Thanks so much for your supportive comments on my last post. Honestly, I’m embarrassed to have garnered any praise for bravery; I don’t feel as if I have been, particularly, as I don’t see any threat or risk to my public recitation of facts. But I’m very pleased to have my sister’s bravery and commitment recognized and honoured — and especially, to see reassurance that so many are grateful to survivors for speaking up. This is such a welcome change from when they were intimidated and silenced or made to feel as if they were embarrassing, awkward, irritating in their persistence (“Oh, Why does she keep on about it? It happened years ago, time to move on”)
My sister’s doing a radio interview this morning; she did another on Monday, and a newspaper interview Sunday, and she appeared on a television news program yesterday. She’s responding to the larger questions raised — again! — by the Pennsylvania report; she’s being asked about the Pope’s letter, its potential for action, for hope . . . In the interviews she’s done so far, she’s put aside her own feelings about the obituary, not even mentioned it, focussing on the global and systemic problems which her own case examplifies. . .
But me? I was specifically (and probably selfishly) responding to the hurt and indignation my sister felt on reading that obituary. I do understand that newspapers don’t write obituaries, that they publish them at the behest of the bereaved, and that they are compensated for them as for advertising content. I also understand that their policy would probably respect a societal injunction that we not “speak ill of the dead,” so they would only allow certain comments to be published below an obituary.
However.
Imagine if a serial rapist in your province or state is convicted, serves a sentence after victims have testified to the damage they continue to suffer long after the trauma. Imagine he dies years, even decades, after his crimes. Do you not think that newspapers might have evolved some protocols around any obituary his bereaved might care to publish? At the very least, do you not think some media interest might surround his death with a nod to his victims? (Note that this man’s number of bereaved is limited by his age and celibacy).
Well, this priest was a serial sexual predator. Convicted of a crime. There are many others out there, and if no such protocol or policy exists yet to consider a survivor of clerical abuse’s response to a whitewashing obituary, I’d say it’s about time.
And in the short run, I really wanted my sister to know that others thought that obituary was offensive in ignoring what had been done to her.
But I never intended this blog to be a space for any activism, only posted what I did on Monday because the issue was affecting me so forcefully in my personal life and it felt inauthentic not to let you know what I was doing on other social media.
So now, it’s back to the garden. . .
The series of photos above and this one below
show the rusted iron gate left behind by the previous owners — I was so pleased they left it (although the other resident gardener wasn’t so sure at first, mistrustful of inheriting junk — we did insist they haul away the “potting table” that took up way too much real estate).
The two roses that use the gate (which is loosely propped against the wall) for support are New Dawn and this rugosa rose, which I suspect is ‘Hansa,” the same rugosa I had in my old garden.
Again this year, the New Dawn is struggling, partly because we were away for so long in the spring (not watered as much as it should have been, so then it succumbed to some rust fungus — I cut it well back, then sprayed and fed and chatted to it, and it’s just beginning to bloom again now).
But the Hansa is quite healthy, as rugosas are wont to be, although the paucity of bloom suggests the other gardener may have been applying the wrong fertilizer (ever-so-healthy foliage though 😉
The photos above also give you a sense of the contrast between garden and surrounding urban architecture — you’ll see why the garden feels like my oasis.
And below, the late-August garden begins to move toward fall (although fall’s crisp air seems a foolish dream now, covered as we are by a thick pall of smoke)
The chrysanthemums Pater bought last year for a splash of instant fall colour made it through the winter with no problem, pleased us these last several weeks with their rich, textured foliage, and are now slowly opening their golden-petalled, geometrically intricate flowers. Behind them, the Rudbeckia (brown-eyed Susan), one of the best summer-fall bridges I could hope to cross. . .
I’m thrilled every single time I look at these apples
growing bigger by the day in what would once have seemed to me a very unlikely location. . .
Red tinges are beginning to appear on them — you know I’ll be trying to paint them soon. . .
The nasturtiums — much favoured by the black aphids, not so much by the green or orange ones. Some days I squish, some days I squirt — depends whether or not I’ve seen ladybugs or spiders around trying to make a meal. We recently took a class on Bumble Bees at Van Dusen Botanic Garden — and learned that there’s a wasp so tiny that it flies underneath an aphid and lays an egg inside the aphid so that the wasp larva has both home and larder while it grows. . . Cool (and a bit horrifying!), no?
And this hollyhock, also left behind by the previous owners. Bloom by bloom, the flowers climb its stalk. Each one deserves contemplation and admiration — invites meditation, offers comfort. And I’m looking forward to the seed heads as they form and dry and add sculptural interest to the fall and, eventually, winter garden.
Okay, that’s it for today’s tour.
Now over to you. Comments very welcome although, again, we have a granddaughter with us all week, so my time to respond is limited.
I am so glad you have the garden as a place to go. I hope your sister isn't overwhelmed by what she's doing, and that others continue to voice their approval and gratitude for her efforts.
Thanks, Lisa. I believe the solidarity really makes a difference.
I've read the obituary-ghastly!
There is evil on the one side and the beauty,as in your garden,on the other! And there are brave people,as your sister,who bring the truth
As in your last post,at moments like this,I am really sorry that I can't express all my thoughts and my feelings,like I could ,and would like to,in my language-but,thankfully, the others did
I can only add that my heart and thoughts are with you and your sister
Dottoressa
It's even more ghastly when you know the place names and recognize what they mean — the transfers from cities to remote communities of a priest with this supposedly glowing set of attributes and accomplishments.
I'm sorry, but it's hard for most of us to believe that you could be even more eloquent in your own language than you are in English! I mean, I know it's probably true, but you express yourself very effectively here.
Dottoressa, you expressed yourself very well. Perfectly, I'd say. Thank you.
And dear materfamilias, you have expressed yourself very well, too. Yes, it's past time that newspapers adopted and followed better protocols regarding sanitized, vanity-press obituaries of convicted criminals.
Ann in Missouri
Thank you both very much <3
D.
But you express your thoughts so beautifully, Dottoressa- tranmitting your warmth and wisdom;speaking from the heart, which we all understand. While your first language may not be ours, please know your exceptional reading of situations and naming the essence of it is 100 per cent from what I see. I can't imagine you (and so many others) not being involved here: countless rich voices make for a sustaining "stew" of ideas and support.
A.in London
Gardens are a respite…a place where we can seek solace from our problems…I am so grateful to have a place to potter and dig in the dirt
yes. . . .
Thank goodness for gardens to offer us peace and sanctuary, and remind us of the good. I hope your sister is holding up well, and I applaud your effort. I know obituaries are submitted as a piece, but I would think that news venues would at least check for any coverage during a person's life. The paper is public news source after all, and therefore owes something to its greater constituency.
Thanks for understanding and supporting, Mardel. I do think there must be a more thoughtful potential protocol than the current status quo.
Amazing variety of plants and fruits on your terrace. A wonderful contrast to the cityscape.
That's what I love about it, Mary — thanks!
The garden is so lovely. In my retirement I really want to learn more about plants and gardens especially if we move somewhere with cooler temps.
I originally missed the blog about your sister. Such courage for you both speaking out against the former priest, the institution and the media. Too many people doing unspeakable things are being protected rather than punished and this will only stop when brave people are willing to act.
Working your green thumb is a great goal for retirement!
thanks for the kind words of support.
I just want to say that I much appreciated your previous post, but did not respond because I think you said everything so well, as you have in this one. I guess I want you to know that your posts have impact even when they do not evoke responses. And since I find myself most often responding to your garden adventures, I think you might be amused to learn that I am trying to take heart from the what I have just told you, in light of the fact that in my own little bailiwick, my postings of pretty flowers evoke universal approval, and my postings providing useful information and clarifications of common misunderstandings are less well recognized.
Marsha, I appreciate you taking time to say that — it's always tough to know what will resonate with readers, isn't it?
I just want to say that when I read your last post I was horrified by what has happened to your sister and I stand in solidarity with her. I applaud her courage in speaking out. And thank you for speaking up.
slf
Thanks for taking the time to leave this encouraging and supportive comment, slf. It makes a difference.
You can be an activist when the need emerges. Just as you are a gardener and a mum and a teacher and a knitter. And just as you are a sister – one who will not tolerate the intolerable. And on a much less serious note, I do love the view of the city from your terrace.