“Movember” message just in time

… a world unto itself.

It was an odd place for something meaningful to happen. Last Sunday, a bunch of us trudged into the hockey arena from a chilly morning outside. In our dressing room, bags of equipment were tossed on the floor, but nobody was in any hurry to put on hockey gear. Then, for some reason, we got talking about prostate exams. And initially it sparked a predictable response around the room.

“Well, if I was in that position, I wouldn’t want a doctor with long, fat fingers doing the examination,” somebody said. There was some laughter.

“Unless, maybe it was a female physician,” another said in jest.

Oldtimers’ hockey dressing rooms – since the concept of recreational hockey for men and women over the age of 40 began back in the mid-1970s – are a phenomenon unto themselves. (more…)

There just ain’t no show

Historian David O’Keefe and I share stage at Festival Place, Nov. 12. Photo courtesy Jana Semeniuk.

The performance had gone on through a first act. An ensemble of jazz singers had sung their hearts out. A quartet of musicians played with enthusiasm we hadn’t seen in months. Our daughter sat with us watching, listening. The energy in the club seemed electric. Then, in the second act, she was invited to the stage to sing her part in a tribute to American composer Stephen Sondheim. But before singing a single note, Whitney Ross-Barris looked out over a nearly capacity room and paused with a big smile.

“This is just the most exciting thing,” she said, “to be back singing in front of an audience.” (more…)

Remembrance Day – not always about loss

Flags, poppy insignia in front of Uxbridge Fire Hall. 2021.

I’d never seen him so gloomy or depressed. I’ve known Ahmad Golan probably 15 years, certainly most of the time he and his family have lived in town. But on this day, late last summer, when I visited his confectionary store downtown, Ahmad (everybody knows him as Shah) seemed to carry the weight of the world.

“It’s just awful,” he said to me over the counter. “Such a waste.”

The Taliban had taken over his homeland … again, and this time Shah seemed to think Afghanistan might permanently be lost to the insurgents. (more…)

All that’s Jazz

My newfound walking partner – Jazz!

Through most of her professional working life, she was devoted to her students. Planning lessons. Marking papers. Grading. For something like 40 years. But a couple of years ago, Karen retired. Then, the pandemic hit, and suddenly she had plenty of time on her hands. She chose this moment to buy a Golden Retriever puppy. And guess who now has no time except for the dog?

“The Golden is pretty much the counter cleaner,” she told a group of Probus Club meeting I attended this week. “He jumps up and takes whatever he wants. I’m pretty much a dog-sitter 24/7.” (more…)

Corporate profits versus union protection

Among the best eateries in Baltimore, Maryland – the Double-T Diner.

Most evenings you’d see her as you entered the restaurant. Six or seven nights a week, my aunt met customers at the front door of the Double-T Diner in Baltimore, Md., with the warmest, most genuine smile ever. On the job, Virginia always dressed appropriately – hair neat as a pin, makeup just right and clothing not a thread out of place. She was the best restaurant hostess (she preferred that title herself) I ever knew.

“You never know who might arrive,” she told me. “Best to be prepared.” (more…)

Bredin’s Bakery – more missing than the name

Bredin’s Bakery during Uxbridge’s recent sign-wars campaign.

They had just finished sprucing up the shop. Walls and trim were freshly painted. They’d replaced some shelving and hung a vintage photograph of family ancestor, Greg Bredin’s dad, who’d originated the business. And probably best of all, they’d re-framed and re-hung some of their favourite bakery puns.

“Sorry for being flakey,” one read after they remodelled. “We’ve been procrusti-baking.”

Some of their slogans were also strategically placed around the bakery counters and display cases, including, “Have you tried a Bredin donut? If not, we understand. They sell out within an hour and a half every Saturday.” (more…)

What a book cover can uncover

Klaus Keast found mentor on my book cover.

He is a veteran. He is the grandson of a veteran. As important to me as anything, however, Klaus Keast, a total stranger, has found a connection that’s brought us together unexpectedly. He recently wrote me an email requesting an autographed copy of my 2019 book Rush to Danger, about military medics. But in addition, he asked if I could acknowledge the military service of his mentor.

“He (was) a Jewish medic, who not only served in WWII,” Keast wrote, “but he also had to fight to be involved in the war effort when initially refused by (anti-Semitic) recruiters.” (more…)

Travel by swab

Going into and returning from the U.S., requires a swab. But which one?

There were several of us sitting in the consultation area of a local Uxbridge pharmacy last week – all of us waiting, most of us doing this for the first time, and everybody looking a bit anxious. The woman next to me – well, actually two metres away – was busy texting somebody. Of all those in the waiting area, she seemed the most at ease. I thought I’d seek some assurance.

“Done this before?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said through her mask. “My husband and I travel a lot. So, we’re getting used to it.” (more…)

Bad history that includes us

Chanie Wenjack – never free to go home.

My first day at a new school nearly scared me to death. In September of 1956, my family and I had moved from a suburb in the east end of Toronto to a village outside the city. So, I had to go to a school I didn’t know, meet a teacher I’d never seen before, try to make friends among strangers, and then, try to blend into the classroom. The fact that I wore glasses, the only one in the class, proved equally terrifying, particularly when my new teacher fussed over me.

“Why don’t you sit at the front desk,” Miss Anderson told me.

I wanted to disappear. I thought everybody would pick on me for having to wear glasses. But the worst fear I faced was that I’d get lost walking home from school. (more…)

Can we all just get along?

Rodney King asking what seemed the impossible in May 1992.

It goes back 30 years, but I remember this solemn-faced man stepping toward a news camera in May 1992. He was neatly dressed in a jacket and tie. But he looked drawn, upset and extremely nervous. The man chose his words carefully. He looked into the lens and in the most genuine of expressions offered a simple statement and an even simpler question:

“It’s not right. And it’s not going to change anything. Can we all just get along?” he asked.

The man was Rodney King, the African-American construction worker who’d been beaten by four Los Angeles police officers in what they called an arrest for a suspected drunk driving offence in March 1991. (more…)