Lynda Sez » friends

A major birthday

rgdaniel — Thu, 24 Sep 2009 04:41:09 +0000

I spent my birthday away from home, but doing things I liked: reading, knitting, walking a dog, and finishing the day with an exceptional dinner accompanied by a delightful jazz trio, plus one. Thanks to dear family friend Vena for great conversation and very fine dining, and to Claire, for joining us!

The Internet will find you

rgdaniel — Mon, 01 Dec 2008 01:21:12 +0000

A lot of people fear the Internet’s ability to invade privacy and expose personal information, but I confess I use that without compunction from time to time. I met someone about four years ago; we hit it off, but we lived hundreds of miles apart, so no chance for a lunch or coffee on a whim. Worse yet, we lost touch a few months later. I tried getting in touch with someone who knew her, but that didn’t work. Finally today I found her through someone blogging about her. So even though she has no email and is connected to a website that is not indexed by Google, I found her!

The Best of the City

rgdaniel — Wed, 12 Dec 2007 04:49:32 +0000

Tonight was the highlight of my current visit to Toronto: an excellent play at Tarragon Theatre with friends. The serious theatre experience has been one of the few things I’ve missed since moving north. Every time I come back to savour it, I resolve to make sure I get here regularly. There may be good theatre in Grey-Bruce, but I haven’t discovered it yet. The solid performances and outstanding writing and direction I’ve come to expect at Tarragon will be pretty hard to beat.

In Memory of Christian Gerard

rgdaniel — Sat, 20 Jan 2007 04:27:02 +0000

A dear colleague and friend died last night. It was shocking and unexpected to hear the news, even though he had been struggling with a rare debilitating disease for many months. Christian was the most alive person I have ever met. He would always greet you with genuine enthusiasm and delight, full of ideas and wit and ready to whoop with laughter at the slightest excuse. He inspired me to want to work for him and always gave me reason to value my efforts. I think he invested himself in every single moment of every day, the way we are all supposed to, and even when fate turned his body into an unresponsive machine, his smile lit up the room and his greeting was as warm as always. Just when you thought life was ordinary, he would start to talk about possibilities and you would feed on the adrenalin and the confidence and leave recharged and full of purpose. I will miss him very much.