As nerve-wracking as it was, I think I made a pretty good impression on Mr. Gehry’s parents at his sister’s soiree.
His sister produced this documentary about taxidermy and it was part of the same programme (yes, I spelled it the pretentious way) as Hardwood, the NFB documentary short that was recently nominated for a golden statue. So I came along for the ride and accompanied him to cheer his family on.
I was pleased with how my lazy Sunday was going to pan out as I couldn’t think of anything better than spending it with Mr. Gehry watching documentaries. His sister’s film was fantastic. I’m not a huge fan of digital films (hence, why Hardwood was such a standout with it amazing cinematography and understated compositions), but she did a great job in highlighting the life of the taxidermist and the freaks that collect this shit.
After the post-screening congratulations, we drove over to the Granite Brewery for the reception. We raided the lox and shrimp table and settled into a cozy table with Mrs. Gehry and Mr. Gehry Senior.
His father was a quiet, looming man wearing a camel cashmere mock turtleneck and a grey Burberry tartan scarf. His mother was a bubbly, sophisticated lady with quirky earrings, a penchant for fine wines and a huge rock on her finger. As WASPy as Mr. Gehry is when he dodges snow banks in his Volvo wagon.
At one point, his father and I were discussing the benefits of Ozonel, an ointment that we both happened to be obsessed with. He stuck his finger up his nose to demonstrate how he applies ointment to his nasal cavities. We all burst out laughing. Though quiet, the man knows when to make an inappropriate joke. I loved his father so much.
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Shit, I have to go help with our job fair right now at our office. I gotta go. More later...
