A staunch conservative, an outspoken nationalist, a supporter of Canadian symbols and a strong Canadian army, this part of the world came to know him as the embodiment of patriotism. And as a politician in another troubled time in Canada’s history, just before the Great War, MP Sam Hughes stated:
“Canada must ensure peace with national preparedness for war.”
Hughes put his money and his feisty attitude where his mouth was. (more…)
An acquaintance from Aurora contacted me the other day. He explained that one of the local riding associations planned a question-and-answer session with political candidates contesting in the current federal election. He knew that the Uxbridge Cosmos had just staged a forum.
“I know that the golden rule of moderating is try to be invisible,” he said. “But do you have any tips for me?”
“I think you’ve got it,” I answered. “Be firm. Be fair. But at the same time, as much as possible, stay out of the way.” (more…)
Late in 1945, after the Second World War, my father Alex Barris received his honourable discharge from the U.S. Army. He had survived training as a medic in Kansas in 1943, the bloodbath that had been the Battle of the Bulge in western Germany in the winter of 1945, postwar occupation service in Czechoslovakia and transatlantic passage back home to New York City in time to rejoin his family for Christmas.
Eager to return to civilian life, Dad visited his alma mater, Haaren High School, to claim his education transcripts. As the school registrar retrieved the papers, Dad strolled through the school hallways, pausing at the school’s honour roll.
“Alumni Who Gave Their Lives in World War II,” the banner announced atop the wall. There were dozens and dozens of names – 56 in all. Then, the most incredible thing happened. He saw his own name etched there in the bronze. Dead. Honoured. But it was a mistake. When he tried to explain the error to the registrar, however, she blushed and blurted out:
“Oh my! Someone will be in trouble over this.” And she dashed away. (more…)
He had little reason to believe in his community, his military commanders or even his country. At the end of the Second World War, RCAF veteran Ed Carter-Edwards was repatriated to Canada. Honourably discharged, the former wireless air-gunner sought a disability pension for having survived a Nazi concentration camp.
“The trouble with you guys who went overseas,” complained a pensions official to Carter-Edwards, “is that you come back here and you think the country owes you a living.”
“We survived the Holocaust,” explained Carter-Edwards. “We were there.”
Like so many, whose post-traumatic stress disorder was dismissed in 1945, Ed Carter-Edwards claimed an additional $3.75 per month in disability pension. (more…)
Last week, a young woman walked along a street in Medford, Massachusetts, on the outskirts of Boston. She was about to join friends for dinner. The PhD student was suddenly surrounded by swarm of men in hooded shirts. They pulled cloth coverings over their mouths and noses and grabbed Rumeysa Ozturk; they claimed to be police officers and arrested her. The incident was caught on video and someone off-camera calls out:
“If you’re police, why are you hiding your faces?”
Ozturk shrieked as the men confiscated her phone, handcuffed her wrists, stuffed her into an SUV and drove her away. (more…)
The federal election is just days old, but suddenly our attention has shifted slightly from the impact of Trump’s tariffs to the Canadian electorate deciding which federal political party is the most able to deal with the U.S. president’s territorial aspirations to make Canada the 51st state.
She hasn’t repeated this since the election writ was issued on Sunday, but Elizabeth May delivered a creative countermeasure to Trump’s insult a few months ago.
“You think we want to be the 51st state? Nah,” she said in December, offering California, Oregon and Washington the chance to become Canada’s 11th province. “Have we got a deal for you,” she suggested to Americans. “Universal free health care … safer streets, strict gun laws and free abortions … and a chance to get rid of all these states that always vote Democrat.” (more…)
Sometimes politicians in Canada and the U.S. have described the economic struggles between our two countries as trade wars. More recently, observers on both sides of the border have recognized international tariffs as a form of economic erosion.
But if you think current trade hostilities across the 49th parallel are new, nothing could be further from the truth. A newspaper published in St. Paul, Minn., once encouraged American mercantilists to invade Canada and they were offered money as an incentive to do it.
“The St. Paul Chamber of Commerce will award a cash prize to the first enterprise to establish commerce in the British Northwest Territory,” reported the newspaper. “One thousand dollars to the first to arrive.” (more…)
The stands seemed more alive than I have ever experienced inside a hockey arena. The cheering was louder. The music was more boisterous (lots of ear-shattering choruses of Shania Twain’s Man, I Feel Like a Woman.) The applause and foot-stomping seemed more animated.
The energy in the Coca Cola Coliseum for a Toronto Sceptres game I attended last month felt powerful enough to lift the roof off the place. But amid all the hoopla, there was also video on the jumbotron featuring members of the team answering the question, “Who is a role model you look up to?”
“My grandma,” said Sceptre player Lauren Bernard in the video. “She came from East Germany when she was about 20. … She took me to all my hockey games growing up. She’s been the backbone of my journey.” (more…)
I think I first recognized how serious this Trump tariff stuff was when my sister called from the southern U.S. For the past couple of winters, she and her husband have driven south to escape the toughest part of winter.
But when the president of the United States first hinted at absorbing Canada as a 51st state, almost overnight my sister and brother-in-law responded.
“We don’t like where this is going,” she emailed. “We’re coming home.” And within a couple of days, they’d crossed the border and texted, “Home, sweet home.” (more…)
One day about a week ago, I’d risen early to feed the dog. Next, I’d turned on the coffee machine to help kick-start my day. Then, I’d fetched the newspaper from the latest overnight snowfall on the driveway and I’d read the headline that Trump had called Polish President Volodymyr Zelenskyy “a dictator.”
“What the…?” And I was about to sit down to find out more over that cup of java when I noticed a wet spot on a carpet in our bedroom and reacted out loud. “Did I spill something here?”
Then, I felt a drop on my head, looked up and realized the ceiling light fixture was dripping water. And based on the length and breadth of the wet spot on the carpet, I concluded this had probably been going on all night. (more…)