Give him an Oscar!

Oscar Peterson

Peterson was born to West Indian Immigrants in Montreal, Quebec on August 15, 1925. At the age of five, he was beginning to learn the trumpet and piano, but after a bout with tuberculosis he could no longer play the trumpet and focused upon the piano. His earlier studies focused upon classical piano, but he was interested in jazz music. For many years he would practice the piano about four to six hours a day. In 1940, he won a nationwide music competition organized by the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation at the age of fourteen. After which he dropped out of school and played in music halls, concerts and weekly radio shows.
Peterson’s career took off when Norman Granz took him under his label. Apparently Granz was in a cab and listening to a radio show, and they were playing a recording of Peterson’s concert. Granz would remain Peterson’s manager for most of his career, and they formed a close friendship. Granz, one of the first music organizers to attempt to desegregate jazz concerts. Peterson also credits Granz with standing up for him and other black musicians against the segregation south.
Peterson soon started the Oscar Peterson trio, which included Ray Brown, Charlie Smith, Herb Ellis, Irving Ashby, Barney Kessel.  But the definitive trio was Ray Brown and Herb Ellis. Herb Ellis, a white musician,  was controversial in the segregationist times. From the late 1950s, he was recognized as one of the most influential jazz pianists of the time.
Over the years, Oscar garnered eight Grammys, many lifetime achievements, Canadian Music Hall of Fame, Juno Music Hall of Fame, an Officer of the Order of Canada.
Peterson died of kidney at his home in Mississauga, Ontario at the age of 82.

Inaugural Post

Today started as per usual, I got up, brushed my teeth, went downstairs to watch television before I begin my long start to the day.

The inglorious suburbs ... there's no work here, just homes, strip malls and plenty of space for kidlets to play. I loathe Mississauga. Its lack of culture is astounding to the wannabee culture aficionado. The extreme planning of these communities leave no room for spontaneity. Rigorous planning rarely breeds character.

I start my morning commute on the Mississauga Chanceit (aptly nicknamed for its unpredictability at times). I got the friendly bus driver this morning, who I greeted with a cheery "Good Morning!" I do this with all bus drivers, in hopes that the days where I may be running for the bus they may wait for me. I sit down opposite the sun, I am grumpy in the mornings and a speck of sunshine is not conducive to my mood.

The bus drops us off at the GO Transit, where I catch the train into downtown Toronto. My bias is obvious, as I love the hustling, bustling city life. I believe there is beauty in chaos, and that is epitomized in the downtown core. Union Station a beacon of organized chaos reaches epic proportions of commuters at rush hours. There is only one direction you may go, safely that is.

I manage to avoid this by taking a shortcut. I walk from Union Station to my workplace. Ahhh, there has been major construction going on as of late. I see a construction worker with Bass Pro Shops hoodie, and giggle to myself.

Day at work goes as normal.

Nothing special, nothing too bad. Just a whole lot of meh.

The day ends with a quick retreat from the office. I am not alone in this, I am sure. As with most suburbanites, our desire to get home as soon as possible prevails. I've seen people jump into the train at the very last moment, even with a train leaving a mere 15 minutes later. Some people see their jobs as not a joy in their life, but a necessity in order to have the two cars and the suburban "dream".

I hasten my normal pace to get to the train station. I too wish to get home as soon as possible if only so I can do what I wish I could paid to do. That is write a bit, learn about history and surf the internet for time consuming websites.

I jump on the train with a few minutes to spare and pop open my recent book, a gift from a dear friend. The book, Medieval Queens by Lisa Hilton, has me enraptured and intrigued. Since my distaste for commuting has grown even stronger as of late, I force myself to only read that book only during those times. Thankfully, my commuting will not continue for much longer as I will be moving downtown for the summer, where an adventure begins.

I come home to the sound of the television blaring, the smell of dinner cooking, a warm smile and a dog wagging her tail. These are warm thoughts, and will be something greatly missed.

Until next time, keep fit and have fun!

*Not affiliated or endorsed by ProActive*