I’ve told the story many times, and with each telling, the ending changes.

Maybe it’s a trilogy or an on-going series. With each year a new twist appears.

Lama Tara reminds me that our lives are like a book. Even when you read the line “The End,” that’s never really the final scene. It’s just the place where the writer stops telling you what happens. Everyone’s path continues; we just don’t know where it goes.

I do know when this story began—September 19, 2006. I went for a walk on Salisbury Crags in Edinburgh and ran into the famous Scottish crime fiction writer, Ian Rankin. Ian is my favourite writer. It’s a very good start to this story.

The rendition of this tale begins when Ian said to me, “When you get back home, tell Alma Lee to invite me to Vancouver to speak at her writing festival.”

I came home and gave the message to the Vancouver International Writing Festival. I never spoke to Alma. (But I googled her and was impressed.) Ian appeared at the festival in 2009. We laughed about our chance meeting and his request. He thanked me for passing along the message. I still had never met Alma Lee.

Two years later, I created the Robbie Burns Reading Marathon event. One of the first invitations I sent out was to Alma Lee. I never heard back, but I am a tenacious soul.

The same invitation went out the following year for the second marathon. She answered, and on January 25, 2013, I finally met Alma Lee. She was absolutely perfect. She was a highlight of the event.

The story could end here…but it doesn’t.

Alma came back to last year’s Burns Marathon and did a special additional reading. By then it was not unusual to be in contact with her about Ian’s appearances in Vancouver or other Scottish happenings around town.

In April, Alma told me about her plan to put on another writing festival—a crime fiction festival.

And that is the beginning of this next chapter.

Last week, we started the major fund-raising for Cuffed, the Vancouver International Crime Fiction Festival. I am the Associate Producer, and I get to work alongside Alma Lee. I sincerely hope you take a look at our campaign and contribute. http://igg.me/at/cuffedfestival

Note to all…if you happen upon Ian Rankin on the side of a mountain, listen to what he says.

This has been a very good story.

 

Today the airwaves are filled with comments about the Scottish Referendum Vote. September 18^th will be their defining day. I’ve been watching the debate for a year and it’s been intense. But whatever Scotland decides isn’t going to make a difference here in Vancouver. We get to vote for our own future on November 15^th.

I’m getting prepared.

This past weekend I got to chat with Kirk LaPointe. He seems like a lovely man.

He wants to be Vancouver’s mayor.

The story of his childhood, living in poverty with a single mom, brought back too many memories. I would have liked to hear more about how he has survived and thrived.

His concern for our children was his first message. I believed him.

His speech to the small gathering at the Kerrisdale home covered all the points. We heard about his impressive background. And I have to jump in and say it was impressive to me because it included the aspects I look for. Kirk has a background in publishing; he’s a journalist, was an ombudsman, and even teaches ethics and leadership. He likes to read. He has a twitter account. He is a family man. I wasn’t impressed with his enjoyment of boxing, but no one’s perfect.

I was surprised to find out we are the same age.

Then the conversation focused on the fight ahead. What was going to be needed for Kirk to reach his goal? What he would do if he won? What were his plans and aspirations for my Vancouver? Did they seem doable? Reasonable?

Bottom line: Kirk LaPointe seems like a very smart and good man. I would give him the keys to my car.

Another bottom line: I like Kirk LaPointe and will probably vote for him. And until the election I will tell people to find out more about Kirk. We need leaders like this.

The last bottom line: I believe Kirk LaPointe has integrity. I hope I’m right.

And my message for Kirk…

“Are you sure you want to do this? I like you. It’s going to get ugly. Politics and elections have become breeding grounds for trolls and evil. So really, I’ll ask again…”

“Are you sure?”

The noise was a little creepy. And it was always there in the background. I asked if the squirrels made the sounds all night long. “No, they must sleep at night because we don’t hear them… well maybe a little bit, but that’s OK. The babies are getting bigger and they’ll be gone soon.”

A family of squirrels had invaded my client’s attic. The friendly pest exterminator had confirmed the breech. He had the ways and means to get rid of them effectively. My client was distraught with the thought of killing the babies. She just knew they must be awfully cute. Luckily her husband also had a soft side. Even better, the pest-man had another option but it would be timely and expensive.

Let the squirrel family keep their happy home until the kids were old enough to make their way outside. Once all were able to take care of themselves the attic would be closed up. The process was long and involved and took a special trap door and constant checks on the little family. A costly affair.

So for far too many weeks, during our training sessions, I could hear the critters scurrying around and running amuck above us! Wendy just laughed and said she imagined Mama Squirrel up there looking after her children.

Wendy always mentioned that her husband was good to finance the endeavour.

And indeed he was.

Before everyone grew tired of the squatters, Mr.Pest-man came back with the proclamation that the family had vacated the nest and he would block up the entrance. Mission accomplished.

Few people heard of the kindness. Casual conversation didn’t lend itself to, “We are housing a family of squirrels for the summer.”

Less than a week later a card arrived in the mail…

I guess someone was watching… or maybe squirrels are a little cleverer that we suspect.

Is the opposite of kindness an unkindness? I had not thought about the word until Craig Ferguson mentioned it on his show… it’s haunted me ever since.

Last evening, I stood with a friend up near Queen Elizabeth Park in Vancouver and the nightly parade of crows started to fly over us. We just watched. Even though we had seen them many times the eerie feeling was disconcerting.

Hundreds of crow all flying in one direction. Seemingly on a quest. The occasional “caw.”

I asked if she knew about the ravens. She guessed I would have something strange to say.

“An unkindness of ravens…. a murder of crows and an unkindness of ravens.”

That’s what a group of them is called. I believe there is something perfect about the description. Not that I think ravens are unkind, but the word makes you want to know more. Why unkindness? What did they do?

And I get the feeling it will not make any sense.

Like a “murder of crows.” Yes, crows murder things but so do kittens. And we call them a “kindle of kittens.” This seems unfair to the crows.

Crows have also been at the birth of every Dalai Lama. Take that and file it into your memory bank. We need to stop being so judgmental. And furthermore, I like crows.

Try this; say these words and see if your voice goes a little spooky, “An unkindness of ravens.”

I bet it did.

Now say it again with a smile on your face… I bet you can’t.

I love flourishing. Maybe this is the best proof my family is from Scotland.

At any bagpipe band performance my eyes are transfixed on the tenor drummers and the wild gestures they do with the mallets… the flourishing. They spin them around and wave their arms in a choreographed dance.

A large group of us gathered together up at Simon Fraser University to listen and watch the SFU Pipe band with their final rehearsal before heading to Glasgow for the World Championship.

A few thoughts filtered through my mind as I watched the group practice…

1. How lucky we are to have this world class band right here in Vancouver. Some people wait months and years to hear them play and I only had a thirty minute drive that included a stop at Starbucks.

2. The band members look very different when not in their kilts.

3. Bagpipes sound perfect when played outside on the top of a mountain (even though these ones, played by the best in the world, would sound perfect almost anywhere.)

4. I do love flourishing.

5. I am blessed.

After the rehearsal, the band started to pack up their instruments and the audience milled about. Sitting on the grass, a little away from the group sat a tenor drummer. I almost walked by but stopped.

“When I watch the band play I always watch you… I think you’re the best… I’m a big fan of the flourishing.”

“Thanks…” then he gave a shrug, “Thanks for saying that.”

I could tell there weren’t too many of us flourishing fans around, and even less who admit it.

His name is Mike O’Neil.

You can watch him and the rest of the band compete next week at the World’s…

You know what I’ll be watching.