Memory is something that has always fascinated me. I believe this is because I have always had such a poor one. I always did well in school, and had no problems with concepts, but ask me to memorize something and I struggled mightily. Learning French was hopeless for me. I have had to derive formulas for my physics exams in university from first principles during exams because for the life of me I couldn’t remember the bloody formulas.
 
I have developed several techniques to cope, especially with my atrocious inability to remember names. I have tried to link things together in my mind. This has led to numerous faux pas (notice the French!!) such as calling Mrs Swan, Mrs Peacock. I have tried lines like “I’m sorry but I have forgotten your last name” when the reality is I have forgotten both their names, and hope they will add the first name to the last.
 
Finally I have decided to  be upfront and admit I don’t remember someone’s name. That seems to work quite well, at least for the first few times. I have started prefacing my introductions with the admission that I have a hard time remembering people’s names. Most people are quite sympathetic and often admit to a similar problem.
 
I use jokes like “Of all the things I’ve lost, I miss my mind the most.” “I have a mind like a steel trap, rusted shut.” “I have a photographic memory, but it’s underdeveloped” (this joke does not work with the under 30 crowd – be warned)
 
I have studied memory from a neurological perspective. There are some very pretty diagrams of how it all works. Lovely colours, lots of arrows. There is a structure in the brain called the Hippocampus which is really important. I have decided I must possess a “pygmy hippocampus” . I got that idea by watching a You Tube video on Pygmy Hippopotamuses. It seemed to make sense at the time.
 
Learning  to live with this disability provides continual lessons in humility. Never do I suffer offense when someone forgets my name, in fact a closer emotion would be relief…”You too eh?” This is part of who I am. This is how God created me. There are much worse things people can suffer.
 
Charlene Lockner

My dad is first generation Lebanese and as unfortunate as it is that the language didn’t get passed down a generation, at least the foods did.  A while back, I was making M’jedera (lentils & rice) for dinner and thinking I’d like to take a trip to the middle east to see where my family is from.  
“I know Sitti (grandmother) came from Lebanon, but what village?” I asked.   My dad, 87, child #12 of 13, doesn’t know and suggests I email Mary, child #13.
“When I was a child, my oldest brother used to tell me we were from Chraim”, my aunt writes.  So, I looked it up (thank you Google) and find it in Syria.
“Wait a minute!”, I write back.  “Chraim is in Syria.  We’re Syrian?!?”  It feels like the earth just shifted beneath my feet.
“What?!?  I don’t think so.  Let me ask Shakeeb (a cousin)”, she says.
“He says the town was called Khaim, near Marjaayoun, in Lebanon.  He also mentions that when Sitti was born, 1896, Lebanon was a Syrian state under the Ottoman Empire.  It wasn’t until WWII that Lebanon became a country of its own.”
Mystery solved.  Cool fact.  We are Lebanese after all.  Terra firma.
~Kim Alexander (nee Kelly – not an Arabic name – a story for another time.)
​

​I am part of a wonderful choir called Durham RESOUND Choir. This choir is an inclusive, fun and friendly environment for anyone and everyone who likes to sing. A decision was made that we should all get to know each other more. So, we sent in emails about our hobbies and interests and had little meetings to discuss those hobbies and interests. This week, we did a kind of book club. A bunch of us joined up in a Zoom call and discussed our favourite books. We talked about the plot, what we liked about them, and why we love it. I personally found that this meeting was great! We had a great time laughing and discussing our favourite books, and I look forward to doing it again sometime!
 
The books we discussed are:
The Hobbit, by J.RR. Tolkien
Villa Triste, by Lucretia Grindle
The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying up, by Marie Kondo
Elinor Oliphant is Completely Fine, by Gail Honeyman
 
 
Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine, by Gail Honeyman.
Joanne L.
 
Plot: Eleanor struggles with social skills and says exactly what she thinks. She has a hard time with her social life until she meets a bubbly man named Raymond. They help save an elderly man named Sam. They all help each other with their isolated lifestyles.
Why she loves it: It was fun to listen to on audio book, especially with the accents of different characters. She loves the message that to heal your heart, you have to open up. She also loves how uplifting it is.
 
 
The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up, by Marie Kondo
Amy G
 
Plot: Marie tells you how to properly clean up, and how to know what you should keep and what you shouldn’t.  She says you should thank what you throw away, and doing that helps with letting go.
Why she loves it: She is from Montreal, and her parents were children of the depression. She had an addition done on the house, and her stuff stuffed in half of the house. Then, she ended up with half of her mum’s stuff. She loves the theory: don’t choose what to throw out, choose what to keep. She loves the mindfulness of it.
 
Villa Triste, by Lucretia Grindle
Kim A.
Plot: The story opens up in modern-day Rome, and an elderly man has been shot execution-style in his vestibule. They find that his gut is full of salt. The detective takes the man’s diary and doesn’t let the police take it. As the detective starts the read, he learns about a family that is part of the resistance against Mussolini. The mother’s father and two daughters keep having to move around. One of the daughters is rescuing people and taking them to safety. The other is a nurse who is keeping track of who is dying in the hospitals, so her parents can use the empty house to broadcast to the allies. Back in the present day, there is another assassination with the same MO. The detective realizes that both murders harken back to the resistance movement. 
Why she loves it: She loves it because of how the clues unfold, and how you learn a about WWII in Italy. It’s a murder mystery, historical fiction, love story, adventure, family, intrigue novel.
 
The Hobbit, by J.R.R. Tolkien
Celeste S.
 
Plot: “Bilbo Baggins lives a simple life with his fellow hobbits in the shire until the wizard Gandalf arrives and convinces him to join a group of dwarves on a quest to reclaim the kingdom of Erebor. The journey takes Bilbo on a path through treacherous lands swarming with orcs, goblins and other dangers, not the least of which is an encounter with Gollum and a simple gold ring that is tied to the fate of Middle Earth in ways Bilbo cannot even fathom.” He and the descendants of Durin travel through the land until they reach the mountain where Smaug is hiding, and where their home is. They must fight off the dragon and regain their riches and their home. At points in their journey, they almost get eaten by Orks and spiders, and they get captured by the wood-elves. But, for most of them, everything turns out okay in the end.
Why she loves it: She loves this book because it provides an escape from everyday life. She can forget about all her responsibilities and worries and be immersed in Tolkien’s world. She also loves the story and the characters, and she cannot wait to continue with The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring.

In August, when hornets began to hover around our picnics in the back yard, the kitchen was buzzing with chopping and chatter as Mom and Grandma began making their annual batch of chili sauce that would lift meatloaf to new levels all winter long!
 
A trip to the market produced enough peppers, onions, celery, tomatoes, apples, peaches and pears to fill the huge preserving pot that has been in our family for years. Sugar and apple cider vinegar were added. Cheesecloth-wrapped pickling spice was plunked in the middle of the simmering pot with a few tablespoons of cinnamon, and then the long cooking process began, wafting a sweet tangy smell through the open kitchen window.
 
That is when I discovered that bees are attracted to vinegar! The window screen would be literally covered with these hungry creatures buzzing around for the duration of the cooking process. Several hours later, Grandma would dip a spoon in, have a slurp, and declare the chili sauce sufficiently reduced to golden goodness, ready to ladle into steaming hot, sterilized jars secured with lids that would pop as they cooled and sealed.
 
I continue to make our family's chili sauce each year, and love to share it with friends who have never tried this unique recipe that includes fruit to soften and enrich the vegetable flavours.
 
This tradition reminds me that time, and family members may pass, but the cooking aromas from our childhood bring sweet memories back to us like it was just yesterday. 
 
Sue Rawlinson

​Horsewomen at RESOUND Choir met and connected over their love of horses and riding.  
Stories abounded.  While being let out into the field, one of the ponies at Ella’s farm got chased by its arch enemy (a horse) and ran into Ella and right over her poor foot.  Lesley worked with horses for 30 years or so.  Her experiences include working at Woodbine, exercising them, jumping, horse shows and braiding manes.  They all agreed that being around horses was therapeutic and contributed to their collectedness as teenagers.
The RCMP Music Ride show, and the Cavalier Horse Show with its Cirque du Soleil feel, led to an interesting conversation about Lippizan and Icelandic horses.  Lippizaners were bred originally from eight horses around 800AD in Slovenia and trained in Vienna because they were used by the Hapsburg nobility.  Only stallions are show horses because of a physical attribute needed to execute the high-level classical dressage maneuvers called ‘airs above the ground’.  Icelandic horses are often mistaken for ponies because they’re small and are unique because they have five gaits rather than the regular four.  The Icelandic line is pure and over 1100 years old.  Icelandic law prevents all horses from being imported into the country, and exported animals are not allowed to return.
Other topics of interest were the cost of stabling your horse and of lessons, local riding schools, where to buy tack on sale, equine diseases, the bio-equine management degree at Guelph University, the Royal Winter Fair events, and birthing.
A promised group ride is on the docket once the COVID-19 situation permits.
​-K. Alexander