Yesterday at Bluesfest here in Ottawa there was a severe thunderstorm and a downburst collapsed the main stage as "Cheap Trick" was performing. Isabel was in the third row. She is fine, both of us were a little shook up. Three people were taken to hospital and all three were released today. Thousands of people were evacuated to the Canadian War Museum. The stage went over backwards when it collapsed, otherwise things would have been so much worse. Bluesfest Officials got the job done, still, I didn't sleep well last night. Hoping that some scrap therapy will help.



I was standing at the kitchen sink hulling strawberries to make jam. I looked up and was startled by how dark it had become. The wind had picked up and I couldn’t tell if it was raining. My first thought was that you would be getting soaked at Bluesfest, my second was to bring in the laundry. I made it back to the house before it began to pour in earnest. The phone rang, it was you. I could hear the fear in your voice and the sounds of chaos in the background, “I’m all right, the stage at Bluesfest collapsed, but we’re OK! We’ve been told to evacuate to the Museum, I love you Mumma.” I had a million questions, but all I could manage was, “what?” and “I love you too, be careful! Call me when you get to the Museum.”
You did and you told me that a thunderstorm had come up when “Cheap Trick” was on stage. You were rocking out to the music. You were in the third row. You remember a Bluesfest official coming on stage and making slashing motions across his throat and the band saying no, it’s all right. You remember the stage crew taking down the curtains anyway. You remember the lead singer sprinting for the wings. You remember the stage pitching forward and then backwards and then it was gone. You remember grabbing on to Maggie and Owen and Anna and running. You remember someone’s elbow knocking your glasses down your nose and worrying that I’d be mad if you lost them. You remember reaching the safety of the War Museum and looking for friends and calling me to say that you were safe.
When the storm passed I told you to walk to somewhere away from Lebreton Flats so that I could pick you up. There were pockets of the city without power, no street lights or traffic lights. I remember that it was spooky, I didn’t know the area where Owen lives well. I remember giving you a big hug and holding on tight. I remember that Sunday, July 17, 2011 was no ordinary day.


KPertiet-Metal Rimmed Glitter Alpha-Red, Email Inspiration 82210 (frame)


MMartin-Rosa Solids


photo-cbc.ca