Pussy Willows

I've been reading a lot of Shawna Lemay's blog lately, and one of the things I love about her work is that she always gives a set of photos - multiple angles or perspectives on the same scene. Usually, I force myself to narrow it down to one photo for one object - although I always take multiple to begin with. But sometimes a series gives a more holistic impression, I think.  

I took these photos late last week, on a particularly springy day. Finding pussy willows at sunset. 

When I was younger, we always collected pussy willow branches in the river valley for Easter. We'd place them in a vase, and they became an Easter tree. 

We'd hang eggs on the branches, but since the pussy willows were so delicate, first we poked tiny holes in the shell at either end of the egg, and blew the yolk out into a bowl. 

We made omelettes with the insides, and dyed the hollow shells in bright colours. 

After Easter was over, I used to pinch off the soft buds and save them in a jar, so that I could feel the gentle down all year round.

After photographing pussy willows, I sat down to read some Oscar Wilde and watch the light fade. He seemed to be talking about our Easter trees.

"We can forgive a man for making a useful thing as long as he does not admire it. The only excuse for making a useless thing is that one admires it intensely.

All art is quite useless." ~ Oscar Wilde

On the Hustings

This is a guest post by Edmontonian Ellen Taylor. Interested in contributing to Journal Edmonton yourself? Check out the submissions page!

Door-knocking
photo by Erika Luckert

With the provincial election campaign in full swing, candidates and their representatives are appearing at my doorstep, seeking support. My thoughts turn back to my time as a door-knocker during the 2008 provincial election campaign.

The weather was very cold for most of the campaign period during the winter of 2008. Although I had bought shoe liners developed by NASA to keep my feet warm, they didn’t do the trick, so I resorted to my skidoo boots that I had used for work in the north. Armed with brochures highlighting the candidate’s background, web site and position on the key issues of the time, I’d diligently walk up an icy sidewalk, ring the doorbell and wait for the door to open a crack. I’d introduce myself, say a few words about the candidate I was representing with fingers crossed that I’d be let in for just a few seconds of warmth and the opportunity to briefly engage those at home about the election. If it went well, I would ask whether the candidate could count on the support of household members, so that they could be called during election day to get the vote out. It was a bonus when I scored a lawn sign location for the candidate, and even a bigger deal when the home owner of a corner lot near a busy intersection agreed to a large fence sign emblazoned with the candidate’s name.

What are some of the memorable things that happened during my foray into door-knocking four years ago? Shock when a guy answered the door buck-naked and said “I don’t have any clothes on”. Trying to keep a straight face when a woman answered the door with only her eyes and mouth showing through a clay facial mask. The frightening feeling when the door opened to 2 or 3 barking dogs restrained by their owner (this happened many times). Struggling to keep my balance walking on icy sidewalks but wiping out anyway. The woman who asked me to put the candidate’s brochure on the ground and to pass it to her with my foot to avoid contact with my germs. The widows and widowers tearfully telling me that they had lost their life-long partners when I referred to the outdated voters’ list from 2004. Meeting Harry Strom’s charming widow, who said “it didn’t last very long being the Premier’s wife” and “Harry watches over my shoulder to see how I vote.” Trying not to take it personally when people smirked, recoiled or were openly hostile since they clearly did not support the candidate I represented. Being asked if I was a Christian as if it were a deal-breaker. Being caught in the middle of a fight in homes where the husband and wife supported different political parties. Encountering people I had crossed paths with at different times of my life, in High School, University, and through work. An English professor who had taught me as an undergraduate student remembered me. So did parents of children who had gone to school with my kids.

I discovered that a lot of people didn’t care at all about the 2008 election. I heard comments like “First politician on my doorstep gets my vote.” “I’m neutral” (meaning “I don’t vote”). “I’m not voting since Jesus wasn’t involved in politics.” And then there were the women who said that they vote for the candidate that their husband tells them to vote for. Some people clearly didn’t understand that Canada has three levels of government.

It seemed that people who had tuned in to the election were, for the most part, pretty satisfied with how things rolled in the province, and weren’t too jazzed about party policies. The facts surrounding the political issues of the day didn’t seem to matter to them. Instead, the positive or negative feelings toward party leaders (“there’s something about him I really like / don’t like”) and how they felt the candidate’s party aligned with their personal convictions in areas that touched their lives held more sway.

When candidates and their representatives appear at your door during this election campaign, consider engaging briefly with them on your doorstep. If it happens to be freezing outside, consider letting them in for a moment to warm up and do their pitch. And think of a question to ask them about an issue that matters to you. The answers you hear might get you hooked on this election.