patient buzzards flapped off in disappointment, waiting for a future outing and opportunity.

 

Never buy a raincoat in sunny weather The daytime lure of wearing fashionable black can mask future concerns for traffic safety. As the days get wetter and shorter, I realize being disguised as a pedestrian ninja is not the safest choice when crossing city streets at night. The solution: Carry lunch to work in a big, bright, Trader Joe's shopping bag. Deftly switching this colorful beacon from side to side, each evening the now-empty poke cautions drivers that more than a hint of a shadow is crossing the intersection.

 

However, hauling such a large haversack in the daytime carries its own risks, such as the ability to transport large, aromatic repasts. Walking to work with a full sac of delectables led to expectant Skip-the-Dishes clients—eagerly sniffing for their deliveries—being disappointed to realize I was not their courier. Confused at first, but seeing the Trader Joe's bag, they quickly shifted to trying to purchase Mandarin Orange Chicken, Soy Chorizo, and Dark Chocolate Peanut Butter Cups. My street-performer friends would be appalled at the number of Loonies, Toonies, and bills I hurriedly limped away from.

 

While humour helps, this has been such a tough year for much-loved family and friends. In a world that can feel full of darkness, let's shine together&mdashspreading compassion, love and hope to light the months ahead. As always, we wish you and yours the very best.

 

Todd and Chris

copyright 2021 by Todd Strong