Sweet Baby Beans
Jeff Mijo-Burch
I made a new friend last month, and his name is Beans. After almost four years without a pet, my partner and I just adopted the most wonderful little pug. He’s an unusual silver colour with a white chin, chest, and front feet, and he bounces and prances around like the clumsiest little prince. He is also the sweetest little guy I’ve ever met, and loves everyone immediately (but he loves my partner most of all).
It’s really striking just how much I love him after a couple of weeks. I’ve had pets most of my life, but this is the first one who’s been mine, not a family pet, and I now completely understand how people spoil their kids. My little Beans deserves everything he could ever want.
I don’t have a profound message to share about Beans, because that’s not really his speed, but he is perfect and I want to share that fact with you. Also, let’s be honest, I mainly just wanted Iryna to draw a cute illustration of my little boy.
Why you should write for The Cascade
Bradley Duncan
I’ve always struggled with writing. I remember those early days in grade school, staring at a blank journal page for what seemed like an eternity. It didn’t seem to matter what the prompt was. Whether it was how I spent my summer vacation, or just something that made me happy, I could never get going. The words just stuck in my mind, always just out of reach. Eventually, I got some valuable advice: just start putting words on the page. It helped. I’d write my name, and the time, and the weather. Then a thought, and another, and another. A lot of my time went to useless junk sentences, but eventually I’d string some together. It wasn’t good… but it wasn’t a blank page, and that was progress.
Now I write papers all the time, but I still get stuck in the quagmire of my mind, staring wearily at a blank screen. In those moments, I write bullshit — bullshit that culminates in feelings, opinions, and insights dredged up from my subconscious. Mostly it’s garbage, but occasionally it’s not… and The Cascade provides an outlet for those errant thoughts. Writing can be a chore — but it can also be more. When it is, it’s nice to have a place to showcase it.
A blue Christmas without you
Emmaline Spencer
One of my oldest and closest friends passed away on Dec. 23 of 2022. I spent that evening processing and the following days in tears. I had lost people before, but the pain never gets easier. I found myself crying randomly at meals, thinking of how I used to eat food with her. I’d drive my car and realize she is the last person I gave a ride to in it. I’d think about how the week before she passed, we were having a happy little Christmas party in her basement and how I had given her a fortune-telling that would never be fulfilled.
I felt sick. My heart had been shattered once more, and I was left to pick up the pieces. I’m grateful that the rest of my dear friends were there so that we could continue to reminisce and love our fallen comrade. I will probably spend my whole life missing the people I’ve lost. I’ll count the days since their passing and will write poems of my longing. I’ll lull myself into a sense of peace until I find myself spontaneously crying over a joke because she would have found it hilarious.
To my dearest friend, I will always love you.
Duck, duck, goose… but certainly never turkey
Marie-Ange Routier
I remember being seven the first time I realized we did Christmas differently. Naturally, it was the food that first tipped me off. We were in class, making a sort of trivial questionnaire about the holidays, and I got one answer wrong. The question posed was, “Name the bird eaten at Christmas,” and I answered, “Duck.” I remember arguing with the teacher until she gave me a red checkmark on my paper. Note that this was supposed to be a fun classroom exercise, and counted for no grades, as did most things in elementary, but even at that age red crosses infuriated me.
I went home demanding my poor mother explain this injustice. Had she been tricking me this whole time? Was the Christmas bird really a turkey? I demanded answers. I asked her, “Is the duck the bird of Christmas dinners?” and she answered, “Well, not usually, but that’s what we do.” My little heart sunk so deep it might have touched my toes. I couldn’t believe it, the teacher was right. To be sure I asked, “Is it usually turkey?” My mom, not knowing why, but clearly seeing how upset I was, gently said, “No dear, of course not, it’s goose.”
Jeff was The Cascade's Editor in Chief for the latter half of 2022, having previously served as Digital Media Manager, Culture & Events Editor, and Opinion Editor. One time he held all three of those positions for a month, and he's not sure how he survived that. He started at The Cascade in 2016.
Emmaline is working on her BA and ambitions to become an English teacher. They always say, those who cannot do, teach. She spends her free time buying, reading, and hoarding books with the hope that one day she will have no furniture and instead only have piles of books.
Long ago, when DeLoreans roamed the earth, Brad was born. In accordance with the times, he was raised in the wild every afternoon and weekend until dusk, never becoming so feral that he neglected to rewind his VHS rentals. His historical focus has assured him that civilization peaked with The Simpsons in the mid 90s. When not disappointing his parents, Brad spends his time with his dogs, regretting he didn’t learn typing in high school.
