I was watching the Canadian Figure Skating championships last night...wondering what had happened to the artistry.The focus is on jumping. Male or female, if one doesn't execute a quadruple reverse backwards see saw, one is doomed never to gain fame. Even the couples are throwing each other far enough to make four twists - a sure gold. In order to accomplish this one whizzes around the rink looking backwards at some predetermined spot and prays. All I can say is thank goodness for the ice dancers who aren't allowed to jump...yet.

And then they announced that Toller Cranston had died and I tumbled back into another era when Mrs. Lane, the Strawberry lady of his paintings, was selling his work in Pointe Claire village so that Cranston could even get the ice time to practice. And I bought into the whimsy, literally. Age is a strange condition. He must have been twenty or close to that and I would have been thirty or close to that. I'm glad enough of us bought into the whimsy that he could go on to encourage the artistry. I hope someone looks back and says: Oh...that's what it is all about.