I’d just finished one of my military history talks, this particular night. I had fielded a number of specific questions about the women and men I’d featured in my presentation. And one of the younger members of the audience put up his hand and asked the toughest question of the night.
“Your books are all about people fighting for freedom,” the young man said. “What does freedom mean to you?”
I asked him if I could collect my thoughts a second. (more…)
He thought he was standing up for rights and freedoms in Canada. And last Saturday, Michael Cooper, the MP for St. Albert-Edmonton constituency, wanted to be seen while saying so. Thousands of people blocked the streets of Ottawa with trucks and demonstrations as part of a so-called “Freedom Convoy” to protest vaccine mandates and other restrictions in response to the COVID pandemic. And Cooper chose to join the demonstrations and speak to the media, which is what all politicians do when they feel they’re on the right side of history.
“(People are) just here to send a message to the prime minister,” Cooper said as the CBC TV camera rolled.
But what the Alberta MP had not planned as part of his few seconds in the limelight was the backdrop to his statement. Fluttering in the breeze immediately behind him was an upside-down Canadian flag which was also desecrated with a swastika. (more…)
My parents, both U.S.-born, often took my sister and me on road trips back across the border in the 1950s and ’60s to visit our American cousins in the summertime. To help break the monotony of the drives to New York City, our parents often found amusement parks for us to visit along the way. One I’ll never forget was in the Adirondack mountains of upstate New York.
“Frontier Town!” announced the big red sign at the park’s entrance. And the marketing subtitle declared, “Where the Wild West begins.” (more…)
As a general rule – remembering obedience training sessions I’ve attended with most of my canine companions over the years – when I walk a dog, I try to keep the dog on a leash and at my left side. I use the universal command, “Heel,” to keep the dog loping along at the same pace I’m walking. My current canine pal, Jazz, is still learning that command.
But for the first time since I got him about seven months ago, during Monday’s snowstorm, I didn’t care if he heeled or not. In fact, along our walk through the early morning darkness and whiteout of the storm, I encouraged him like Sgt. Preston of the Mounted.
“On Jazz!” I called out to him. “Away you go!”
In the storm, I cast the obedience to the wind because the sidewalks had blown in. There were no footprints for us to follow. I had no footing in the blowing snow. So, I chose to depend on Jazz’s instincts to guide us onto solid surfaces and quite frankly to help me keep my balance. (more…)
We all assembled in downtown Uxbridge that evening. There were politicians of all stripes, bands, a parade of veterans, Indigenous representatives, vehicles, lots of kids running around in the streets and rows of seating spilling out from the curb. The police had to cordon off our main intersection of Toronto and Brock streets. There must have been 500 or 600 people seated, standing, passing by or gathering to witness the unveiling of the L/Col Sam Sharpe memorial sculpture in May 2018. As I organized my MC notes, a friend from out of town poked me in the shoulder.
“Wow, what an event!” he said.
I smiled and nodded, but then he added a comment and a question that cut me to the quick.
“You’ve got a hell of a town here, Ted. But how come we’re sprawled all over the street? Don’t you have a downtown square for this?”
The answer was: “No, we don’t.” (more…)
It’s human science. We are a species that gathers. We must gather, connect communicate and socialize. It’s quite simply in our DNA. And to our detriment, it’s our gathering in these two years of the pandemic that has been our undoing. And now it’s the fifth wave, the Omicron wave. The number of COVID-19 patients in Canadian hospitals rose 67 per cent last week over the week before, and Ontario is leading the way in high case numbers. So, once again, the Ontario government has decided to lock everything down to prevent us from gathering.
“We face a tsunami of new cases in the coming days and weeks,” Premier Doug Ford told reporters at a news conference on Monday. “The math isn’t on our side.”
But there are, I think, much more dangerous aspects to our species’ gatherings these days than just pandemic viruses. (more…)
Pilot Don Rollins likely missed it on the first reading of his overseas certification as a bomber pilot in October 1942. It was three years into WWII, and the RCAF trainee from Estevan, Sask., had successfully completed his operational training to fly Wellington bombers in daytime and nighttime missions.
All the 22-year-old Canadian wanted, however, was to fly combat operations against the Germans. Still, at the bottom of the certification, his training officer had added a further endorsement:
“Night vision … Above average!” (more…)
First, the pages of the big book flipping in the wind caught my attention. Then, the curtain flapping in the breeze at the open window. It looked a bit haunting in the murky darkness of the room. Then, as the camera zoomed to the book of flipping pages of lists, the voice of the announcer intrigued even more.
“Tradition says there are always two lists,” she said. “A list for the nice. And a list for the naughty. Every year, children all over the world are scribbled down on one side or the other.”
The voiceover went on to say there was one place nearby, however, where children were neither good nor bad. “But rather brave. Courageous children who face the unimaginable. Theirs are the names etched on the brave list!” (more…)
That Sunday afternoon just before Christmas, I arrived at the community centre in Mallorytown, in eastern Ontario, for a history talk. Members of the Mallory Coach House heritage group had decorated the hall, set out chairs and prepared refreshments for visitors.
It turned out to be a (pre-COVID) capacity audience. Only I was without an important ingredient for the event. I had none of my books to sell at the end of my talk. Then suddenly, out of the blue, this guy arrived with his car trunk full of my books.
“Tom Stormonth,” he said, “Beggar’s Banquet Books, in Gananoque.”
“That’s a fair hike to here, isn’t it? I asked.
Tom nodded. “Hey, it’s about getting your books out there, right?” And he added, “Merry Christmas.” (more…)
We rarely saw her. But we always saw her handiwork. She came to work at the college where I taught after we’d all left for the day. And when we arrived the next day to resume our tutorials, labs or classroom sessions with students, all those rooms were spick-and-span. Then, one evening when I happened to be working late, I met her – a member of Centennial College’s custodial staff – and I stopped to chat.
“Thanks for all the cleaning you do in our classrooms,” I said.
“You’re welcome,” she said. “Just part of the job.”
“But we never see you. It’s nice to acknowledge what you do.”
“Yes, well, we’re kind of invisible,” she said. (more…)