BORDER BULLYING

I was at the Darby line Quebec/Vermont border on my way to New Hampshire border. Feeling keen to get to Sutton House B& B in Harbor City, and excited  about meeting finally meeting the folks at the Loon Preservation Committee that booked me on a loon cruise on Squam Lake. My enthusiasm was about to be squashed.

I was in the slowest moving line, and when I got to the agent, it cam eto a long halt.

Leaning out his window, the young twenty-something customs agent took my passport, and looked at me askance.

He began to bombard me with a load of questions about the fact that I was traveling alone – a woman driving far and alone. I could hear the wheels (or should I say rocks in his head) turning. He paused, and I said I often drive alone. "Do you know the Gatineau region?” N was his answer. Well I spent my summers there with a pump, an outhouse and fishing with my dad. I have that in my blood. Being alone is in my way. He seemed perplexed, even fascinated.

He changed the subject:  he asked me where I was headed and I told him a loon cruise in the lake region. He paused, and then asked if I knew anyone in New Hampshire or had documents to prove where I was going. I hadn’t taken the email bookings showing the friendly banter between the people I was to meet up with, but I replied that I hoped to meet my B &B host and the cruise biologist, and that perhaps a friendship might form.

 He then asked me a series of quiz type questions: “When was the last time you were in the States?” I asked if he meant stopping through an airport of visiting a city? I thought I was in a quiz show, and he said, like a quiz host, “the airport”. I said, "I think it was Orlando or Miami coming back from Mexico". I got the date right, but the year wrong. Oops! He looked like a teacher scolding a student when he held up my passport pointing to March of this year. How could I have forgotten? I was in San Miguel launching me new novel. I apologized.

Then he asked me what I did for a living. I referred to my retirement as a teacher. I did not mention my writing career. That would have surely put me in jail.

“Put your car in park and pop the trunk,” he demanded, and then the weirdest thing happened. My lovely car refused to move into ‘park’. The stick shift was locked; it was on Drive and my foot was on the break. He began giving me a driving lesson - telling me to keep my foot on the break (which it already was on obviously). I panicked telling him I could not move the shift. Instantly I saw my cruise plans going up in smoke. Was my car on the blitz? He came out and looked in the trunk. There was nothing there of course. Still persistent, he asked if I had alcohol or food on me - a question he was supposed to ask me in the first place, I thought.

Another long pause, and then the man showed his complete ignorance. He really wanted the answer to the question he was about to ask. Like a wide –eyed child, out came his question – nothing to do with customs: “What’s a loon?” I then proceeded to imitate the “whah whah” sound of the beloved bird. He looked puzzled. I then told him about the Canadian loony – the one-dollar coin with a loon on one side.  I was the teacher. Then with a big smile he said “Have a nice trip, Nancy.”

 It took me a good half hour to recover form his interrogation, and I had spent a half hour with him – already having to wait one hour to reach his window.

 Coming back into Quebec, I had not one ounce of trouble. A simple where are you from and what was the purpose of your trip. A smile came on his face, and said – off you go!”

Reunion with Rufus and Martha Wainwright

Neither fame nor fortune can change those born with goodness in their hearts and  a soul full of family love.

There are some things that happen to you that only the goddess of surprise can arrange. N.S.

 Such is the stuff that fills this anecdote. About 29 years ago, shortly after I moved to Montreal from England, I gave a one-hour/one-time piano lesson at a private school across the street in Westmount. I recall 10 hands of kids were at the keyboard playing at the same time; it was a group lesson. I never did ask the names of the kids. I teach privately, so this lesson resembled a Barnaby Circus act.

That evening, I received a call from a woman named Kate McGarrigle. I had no idea who she was, but was taken aback when she revealed that her son, Rufus knew my first name and kept talking about me. I was waiting for a litany of complaints to spew out of her; as mentioned – that piano lesson was anything but impressive. Kate McGarrigle asked me to come and live in her home while she went on tour with her sisters. Kate told me she was a singer and often performed in Canada with her sister Anna. They were and still are a family of artistic genius that unites.

 Of course, I apologized for never having heard of her, and offered some lame excuse that I was a nerdy newcomer to Montreal – a piano teacher who was out of touch with the Montreal folk scene. I love children, and she seemed to be serious about this, so I consented. I felt honoured by her trust in me.

 So, I ended up living in her home and doing all the things she instructed me to do, including giving Rufus some piano lessons on their grand piano, and ensuring both children were fed, and got off to school ok. I enjoyed my time with these adorable children. I recall that the tour seemed longer than two weeks; it was in the early 80s. It was so long ago.

There was one gaff though that sticks out in my memory.

One day, a man came to the door wanting to be let in. But Kate was adamant that I let no one in other than her sisters.

Through the door, I told the man in a loud voice that I was not given permission to allow him entry or anyone else.

When he yelled, it’s their father, Loudon Wainright, and Rufus immediately assured me it was ok, I did. I suspect no one ever treated Mr. Wainwright in such a brusque manner. But I was just doing my “job.” Still, I felt rather ashamed.

What a joy it was for me to see Rufus and Martha again,  over three decades later – both  enjoying their stunning careers – both astoundingly original artists, and both still bonded  as sister and brother. (This was evident at the festival press conference). I had the great pleasure to hear them perform in their own concerts at this time.

Their stage presence, unique voices and compositions (Rufus presented segments of his beautiful opera, Prima Donna and sang as well – his piano playing is wizardly wonderful); Martha astounded me with the various tonal textures in her voice, her confidence and passion. I recall she was a shy little girl. Her half-sister Lucy also sang with her. So beautiful, one realizes this is a family born into music and the legacy continues. I feel humbled by having seen a side of these artists – short as the time was - when they were children.

Neither fame nor fortune can change those born with goodness in their hearts and a soul full of family love.

Whether they remembered me or not (Rufus seemed to recall it, mentioned the street), I really do not know; nor do I care – to be frank. What generosity they have; they were so gracious and kind when I spoke to them after their interview. Fame had not changed them.

Some reading this may accuse me of name dropping, trying to pluff up my own writing career even my sporadic singing performances.  Not so! We often forget that artists are human beings who are not averse to speaking to those of us who plod along, living normal humdrum lives, seeing again people you haven’t seen in ages brings a distinctly unique feeling of both joy and nostalgia. I felt humbled and happy to see how successful they had become without losing their home-spun gentleness and generosity – surely inherited from their late mother who had shown me her gentle trusting way those many, many years ago in more ways than one: upon returning from the tour, she insisted on giving me front row tickets to their concert, and she invited me to one of their rehearsals at another home. I felt so awkward and shy.

And to think that this all came about because of a single piano lesson with five kids playing at the same time!