Friday, 30 October 2015

Getting Rid of Old Batteries


           

            On Thursday I finally remembered to take all my old batteries to the battery disposal unit at the northwest entrance of the Ramsey-Wright building on my way to class. I had at least ten years worth of batteries that I’d been holding onto and they filled two sandwich bags.
            We spent the whole hour of class talking about Philippa Pearce’s “Tom’s Magic Garden”. Tom has three elevated view of the past life of the area where his aunt and uncle live in the present, each view more elevated than the last. And each time his friend Hattie is considerably older. The more one can see, the bigger one’s world becomes, and if one can know it, there is a sense of being in control of it.
            The area where the story takes place is real, and not far from Cambridge.
            Tom climbs the tower of the cathedral of Ely in the past near the end of the story, while he could not go in the present because he had been placed under quarantine.
            A garden is a reliable gauge of the passage of time. Tom’s garden is compared to the Garden of Eden. I would say that the metaphor could be carried forward. Adam and Eve are portrayed as almost childlike before Eve gains knowledge. I think that Tom and Hattie and be compared to them. Hattie, as she matures, becomes tempted by forces unsympathetic with the garden.
            Tom’s time travelling jumps over world war two and returns to a peaceful time.
            After class I headed home as quickly as I could because I wanted to lie down for a while before leaving for work. I wasn’t really sleepy but I knew I probably would be later on.
            I worked at OCADU for Yang Cao’s drawing class in the Design department. He’s about thirty, all business, wears a poor boy cap and constantly looks at his watch. He’s also the first teacher at OCADU who I’ve heard talk to Chinese students in Chinese. Peter Mah, who retired a couple of years ago, would never have done that.
            After work I rode up to Bloor Street and across towards Yonge. The wind was so strong at Bay and Bloor that all the metal frames that hold the traffic lights were clanging out percussion.
            On Queen Street, a cyclist ahead of me moved onto the sidewalk and just started ringing his bell to get people to get out of his way.
            I watched the Buster Keaton directed silent film, “Seven Chances”. Buster gets notice that he will inherit seven million dollars if he gets married by 19:00 on his 27th birthday. The problem was that day was his 27th birthday. He went to ask Mary, the only woman he’s ever loved and she said she’d marry him, but when she asked why it had to be that day his words didn’t come out right. He said he had to marry somebody by 19:00 and it could be anybody. She turned him down. His partner coaxes him to keep asking women and he half-heartedly does so, and they turn him down. Then his partner runs an ad in the paper that causes hundreds of brides to show up at the church. Meanwhile Buster gets word that Mary will marry him after all and so there is a very long chase scene as hundreds of brides stampede after him through various urban and rural landscapes. He makes it to Mary just in time.

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