When we are apart, we’ll still zill in our hearts:
“I want chicken legs not chicken wings, buddy.”
‘Til we see you again.
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This poem was performed and presented at Rachael’s last Jamila Mai hafla March 13, 2024. Nearly 20 years of dancing for joy in the Shuswap and she is moving to the Island. It was so sad, but wonderful to see so many dancers from various times through the years could all gather to dance together for another time!
In 2008, I was 44. My kids were grown and gone. I was writing my first novel. I was president of my Rotary Club. I wanted to buy my dream car. In the previous 23 years, hubby had done all vehicle purchases for the family. I hated his boring choices. I wanted a fun, cute car that got amazing fuel economy. So, I saved. I spent $10,000 of my own money on my dream car: A 2000 TDI New Beetle that was dubbed “Sheila the Bug.”
Sheila was quickly adorned with decals of butterflies and flowers. She became a fixture in town. Everyone knew when I was at an event. People spotted me on highways and wrote to ask where I was going. Everyone smiled when they saw her (except the jerk who keyed her in the parking lot of the Delta South Hotel in Calgary or the people whose friends punched them because they didn’t read the sign that she is a “HUG BUG-no punches allowed!” So many little girls eyes lit up as they whispered, “I LOVE YOUR CAR!” She got 1000 km on a tank. I could drive to Calgary and back to the Shuswap on a single tank! What a gal!
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Sheila even hosted a celebrity passenger! In 2014 I picked up Outlander author Diana Gabaldon at the airport to bring her to our local writing conference. When she got into the car, she noticed what was in my bud vase and laughed, “Pocket Jamie gets around!” In my nervous excitement I forgot how to shift gears for a few minutes as we drove through the parking lot! When we were stopped by a paving crew for 20 minutes when we were almost in town, it was the most fun I’d had while stopped by a flagger, as we chatted about what it was like to film her cameo performance in the MacKenzie’s Gathering episode of the Outlander TV show.
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And heavens- I almost forget her ALMOST celebrity passenger! In 2013, we drove by Jamie Fraser himself (that is, Sam Heughan) when he was stranded with his brother on the side of the road in the Trans-Canada Highway as we were going to Calgary! I wrote about that experience here.
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Sheila had 145,000 km when I bought her. We have shared 158,000 km in our 15 years together. We drove as far south as Ellensberg, WA, as far west as Vancouver Island, as far north and east as Stettler AB (not very east or north, really!) I’d aimed to get to 400,000, but it is not to be.
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I have purchased my second car, a 2017 Honda Fit/Honda Jazz. She’s only got 35,000 km. She’ll get a few of Sheila’s decals on her butt in tribute to my first beloved car, so full of character and fun.
Happy trails, Sheila. We’ll miss you.
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A suicidal raccoon in 2012 is the reason for the bumper in the original Cyber Green. 11 years and it didn’t fade like the original paint did. I love the beautiful blue/green she aged to! Scarred by a jealous cowboy. How many hugs did we see when we went by?I really wanted to take a photo of Diana in my car at the time, but I thought that would just be weird. While she already had my measure from a few other interactions in the previous 3 years, I was trying really hard not to be weird! lol
Pocket Jamie sat in my bud vase for a decade. He was a promotional item made for the first season of Outlander (which remains the only season I have seen in its entirety. By season 2 they’d made too many changes to Diana’s books for me).
Another one for Diana, whose generousity of time and spirit are an inspiration.
Early in my publishing life, editor Sylvia Taylor spoke at a workshop about the importance of community: how as writers we reach up for guidance and assistance and we reach down to share benefit of our experience. I have seen many examples of this in the last decade, to my privilege and joy. Just this week, on one hand I purchased the book from a writer I’d encouraged at a conference, when this book was a dream, and on the other hand, I received an endorsement for my new book from a best-selling author. It’s a giant circle of support. We’re each other’s readers, promoters, flag wavers, editors, and shoulders to cry on. If you’re a writer, don’t sit alone, join a circle! You belong where people *really* understand about the voices in your head! 🙂 I highly endorse writing conferences as being the places to meet.
I’m part English, part Welsh, part Prussian, part French
Diluted by experiences of generations born the ‘right’ colour.
Not even ‘No Irish need apply’ to tarnish their immigrant dream:
Canada, land of opportunity for the stalwart farming types.
Though great-grandpa was an accountant and failed at farming.
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So who am I to comment on anyone else’s parts?
. My great-niece: part African
. My nephew: part First Nations
are just family. Or
Those friends from here and there whose colour
Was not as important as their character
Whose home culture was a matter of curiosity
Never animousity. We were
White kids convulsing over that time at the bar
When the guy climbed into the back of Khalid’s car
convinced he was a taxi driver,
And we never considered that maybe parts of his heart
Were incized by the stereotype he laughed off.
Because we didn’t waste time worrying about races or colours,
We were full of the wonder of all our parts racing together toward our futures.
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This was created as part of an assignment in my Education of Inclusion course. This week we’re looking at cultural inclusion and racisim. One of the videos we watched was about ‘hyphenated Canadians’. We were expected to comment on this, but I just don’t feel like I can say anything about what it might be like to feel caught between cultural identities, so this poem is my offering on the subject.
Shawn L. Bird 