pyat

The time change means that I’m riding the train home during sunset, instead of in the dark. This means I can see the parts of Hamilton that were previously hidden on my commute to and from Toronto. I can now see the gorgeous vista of Cootes Paradise and Burlington Bay spread out to west and east as I enter the west end of the city, all frozen and coloured by the dimming rays of the sun. As the train pulls into the city, the old brick homes and stone churches of the lower city rise on either side of the track, clustered together like cozy human rookeries. Then, a long tunnel, and a sudden emergence into sunlight by the stone walls of Whitehern House.

Looking westward over Cootes Paradise always evokes a peculiar feeling of sennsucht, the desire for a city I’ve never seen, for a countryside that lies just out of reach beyond the hills. I know for a fact that beyond those hills there are simply houses and streets, and eventually farms and flat land, but I suppose that just makes it all the more poignant.

Sadly, I only had my cell phone camera with me today, and had to photograph the scene through a dirty train window, from across an aisle, so you can only catch a fleeting glimpse of the fleeting glimpse of "...a country we have never yet visited." You get the impression that, if only the train would stop here, you could disembark and walk to Arcadia.


"That unnameable something, desire for which pierces us like a rapier at the smell of bonfire, the sound of wild ducks flying overhead, the title of The Well at the World's End, the opening lines of "Kubla Khan", the morning cobwebs in late summer, or the noise of falling waves."

When I was in highschool, I used to stay up on Sunday nights, listening to “Theatre of the Mind” on a Toronto radio station. I’d listen to shows like “The Falcon, “Lights Out,” or whatever classic radio serial they chose to air that month. It ran from 11 PM until midnight, with short intro and exit by one of the DJs.

In the summer time, I’d generally be at a friend’s house, gaming, or in the car on my way home from a game when the show ended. We’d listen to the show as a kind of topper to the night. The little musical interlude the station played over the DJ’s exit lines signaled the end of a good time. Time to pack up the stuff and clear away the pop cans and comics.

In the school year, I’d listen to the show surreptitiously in the darkness of my bedroom. I had one of those ear-bud things, which I would plug into my clock radio to ensure I didn’t disturb the rest of the household. I’d listen to the closing musical score, and that would be it. The weekend was over. In eight hours, I’d be trudging through a dark grey world towards school. Listening to the show was (and is, on the odd times I catch it these days) a kind of melancholy pleasure, like visiting relatives on Boxing Day. The main event is over, and soon it’ll be back to the grind.

Certain other things will always hold the same odd mixture of nostalgic happiness and sadness for me. Wayne and Shuster’s closing song, because it meant “bedtime” for me when I was seven. (Wayne and Shuster was the first ‘grown-up’ show I liked to watch.) The board game “Sorry,” because it was the one I played with Oma and Opa. The last time I played it, Opa was dying and Oma was well advanced into Alzheimers and kept moving the wrong number of spaces.

Not sure why I’m thinking of these things this morning. I had a very busy and full weekend, and I suppose that has something to do with it. I woke up this morning about 4 AM, and lay in the warm dark under the covers, listening to the humidifier hum and Erin breathe. I thought... two more hours of this, and then I’m fumbling around the cold house, blearily preparing for the day. The break is well and truly over, and in three and a half hours, I’ll be at the paper, scrounging for scrap with which to feed the weekly edition.

***

A good, active weekend. On Friday, I went to meet for the first time with my New Model RPG Army. Four players, all crack Dice-Jockeys and eminently qualified Dungeoneers. I’ll be running them through the Adventure Path module series, and then William will likely be taking over as DM. Let he who considers RPGers to be slovenly drop-outs consider this - of the five people in this group, I am the least successful and well socialized. We have not one but TWO doctors (a vet and an MD,) a psychology intern, a computer company VP, and me, a reporter. All of us are married, with houses, cars... all the usual accouterments of the Mundane.

*Role-play Roll Call!*

Ladies and Gentlemen, give it up for Dr. Brian Misiaczek, 22 year gaming veteran, columnist, and owner of one of the largest private pulp radio show collections in the country! Woo! Dr. Brian wore in his ten-siders under the renowned GM and RPG author, Robin Laws! Brian is running a Cleric of St. Cuthbert.

Next, the man who would be DM, William Pleydon! William will be taking over as DM at some point, guiding us through a hideously complicated original campaign setting that’s taken him ten years to prepare! A man so dedicated to the DM craft, he kept a former campaign going when some players were in prison! William is playing a mysterious elven illusionist.

Third, Marnee Marnoes! Marnee is a hardened gamer grrl, who cut her teeth on the Red Box edition! Marnee first played D&D as an 8 year old in rural Alberta! Just like the US Midwest, but colder! Marnee will be running a human fighter!

Last, but not least, is Dr. Daniel Marnoes, erstwhile hubby of Marnee! Dr. Dan is the least experienced of the Model RPG Army, but he makes up for this lack with his enthusiasm for the genre. Daniel will be running a half-elf ranger, canny treader of the forest boughs!

We’ll be meeting every second Saturday. Should be a blast.

On Saturday, Dan, Bill and I went on a roaaaaaad trip, all the way to Aurora, where friend Tim recently settled. We drank many flagons of Mountain Dew, and discussed DVD editions of favorite films. As the day progressed, Tim continued his damn fine Star Wars RPG campaign. (It always comes down to RPGs with me. I’m a sad, pathetic, man.) By the end, Bill’s Jedi had a climactic confrontation with the Dark Side, and Dan and I had uncovered a plot to weaken the already reeling Republic. We’re well on the path to fourth level... I have to admit, Tim is a cracking good GM.

On Sunday, ‘twas Church, followed by a fine meal at Swiss Chalet, and a relaxing, non-productive afternoon of reading, snoozing, and snuggle-bunnies. Which brings me to the point I came in... bloody Monday morning.

In about 30 minutes I’ll be attending the funeral of a well-loved local councillor, Bob Baigent. Bob died suddenly on Thursday night, aged 66. The mayor called me about it on Friday, on her cel phone, from the ticket line at Disney in Florida. Such power I have. ;0) This fellow was a simple country type, but very well respected. There was a two hour line up for the viewing on Sunday.

And that’s it for me.