Is a home just a place to hang your taxidermy?
A missive from me and Cloud Missives from a friend
Home is where the taxidermy is. Or at least that’s what I tell myself when I sit down to write in a city that after six and a half years still does not feel like home. I have filled my little studio on the back end of the house with things to make me feel less far from the landscapes I love. From stuffed owls and beaver beaver pelts to fraying family photos and giant conch shells, I have done my best to create a space where I can close the door and put on the Juice Newton album I stole from my mother and pretend I’m somewhere near salt water and snowcapped peaks.Â
The kind folks at The New Quarterly, who may or may not think my name is Tristan Sisson, invited me to write about where the magic happens for their online exclusives. If you’ve ever scrutinized my background on Zoom and wondered, ‘what the hell is that scary ass mask behind her head?’, then this is great news for you. You can now bear witness to the ways I’ve tried to adapt to this climate.
Early English colonizers in Australia tried a similar thing. They engaged in a lengthy and arduous task of making the continent more to their liking - ripping out native crops in favour of the familiar, bringing over foxes and rabbits to hunt, hauling all kinds of invasive species across a few oceans in search of profit and comfort. Almost all of these efforts have proven to be disastrous for the land, and the people who lived on it. And despite their best efforts to lock things down late in the game (here’s looking at you, myxo), in many cases the damage has been irreparable.
I spend a pitiful amount of time homesick for coastal climates, but as I’ve come to accept, no amount of sheer force can make one place another. You can only appreciate the things that make each place unique (Toronto, to its credit, has the Greater Good, TIFA, and some really nice people), and when it’s not working, you just have to book a flight to the place your soul yearns for. So I’m delighted to actually be writing to you all from seat 12F on the afternoon flight to Vancouver.Â
My heart swells knowing I’ll be in the same time zone as my loved ones, especially as my family navigates some stressful times. I will spend a week soaking up salty air, running on the sea wall, relearning how to tie knots, writing in cafes, meeting my friends’ babies, and celebrating a dear friend’s wedding before heading north to spend a week with my brother and his family. On my list of perfect things, holding my niece and nephew’s hands is right at the top, and I’m thrilled that this year has let me have two separate trips to braid hair before school and practice spelling after, with the occasional dance party in the front yard. This time, I’ll let my niece ‘teach’ me how to hit a jump on the new family dirt bike.Â
Sometimes, you don’t need to hang another picture of a place you love on the wall — you need to go to the place you love. May you all find time to be in the place that makes your skin feel tingly; so naturally at ease that all of your molecules could mix into the air in a gentle breeze. May you all feel at home.
A small ask for those of you on Vancouver Island. My cousin Sevina (who goes by Moxie) is missing and our family would appreciate anyone in the area keeping an eye out for her. She was last seen downtown Victoria with camping gear and, while I’m not 100% sure what they mean by it, the police have listed her as ‘high risk.’ Any tips can be sent to the Victoria Police Department.
Speaking of the legacies of the British Empire
Among the many brilliant and brilliant poems and love songs in Kenzie Allen’s debut book of poetry, Cloud Missives, is one that will make you snort while your skin crawls. At her book launch last week in Roncy, she read "A Date with the Ghost of the British Empire" among several other poems from her book, and all I can say is you should absolutely check her out while she’s on tour.
I also have the great pleasure of calling Kenzie a pal since meeting her years ago at a Syttende Mai celebration in Dufferin Grove. It’s a real delight to see wonderful women like Kenzie get the publication and recognition their work deserves. To get a taste, listen to her interview on Q with Tom Power.