Radiologist

My husband is a radiologist. He goes to work every day and wears a lead apron and tells me how hard his job is. When I ask him what happens at work ( just to make dinner conversation) he says in a certain taciturn tone "Nothing happened-- I took exrays and blew up some occluded arteries--then I got in a traffic jam and came home."

However I beg to differ. My son went with him to take you kid to work day and he took the following video. Never believe that your husband has a boring day at work. He just wants you to think that so you will make him supper.

Anormal from Jarbas Agnelli on Vimeo.

fish need a bicycle.

Wodek Szemberg,a director of ideas segments on TVO television, has suggested a topic for me to discuss on the program. He asks "Is the bumper sticker slogan A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle more then just snarky expression of feminist hostility towards but an early apprehension of the diminishing importance of men to women." Wodek then suggested I read an article in Newsweek called 'Why we need to re-imagine masculinity' (http://www.newsweek.com/2010/09/20/why-we-need-to-reimagine-masculinity.html)


First of all just a point of clarification. Many people think that Gloria Steinem originated that phrase but Steinem says she got it from an anonymous author who painted the slogan on a wall at University of Wisconsin in 1969. The slogan was a twist on the philosophical text 'A man needs God like a fish needs a bicycle'.

It is interesting how it has caught on from graffiti and the phrase is used today as though it is new. However, it was coined over forty years ago. If you haven't heard it you are probably from another planet.

Why does the phrase say so much to so many women? It is having a renaissance in the last year or two since the topic of males falling behind in education and in so many other categories has been discussed in the press.

You can talk about the 'feminization' of the school system' and the other injustices to males all you want, but the fact remains that females have made major changes since the sixties and males have not. If men don't want to make changes then of course, they are going to get left behind in a changing world.

I don't blame men for not wanting to make changes. After all they held all the power since the beginning of civilization and now they are digging in their heels rather than give it up. It may take a century or more for the change to happen. ( It may take even longer given the fact that so little change has happened in the last half century.)

When you look at the rise in male alcoholism, depression, and joblessness, in psychological terms, you can see that males are conflicted about making the necessary changes and may in fact be at a loss on how to make those changes. All they conscioulsy feel is that they don't fit in the world as they used to. To be fair we give males a double message and as we all know double messages always make you slightly crazy. First we say we want more nurturing males. Yet when a male says he is a nurse, as in the film Meet the Parents we silently snicker and think to ourselves, 'Hey isn't that a girl's job'.

Women have headed into the workforce. I often give talks on my new memoir After the Falls about what it was like to be a teenager in the 60's. When I talk to girls in high school, they are shocked to find out that it was not politic if you wanted to date in the early 60's to be smart. You were supposed to hide that. They are also shocked to learn that the term assertive was not used in connection with females until 1966. So what were you called if you were assertive before 1966? How about bitch, mouthy,or bossy. Anyone over 50 knows what I mean. There was no positive word to use. As these high school girls listen to this incredulously they say the opposite is true now.

Gradually over the last forty years the expectations for girls have changed. Law and Medicine now have more females than males in their programs. Women had to make changes. They had to stop being passive and looking at getting their Mrs. as their goal in university. Women actually said that proudly in the 1950's and 60s when I went to university. Women had to learn how to negotiate, head into the boardroom, be assertive and make it stick. Still they had families in the hope that their husbands would make changes as well and do as much work as they did on the home front.

Guess what? They didn't. Most males act like their father's acted. They do less than a third of the child care, less than 20 percent of the housework, and in terms of personality traits they have not changed one iota.( That's why Monday Night Football was invented.) Of course there are exceptions. However,I am talking statistically.

They have actually fallen behind as fathers since there are more single mothers than ever before and more dead beat dads hit the pavement every day and they are not going to the employment centre. How are they getting away with it? Of course they are not. They are lost and often depressed, refuse to communicate, and act out.

As one of my patients said to me-- I can get sperm in a bottle and then I never have to plead with any man to change a diaper.

It is naive to think that when women change as much as they have over the last four decades and men stay the same-- there will not be conflict. I find it interesting that as the decades go by the gender gap in terms of males' behaviour does not narrow.

Girls in high school today say that they don't know what the slogan I went to university to get my Mrs. means? How long will it take before girls and women don't know what is meant by the phrase A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle?

Managing Creative Expectations

I just finished reading Lit, the new memoir by Mary Karr. Her fist memoir The Liar's Club was her breakthrough childhood memoir. It was about a tough hard scrabble childhood in Texas where she lived with an alcoholic, among other things, mother and father. Her second volume Cherry about her wayward teenage years was also compelling. It had the added feature of making my teenage years seem tame by comparison. Although, wait a minute I just remembered she didn't have a murder trial or the FBI to deal with. Lit is about her own adult fight with alcoholism and her desperate attempt not to be the mother to her son that her mother had been to her. I really enjoyed Lit as well and finished it in one all night sitting. All three volumes are packed with Karr's amazing use of language and her ability to be really funny in a tragic situation.

The truth according to me ( that is why this blog is called GILDINER'S GOSPEL) is that the first volume,The Liar's Club, is the best of the three and I believe the sales will substantiate what I am saying. The same was true of Jill Kerr Conway's three volume biography. Her first The Road to Corrain was by far the best.

I am now facing the same issue with my three volume set of memoirs. My first is a childhood memoir called Too Close to the Falls. It was an international success and was on the best seller's list for years. The sequel, After the Falls my life as a teenager in the 60's has just come and the third, The Long Way Home, is close to finished.

I guess what you have to do is manage your expectations. It is hard to top a really successful book. It is also difficult to admit to yourself that your 'best work' may behind you. In the end all you can do is get up every day and write what your life was actually like. If you worry about outcome you are not a creative writer but you become a marketer. You can't pander to the public and that gets harder as you unconsciously want the second book to be as successful as the first.

Elizabeth Gilbert , the author of Eat,Pray,Love is facing the same situation. (Although her book was way more successful than mine. She had a sales phenomenon.) She has given the issue of creative expectations some interesting thought which she has shared in this video. it was serendipitous that I came upon it exactly when I was pondering the issue.

Elizabeth Gilbert: A new way to think about creativity
- Watch more Tech Videos at Vodpod.

American vesus Canadian

The second volume of my autobiography called AFTER THE FALLS has just rolled off the presses in Canada. It will be out in America in November of 2011. Despite being born in America and spending my first twenty years there, I have lived my last 40 years in Canada. (There are three unaccounted for years-- maybe I was on another planet—oh wait it was weirder, I was in England!) Despite having lived the majority of my life in Canada, the book is about my life in America as a teenager in the happenin’ 1960’s. Therefore, I am glad that Penguin has seen fit to release it with some fanfare in the States in the fall.

I just received the American book cover in the mail and am surprised at how different it is from the Canadian cover. When you compare the two you can really see the difference between Canada and The States.


As you can see the Canadian cover has a small picture of me on the top half of the book and the bottom half is a much larger crowd of peace demonstrators. My image is a minor part of the cover. The majority of the cover is about demonstrating for the social good. In Canada it is considered to be gauche to put yourself forward. It is acceptable to write about yourself as long as it benefits society. I was part of a movement (civil rights and the peace movement) so my exhibitionism is socially sanctioned. It is acceptable to put yourself forward if it is for a worthy cause. The idea is that your ‘fame’ is a mere byproduct of your good works.

While the Canadian cover is white and demure, The American cover is black and edgy. It is covered with pictures of me and more me at various ages. It is supposed to be a page from my photo album. (Whether that works or not is up to you to decide. I'd be interested in your opinion.)The American version has ignored the social context of the memoir and focused on me growing up. Americans really think it is perfectly fine to say ‘It is all about me’.

The two covers are representative of what was stated in the two constitutions. In the American constitution you have the ‘right to happiness’. In Canada you have the right to ‘peace, order and good government’." You can see those two goals reflected in each cover.

In the U.S. It is acceptable to pursue your own happiness. If you want to ‘toot your own horn’ – so be it. In Canada whenever you leave the ‘pack’ you are suspect. In fact the phrases that each country uses to express individualism are the same. The tone however is different. In America you might say ‘She puts herself forward.’ That could be a compliment or a neutral statement. However, in Canada the phrase would have that English cutting edge and would be said as ‘She puts Herself forward’ and would be negative in tone. In America you would say ‘She hides her light under a bushel’ as in – what is that about? Why doesn’t she let people know what she can do? In Canada the same phrase would be a compliment. It could never be neutral or negative. You would be praised for your modesty. In Canada when someone asks 'what is new?'—they don’t mean new with you. It took me a few years to get on to that one. The flip side of that trait is that you will never see personal advertisements such as car stickers letting you know where their child goes to college ( Called University in Canada) or a bumper sticker with their personal slogan. You don’t see ‘support our troops’ since they would not presume to tell you whom to support.

When I first began to write I said to my Canadian friend that I was doing my own publicity. She said, ‘Really. You needn’t toot your own horn.' When I told a friend in the U.S. that I was doing some of my own publicity she said, ‘Oh great. Everyone works hardest for themselves.Go for it’

Of course each of these national traits has their pros and cons. In terms of making things happen and being a mover and shaker, the Stars and stripes has it all over Canada. If you want something done or a new idea put forward ask an American. However, if you want a door held open for you, no one to cut in line, and people who obey traffic laws, welcome immigrants and commit very little crime-- not even road rage—then you want a country who values working together – The mighty maple leaf.

Since I was born an American, all of you Americans will see me next fall blazing my way through the colorful leaves pushing my own book and giving whistle stop tours to whomever will listen. However, I have been in Canada long enough to never cut in line, have no flags on my car. Of course I will always hold the door for the next American behind me.

It takes two to tango

I am now in Buenos Aires--home for 16 million people-- 15 million of them Tango-- the others aren't worth mentioning. Before we came here my husband and I had some tango lessons in our home town of Toronto, Ontario, Canada.

When we first got here we immediately read all the dozens of tango magazines. I chose the free lessons as it turned out so did everyone else. When we went to our first lesson there were dozens of people there. The class was going to be divided into beginner, intermediate and advanced. When the instructors asked us what group we would fit into I said 'advanced' just as my husband said 'beginner'. Since I have the bigger mouth we were placed in the advanced class and were immediately demoted to the intermediate and were then unceremoniously kicked out and thrown into the beginners. While my husband shot daggers at me, I said with North American English officiousness, "but we know the steps." The teacher looked at me and said, " A giraffe can learn steps." My six foot six inch husband then said "let me dance with her, I'm tall." Ignoring him, the teacher said, "You cannot even walk across the floor as one. Until you have one heartbeat you cannot proceed."



One heartbeat? Like Siamese twins? Ok now I get it.

We were at square one. We had several problems. One, Tango and everything else starts after midnight and goes until dawn. That is the life in Buenos Aires. I have no idea when people go to work. Our tango brochure said things like Milango ( which means tango dancing halls) starts at midnight and lessons immediately preceding. We are Canadian. We go to bed at 10:00 unless we are having a wild weekend and then, if we can sleep in we stay up until 10:30 watching Silver screen. We couldn't stay up that late no matter how much we tried, We didn't speak the language,and we had no idea how to 'walk as one'. So we hired an English speaking teacher, took private lessons in the early evening, and broke our backs walking with our hearts together ( girl goes backwards in high heels). You have to wear high heels so that you can lean into the man. Clearly I had to jettison my Teva sandals.

I had to go to a special street in Buenos Aires which has only tango shoe stores one after another and tango clothes. After tangoing with the store clerk, I bought stardust sparkle high heeled tango shoes and even my husband bought a pair. I tried to get him to buy the matching glitter shoeslike the local tango stars wear. However, he suggested that I must be on crack. He said he found it disappointing that even after getting kicked out the advance class I still had the chutzpah to even suggest matching his and her shoes. Ok, ok, so I'm a slow learner.




I had no idea that the steps are the least of it. We had to spend hours making a tent with our two bodies. Our chests had to be glued to one another with our feet about one foot apart. Get this-- When a man asks you to tango, you have to lean your entire chest on him and then put up your hands for him to hold. This is not easy for a woman who cringes when people kiss hello--even if I only see it on Jay Leno. Even my unflappable husband was shocked when the male Tango teacher kissed him good bye.

No wonder Buenos Aires is the plastic surgery capital of the world. If you have to bang your chest on strangers you better have some ammunition. You can get full breast implants, no scars all in with aftercare for three grand. I know this because I was in the washroom of a Burger King in Buenos Aires (My husbands Idea of a cafe) when a woman who had just had surgery showed me her implants and told me that when you tango you need something to press against or you can't breathe because your nose it too close to the man's chest. Now there is an anatomical problem I hadn't thought of.

I am quite athletic and have high arches and danced as a kid so I asked one of my teachers in a private lesson why we couldn't move on to intermediate. I know the steps and I think I am following. I said I am paying for a private lesson so I want an honest answer with no saccharine. Picture the following said by a gorgeous south American male who looks deep into your eyes and says with a heavy accent. "Cathy you are like so many women I have met from the northern latitudes." Then he sighs audibly at the tragic mess standing before him teetering in her glitter high heels. ( see picture above) "You are anticipating the movement of our partner. That is your problem. Plus you must learn to trust the man. He is in charge. He is the wall that you lean against. He does what he wants with you. You must learn to surrender."

Oh that is a problem.

Publicity tour moves west

Well I have traveled out west to promote my new memoir After the Falls. It is only October, but in Edmonton they had to de- ice the plane wings. This city is the only place where "ice fishing" is a redundant term. When I blew (literally) into town I went to all of the big box book stores where I signed books. Naturally I tried to make conversation with the twenty-somethings at the desk. Asking what type of book they liked to read, one male responded, "I work with books all day so I take a break and don't read anything at home." Ignoring this I forged on pretending that everyone had actually been enthusiastic and say to this gaggle of idle employees that my first memoir was about the 50's and my new memoir is a sequel about the 60's. They looked at me as though I have been writing about the crusades. They asked if my book should be placed into the history section. One clerk looked askance at the book saying "I really try and stay current." When I asked if anyone in the store had been here ten years ago when Too Close to the Falls first came out and was on the best sellers list for two years, and they all looked at me blankly and said, "No. Those people would be retired now."

Ok. So let's move on to Calgary. My publicity agent changed my hotel to one that looked closer to my TV station for an early morning interview. I had to be at the station at 6:00 a.m. This interview was the highlight of my trip as it was nation wide. The hotel turned out to actually be suites and the handler who dropped me off suggested that the area was dangerous and then quickly hightailed it out leaving me in the microscopic lobby. I was told that the suite wouldn't be ready for two hours. I was stuck watching the comings and going in the doll house sized lobby that had a sign that read We do not cash any welfare or personal cheques, ever, ever, ever. It was nearly a week before Halloween; however the clerk was dressed in a full on witches outfit complete with pointed black hat. She had howling noises coming out of the loud speakers and the elevator was full of cobwebs. She told me Halloween was the highlight of her year so I should expect some Hijinks and then she cackled.

I finally got into my suite that had no bedspread, tiny Dixie paper cups and smelled like a bear had just awakened from hibernation. The kitchen had pots and pans and even a pressure cooker in case I wanted to whip up a cauldron of stew. Actually after a day of tying to interest pubescent store clerks in my book, I was glad to just flop into my lumpy bed and pull up my cigarette burned blanket. The following morning I was up at 5:00 a.m to get dressed and made-up for my interview. I was all ready and then realized the hair dryer on the wall was broken. I called the desk. The witch was still on duty and said that she had no hair dryer and they were all hooked to the wall. When I asked for an empty room key she said that all the suites were filled and some people actually lived there for weeks. Then she added, "Well honey did you expect people to be checking out at 5:00 in the morning. Are you on crack?" ( I'd love to attend her hospitality school.) I faced my situation square on in the mirror. My hair was disgusting. It had dried at odd angles. If I went to the TV show I would be a total frump. At the age of 62 TV is already unforgiving. I had no choice. I walked next door and quietly knocked. Finally I hammered. A burly man in jockey shorts answered the door. I explained that I needed to use his dryer. He said, "Brother now I've heard it all." He had a resigned tone and said, "Feel free. This is worse than being at home." He then lit a cigarette and sat on his bed. As I was locating the dryer on his bathroom wall, I reminded him that smoking was forbidden in the hotel. He said, "You are some stranger who thinks she is on TV in an hour invading my place in the middle of the night and telling me not to smoke. That's rich. really rich." He had a point. I changed my tactics as I dried my hair and asked him about himself. He was a long haul truck driver who was waiting for a load to arrive. He said, "Listen Miss TV star, make sure there are no blond hairs on any of my things. I've gotten in trouble from that kind of thing before --if you know what I mean. Not many wives would buy the dryer story." When I finished he deadpanned, "Have a good day at the office, honey" and I bustled with perfect hair to my interview.

The next day I was thrilled to arrive in Winnipeg. First of all there were trees and old buildings. Winnipeg has always been a reading town and so many great writers and entertainers have hailed from there. The great Rand-McNally independent book store seemed thrilled to have me as a speaker. There was a big crowd to greet me, hear my spiel,and they were excited to buy the two memoirs. Naturally they wanted to buy the volume one first. They were looking forward to getting the 10th year anniversary edition. The person that was in charge of the signing had to say to the snaking lineup before me that they were out of Too Close to the Falls. It had been on order since September ( two months ago) but for some reason they never received the book. Many people didn't buy the second book which was in stock because they wanted to start with the first non existent book. This was a bit like doing business in Leningrad. No product and freezing temperatures.

The book industry is a really amazing business and different from all others. Companies have to push out new products all the time. There is no standard book like there are standard jeans. You have new books five times a year. It is a limited segment of the market and you really can't advertise since advertising doesn't seem to sell books. It is reviews and word of mouth. Instead they have to schlep authors from one end of the country to another and you have to interest book store clerks in your particular genre if you can interest them at all. It is the only business that has a rule that if the books don't sell in the bookstores then the publisher has to take them back. Can you imagine sending back dresses or shoes or computers that don't sell?

Finally when I got to the airport I saw a whole table covered with my new book. I asked the manager how it was doing and he replied, "I don't know. Truthfully only vampire sells."

Wow !!! yesterday I ran a contest to see which CD cover people liked for my book and I got 67 replies. The whipped Cream won. However in the responses there was buried a work of genius. Robert Boorman, send me his own version of a cd cover. Check out how it incorporates the 60's with Paul McCarthy and the theme from the book which is entitled AFTER THE FALLS. I think this is amazing!