CBC radio and me (short story) (2 of 2) by Leanne Dyck

Did you miss the first part of CBC radio and me? Would you like to read it again? Here's the link... CBC radio and me (1 of 2)

Continuing the story...

(click on the image to embolden) ldyck

I still have the acceptance letter. Along with acceptance, I was sent an invitation to the book launch. The venue was a swanky hotel. The event would be recorded live for radio. In order for me to attend, I needed to stay overnight in Vancouver. 

The bed was comfortable; the room quiet. But I barely slept. I was way too excited.

In the morning, my husband helped me navigate the streets, and we arrived earlier than many. Under crystal chandeliers, the tables had been removed to make room for rows and rows of chairs. At the front of the room, two round tables held microphones and other recording stuff. CBC radio magic would happen in that room, in front of my eyes.

As a way of saying thanks, I'd brought a gift for radio personality and host of the book launch, Rick Cluff. But how would I get it to him? The thought of meeting him made me way too nervous.

I noticed a tall woman opening boxes and organizing stuff. 

"I'm an avid fan," I told her, and handing her the parcel, added, "This is for Mr. Cluff. It's a toque I knit."

"I'll make sure he gets it," she told me as she pulled a copy of the cookbook out of a box. "And this is for you."

Buy this book

"Thank you, um...er?"

"My name is Shelia Peacock."

Sheila? Peacock? I'd just met the co-creator of the cookbook and the show's producer. And I'd asked her to run an errand for me. Red-faced, I returned to my husband.

"This is it. This is the cookbook. Isn't it beautiful?" I breathed in that new book smell. A bookmark shaped like a chef hat marked page 130—Mom's recipe alongside my story. My words were in a book. It blew my mind.

More contributing authors arrived, and we all buzzed with excitement at being in that room, about having that book. 

"I'm on page 10," someone told me.

"I'm on page 96," someone else said.

The entire room cheered when Mr. Cluff arrived. "Good morning," he said, and we were on the air.

During the first break, a man with a microphone wound through the crowd and, to my surprise, came over to me. "I'd like to interview you."

I gulped. "Me?" I whispered. Me on CBC Radio?

"Go for it," my husband encouraged. "But remember to speak loudly."

"Yes, speak loudly into the microphone," the man said, and before I knew it, "We're on the air."

He spoke into the microphone, "I'm standing here with..."

I leaned in and said, loudly, "Leanne Dyck."

I must have been too loud because he quickly pulled the microphone away. A moment of dead air. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Leanne. Do you have a recipe in the cookbook?"

I nodded. Then I remembered that I was on the radio. "Yes. I submitted my mom's recipe for Vinaterta. Vinaterta is an Icelandic-Canadian prune cake." I was about to tell him that she made it every Christmas, that she was a talented cook, a skilled baker, that she... But I needed to wait for him to ask the questions. So I took a breath and waited. 

"Your mother's recipe?"

"Yes." Short and sweet.

"When was the first time you made... you used the recipe?"

"Um...er...well, that is to say...um...I never really used the recipe."

"Pardon me."

"I don't cook," I confessed, but quickly added, "But my mom was a good cook. Knowing my skills in the kitchen, or lack of any, she wrote the instructions so that it would be easy for me to follow. She made Vinaterta all the time. Every Christmas. That's how I know it's good."

"Oh, I see." He laughed.

Later, he interviewed Shelia Peacock and her co-creator, Joan Cross, and they put out the fire I'd lit. "We carefully test-cooked all the recipes," they assured the listeners.

Too soon, Mr. Cluff said, "Dark and early"—and I knew he was signing off. I waited until the path was clear, gathered all the courage I possessed, and walked up to Rick Cluff. "I'm a big fan."

"Well, thank you." He had a genuine warmth that put me at ease. "Would you like a photo?"

"You'd..."

"Of course," he said and made room for me at the CBC radio table.

My husband captured the moment...

'Notice my stylish haircut—not. I'd just donated my hair to cancer survivors'

On my way back to my husband, a woman stopped me. "I'm so pleased to meet you," she told me. "I wasn't planning on attending this book launch, but after hearing you on the radio, I knew I had to meet you."

Later, when my husband and I were alone, I told him about the woman and asked, "What do you think she meant? Why do you think she had to meet me?"

"I have no idea," he told me but grinned like he knew why.

Writing that short story didn't attract a publisher to my writing, but attending Flavours of Vancouver's book launch was an exciting step in my author journey.

photo by ldyck

Next post:  Sunday, June 17th
Iceland Independence Day
at approximately 5 PM PST

Knowing my Icelandic roots, a friend lent me her copy of Halldor Laxness' Independent People. And to celebrate Iceland Independence Day (June 17th), I will publish my book review.

"my dog, Abby"  ldyck

Sharing my author journey

Short Story: CBC radio and me (1 of 2) by Leanne Dyck

This short story was written about an event that happened in 2005.

A radio with silver knobs and in a brown vinyl case sat on a shelf beside a potted plant in my parents' kitchen. It was permanently tuned to CBC radio. As a result, my parents raised a CBC radio devotee. And so it's not surprising that I heard the call. Something like...

"my radio" ldyck

"BC is a multiethnic province. Nowhere is this more evident than in Vancouver. In celebration, we, your broadcasting network, are writing a cookbook—Flavours of Vancouver. Please send us your family recipes along with a brief anecdote."

But, as I've never felt at home in front of a stove, it was surprising that I heeded the call.

What can I say? I was called to represent Icelandic-Canadians. If only to honour my mom. My round-faced, fair-haired mother had been a talented cook, a skilled baker.

A tin box held index card recipes. I'd inherited the collection from Mom. And I knew among the cards I'd find Vinaterta—a seven-layer prune cake. My husband entered mid-search.

He used the same tone you'd use with a serial killer who was searching for a knife. "What are you doing?"

I told him about CBC's plan to write a cookbook—Flavours of Vancouver—and my plan to send them a recipe and a story.

And he said, "The title is Flavours of Vancouver, and we live on Mayne Island. See the problem?"

I thought about it for a few minutes. "They'll notice my return address. I'll let them decide. And besides, they want me to write a story. A publisher will read my writing. It could be my big break." I clicked my pen and wrote...

When I was growing up, Christmas was a joyous time of family gatherings, traditions, good cheer, and food. Delicious smells poured forth from Mom's kitchen. This was her opportunity to showcase mouthwatering talent. Two desserts were at the centre of these festivities: English pudding to celebrate my dad's heritage and my mom's recipe for Icelandic vinaterta. Not surprisingly, Mom had been given the roots of her recipe from her mother, Grandma Olafson. Grandma's recipe loudly proclaimed its Icelandic heritage with its strong ethnic taste. Mom slightly toned down the recipe to make it more palatable for her husband. I, too, far preferred Mom's recipe. Years passed, and I fell in love. Christmas was the test for my Mennonite boyfriend. How would he react to my large extended family? To Vinaterta? To my delight, he seemed at home in the company of my family. Next, he was served a piece of Vinaterta. The first bite was foreign to him. He turned the tastes around in his mouth. Would he finish his piece?

"It's okay if you don't finish it. It's a unique taste," my mom offered.

"Oh no, I like it." He finished it. "May I have another piece, please?"

We were married several months later. Vinaterta was our wedding cake.

I put my story in an envelope along with a copy of Mom's recipe and affixed a stamp.

photo by bdyck

Part two of CBC radio and me

"Abby the beachcomber" ldyck

Sharing my author journey...