Category Archives: Jude and Megan

Christmas | A Guide to Spending Christmas Alone | Comfort & Joy

December 23, 2020Diversions, Food & Health, Jude and Megan, Stories of a Life, Vancouver, VanRamblingsalone, christmas, denny's, turkey dinner, vessiRaymond Tomlin

Many of us spend our lives surrounded by people. On the 25th of December, we can embrace the quiet and enjoy Christmas undisturbed.

There can be so much pressure around Christmas and other holidays — pressure to celebrate, pressure to socialize, pressure to follow traditions, pressure to eat too much and drink yourself to excess. Ultimately, there is pressure to be happy. And that’s an awful lot of pressure to lay on anyone — especially as we know that Christmas isn’t an easy time for everyone.

The purpose of today’s VanRamblings column is to help you come to terms with what will be for all of us an unusually quiet, and near — if not actual, in many cases — solitary Christmas & holiday season, following Dr. Bonnie Henry’s plea that we hunker down alone during Christmas season 2020.

‘Tis the season for attending parties galore (yes, Zoom celebrations count, too!), decking your halls — and, of course, your Christmas tree — with festive decorations, checking out all the magical light displays, and binge-watching classic holiday movies. Not to mention spending Christmas Day (and Eve!) listening to holiday songs on repeat, partaking in time-honoured traditions, and doing it all — ideally — while wearing your pyjamas.

So it’s no surprise that the prospect of spending Christmas alone — whether for the first time or the twentieth time — can feel, well, not always so merry and bright.

But here’s the thing: You’re not alone. The reality is that plenty of people spend their holidays solo. Some people have demanding work schedules that make it difficult to travel, while others might not have the money for expensive round-trip tickets, and others simply want to spend Christmas alone. That’s true in a normal year — but perhaps even more so in 2020, when many of us will be celebrating Christmas without friends or family due to the ongoing coronavirus pandemic and social distancing guidelines.

And while, yes, you’ll probably miss your mom’s legendary bread pudding, there are plenty of things you might be happy to skip, like faking your surprise (and excitement) when Aunt Sue gives you yet another gormless polyester tie, sitting through the same political debates, and having to get dressed up just to eat at your own dining room table, to name a few.

Whether by choice or circumstance, there is plenty to do on Christmas Day that you can enjoy doing alone, from catching up on the acclaimed and award-worthy Netflix or Amazon Prime TV shows you’ve heard so much about, to indulging in some much-needed self-care — like going for a walk in the neighbourhood, where you’re bound to run into friends — to starting a new tradition, whatever that may be that will provide you solace.

You don’t have to stand by and have a blue Christmas.

Which is exactly why VanRamblings has rounded up 9 simple ways to spend Christmas solo, all of which will bring joy to your world.

1. Let’s start with the obvious. Dive into a book.

Picking up a book (whether it’s a thriller, that book written by a friend of yours, or that political book you became aware of thanks to another friend), can help you escape into an entirely different reality, and one that you don’t usually have time to explore. Didn’t plan ahead? Download a reading app. iPhones and iPads have a built-in reading app, allowing you to buy books from Apple Books. Amazon, which started out as a company marketing books, has a huge library of downloadable books you can read on your Kindle App. Imagine, there you are snuggled up in bed, toasty warm, a warming beverage by your night stand and maybe a snack, as well, ready to read that book you’ve been meaning to get to. Joy indescribable!

2. Cook a feast, or have one delivered.

A friend was asking the other day, “Where could I order a great turkey dinner, and have it delivered?” The answer, in Vancouver, to that question offers you near limitless opportunities.

In 2020, all of the Denny’s Restaurant locations are offering a traditional turkey dinner for four, for only $59.99. Tender carved turkey breast, savoury stuffing, garlic red-skinned mashed potatoes, turkey gravy, cranberry sauce and your choice of broccoli or sweet petite corn. In this case, they’d like you to pick up the dinner, allowing you to reheat the dinners when you arrive home. You could have Uber or a taxi deliver it.

In 2020, Denny's is offering Christmas diiner for four, delivered, for only $59.99

Click on the graphic above to order your Denny’s turkey dinner for 4.

Holiday hours may apply so you’ll want to check your Denny’s location to confirm hours of operation. Orders can be taking over the phone. The offer is available from December 22nd through 28th, valid as take-out only. The dinner is served family style. Re-heat at home.

Denny’s a little too déclassé for you? Hey, there are alternatives out there.

You’ll want to read Miss 604 for more information on Holiday Meal Kits.
Steffani Cameron, who recently completed a 4-year worldwide adventure that she chronicled at FullNomad.com, for Christmas 2020 has written a column suggesting …

Homer Street Café and Bar has a three course dinner for two for $85 ($42.50 pp). This classic turkey dinner starts with butternut squash velouté and ends with seasonal shortbread and molasses cookies. The turkey dinner is traditional with mashed spuds, stuffing, roasted sprouts, honey-glazed carrots, and country-style giblet gravy.

The other restaurants Ms. Cameron suggests are, well let’s say, somewhat more dear, like Take out dinners from Forage, that will set you back $375.
The good folks at The Daily Hive also have a number of suggestions.

As for VanRamblings, we’ll cook something simple, like a roast turkey breast in our Instant Pot, which we’ve done previously to good effect.
With dinner, we’ll serve an old family recipe for dressing (which we’ll place into a hot oven), candied parsnips and carrots, brussel sprouts, mashed turnips, mashed potatoes (both with gravy, which we’ll also stream over the turkey), a roasted yam, and lots of cranberry sauce. We’ll enjoy a fine wine with dinner, and for dessert treat ourselves to pumpkin pie, ice cream, and some chocolate treats from Purdy’s Chocolates, and shortbread cookies.

3. Watch a movie at home, or a Netflix / Amazon series.
In the evening, we’ll watch one soon-to-be-nominated / award-winning film — like Beanpole or Never Rarely Sometimes Always, and maybe catch an episode of The Crown, on Netflix, or one of the films in Steve McQueen’s Small Axe series, on Amazon Prime, like Lovers Rock or Mangrove.

Before bed, we’ll prepare an artisan loaf of bread, for baking the next morning. Why? So, on Boxing Day, we can make the best turkey sandwich in the world, with thick slices of fresh-baked bread, stuffed with turkey, dressing, lettuce, cranberry sauce, and the veggies of our choice. Yum!

VanRamblings’ remaining suggestions to make this a Merry Christmas …

4. Test out a new hot chocolate recipe.

5. Go for a walk in the neighbourhood, during the day & in the evening. When you’re out for your walk, make use of the empty streets and take photographs of the day; in the evening photograph holiday light displays.

6. Enjoy a bath in the evening, with candles lit, and quiet music playing in the background, of all of your favourite songs on Spotify, or on iTunes.

7. Connect with others virtually. If you’re spending the season alone, try connecting with loved ones, or friends, virtually. It might not be the same as face-to-face interaction, but it can certainly help to ease the pangs of loneliness. There are lots of ways to talk to folks online, including with others who may be spending Christmas alone.

Photograph taken just off Locarno Beach, the “middle beach” along Spanish Banks, in Vancouver. Photo credit: Laura Stannard.

8. Go for a drive. The other day, VanRamblings friend, Laura Stannard, went for a drive, stopping near Locarno Beach, along Spanish Banks. Is there anything more revitalizing than a calming drive alone along the beach, and on the near deserted roads of the city, all the while lost in your own thoughts, and when you get home, bliss. A perfect alone Christmas.

9. Treat yourself to a gift, or two or three you can buy online.

VanRamblings’ new marine blue 100% waterproof Vessi sneakers. Made locally.

Don’t forget to do something nice for yourself. Get yourself that gift online that you’ve been hankering for. VanRamblings has been very bad this holiday season: we bought ourselves a new iPhone 12 Pro Max ($328, plus $20 a month), which takes great photographs; we bought a new iPad Mini, traded in our old iPad Mini, and sold some tech equipment, and pretty much came out ahead. And, we treated ourselves to our fourth pair of Vessi sneakers, made locally, the only 100% waterproof shoe in the world, comfy as all get out — with great arch and heel support, it’s like walking on air — and, you can order the waterproof sneakers online.

Yes, it’s true, it can feel strange waking up alone on Christmas Day with no pressing reason to get out of bed, the hours about to stretch out in front of you. Where are the usual text messages and telephone call interruptions?

Loneliness is never too far away and this is especially true when, in the lead-up to Christmas Day, we’ve been bombarded with images of families packed around dining tables and scenes of children opening presents around a tree. But being alone at Christmas doesn’t necessarily have to be a lonely experience. Here’s a motto for a solo Christmas Day: being alone and being lonely are not the same thing. Honest, it’s true. Think about it.

When you’re on your own, you can celebrate Christmas however you decide, without having to cater to the traditions or routines of other people. (And you don’t have to feel guilty about buying yourself presents, either).

As much as we’d all love to spend time with friends and family, sometimes it just isn’t possible, and with coronavirus restrictions in place many of us will be unable to see our loved ones over the festive period.

Having total control over what you do during the Christmas season can mean a stress-free time for each of us. The holiday season should be a time of year for you to enjoy, a time for reflection and fond remembrance, as you traipse through your days leisurely, and at a pleasurable pace.

In the midst of our current, unusual pandemic holiday season, it’s easy to get caught up in thinking about all the things you ‘should’ be doing. Take the pressure off — you’re already doing really well. Pace yourself, and do things that bring you joy. Above all, be kind — most of all to yourself.

Stories of a Life | Raymond & Cathy Marry 50 Years Ago Today

December 19, 2020Jude and Megan, Stories of a Life, VanRamblingsRaymond Tomlin

Cathy Janie McLean and Raymond Neil Tomlin were married at Pilgrim United Church in North Edmonton, the church Cathy had attended with her family since moving to Edmonton to begin high school, on a near frozen Edmonton Saturday, December 19th, 1970 afternoon, at 1:30 p.m.
Outside the sun shone, the weather a nippy but not unseasonable -35°. There were several in attendance who expressed their dismay that the sun was streaming into the church during the ceremony, something which I never quite understood. For me, it was like being blessed by God.
The marriage occurred almost a year-to-the-day since I had first met a bedraggled dirty-blonde, long-haired Cathy, very much a hippie, huddling with her friend and University of Alberta roommate, Joy, who were at the Royal Towers Hotel in New Westminster, as we waited for the Greyhound bus to transport us into Vancouver. Long story short, Cathy and I, and Joy and my friend Charles, hung out over the next few days, prior to Cathy and Joy returning to Edmonton. In the spring of 1970, I hitchhiked out to Edmonton, without any prior notice to Cathy of my intention to do so, and stayed with Cathy for a week, when we made love for the first time.
Cathy travelled out to Vancouver with her mother that summer in 1970, and rather than return home with her mother, Cathy remained in Vancouver. By mid-August the two of us were living together. Four months later, on Saturday, December 19th, 1970 the two of us were married.

The best man at my wedding was Bren Traff. Here’s a very brief, 6-second clip of Bren recorded in 1967, as he was starting off his CKLG 20-20 newscast. Later Bren would take over weekend CKLG-AM mornings, and later still, with almost every other deejay in town, move to a renewed CFUN — which had dropped its money-losing CKVN, Vancouver’s Voice of News format, returning to a tried-and-true rock ‘n roll format in the 1970s. Bren had been my best friend from 1966, right through until February 1972, which is a story to be told on VanRamblings another day.

In addition, another friend of mine, Hal Weaver — who, at the time, was the morning rock jock at CKVN — asked if he could be a co-best man at the wedding; I asked Cathy if that was alright with her, and she said it was fine. At some point, I’ll write about the last show, on CJOR from midnight to 6 a.m. Hal performed, a show he called Sunday Morning Coming Down, flat out the best radio programme in all of Vancouver radio history.
Hal Weaver is considered by many to have been one of the best, straight ahead Canadian-born rock jocks — a title he shares with others, including Daryl B. and Terry David Mulligan. Hal had a dynamic personality and voice to match. In 1968, J. Robert Wood hired him at CHUM Toronto, where he stayed for two years before moving to Vancouver’s CKVN in 1970. Hal died of throat cancer at the age of 28 in December, 1971, in Surrey, B.C. At the time Hal asked to be a co-best man, he’d already been diagnosed.

Cathy mother’s Myrtle insisted that Cathy stay at her home, just down the street from the church, in the days leading up to the wedding, while Hal, Bren and I stayed at a nearby hotel. The only time Cathy and I saw one another in the week leading up to our wedding, was when we met with the church pastor to talk about our vows, and our commitment to one another. Most of those meetings with the pastor had Cathy and I arguing with one another — if I recall correctly, the arguments were a consequence of an utter lack of maturity (not to mention, quite a bit of insecurity) on my part.
Cathy also insisted on changing the vows to read, “As long as we both shall love“, from “As long as we both shall live,” a change the pastor opposed, but Cathy dug in her heals on the issue, and of course got her way. That particular changing of the vows should have been the first hint I recognized that this was a marriage not to last for the long term — but I was so head over heels in love with Cathy that the thought never occurred to me.
[A digression. I would like to present photos of our wedding at this juncture in today’s story, but I have no photographs of the wedding in my possession — when we divided up our belongings in the early 1980s, Cathy took possession of the wedding photos, more to please her mother than for any other reason … my children tell me she still has the wedding album]
Nonetheless, Cathy and I were married, spending our wedding night at a fancy downtown Edmonton hotel, a gift from her mother (along with a brand new car she’d bought the two of us — recently, I’ve written about my daughter being a little too bourgeoise for my tastes; that well-practiced bougie aspect of how Megan presents herself to the world, and lives her life, comes directly from her mother & grandmother, the latter a Southam).
As you can see in the photo atop today’s column, I was pretty much smitten with Cathy (I think the only other person I know who looks at his wife as I do in the photo above is Seth Klein, when he looks at his wife, Christine Boyle). Once at the hotel, Cathy and I did what we usually did — we got stoned, which was a major feature of our life together during my university years in the early 1970s, along with a very active sex life.
Together, the two of us watched a Peter Sellers movie (although he had only a small part), The Wrong Box, on TV, snuggling with one another on the bed. About half an hour into watching the show, and nicely buzzed, Cathy retreated to the washroom, emerging in a blue, diaphanous and very short silk negligee — which, as you might imagine, did not remain a part of her dress for very long. We woke up the next morning very tired, indeed.
The marriage was a tempestuous one, not troubled exactly, but demanding at times, and overall for the first seven years, a great deal of fun, filled with love, betrayal, travel, an immense amount of sex (five times a day, every day for a decade, sometimes more), and on my part, a great deal of learning on how to be a productive and influential person in this world, as for all the years we were married, Cathy dressed me (“This is what you’re wearing today.”), edited my essays and other writing, and transformed me from an east side slum dwelling kid devoid of social skills into a presentable, and sometimes erudite young man. No Cathy, no Raymond Tomlin, at least not the Raymond Tomlin you have all come to know.

Stories of a Life | When Megan Was 7 Years of Age | Marriage

December 11, 2020Jude and Megan, Stories of a Life, Vancouver, VanRamblingsRaymond Tomlin

Unless I’m mistaken, and I don’t think I am, the photo of Megan above was taken by her mother, when Cathy was taking a photography class she very much enjoyed. As you can see in the photo, Megan is a distinct personality. Look at those wondrous eyes of hers.

When out for a walk in our Kitsilano neighbourhood when Megan was 7 years of age, as we were walking down the street heading towards Jericho Beach, Megan stopped and turned to me, and said in a matter-of-fact and portentous manner, “Dad, when I grow up, I’m going to get married.”

“Good for you,” I said to Megan in response.

As we were nearing McBride Park on that sunny summer 1984 Saturday afternoon, Megan pulled me over to sit on the grass opposite the tennis courts to begin a discourse on her thoughts on marriage …

“I could marry a poor boy, and I would love him, and he would love me, and we would have children together, and be as happy as happy could be every moment of our lives together, for many, many years of wedded bliss, happily raising our children together, all of us loving one another.”

“On the other hand, I could marry a rich boy, someone with whom I could love with all my heart, and we would have children, and love our children as much as it possible for a parent to love their children — which, if you and mom are any indication as to how much love there is to be given to their children, is a huge love, one of immense and sustaining proportion.”

“Now, if I was to marry the rich boy, and we were to have children together, as we most assuredly would, each of the children would have their own bedroom, and my husband and I would have ours. My children would not want for anything, ever, we could travel, and every day of our lives together would be filled with joy untold, our love for one another carrying us through all of our days, in a life of immense satisfaction and happiness, in comfort and without concern to distract from our lives.”

“Y’know, Dad, if I have a choice, I am going to marry the rich boy.”

Megan’s extemporaneous but thoughtful treatise on marriage was surprising for a number of reasons, the most prominent being that her mother and I were in the midst of an overtly contentious and very ugly divorce and custody battle that had gone on for some years — which both Jude and Megan found themselves precipitously and distressingly in the middle of — so I found it to be a bit more than surprising she would ever want to marry, given what she was experiencing with her own parents, that she had quite obviously given the matter some thought, and how pragmatic she was about whom she might choose to marry, and the — forgive me for saying so, but somewhat mercenary — criteria she had set for her future intended, and the tenor of the married life she felt assured would follow.

Make no mistake, Megan was raised as a feminist and a socialist — at least by me, her mother’s “politics” post marriage reverting to the conservative politics of her parents, and the peers of her distinctly privileged youth.

Over time, Megan and I returned to the topic of her future marriage — still many, many years away — as I took pains to impress upon Megan the necessity of agency, that she should always be true to herself and to her values of compassion and contribution, that love must be a part of her life always, but not if it were to come at the expense of her independence and place in society as a difference maker striving to make ours a better and more just world for all. From time to time, Cathy would catch wind of my philosophizing and say to me, “Stop lecturing the kids. They don’t like it!”

There is so much more that I would wish to write on the subject I’ve begun to explore above, but perhaps I’ll save that for another day.

And Megan?

Yes, Megan married the “rich boy”, the two very happy together, their children perhaps not quite so much (children, as we all know can be, and often are, rebellious, as Megan was with her mother most of the time she was growing up, and as she often was with me — honestly, it’s to be expected), although her children (and her lovely and successful husband, Maz) love her to distraction, Megan in “middle age” quite the sophisticated (if too bourgeoise for my tastes, if I might be so bold as to say so) woman of 43 years of age, her life not having taken the path of her best friend growing up, Kasari Govender (she/her/hers, who took office as B.C.’s first independent Human Rights Commissioner on September 3, 2019), but for Megan, her life still one of meaning and substance, if not quite the degree of societal contribution for which she possesses an unparalleled aptitude.

Stories of a Life | The Ties That Bind Daughters and Fathers

October 31, 2020fixin to die rag, Jude and Megan, Stories of a LifeRaymond Tomlin

When Megan Jessica Tomlin was born on a Saturday night, March 26th, 1977, at Burnaby General Hospital at 10:26pm, given that she was a breach birth, the hospital room was filled with a harried collection of nurses and doctors & an anesthesiologist who’d been called to assist with the birth.
As a medicated Cathy lay peaceful, laying stock still on her white-sheeted hospital bed — given that she was infused with anaesthetic drugs to aid in the birth, to keep her sedated for what turned out to be her second, very difficult birth — upon delivery, a nurse gathered my new daughter, Megan, and brought her over to me, as I stood to Cathy’s left, just behind where her head lay, and handed my hushed newborn daughter into my arms.
For the 10 minutes that followed, a seeming lifetime of remembrance and love, Megan her eyes all blue peered directly into my eyes and deep into my soul, and for those few brief moments I into hers, as my daughter imprinted on me as the father who would become in her early years, and in succeeding years through to her late teens, the single most transformative person in her life, a father she trusted & loved with all her generous heart.
In the weeks that followed Megan’s birth, the wheels began to fall of the bus that was my marriage to Cathy, as Cathy seemed to lose herself, quitting her job at the Ministry of Human Resources office, drinking, staying out all night long, and otherwise engaging in self-destructive behaviour.
Why?

Given my position as the British Columbia Teachers’ Federation Learning and Working Conditions Chair for the Interior, and my long years of work previous with the Federation, and the great relationship I’d developed with Linda Shuto — working with her to form the first Status of Women office within an NGO anywhere on the continent — as well as BCTF President Jim McFarlane and, more especially with BCTF VP Don Walmsley, as you might well expect from a Federation comprised of mainly older members, Executive plans were afoot for Federation generational leadership change — and I targeted as the person who would become a future BCTF President.
Don Walmsley visited Cathy and me multiple times throughout 1977, in our newly acquired Interior home, to advise the both of us that plans were in process to, at the spring BCTF AGM in 1978, run me as a second vice-president of the Federation, with an eye to soon becoming BCTF President.
Here’s how the Federation saw it, Don explaining to the both of us: my organizing bona fides in the Interior had gained provincial attention, Cathy and I were a young couple “from the Interior” (the left on the Federation liked the idea of running candidates from rural areas), Cathy was a professional, was sophisticated and presented well, we had two children — we were, as far as the Federation was concerned, “the perfect couple”.
Here’s what Don Walmsley told Cathy and I …

“Next year, Raymond, we’ll run you for 2nd VP. Cathy, you can run as a Board of Education COPE trustee candidate for Vancouver School Board. Raymond, we’ll find you a job in Vancouver, find you a house, and Cathy we’ll make sure you’re employed, as well, finding you a job in the city similar to what you’re doing up here. Next year (1978), once you’re on the Executive, Raymond, and have moved down to the city, you’ll be closer to the Federation offices. In 1979, we’ll run you for 1st VP, and depending on how the election goes for President of the Federation, if our candidate loses, we’ll run you for President in 1980. If our candidate wins, and serves a three year term, we’ll run you for President in 1983.”

Sounded good to me — and not so good to Cathy, as elucidated above.
Once Don had left our home, Cathy told me that she had no intention of having the next 20 years of her life being planned by the teachers’ federation, nor was she enamoured of the idea of living in my shadow.
Understandable.
You know how when you’re watching an awards show on TV, and the winner is (almost invariably) a man, the first person he thanks, whom he gushes over, is his wife, saying ardently, “I couldn’t have done it without her — she’s been my rock, and has stood by my side throughout the entire journey that has led to tonight. I will love you for always, my beloved.”
Believe me when I write: Cathy was having none of that arrant palaver.

Long story short, by early 1978, I had been awarded custody of both Jude and Megan, Cathy was off gallivanting around the globe with a drinking & carousing rock ‘n roll band — and I was left to raise two infant children.
From the outset, Megan was a bright and engaged child, far ahead of her milestone maturational markers — walking at 9 months, speaking at age 1, reading at 18 months — and by the time she was two years of age, as in control of her environment as any 11-year-old child of my acquaintance.
Where Jude — 21 months Megan’s senior — wanted to be out and about all the time, one of the friendliest, most gregarious and social children you’d ever want to meet, Megan was quiet, reserved, pensive and thoughtful, as big a “daddy’s girl” as could possibly be imagined, by my side throughout the day, and separated from me only when she was in daycare, or asleep.
As Cathy and I often remarked to one another as Megan was growing up, “Whose child is this, anyway? Megan certainly can’t be ours — she’s just so much brighter & more capable than either of us, or both of us combined.”
For me, there has never been anyone to whom I have been closer, who has understood me and “had my number”, with whom my relationship has proved more loving & honest than has long been the case with Megan & I.

We acknowledge — as if we have known each other across many lifetimes — that we have found one another on this Earth, in this lifetime, and as I josh Megan by referring to her as her very own diety, in this life the two of us take succour in the knowledge that we love one another, know one another, that as we live lives that are separate, Megan now married with children, and me in my west side home spending hours each day writing stories just like this, that as we run across one another from time to time, as we often do in my Kitsilano neighbourhood, that the first words each of us will utter will be, “I love you” — as we set about to continue our day.

</ br>The knowing glance tells you everything you need to know about fathers & daughters