Thursday, October 3, 2013
Thursday Thirteen -- 292 -- 13 Questions for Stephen MacLean, Screenwriter for Wisp
Posted by Julia Phillips Smith at 6:55 AM 7 comments
Labels: Atlantic Film Festival, Benjamin Stevens, Canadian film, Producer, Screenwriter, Spooky Stories Author Series, Stephen MacLean, Thursday Thirteen, Wisp
Friday, September 13, 2013
5 on Friday -- Set 188
Posted by Julia Phillips Smith at 12:44 AM 3 comments
Labels: Bruce Springsteen, Choosing the filmmaker's path, Dream Front Entertainment, Dreams come true, Freddie Mercury, Harry Connick Jr, Julianne MacLean, Michael Bublé, Moby, September birthdays, Stephen MacLean
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Poetry Train Monday - 113 - Special Indeed

Fresh on the heels of my step-niece's wedding yesterday, I thought I'd share a memory of my dad from another wedding 16 summers ago. The piece of found poetry is taken from a prose piece in my family history book.
This took place at the pre-wedding breakfast for my cousin, Julianne.
Special Indeed
The morning of
Julianne's wedding
Julianne's wedding to Stephen
The family gathered
Gathered in the dining room for breakfast
Breakfast in the mansion-turned-hotel
The hotel rented out completely
To the wedding party
Dad had arranged
On the morning of
Julianne's wedding
Arranged for a floral delivery
That morning of Julianne's wedding to Stephen
Dad gave all the special women in his life
A beautiful red rose
A red rose for the bride-to-be
A red rose for his daughters
A red rose for Mom
A red rose for Auntie
A red rose for Gram
On the morning of
Julianne's wedding
All the women in Dad's life
Felt very special indeed
- Julia Smith, Aug. 9, 2009 / original text 2000
Ride the Poetry Train!
Ms. Snarky Pants says That is so very, very sweet!
Stan Ski says Lucky women all!
Akelamalu says How lovely - the poem and the photos and the memories!
Posted by Julia Phillips Smith at 2:40 PM 9 comments
Labels: Auntie Noel, Brad Smith, Charlie, Dad, Found poetry, Julianne MacLean, Michelle, Poetry Train, Rose, Special Indeed, Stephen MacLean, Uncle Charlie, Wedding
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Vote Now! * and * Poetry Train Monday - 100! - Don't Give Him What He's Fishing For

Photo by Robert Single
Joshua Young - the handsome fellow in the center there - needs your help. His short film Re-Creation is in a competition and needs as many votes as it can get. This is the crew that made the film, including my cousin's husband, Stephen MacLean at far left.
My hands even have a cameo at the beginning of this film.
To vote, please click HERE.
Akelamalu says OK I'll vote for him, anything to help!
Heather says I have cast my Vote!
Thomma Lyn says I will go vote for Joshua Young's film. :)
Poetry Train Monday - 100! - Don't Give Him What He's Fishing For
This post feels very special to me. It's my 100th offering on the Poetry Train.
The original Poetry Train was started by a blogger named Rhian/Crow woman. She's a photographer and fine artist who also gathered a lively group of poets around her for a wonderful season of creativity. When her artistic pursuits took her in a new direction, the Poetry Train derailed for awhile.
I chugged along, naming my posts Poetry Monday. I couldn't hop off this thing.
Miracle of miracles, Gautami Tripathy began the Monday Poetry Train Revisited. Bless you, Gautami! Even my poetic words cannot express what the Poetry Train has meant to me.
I'd like to thank all the readers who stop by this blog on Mondays. Your comments are sweet as raindrops to me.
I'd like to embrace all the poets I've encountered on this journey. Your work has never failed to inspire and intoxicate me.
I look forward to the next 100 posts with hunger, passion and awe.
You can check out my previous posts in my archives. Click HERE.
Today's found poem is a writing exercise I did at one of the writer retreats at White Point Beach in Nova Scotia. I've reworked it into a poem. 
Don't Give Him What He's Fishing For
"Beep. Beep. Beep.
Mrrm. Mrrm. Mrrm."
Little plastic wheels rolled
Back and forth, back
And forth
Across the cement floor
"Taran, honey," she mumbled
Turning onto her side
The rolling continued
Without sound effects
For some reason
That made it seem worse
Anya flipped the worn blanket
Aside
Sat up
Head swirled for a
Long moment
She waited
The spots in her vision
Fizzled away
Taran knelt
Rolling the moon mobile
Around himself
Scooting to keep up with the toy
He wasn't so
Pale this morning
It made her growling stomach
Easier to bear
"What are you doing?"
She asked
As if they were in the playroom
And not
This cell
"My guy is
On his way to
Lunar Space Station 12."
Taran didn't look up
"What's he going to do?"
She asked
Rubbing her arms
Trying to get some
Circulation going
"He's going for help."
Little plastic wheels rolled
Back and forth, back
And forth
Anya's heart hollowed
In her chest
"Is there help
At the space station?" she asked
Glad her voice didn't shake
"Yeah," Taran said
Hair falling over his eyes
She was glad he didn't look up
Just then
Anya's pulse quickened
The low rumble of the outer lock
Made its way into the
Cell
She reached down
Marvelled that Taran
Slipped onto her lap without
A word
He'd never come to her
Without cajoling
Before the soldiers appeared
In her dining room
Footsteps
Echoed down the
Hall. She
Swallowed
Chest rising
Falling rapidly
No air reached her lungs
Anya's grip
On Taran tightened
The inner door unlocked
Swung
Open
Martinus stood
Looking at them
An uncomfortable moment
He carried no food
A slave brings bowls
If Martinus appeared
It would be a long morning
He entered, turned
Shut the door. Then
He dug in his pocket
Pulling out a small toy
Anya pressed
Her palms across Taran's
Chest
Hoping he would
Somehow
Absorb the
Warning of danger
Through her
Touch
Martinus crouched
His face level with Taran's
He allowed her son a good look
At the toy
Please, Taran, don't
Give him what he's fishing for
She begged silently
"Have you ever
Seen this before?"
Martinus asked
Taran shrugged
"What is it?" Martinus' gaze
Bored into her son's face
Anya held him
As if she could
Make this
All go
Away
"It's a Hoozelie Draw-Engine,"
Taran said
"Is it yours?"
"No. Hoozelie
Is for babies."
"Do you know any
Babies
That might like to play with this?"
"I'm five. I don't play
With babies."
- Julia Smith, 2009 / original piece written 2007
Illustration - Azureus Rising - Prison Cell by Hideyoshi
Dorothy says Your poems always tell an intriguing story.
Michelle Johnson says I love that ending. Children can be so honest and forthright can't they?
Anthony North says I share your words on this poet's community. It's great here.
Posted by Julia Phillips Smith at 1:01 PM 15 comments
Labels: 100, Competition, Don't Give Him What He's Fishing For, Film, Found poetry, Gautami Tripathy, Joshua Young, Poetry Train, Re-Creation, REEL 13, Rhian, Stephen MacLean
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Poetry Train Monday - 88 - Our Babe

Today I was over the moon when I sat down to watch a documentary air on CBC's Land and Sea. The producer and writer of the documentary is none other than my cousin Julianne MacLean's husband, Stephen MacLean.
WOO HOO!! Bravo, Stephen!!
Here's the write-up for the episode:
The sinking of Titanic is probably the most famous marine disaster in the world. Fifteen hundred people lost their lives when the majestic ocean liner struck an iceberg. One body recovered from the frigid waters became a symbol of the tragedy and the horrible loss of life. It was a young boy, a baby really, less than two years old. He was called the Unknown Child because he could not be identified.
The Unknown Child was buried in Halifax with other Titanic victims and only now has the mystery been solved.
Modern science has made it possible to prove who the Unknown Child was. He now has a family and a name. - CBC.ca, Titanic Child
For my latest effort in my found poetry series, I've crafted a poem from several sources, telling the story of one of the tiniest of Titanic's victims. The sources include Lardner heads grisly task after Titanic disaster, Maritime Museum of the Atlantic, The Search For the Dead, and Tracing the Tribe: The Jewish Genealogy Blog.
Having grown up in Halifax, the last resting place for many of the Titanic victims, I can say the shock never wears off as you approach the grave of the Unknown Child and see the continuous gifts, toys and flowers laid at the base of this granite marker. 97 years later, locals and visitors alike stop at the grave and pay their respects to this baby lost to the sea.

Photo by maritzburgmerle
Our Babe
The MacKay-Bennett
Commissioned with a grisly role
Her task
To retrieve as many bodies of the
1,517 passengers who perished
Before the Gulf stream
Swept them away
Captain Frederick Harold Lardner
His crew
Double wages. Captain gave his crew
The chance to sign off
Without penalty
No one took advantage
She left Halifax, Nova Scotia
Stocked with ice
Coffins
Embalmers’ instruments
Wednesday April 17
While the Carpathia headed for Pier 54
New York to land the
705 survivors from Titanic
306 of Titanic's victims
Of the 1517 Titanic victims
Were found by Mackay-Bennett's crew
The little body floated up
Alongside the searchers' boat
It was tenderly brought aboard
The sight of this little form
Floating
Face upwards
On the deep
Brought tears to the eyes of the
Hardy sailor men
His entry in the ledger
Simply stated: "No identification. No effects."
He was one of two children found
The only child that had not suffered
Great trauma to his body
Even the toughest of crew members
Wept openly over the discovery
Of Titanic's smallest of victims
Reports of mob scenes in New York
Reporters
Families
Conmen
Spectators
Overwhelming the White Star Line
And Cunard Line offices
The Halifax Police
And two detectives boarded the
Body-recovery Mackay Bennett at the
Harbour entrance
Securing it. They docked
At the Naval Dockyard
Protected by the just-created Canadian navy
By a large contingent of the Dominion Police
Forerunners of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police
Brought in from Ottawa
The bodies
Clothes
Personal effects
Guarded by the small Halifax Police department
Bolstered by army soldiers
24 hours a day
Nearly 200
Little piles of clothing
Neatly tied up by the
Ship’s company of the Mackay-Bennett
Clarence Northover
Halifax Police Department Sergeant
1912
Helped guard the bodies
And belongings
Clothing was burned
To stop souvenir hunters
But
He was too emotional when he
Saw the little pair of
Brown leather shoes
Fourteen centimeters long
And didn’t have the heart to burn them
NO. 4 - MALE - ESTIMATED AGE, 2 - HAIR, FAIR.
CLOTHING - Grey coat with fur on collar and cuffs; brown serge frock; petticoat; flannel garment; pink woolen singlet; brown shoes and stockings.
No marks whatever.
Probably third class
Prior to his funeral
The White Star Line had been
Inundated with offers
To sponsor the child's funeral costs
Only one request was granted
That request came from
Captain Lardner and his
Crew of the Mackay-Bennett
The burials began
On Friday, May 3rd, 1912
At all three cemeteries
As sad as all of these funerals were
No amount of mourning could
Surpass the following day
Saturday was the day
The funeral of the unidentified
Little boy found
By the Mackay-Bennett's crew
Hundreds of mourners
From Halifax and surrounding area
Packed St. George's Anglican Church
To pay their last respects to this
Little unknown victim
Six of her crew members carried
His little white coffin
Covered in flowers
To the hearse
For burial
At Fairview Cemetery
The young boy was laid to rest
With the other casualties
From Titanic. His tombstone
Made of granite
Bears the inscription:
"Erected to the memory of an
Unknown child
Whose remains were recovered
After the disaster to the Titanic,
April 15th, 1912"
In the years following the
Retrieval
The Mackay-Bennett's crew would
Reveal many stories of those
Horrifying days in the North Atlantic. However
There was one victim
The crew
Even years after the
Incident
Had a difficult time
Talking
About
When no relatives came
To claim the shoes
Police Sergeant Clarence Northover
Placed them in his desk drawer
At the police station and there
They remained for the next six years
Until he retired
In 1918
When she visited Halifax
For a math conference in the 1980's
Carol Goodwin found time to stop by
The grave of the young Titanic passenger
Known simply as the Unknown Child
"I remember standing there
Having a very spiritual feeling.
I wished my grandmother was there."
In 2002, the child was
Erroneously identified
As 13-month-old Eino Panula
Based on ambiguous
DNA analysis
Forensic odontology
On several teeth
Found
In the grave in 2000
Suspicions were aroused
The child’s shoes
Held by the Maritime Museum in Halifax
Found to be too large
For a 13-month-old
Forensic genealogist
Colleen Fitzpatrick was called in
Following initial tests
On another boy's
DNA
"I had to go up the family tree
And down the tree," she said.
A third test showed
A mutation in the
Maternal DNA
An exact match
To a living relative
On the boy’s mother’s side
Last year
DNA tests revealed
The unknown child
Is actually Sidney Leslie Goodwin
The 19-month-old English boy's
Entire immediate family
Died when the Titanic
Sank in the North Atlantic in 1912
Carol Goodwin organized a
Memorial service at the grave
In Halifax’s Fairview Lawn Cemetery
Carol Goodwin now knows
The boy in the grave belongs to her
Sidney Leslie Goodwin
Birth: Sep. 9, 1910
Death: Apr. 15, 1912
Posted by Julia Phillips Smith at 12:35 PM 20 comments
Labels: Clarence Northover, Fairview Cemetery, Found poetry, Mackay-Bennett, Poetry Train, Sidney Leslie Goodwin, Stephen MacLean, Titanic, Titanic Child



