After arriving in Japan for the first time, i began exploring Japanese poetic forms – realizing that the didactic 5-7-5 structure *wasn’t the point* / Then combining with impressionist colours seen on a recent ramble in Europe, Read it a series combining, in a fashion, Japanese forms with European colours and “new-world” themes.
Then with brother Bob’s upcoming wedding, compiled a bunch of these creations into a little book and read (with translation) at his wedding (mostly to blank stares of bewilderment.
A few years later in Guam, did a proper layout and production run (maybe 50?) and mailed the chapbooks out around the world. Used hemp/cereal straw paper from China (ordered from Paul Stanford in Oregon) which was rough going through copy machines of the day –especially my complicated double-sided / zigzag layout with topstitch binding – of course sewn with hemp twine.
I don’t have one of the “finished ones” in my archive, but do have the original layout production master / will eventually dig out > in the meantime, here is the cover (not hemp paper) + Pay special attention to my proto-Creative-Commons non-copyright on the erstwhile colophon and the pseudonym (do you know the origins?)
While I have few delusions about my poetry chapbooks being “popular” this one especially seems to have disappeared into the wind with nary a sound (despite it being one of the projects of which i am most proud).
Note: a few of these poems were used/re-mixed in a collection from 2004 (assembled in Olympia) called “Hotspring and Stubbed Toe” which was distributed digitally and will be available shortly in this archive as part of #daveo50 series.
My dear ole grandfather, Robert “Bob” Stevenson (rip), (one of many Bob/Roberts in our extended family), fired up a family newsletter for various extended cousins and uncles and aunts et al… Of course, this sort of project requires a lot of wrangling of assignments to generate content which he then dutifully typed, laid out, re-produced and distributed (yes i come from all this honestly). When he was expressing frustration about lack of input from various family members, brother Bob and I volunteered to guest edit an issue. Of course, we put our own style to the dispatch with mail bombs, clipped cartoons, corny jokes, plagiarized punk rock lyrics along with the various “scene reports” from extended family units.
I’ve shared a few pages here – with some minor crops – to provide a flavour of the publication while retaining some semblance of discretion as to not shock or offend any family members (any further).
In Canadian Scouts, the highest accolade one can achieve is the Chief Scout’s Award. Requires a whole load of badges and tasks and whatnot – sorta like the US Eagle Scout i suppose.
Anyhow, as it goes, most Scouts earn this on their way out and onto Ventures (the next age bracket group) but diligent as i am, earned at a young age (was told youngest ever but no way to verify) and attended the ceremony (requiring special permission apparently) along with older brother Bob and pal Brad Coleman.
What follows are artifacts and evidence from the event and award.
Note: after moving from Lansing, Michigan to Surrey, BC in 1974/5, we lived on 154th St. in Guilford area on a dirt road with a rented house which backed into a whole bunch of forest. I attended Harold Bishop elementary school before moving to Whalley (95 ave.) in middle for Grade 4.
In the nearby woods, my friend Chris Goodman and I found a huge stash of lumber (also note in there was a few burnt out old houses in a field across from us) we salvage things and made large dangerous tree houses. I recall we played wide-games in the forest as well as epic street hockey games at the dead end by a new doctor’s office.
This area was quickly developed with a big new library and a massive mall. The building still exist though the house is long gone, the roads paved etc. etc.
This was around the time I did the Pig Express newsletter and wrangled up various gangs of “good kids” for activities and what not. Realizing now this was *important* because there was a lot of dangerous characters around the neighbourhood including the one who shall not be named.
After being birthed in Saskatoon and flight to Calgary to Vancouver at 15 days, living in Eugene, Oregon for first year and some, we moved to Lansing, Michigan where Dad took a professor gig at Michigan State University and brother Dan was born.
Then, changing jobs again to University of British Columbia, we were on the plane again, westway to the world.
Not sure details of route (did they drive to Windsor/Toronto and then fly?) but based on sizes of the 3 brothers, believe this is the flight west on this Air Canada bird in 1974.
(Is this a 737? or 707 like the Gordon Lightfoot song?)
This is really and artifact of an artifact – a screenshot of a now long deprecated and lost twitter to a former handle – regardless this was worlds colliding for brother Bob and i – as it goes, i had lent a hand getting this US Navy-related account rolling on Hootsuite and mentioned Bob’s service (think he was deployed in combat zone at the time) and they chimed-in to give a special thanks.
When i excitedly told then Lt. (now Commander) of the mention, he was confused and didn’t really get the significance (and really what is the significance, really?) but years later, it is a moment we can share fondly, maybe. Just glad he came away from war-zones safely.
Update: now archived thusly with date stamp and more context
@daveohoots Thanks for your comments and for your brother’s service!
Telegram announcing brother Bob’s birth some years ago today – sent by Dad (Lorne, which is also Bob’s middle name along with Olaf – our paternal grandfather) to Lucile Stevenson, our maternal great-grandmother living in Elmhurst, Illinois where our maternal grandfather, Robert Louis Stevenson, was born, sent from Eugene, Oregon (USA) where Robert (aka brother Bob) was born.
Among the information is:
weight, 8 lbs 5 ounces
Lauralee (our mother) is fine
parents are proud (naturally)
Continuing, here is me (right) visiting Bob in about 1983/4 in Logan, UT with aforementioned grandfather RLS’s truck in background at (divorced but still cordial at this time) maternal grandmother Isobel’s house – now occupied by a cousin who received in her will. At the time, Aunt L (and a few cousins) and Uncle M lived there as well.
Note: along with brother Bob and grandpa Robert, there is an uncle, cousin and brother Bob’s son (my nephew) with the same appellation (possibly others i’ve missed). Derivatives and nicknames ensue to keep all straight. I am the only Dave in the extended clan.
In preparing to enjoy Christmas 2019, i raided the archive of scanned slides which dear Mother diligently created (fortunately before her untimely passing) for a few to share with brothers.
In particular, brother James’ kids who received monogrammed robes from Ryoko and I for gifts, and also participated in various plays telling Christmas-related stories – both similar to these offerings.
I ventured out, moustachioed, into the wilds of Guilford complete with my inmate number for easy identification.
Along with brother Dan as a clown, no tears for this one, and brother Bob with some inappropriate cultural appropriation upon which I won’t comment upon further, we would rampage through Guilford Mews condos using pillowcases instead of plastic sacks to collect the trick or treat bounty.
As a tour host at Star Sand Private Beach Club on island of Guam. “Landlocked” by Andersen Air Force base and, as such, closed down after a terrorist incident you may have heard about in New York City.
Note: The pale one is Cmdr. “Magnum” – then entirely a civilian.