FACES: Jara May

This is one of the cutest little girls I have ever photographed. I snapped these as part of a family photo shoot for their annual Christmas card last Sunday.

Turns out, Jara is a mini fashionista in the makings. She has a real sense of style and a bubbly personality. I’d say her father will lose sleep when she turns 15!

Dogberry Darling (C) Jennifer Barnable 2011

(C) Jennifer Barnable 2011

Jara and her Mom. Photographic genes must run in the family. (C) Jennifer Barnable 2011

Time Flies. I stay.

Time flies, as the saying goes.

Eight years ago, I moved back to Newfoundland. After university, I led quite the nomadic life – never staying too long in one place, never accumulating anything permanent. I liked it that way.

When my beloved grandmother became ill, I came back home after five years on the trot.  Her passing railroaded me in a way I couldn’t have imagined. Everything came to a screeching halt. You see, my Nan was more than a grandparent to me. She was also a parent and anchor in this world.

I’d never lost anyone before, let alone seen someone I love suffer like she did. It took a tremendous toll on my spirit and heart. To be honest, I have little recollection of the first two years after her death. I was just going through the motions. In ways, I still am. Never learning how to grieve properly does that to you. I just turned my heart inward and held on, hoping for better times ahead.

I remember that chilly November day, with the first frost on the ground, as I gathered my few belongings in plastic totes and made my way back home to Newfoundland. I vowed I would only be stopping here for a year, tops.

After all, I had a plan. The plan was to keep moving. I had no desire to put down roots. That felt like a frightening prospect. I always wanted to be sure I was living my life to the fullest, and staying in one place felt like the wrong thing to do. I had to be out there, on the move — seeking, doing, exploring, learning, and most of all growing. Stopping for any length of time was not in the plan.

Funny how life has other things in store.

Eight years later, I find myself walking on the frosty November ground, to the place I’ve called home for quite some time now. It seems roots have grown, albeit reluctantly, in these past years. For the first couple of years, I avoided any symbolic gestures or purchases that would make my staying her official. No furniture, no trappings, no set routine – no boredom.

For the longest time, I refused to hang pictures on my walls, insisting to myself that if I did, it would jinx me and somehow keep me here. Then little by little, I started to settle in cautiously. I was still ready to jump up and go at a moment’s notice, so that made me feel a bit better.

And so the years passed, and I started actually committing to a life here in one place. I built friendships. I volunteered in the community. I started being creative with writing and photography in my home studio. And time passed. I’m still here. Who’d have thought?

Perhaps I’m where I’m supposed to be, but my gypsy heart still dreams of freedom, and the open road. Being a committment-phobe isn’t easy; I’m always one foot in the door and one foot out. Escape has become a necessary part of my survival, in my life experience.

But these last eight years have brought me just as much joy as it has conflicted feelings. I’ve reconnected with friends, built myself a wondering network of people around me, and have a neighbourhood that feels somewhat  like home.

Until now, I’d never really considered anywhere else but Ferryland, the small community I lived in until age 18, “home”. I’ve called Austria and Scotland home temporarily, as well as certain cities in Canada. Yet somehow I always end up drawn back here.

It’s a love-hate relationship I have with home and the concept of “settling down”. I always feel like that word, “settling”, is the equivalent of the death of everything that we could be and could learn. At times, I feel like this city is far too small to hold me and all my wishes and dreams for the future.

And so travel has become my escape and refuge. I drink in the new places, anonymity and freedom the map offers me. It’s an elixir that brings me back to life. Once a year, I go for a month to some far off place, with one bag on my back and nothing but possibilities ahead. It gives me a new lease on life and makes living in one place bearable.

My inner gypsy rejoices and a sense of peace and happiness comes over me that I can’t find elsewhere. But when I get back home,  I also take comfort in the fact that there are people here who care about me and who I’ve missed dearly, despite the adventures away.

Am I back for good? For eight years, I keep saying, “I’m leaving again soon.”  Yet I stay.

I can’t say for certain whether the roots are strong enough to hold me when the wanderlust comes calling, but for now, I’m at least striking some sort of balance.  And while I never thought I’d be here, eight years down the road, perhaps it’s all part of the plan. I can only hope I’m where I’m supposed to be right here and now. I hate wondering if my life is actually out there, passing me by, while I stay where I am. Something many of us wonder, I’m sure.

Until I know for sure, the best I can do is live in the moment and be thankful for the people and experiences these last years have brought me — and just be.

This Buddhist mantra gives me comfort at times when I’m struggling with the stay-or-go question of my life’s direction:

“Be where you are, otherwise you will miss your life.”

Happy Birthday, Blog.

(C) DrinkNectar.com

A year ago this week I launched into the world blogging.

Now,  365 days, 108 posts and 20,000+ hits later, I think it’s fairly safe to say that blogging will be something I’ll be doing regularly for quite a while.

Thank you for reading along! I appreciate it.

Island Girl blog is a great outlet for me and keeps me writing, even if it’s a few paragraphs here and there. Down the road, I’ve got a few books in me that must eventually come out.

Blogging is also a fun way to share my photography, travel stories, spread the word about causes close to my heart and share the world through my eyes.

If you haven’t already, take a peek through the different categories here to read travel journals, watch video clips and more. I’m planning in 2012 to start really developing the blog’s categories and maybe even (when I get the courage — and time), add a video blog component.

To mark this 1st anniversary of the blog, I thought I’d list some other memorable firsts:

First Movie Theatre Experience: Pinocchio (I think); ET also made a huge impact. I would get so wrapped up in movies as a child, I would cry and call out to the characters on the screen. “Pinocchio, no!” and “ET! Elliot! Help!” My parents would shoosh me and try to explain it wasn’t real.

First Concert: Hughey Lewis & The News, Memorial Stadium. He played an intense harmonica solo as I watched, roasting in the heat of the crowd in my checkered blue, white and black sweater with a panda bear on the front. Loved that sweater. And won’t ever forget that harmonica playing.

First Job: Caplin picking at Calvert fishplant. It was a dirty job but I saved up enough to buy myself some dandy Reebok hightops.

First Flight: Quebec City, grade 7, French exchange trip in Grade 7. I remember staring at the huge, fluffy clouds and feeling like it was a whole other world. I stared out the window at the bright white clouds til my eyes hurt.

First Move Away from Home: Edmonton, Alberta. My first taste of living away from Newfoundland — though was still surrounded by Newfoundlanders in a little sub-community where everyone else from the Shore had moved. The awe-inspiring Rockies,  formations of geese flying south, the ribbon-flicking Northern Lights and incredible forks of lightning during summer storms are fond memories — as well as adopting Gia, my now 15-year-old kitty. I must admit though, I was “some happy” to get home out of there too, after 8 months.

First (and last) Bungee Jump 1997. ‘Nuff said.

First Trip Overseas: The Azorean Islands and mainland Portugal 1998, as part of a life-changing 25-day transatlantic tall ship journey on the NTM Creoula. We survived Hurricane Danielle, despite a badly damaged ship, and I experienced the awesome power of the North Atlantic sea. My love for sailing was born. And the travel bug within hatched! It was my first experience outside Canad, sailing out of St. John’s narrows on a 100-year-old 4-masted schooner and finally sighting the  island of Faial. The Azores are out of this world – volcanic, tropical islands in the middle of the Atlantic like nothing I could have imagined. If you ever have a chance to go, you must! (This is a whole other blog post in itself. )

First Car: 1996 Honda Civic, an old silver beater that I loved dearly until she gave out completely and was sold to some sketchy guy for parts. I miss that little car!

First Blog: 2011

Again, folks, thanks for following my blog. More to come in 2012!

My Top 5 Finds at the Craft Fair

The 38th Annual Christmas Craft Fair is currently taking place in St. John’s. Hosted by the Craft Council of Newfoundland and Labrador, the 5-day event is full to the brim with high quality, juried craft ranging from chocolate and ceramics to fashion and home decor.

It’s going on all weekend, too, so stop by and support local craftspeople! Details about times and exhibitors can be found here.

Here are my Top 5 finds (so far!)

1. Seagull and Cloud necklace by Mauzy Metalworks

Silver icon necklace by talented young craftsperson Jessica Butler. I've place a custom order so it's the right length and fit. (C) Mauzy Metalworks

 

2. “Robot”  line bowl by Blue Dragon Clay

Maaike Charron and her quirky, colourful Robot mugs, bowls, plates and more.

3. Two upcycled hood-style hats by CharlotteStreet

Me modelling my two new hood-style hats. They feel and look sort of medieval and Nordic at the same time. I love them!

Charlotte Reid and her upcycled, eco-friendly fashion accessories - from skirts and scarves to hats and halters. I really love this stuff!!

 

4. Silver Curly-Cue Sheep Pin by Susan Lee Studios

Curly-cue silver sheep pins. I've asked the designer to make me a larger version as a necklace. Very exciting. Also asked for an owl design if she has time in the future!

 

5. Solid Silver Branch-Embossed Amulet from Susan Lee Studios

This weighty amulet has different nature-inspired designs on each side. Better photo coming soon. This was taken with my phone.

Susan Lee Stephen at her very beautifully designed booth at this year's Craft Fair. Her work is among my favourite here in the province.

 

And here are some photos that I took at the Fair. Enjoy! (The Fair is on Sat 10am-9pm and Sun 10am-5pm)

Happy exhibitor. Christine LeGrow of Spindrift smiles as she completes a sale at the Fair.

Master goldsmith Jan Peterknecht custom-building another creation.

To see more featured crafts available at the fair, click here. Warning: they’re beauties!

From Newfoundland to New York City

A few weeks ago I had my first taste of New York City. It exceeded my expectations and made me love it more than I thought it could. A true cultural capital, New York has so very much going on. Where do I even begin?

How about we go back a little bit, first? Newfoundland and New York have many connecting points over the passage of time – some very interesting, and others personal for me.

(C) Wikipedia Commons

Early Newfoundland-New York Connections

In the 19th century, when immigrant ships crossed the Atlantic from Ireland and England, bound for America, the first port of call was either St. John’s, Newfoundland or Halifax, Nova Scotia, depending on the route. Many Irish stopped (and stayed) in Newfoundland, but the majority went on to New York via Ellis Island.

One legendary ship met its end in the iceberg-riddled waters off the coast of our island. On its maiden voyage, the Titanic was headed to New York City from Southampton, England. Ill-equipped and driven with arrogance and disregard, the “unsinkable” vessel struck an iceberg and promptly sunk before midnight on April 14th. The Titanic went to its watery gave just 400 miles south of Newfoundland. Of the 2,228 passengers and crew members who set sail, only 705 survived. Over 1500 lives were senselessly lost as near-empty lifeboats bobbed on the frigid sea while their fellow men, women and children drowned and froze to death.

The James Cameron blockbuster movie certainly did its job portraying the horrors of that night. The reality would have been far worse. At that time, after the accident, all along our shoreline, life jackets, deck chairs and ship debris washed up after the disaster. These artifacts can be found in rural and provincial museums around Atlantic Canada. The Johnson Geo Centre in St. John’s has a very detailed Titanic exhibition, “The Titanic Story” that’s well worth a look.

It was 1912, the same year my Nan was born, and on the 14th of April, my birthday. The Titanic has always been an important figure in my mind, a haunting story with strong lessons and a close-to-home tingle.

Coney Island Baby

If I’d had more time during this recent trip, I’d have gone out to Coney Island, a place my Nan used to tell me all about. She lived in New York as a little girl, when she adopted by her Uncle and Aunt, after her mother died in childbirth along with her baby sister. They moved from Calvert, Newfoundland all the way to New York City. Nan recalled the boat ride to “America” and told me stories about her neighbourhood, her friends and her life there as a child. Her Uncle Rich Sullivan (nicknamed “Sully”) was a mechanic who worked on the roller coaster rides, and she would get to ride free when she visit, and with a twinkle in her eye added that she could skip the line if she told them she was “Sully’s girl”.

I’ve always had an affinity for the 1920s. And just picturing Nan as a little Newfoundland lass frolicking at the Coney Island funfare in its heydey always set my imagination ablaze. I can almost hear the music and see her skipping along the boardwalk with her friends, waving down from the ferris wheel and shrieking on the rickety wooden rollercoaster.  Life had been hard in Calvert, and it would be hard again when she returned to Newfoundland as a young woman. I’m thankful she had those years. Oh Nana, I miss your stories.

Newfoundland Hands Moulded NYC Skyline

We all know that iconic photograph of the NYC steelworkers sitting atop beams of skyscrapers eating their lunches. Around these parts, it has been claimed to depict Newfoundlander steelworkers who went to work in New York.

One of the most well-known photos of the 20th century, “Lunch Atop A Skyscraper,” taken in 1932 by Charles C. Ebbets during construction of the RCA Building at Rockefeller Center.

It is true that many from our island went to New York to work in this industry, and I can only imagine them, stealthy as cats on narrow beams high above the city. Now whether those men in the photograph are Newfoundlanders or not is beyond me. Many Newfoundlanders swear that these are our kin, given the facial features, body types and postures.  I can see it, too, but who will ever know? I’m sure many people identify with that image and claim it is their own people who migrated there to work, and are forever captured in that  incredible image.

From “The Rock” to “30 Rock”

A neat tie-in here is that the skyscraper being built in this photograph became what is now known as “30 Rock” (30 Rockefeller Center). Newfoundland, as an island full of granite, is often referred to as “the Rock”, for those who don’t know. As I passed underneath it, I craned my neck to look all the way up and visualized that scene frozen in time: a group of steel workers sitting on a girder, casually eating lunch with legs dangling hundreds of feet above New York city streets.

One thing’s for sure, whether or not there were Newfoundlanders in that picture, at that time in history many of our folk were nimbly making their way along nearby beams and working hard building those massive steel skeletons that would later become the structures that millions work in and walk past daily. It was quite a thought, as I walked by.

Check out the book “High Steel: The Daring Men Who Built the World’s Greatest Skyline”, which discusses Newfoundlanders, among others, as steelworkers.

“Many early ironworkers were former sailors, new Americans of Irish and Scandinavian descent accustomed to climbing tall ships’ masts and schooled in the arts of rigging. Others came from…a constellation of seaside towns in Newfoundland. What all had in common were fortitude, courage, and a short life expectancy.”

A  CBC  television documentary called “Men of Iron” discusses this piece of our islanders’ history. “A century ago Newfoundland was still a British colony. And New York City needed workers who were not afraid of heights.” From putting the top spire on the Empire State Building to constructing  the Twin Towers, Newfoundland steelworkers were there. They were recruited because of their experience in ship rigging and mastery of carpentry – and the work ethic that people from our province are still known for. To see the documentary and the photo slideshow that were part of the centenary celebrations for Iron Workers Local 40,  click the link above.

I Heart NY

My contributions to New York City were far less incredible than the agile steeworkers of the 1920s, 30s and 40s, but I was there nonetheless. A tourist visiting for 4 days and gazing in wonder at the city I’d seen in so many movies. A city I wasn’t convinced I would like as much as I did!

Here begins Part II of this blog entry, covering my adventures in the Big Apple. Stay tuned!

TO BE CONTINUED…

http://www.cbc.ca/nl/features/menofiron/