Ruth's Gift

I lit a candle today in memory of Ruth, a longtime visitor to the Listening Post, who passed away a couple days ago. Ruth was aging and of poor health, yet had an inner strength that enabled her to live alone in one of the toughest areas of town. I only ever saw her wearing jeans, a tshirt, and a Greek fisher's cap that covered most of her short, grey hair. In cooler weather she'd bundle up in a woolen coat that would be equally at home in the Yukon where she lived for several years. She was a quiet, gentle woman. Our conversations were unhurried and included periods of comfortable silence. Ruth would ask about our candle supply and kept us well stocked, though she lived in social housing and was of very modest means.

We always have several candles burning at the Listening Post -- one in the front window, welcoming passersby to pause for a moment and enjoy the peaceful space, one in the centre of the circular seating area, serving as a focal point for silent meditation and prayer and one on the bookshelf in the entryway, inviting peaceful, respectful conversation.

The candles burn with a soft, warm glow that remind me of Ruth, her gentle manner, her strong inner spirit, her generosity. Ruth's gift of candles is a gift of light to her community and to those who happen to walk by and pause for a few moments to reflect, perhaps to feel some comfort, some peace, some joy.

Thank you, Ruth, for the light you continue to bring to the world.

How my grandparents met

My grandparents on my mother's side were married in Cuba, in 1919.  They met in Cuba, but neither were Cuban and neither had any Spanish blood in them.  Here's how they came to meet.

My grandfather, William Boomer, worked as an auto mechanic in the early days of the automobile, and was an inventor in his spare time. In 1917, he invented a product to fix leaks in car tires, called Noleex.   It was a goopy liquid that you'd squirt into the flat tire and voila, no leaks.  His product had one flaw: it didn't work in cold temperatures. Since he was living in Saskatchewan, Canada at the time this was a significant problem. So, he packed up and moved to the warmer climes of Cuba. It's not clear why he chose Cuba, but it is clear he didn't do much market research, because he discovered soon after arriving that there were very few cars in Cuba! We have only a few pictures of him from those days, always on horseback!

The trip was worthwhile because he met his future wife there, Eva Johnson, a young woman who had recently emigrated with a number of Swedish families from the USA to Cuba. They fell in love, married, then moved back to Canada to raise a family. I never knew my grandfather -- he died at age 53, but knew my grandmother well.   She was a free spirit who loved to visit her children and grandchildren, spread out across the country from the east coast to the west.  She always travelled by bus and would stay a few weeks or months, then move on to the next place.  She loved to play cards, especially whist, canasta and double or triple solitaire.   She continued her travelling ways well into her 80s, and she eventually settled in her beloved Vancouver where she spent her last years. Her ashes are scattered on the Ganges, in India, but that's another story.

Fridays are for Listening

Every Friday, I bike or hop on a bus and head to one of my favourite places -- 382 Main Street in Vancouver.  When I arrive, I unlock the door, put the kettle on, light some candles and put on some fine music. Before settling in for a few hours of listening, I go the front window and flip over the "Closed" sign to say "Open". For 382 Main Street is better known as "The Listening Post" and I'm here to listen to people, not music.

The Listening Post is an oasis of peace and quiet where everyone is welcome to come in and sit for a while, to listen to their inner voice, to meditate, or pray. If they'd like to talk with someone, there are volunteers available to listen with care and respect. We don't preach or counsel, we just try to meet people where they are and journey with them for a while.

We are located in the heart of Vancouver's inner city, the Downtown Eastside (DTES), where poverty, addiction, mental illness and homelessness are the norm. The Listening Post has served the people of the area for 8 years and is now part of the fabric of this community. The space is privately funded, the furnishings all donated and it's staffed entirely by volunteers. Most volunteers are affiliated with a particular religion, but we are not an overtly religious place and we don't push religion. But we are definitely a sacred place and you can feel it when you walk in the door.

It's a privilege to volunteer here. It's a special privilege to listen to someone's story, to share their pain and their joys. I have met many wonderful people and learned so much from them. They have taught me much about who I am as a person. The Listening Post and the people who come for a visit are a big part of my life now. And for this, I am very grateful.