Utopia Moment sketches and writing by Jack Ruttan and friends

Going to miss Lhasa de Sela. Not that I played her music a lot around here, but I always paused when La Lorona or one of her other haunting numbers came on the radio, or played at a friend’s place. Kind of a female version of Leonard Cohen, at least in the sultry romantic aspect of her music. She was the only person I met and chatted with in Montreal who later became famous. Trying to remember now, but we had drinks in the Cheval Blanc, and maybe one other place. She was a friend of a friend’s girlfriend, and had interesting stories to tell.

Her family was with “the circus,” maybe something to do with the military also, so her early life was spent travelling from place to place. She was an American/Mexican, so was worried about being able to stay in Montreal. She went to school in California with Alice Walker’s daughter, who, it seemed was a little snooty. We talked about books and things. She really didn’t talk about her singing.

I’d see her around town sometimes, because she was like me, one of those rootless Montreal artsy types. Then she got well-known. I’d still see her once in a while, when she popped into Welch’s, the used bookstore where I worked for 5 years in the early 90s. She’d say “hi,” don’t know if she really remembered me. Very shy and soft spoken.

When I had met her, she had shaved her head. I don’t think that had anything to do with the cancer that killed her, so early in life with such a great career. She just had a new album out this season, so I was thinking about her again. Now she joins that pantheon, in one’s memory. The good thing about being an artist is that you affect a lot of people, and can leave something behind. Though it’s a shame she didn’t have many years in which to sing and record more of her music.

Sad to hear about the death of Henry Lehman. You can read about it on the Fagstein blog here, along with some writing by him.

There weren’t many art writers working in English in Montreal. So, during the few times I ran into him, at an art opening, or on the street, we could chat and share experiences. Funny, but what we most seemed to share were the occasional mistakes: getting a name wrong, for instance, or some fact. I think, since I was in the same business, he could confess sins to me without fear of judgment.

It’s not always easy being an art critic. Artists and galleries rely on you to get the word out about their shows, but don’t want your opinion to get in the way. On the other hand, readers and editors want an exciting story, or at least to learn a little about art in this city. Hard making a living writing about art, and Lehman did that, for a while. Now he joins the pantheon.

During one of those later park walks.

Still pretty broken up about this. That was very tough, but at least I was there. Anyhow, below is what I’ll read at the service in Calgary this Monday. They advised us to keep to the cheerful, positive stuff. Sadly, going to two services in September for friends prepared me a little. One good thing, it’s brought me closer to family.

Finally, they put his obit up: [link]

Maybe later, I might be able to come up with something more searching. Probably not for the blog, however.

The things I’d like to remember about my Dad is my growing up, and having a really great childhood, despite a lot of challenges. Moving from city to city. Finding a new home, having to make new friends. We took some excellent trips, to Montana and the western coast of the US. Went skiing a lot… and our family was one of the first in Calgary to take up cross country skiing. People would come up to us and ask about the flimsy wooden skis on top of the car. Were we ski jumpers, or something?

More personally, from Dad I remember help with school, sharing spy and historical novels, and fooling with model airplane engines. After school, I’d sometimes go to his office at the Calgary Board of Education, and play with the computers. They were a lot bigger, and slower in those days. I still like computers. Not a programmer, though.

We had our differences, politically, and otherwise, but things never got out of hand. He loved to challenge me, and taught me how to solve problems. That was his computing and management background coming out. Above all, he taught me not to give up, no matter what life throws at you.

My mom’s death in my last year of university affected our whole family deeply. Dad, I’m afraid, most of all. Living in the east and working as a writer, I miss the family stuff. Still, it was great, even in the later years to take him for a little walk in the park.

My sister Paula did most of the work taking care of him in the tough times, despite her own responsibilities, and I’m always grateful for this. As a poet said, “What thou lovest well remains, the rest is dross. / What thou lovest well shall not be reft from thee.”

Having an awful time lately with people I like and have worked with, passing away. First Sonja Skarstedt, then Renee Wathelet. Now it’s Stuart Robertson.

Soft-spoken gardening expert on CBC radio, and columnist in the Gazette, he was also Chair of our Electronic Rights Defense Committee for a time. He sometimes had a bit of a temper, but I admired his style, his commitment and the handle he had on the issues.

This is the Montreal Gazette obituary: [link]

Here’s a blog post by friend and co-erdc-er Mary Soderstrom, explaining some of Stuart’s gardening chops: [link]

Completely shocked this morning to hear about the brutal death of Renée Wathelet, a person with a great soul whose beautiful photographs graced her blog En direct des isles.

The nasty story is here.

I’ve been avoiding writing about this, because it hit me hard, when I heard about it last July 31. Didn’t want to announce it before the obituary came out, because I didn’t want to be the crow, the one bearing that news.

Sad, because Sonja, along with her partner Geof, who ran Zymergy Magazine, plus a poetry press, were among my first and longest-running literary friends in Montreal. They sort of picked me up when I went to an open reading, having just gotten to the city and didn’t know anyone. The crowd didn’t receive my Calgary short stories very well, but those two took me in. Very funny and strange people. With fingers in a lot of pies in the Montreal lit community. It’s difficult to think of Sonja without Geof, Geof without Sonja. They were a duality.

Anyhow, now that she’s gone, I think she’s joined that pantheon of dead poets that I remember. Ruth Taylor, Artie Gold, Robert Allen. They’re purified now, in memory. Unhappy I won’t see her again, but there are those memories. Dinners at Amelio’s Pizza, her crazy cats. Driving around Montreal, and hearing stories of the oddballs who submitted to her poetry press.

She was very private and urban, almost agoraphobic. Still, I mostly ran into her with Geof downtown in shopping malls, which show up in her poems a lot. (see link below)

http://www.coraclepress.com/chapbooks/skarstedt/abundances.html

Anyways, that’s it. I’m not so sure about an afterlife, reincarnation, or heaven, but she lives on in the memories of those who knew her.

Nice article from the Gazette about Sonja: http://www.montrealgazette.com/health/Sonja+Skarstedt+definitely+Montreal+poet/1864470/story.html

I wish I could find this Gazette “Lifestyle” photo spread from the 90s showing Montreal women poets, including Sonja, wearing the latest fashions. Good for a giggle, anyhow.