Response as Judith Templeton, Social Service Worker
“What have I done? One second ago, Shaila is willingly assisting me on my journey to visit the victims’ families who have not accepted; and now she is on the subway, probably halfway home by now. This whole situation is an absolute disaster. I completely understand her actions, although I wish she was still here to help me translate. I hope it wasn’t me who caused her to leave, although I think the entire situation is getting to Shaila. I want to call her, but then again, that might be inappropriate. I guess I’ll just wait until the situation has settled. I understand her grief, as she has been calmer throughout the situation than anybody I know. Hmmmm what to do now? I assume the lady who we were going to visit will not be pleased if I show up alone yet again. It is important I convince her to obtain the medical help we are providing… I can’t even think straight right now. I wish for the best for all of the people suffering, but it has been quite some time since the incident; these people will not even go to Ireland to recover their loved ones bodies! I have to be understanding, though. I cannot imagine being in their position. No more stalling, back to work for me. Shaila will be deeply missed, but her management of grief is not of my concern.”
-Brendan Meagher
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Alice Munro's "An Ounce of Cure" Response
“An Ounce of Cure”, written by Alice Munro, is a very interesting piece of writing, as it portrays a distinct message. The title refers to the quote, “An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure”, but has been modified to capture the events of the story. That quote means that it is better to stop a problem from occurring before it happens, instead of attempting to fix it once it is already a problem, in order to save yourself from the hassle and suffering. Because it was modified for the title of the story, the immediate impression by the reader is that “an ounce” is referring to the liquor the girl in the story consumed; as she believes it will be her “cure” to get over her ex-boyfriend, Martin Collingwood. The theme of this story is, basically, “kids will be kids” and there is always a certain level of exaggeration with adolescent teenagers, despite what they may like to admit. The theme is explored by the actions of the girl throughout the story, beginning with her romance, to her attempted suicide, and the eventual trouble which she gets herself in. “An Ounce of Cure” is an intelligently written short story, and portrays an important and significant message.
-Brendan Meagher
-Brendan Meagher
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Margaret Atwood's "Happy Endings" Response
"Happy Endings", by Margaret Atwood first appeared in 1983 in the Canadian collection Murder in the Dark. It is a timeless Canadian piece of literature, and a very famous short story. The plot of the story is almost irrelevant to the focus as Atwood gives a very distinct message, that everything ends the same anyway, in death. This is why the story is so appealing, because even though it is not idealistic and many may disagree, Atwood is very convincing. It is evident that Atwood is suggesting that endings are pre-determined, regardless of what the story is or how it happens, as expressed in her final statement (“Now try How and Why”). Atwood explains “The only authentic ending is the one provided here: John and Mary die. John and Mary die. John and Mary die” late in the story. This statement clearly summarizes the message being portrayed, and is very serious, despite the common misconception of this being a satirical piece. Atwood creates an environment of unfortunate truth in the piece “Happy Endings”, which is why it is so memorable and important to Canadian culture.
-Brendan Meagher
For access to “Happy Endings”, please visit:
http://users.ipfw.edu/ruflethe/endings.htm
-Brendan Meagher
For access to “Happy Endings”, please visit:
http://users.ipfw.edu/ruflethe/endings.htm
Monday, January 26, 2009
Mid-20th Century Canadian Poem Response
The Swimmer's Moment
Margaret Avison
From: Winter Sun. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1962. pp.36
For everyone
The swimmer's moment at the whirlpool comes,
But many at that moment will not say
"This is the whirlpool, then."
By their refusal they are saved
From the black pit, and also from contesting
The deadly rapids, and emerging in
The mysterious, and more ample, further waters.
And so their bland-blank faces turn and turn
Pale and forever on the rim of suction
They will not recognize.
Of those who dare the knowledge
Many are whirled into the ominous centre
That, gaping vertical, seals up
For them an eternal boon of privacy,
So that we turn away from their defeat
With a despair, not for their deaths, but for
Ourselves, who cannot penetrate their secret
Nor even guess at the anonymous breadth
Where one or two have won:
(The silver reaches of the estuary).
This poem, written by Margaret Avison entitled “The Swimmer’s Moment”, was written in 1962, during a crucial time period of Canadian poetry and literature. Avison directly relates the difficulties and sometimes pleasures of a swim race to everyday experiences in the lives of average Canadians. A common symbol used throughout this poem is a whirlpool to represent a variety of challenges in life, and the repetition of this distinguishes the poem. Another distinguishing aspect to “The Swimmer’s Moment” is the interesting form, meter, and rhyme scheme that Avison wrote this poem in. Personally, I understand why this poem is famous and a reflection of Canadian culture and due to the complexity and clear, decisive message, “The Swimmer’s Moment” surely is a “winner”.
-Brendan Meagher
Margaret Avison
From: Winter Sun. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1962. pp.36
For everyone
The swimmer's moment at the whirlpool comes,
But many at that moment will not say
"This is the whirlpool, then."
By their refusal they are saved
From the black pit, and also from contesting
The deadly rapids, and emerging in
The mysterious, and more ample, further waters.
And so their bland-blank faces turn and turn
Pale and forever on the rim of suction
They will not recognize.
Of those who dare the knowledge
Many are whirled into the ominous centre
That, gaping vertical, seals up
For them an eternal boon of privacy,
So that we turn away from their defeat
With a despair, not for their deaths, but for
Ourselves, who cannot penetrate their secret
Nor even guess at the anonymous breadth
Where one or two have won:
(The silver reaches of the estuary).
This poem, written by Margaret Avison entitled “The Swimmer’s Moment”, was written in 1962, during a crucial time period of Canadian poetry and literature. Avison directly relates the difficulties and sometimes pleasures of a swim race to everyday experiences in the lives of average Canadians. A common symbol used throughout this poem is a whirlpool to represent a variety of challenges in life, and the repetition of this distinguishes the poem. Another distinguishing aspect to “The Swimmer’s Moment” is the interesting form, meter, and rhyme scheme that Avison wrote this poem in. Personally, I understand why this poem is famous and a reflection of Canadian culture and due to the complexity and clear, decisive message, “The Swimmer’s Moment” surely is a “winner”.
-Brendan Meagher
Classmates Outdoor/Sensory Experience Poem Response
The Lake
The Lake by Alex Kupchak
Walking along the big, blue lake
I kindly see a small white snowflake
The sound of the water, sailing up to the rocks
Canadian Geese flying in flocks
The smell of the cold, fresh clean air
Blowing into my face, oh so bare
Icebergs falling from the cliff
People escaping but imagine if...
Footsteps of exploration trenching through
I look to the lake and it's bavarian blue
I touch the snow, my body shivers
Before we cross the short frozen river
The fun may be over but i won't forget
The memories that come which i shall never regret
Kuppie's sensory experience poem exemplifies Canadian spirit the way it was meant to be represented. The clear descriptions create an atmosphere, which make it feel as if you were still out in the snow, with the “fresh clear air” blowing into your face, “oh so bare”. The distinct rhyme scheme (A, A, B, B) provides a clever and amusing twist to a poem that could easily be interpreted as emotional and intense. The rhyming is clever as well, as a variety of suitable words are appropriately used to describe and distinguish the memorable activities of this day. The feelings of pure joy and excitement are apparent due to the manner in which Kuppie wrote this memorable poem, and I hope to read many more works that are as exciting as this piece. Good job Kuppie, 10/10!
-Brendan Meagher
The Lake by Alex Kupchak
Walking along the big, blue lake
I kindly see a small white snowflake
The sound of the water, sailing up to the rocks
Canadian Geese flying in flocks
The smell of the cold, fresh clean air
Blowing into my face, oh so bare
Icebergs falling from the cliff
People escaping but imagine if...
Footsteps of exploration trenching through
I look to the lake and it's bavarian blue
I touch the snow, my body shivers
Before we cross the short frozen river
The fun may be over but i won't forget
The memories that come which i shall never regret
Kuppie's sensory experience poem exemplifies Canadian spirit the way it was meant to be represented. The clear descriptions create an atmosphere, which make it feel as if you were still out in the snow, with the “fresh clear air” blowing into your face, “oh so bare”. The distinct rhyme scheme (A, A, B, B) provides a clever and amusing twist to a poem that could easily be interpreted as emotional and intense. The rhyming is clever as well, as a variety of suitable words are appropriately used to describe and distinguish the memorable activities of this day. The feelings of pure joy and excitement are apparent due to the manner in which Kuppie wrote this memorable poem, and I hope to read many more works that are as exciting as this piece. Good job Kuppie, 10/10!
-Brendan Meagher
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Saturday, January 17, 2009
My Canadian Poem #2
The Seasons of Canada
Brendan Meagher
A Ballad written in Iambic Tetrameter
Brendan Meagher
A Ballad written in Iambic Tetrameter
(Rhyme Scheme: A, B, C, B)
The summer months, they come and go,
The sky so blue and sunny too.
No clouds to see, just you and me,
The children going to the zoo.
But then it comes, the leaves they fall,
The season is ‘a changing fast.
Cool temperatures, and back to school,
Pumpkins, thanksgiving, it can’t last.
The snow, it falls, children, they call,
Sharing gifts and celebrating.
Hot chocolate and lighting fires,
Memories they are creating.
But then it melts, and birds, they sing,
The heat picks up, the warm winds blow.
April showers, and May flowers,
You come outside, grass starts to grow.
The seasons, they all come and go,
But then it starts over again.
It’s Canada we love so dear,
A cycle that will never end.
The summer months, they come and go,
The sky so blue and sunny too.
No clouds to see, just you and me,
The children going to the zoo.
But then it comes, the leaves they fall,
The season is ‘a changing fast.
Cool temperatures, and back to school,
Pumpkins, thanksgiving, it can’t last.
The snow, it falls, children, they call,
Sharing gifts and celebrating.
Hot chocolate and lighting fires,
Memories they are creating.
But then it melts, and birds, they sing,
The heat picks up, the warm winds blow.
April showers, and May flowers,
You come outside, grass starts to grow.
The seasons, they all come and go,
But then it starts over again.
It’s Canada we love so dear,
A cycle that will never end.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
My Canadian Poem
The Spirit of Canada
Brendan Meagher
Coast to coast, Victoria to PEI,
History beholds, more than meets the eye.
Monuments, buildings, new and old,
Brisk weather, sometimes hot, sometimes cold.
Hockey, lacrosse, beavers, maple leafs,
Native peoples, aboriginal chiefs.
Snowball fights and stick and puck,
French or English, we have plenty of luck.
History beholds, more than meets the eye.
Monuments, buildings, new and old,
Brisk weather, sometimes hot, sometimes cold.
Hockey, lacrosse, beavers, maple leafs,
Native peoples, aboriginal chiefs.
Snowball fights and stick and puck,
French or English, we have plenty of luck.
But what describes our country most,
Is not the weather, nor the coast.
Is not the weather, nor the coast.
It’s the variety of faces that you see,
That’s the spirit of Canada to me.
That’s the spirit of Canada to me.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Canadian Cultural Poem
Behind the Red Brick House
J. Hugh MacDonald
From: The Digging of Deep Wells (Black Moss Press, Windsor, Ontario, 1997).
Behind the Red Brick House
Charlottetown P.E.I. 1955
Doctor Joe and Colin
and the twins
stand in soggy sleeves
behind their house.
They lay the water down
in shining pools
night after night
and on frost crisp mornings
break up shells
of tinkle ice
that mar the thickening surface
then melt it down
with steaming floods
and leave for the office and school
impatient for the work to end
Soon come nights
when hoards of children
shove inside the changing shed
fill lungs with kerosene charged air
or sit and wheeze
and tie their skates
on ice-lump mounds
along the edge
Captains toss
an out-of-season bat
pick shouting teams
and nets are coats
or husks of snow
With eyes like young owls
we stick handle
around figure-skating girls
and flirting pairs
"no lifties" is the rule
but pucks still fly
we scramble over the banks
and mine mounds of drift
We play 'til toes are trapped
laces locked in hanging icicles
We're never more awake
than when we leave
and crunch along streets
sticks across shoulders
hobo style
our skates
lace-hung and steaming
at our backs
and once in bed
we sleep so fast
and dream
of how we'll play
the next game
and the next.
J. Hugh MacDonald
From: The Digging of Deep Wells (Black Moss Press, Windsor, Ontario, 1997).
Behind the Red Brick House
Charlottetown P.E.I. 1955
Doctor Joe and Colin
and the twins
stand in soggy sleeves
behind their house.
They lay the water down
in shining pools
night after night
and on frost crisp mornings
break up shells
of tinkle ice
that mar the thickening surface
then melt it down
with steaming floods
and leave for the office and school
impatient for the work to end
Soon come nights
when hoards of children
shove inside the changing shed
fill lungs with kerosene charged air
or sit and wheeze
and tie their skates
on ice-lump mounds
along the edge
Captains toss
an out-of-season bat
pick shouting teams
and nets are coats
or husks of snow
With eyes like young owls
we stick handle
around figure-skating girls
and flirting pairs
"no lifties" is the rule
but pucks still fly
we scramble over the banks
and mine mounds of drift
We play 'til toes are trapped
laces locked in hanging icicles
We're never more awake
than when we leave
and crunch along streets
sticks across shoulders
hobo style
our skates
lace-hung and steaming
at our backs
and once in bed
we sleep so fast
and dream
of how we'll play
the next game
and the next.
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