By Ben Ladouceur
In late 2021, many residents of Lowertown (and some other Ottawans) found copies of a little book-like thing in their mailboxes. It wasn’t in an envelope, and it didn’t have an address; it could only have arrived by hand. It featured pages of insights on life during the pandemic, including this gem:
In late 2021, many residents of Lowertown (and some other Ottawans) found copies of a little book-like thing in their mailboxes. It wasn’t in an envelope, and it didn’t have an address; it could only have arrived by hand. It featured pages of insights on life during the pandemic, including this gem:
“Have you spoken with children lately? Don’t they seem just a little wiser for their age than you remember being? Maybe I’m imagining it, but amidst the chaos and attention-grabbing news, it seems to me that quietly we’re learning to be better to each other.”
This observation was one of many provided by regular contributors to These Days, a zine that Lowertown resident, Jeff Blackman, began during the pandemic. That issue focused on lessons learned through the early days of COVID-19. Like every issue, it was printed, folded, stapled, and hand-delivered to a network of friends, neighbours, and community members.
“I started it within days of the lockdowns,” says Blackman.
“I had lots of artistic plans that had been put on hold – performances and events. I thought, I’m going to make a little quaran-zine. I got my friends to make things.”
There are now 25 issues of These Days, and counting.
Some contributors, including Blackman’s son, have ages in the single digits. These junior contributors are responsible for some of the most engaging and entertaining work – which gives credence to the anonymous observation, quoted at the start of this article, that children are wiser than ever.
Blackman is a prolific poet and editor, with 15 chapbooks to his name. He might hold the record for shortest poem ever to be published in the popular “Best Canadian Poetry” annual anthology (four lines total). The title of the zine came from a line in one of Blackman’s own poems, featured in the first issue.
He also has a lot of experience with small magazines – and to him, the fact that These Days is a physical product matters. “There are a lot of online magazines,” he says.
“[A handmade magazine] felt like something that would connect me to people I cared about. Not just friends and family, but people who I knew from the larger arts community and who I’d see once a month or so at readings and events in Ottawa.”
“We almost forget it now, but during that year of no touching and no hugging, a physical thing helped to transcend the digital divide at that time.” For many contributors and readers – some of whom help to keep the magazine cost-neutral with Patreon donations – the magazine was a source of genuine human connection during those long, isolating months.
But how does the zine look now that the pandemic is over? “I’ve been bringing in guest editors and collaborators,” says Blackman.
“I keep this going because it’s a way to continue to nurture the community. It’s also fun and silly – a way to play with my friends, but also to respond to whatever is happening these days.”
Visit linktr.ee/these_days to subscribe and get zines.
