"And what you once did may boomerang back…." A story by the late Rosi Jory

Rosi Jory - a singular creative soul who saw language in colour

Rosi Jory just passed away this week. If you don't know her, you probably would recognize her if you saw her. She was a fibre artist and writer, taught German for years at UNBSJ for years and years. Rosi was a fixture in the arts community, present at as many events she could get to.  Perpetually bright and smiling, she was a vibrant woman with her own distinctive style who was so kind and always ready to talk. She was very supportive of me and CreatedHere. She would frequently respond to my email newsletters with encouraging words, and each time I participated in a craft festival she came to see me and bought whichever issue had just come out. Rosi tried multiple times to explain to me what picto-coding was, her language art invention, a sort of grammar visualization. I'm not sure if it was the sleep-deprived mommy brain or just that she was a genius, but I had trouble wrapping my mind around it. Her dream, from what she told me, was to enable communication across language barriers through images.  She called it "totally unchartered territory... hands-on, experimental and freakingly open-ended.......politically incorrect ....for our strictly bi-lingual province..... yet nationwide for the oncoming 150th anniversary of this immigration country it may become a thrilling opportunity." Brilliant.

Rosi Jory picto coding NB

Rosi had emailed me awhile asking to be a part of the CreatedHere directory and somehow amidst babies  got lost in the shuffle. Just recently she submitted a story as part of the call for submissions for Issue #5. I didn't have room in the magazine but was going to post it online as part of the launch. I thought I would share it here now as a sort of tribute to her memory, and a little window to Rosi. Her profile will stay on the site for people to find.

I wish I would have known her better. She seems like one of those people who are so full of light and creativity that it can't help but spill over into those around them. Rest in peace Rosi, thank you for all you shared with the world.

And what you once did may boomerang back….

by Rosi Jory

It happened 7 days ago. Shortly after the new year.

I felt pretty rotten. Sports damage? Flu shot hang-over? Mono or Lyme disease?

Self speculation ends with the second report from the blood lab. 28.5 is encircled to distinguish it from the usual 5.0 reference range for C reactive protein. PMR means nothing to me. BODY ON FIRE, in plain English, explains what I experience right now: Bones, muscles and joints paining everywhere. Outlook: Curable with proper self help and proper medication.

Since hibernating and feeling sorry for myself are not my cup of tea I grab another Tylenol, get nicely dressed – the more rotten I feel the nicer I usually dress speculating on somebody commenting on how lovely my green or yellow fluffy scarves look. I then drive myself to the shopping plaza.

Shopping…. meaning grabbing the nearest cart, trying to straighten out my body, pushing it through the aisles, inspecting merchandise, needing nothing.

Then outside in the parking lot it happens.

On this very cold and very windy day, in between two long lines of parked cars, this very young and very fit woman follows me to my car wiggling a piece of paper in her hand:

'Excuse me, my husband was wondering whether you are the lady who quite a few years ago while being in a line-up gave him this little red deer card? It has been in his wallet ever since. It is a bit faded now.'

I laugh and turn around. On the back of my blue coat there she sees her red deer. Now we both laugh, completely oblivious, of most likely blocking the traffic. But nobody honks.

With groceries stuffed away safely, her husband joins beaming from ear to ear.

So I explain. As retiree having plenty of time and energy I am always on the lookout for something crazy to do.

I still remember the day when I bought this oversized and drab looking man's coat at Value Village for something like 3 Dollars. It absolutely wanted to come home with me to admire the 12 deer assembling outside our living room window stomping their hooves: 'Feed us!' 'Right' I think. Here we go again. I open the outside door, enter the patio throwing to them apple cores, carrot shavings and cut-up potatoes. This after all is deer territory before some builders decided to place 64 little townhouses right into the middle of these rocks and woods.

The deer, all pointed ears and legs apart, munching and staring I grab an old newspaper and felt-marker down the shape of one of them. This looks pretty good to me. All steamed up now I have my arctic fleece material on the carpet in next to no time – it is so soft and vibrant and pleasing to eyes and hands and also so fabulously quick to work with.

I pin the paper deer onto a piece of red fleece, cut it out and flatten it, then hand stitch it into the middle of the back of my greyish-blue coat spread out in front of my knees.

This one red deer looks pretty lonely. So I flank it with a yellow moon and a green tree.

All this happened years ago.

'Yek', people said, when I first wore this coat.

But fashions and tastes change. A new appetite for home-grown stuff develops.

'Oh, where did you find this coat? I love it!' 'May I take a photo?' 'I am a professional. It would look so novel in my face book entry.'

'Right' I think and cook up this little Christmas card surprise.

First I take a photo, put it into the computer, duplicate it, print it out many times over: one side deer, on one side empty, a fold in the middle. And absolutely no text.

'Here is your smallest little Christmas card you will ever receive,' I say to my gym friends. They place their little cards into the insides of their lockers. And sometimes when all the doors are open simultaneously a multiplicity of these little red deer wink at me and make me laugh.

Line-ups in markets and superstores may be boring.

So one day I start to make them less boring by giving away these little deer cards...one for the cashier and the others for the people behind me.

It was the people reactions which intrigue me. Some people are surprised. Some thank me. Some are embarrassed.

One grumpy old man says: 'Stuff it. I want no cards. From nobody!'…. ”You may as well take this one, it's free, no strings attached, nothing to buy, nothing to sell, just a wee something...to make you happy..the smallest Christmas card you will ever receive!' 'If it's free and may make me happy, I may as well have it'. He takes it and stuffs it into his pocket.

Another man in this line-up is a very young, newly arrived immigrant from Japan. He takes his card, looks at it, smiles and folds it into his wallet. 'THANKS for this welcome and good luck sign!'

He is a married man now, married to a local girl. Together this husband and wife team run a very successful restaurant. Talking to me with their faded little deer card in hand makes my day.

- Rosi Jory