For her faith in this project, dedication as a publisher and craft as a poet, I am multiple life-times indebted to Mona Fertig: eternal thanks. Pearl Luke worked tirelessly with generous editorial insight and offered superb guidance to bring this book into the world: mille grazie. Mark Hand, huge thanks for the gorgeous cover and beautiful book design. Judith Brand, many thanks for the skilful copyediting.
Leanne Milech and Mo Riche, wonderful first readers, I am enormously grateful for their hearty feedback and early help: I’m treating for dinner till the end of time. Deepest, I mean Mariana Trench-level, gratitude.
I have been blessed to know many encouraging and inspiring souls: Leonarda Carranza, Terri Favro, Becky Blake, Nancy Jo Cullen, Carmelinda Scian, Maria Meindl, and Kilby Smith-McGregor—also the amazing Ayelet Tsabari, and the phenomenal Kathy Friedman. Susan Scott, I bow to your genius. For the kind assistance offered during earlier incarnations of this story: Rocco Fantetti, Linda Burchill, Barbara Fee, Nicole Chovil, Mary Rose MacLachlan, Derek Capitaine, Micki Maunsell, Sarah Armenia, Elizabeth Oliver, Tanya D’Anger, Delia De Santis and the late Venera Fazio.
Thanks also to the members of the BC Schizophrenia Society, Canadian Mental Health Association Richmond Branch, and Mood Disorders of British Columbia.
Paleolithic versions of this project were read at two different reading series run by Sandra Cardinal (Red Rocket) and Maria Meindl (Draft), and I remain immensely thankful for their warmth, those opportunities and their ongoing community-building.
Brett Reynolds let me insert anecdotes about my father into articles about teaching English as a Second Language and offered his invaluable assessments with much kindness. Claudia Petrescu and Stefan Pasztor, fabulous folks, trained me for the teaching biz and are two of the finest instructors ever. Special thanks to Licia Canton and Domenic Cusmano, gifted people, for all the work they do making space for other artists.
Excerpts from “The High Priestess” were previously published in two separate essays, “Scribo ergo sum” and “Something Is Lost and Can’t Be Found,” which appeared in Exploring Voice: Italian Canadian Female Writers, a special issue of Italian Canadiana (Volume 30, 2016), edited by Venera Fazio and Delia De Santis, published by the Frank Iacobucci Centre for Italian Canadian Studies, Department of Italian Studies, University of Toronto.
I count my lucky stars for my Writer’s Studio and Guelph friends, instructors and fellow creators with much appreciation for all the inspiration, dedication and guidance offered— especially Betsy Warland, Wayde Compton, Camilla Gibb and Joe Fiorito.
For the generous support of my writing through timely grants of funds or spaces and locations over the years, I’m grateful to the BC Arts Council, the Canada Council for the Arts, Sage Hill Writing and the lovely Laura K. Bird. For the computer tech aid: Matthew Mallon, Cathy and Jason Leslie, Mary and Maury Larino, and Ayelet Tsabari.
The planets aligned to bring members of my Humber College family into orbit: Mark Andrade, Catherine Aherne, Maria-Lucia Di Placito, Miriam Novick, Jennifer Winfield—I benefit tremendously from your hive wisdom and knowing you marvellous peeps: a concrete figure would be incalculable. Many thanks to the thoughtful spirit Franc Jamieson, for the job that led to meeting Vera Beletzan, an extraordinary human. Thanks also to Prasad Bidaye for all the writerly encouragement. A simple dictionary search for “godsend” would produce a photo of Meaghan Strimas: forever and ever, thank you. The members of the Humber Literary Review collective, most especially the multi-talented Dave Miller, make putting an excellent magazine together look effortless while also making the world a better place: infinite thanks.
The Rider-Waite-Smith deck is full of powerful symbols and archetypes. Designed by Pamela Coleman Smith and published in 1910, the cards were considered innovative and intricate; they continue to be popular with readers. I purchased mine in a fluorescent-lit bookstore chain in Sherway Gardens mall when I was a teen; I’d never heard of tarot, or of the superstition that people shouldn’t purchase a deck but be gifted one. No child of devout and devoted Roman Catholics would ever receive “an instrument of divination” for a Christmas present. The package is well-worn and held together with masking tape, but I have them still. With me through every move from province to province, from place to place, and from desk to bookshelf, each time I unpacked them, I knew I was home.
My father always says there are two kinds of people in the world—those who help and those who harm. The first goes through life’s difficulties, comes out the other side and thinks to themselves: “I don’t want anyone to have it as hard as I did. I’ll help everyone I can.” The second experiences life’s dilemmas and thinks to themselves: “If it was a hardship for me, it should be hard for everybody. I’m not lifting a finger to assist anyone.” Cathy Sostad, the first of the first, has a heart like none other I’ve encountered: profound thanks.