The U.S. war chest

Flag-draped casket of Sen. John McCain at Washington’s National Cathedral.

About halfway through Meghan McCain’s tribute to her father last Saturday in Washington, D.C, the director of TV coverage of Sen. John McCain’s funeral cut away to a shot of the middle rows of mourners in the National Cathedral.

Beyond the three former U.S. presidents – Obama, Bush and Clinton – and past the Republicans who wereinvited, sat row on row of American military people. They didn’t appear to be military brass, but relatively young Marine, Army, Navy and Air Force veterans seated in solemn tribute to their hero.

“Look at the military ribbons across those chests,” I thought, and then mused, “what a powerful statement of the man, the politician, the real state of America.” (more…)

All hail, the rivet counters

Members of the BCATP Facebook group (l-r) Ken Meintzer, Les Mroz and Peter Whitfield at Nanton on Aug. 25, 2018.

I drove into the museum parking lot last Saturday morning. Leaning over the tailgate of the pickup parked next to me, several guys in ball caps and jeans surveyed their precious cargo. I peered into the back box of the pickup, but I couldn’t recognize the rusty tangle of metal and wires as anything I’d ever seen before.

“Can you believe it?” one of the guys said. “We salvaged it from a ditch just this morning.” (more…)

Curb-onomics

One man’s trash…

It just looked like a pile of paper from the outside. And I guess because it was paper, it sort of weighed a lot. But the plastic bag I used to haul all that paper to the curb had probably previously hauled groceries from a local store so it could take the weight. And if you looked inside that bag, you’d have seen a number of famous people – John F. Kennedy, Winston Churchill and the Apollo 11 astronauts – all captured on the front pages of old newspapers with headlines such as:

“Kennedy Assassinated,” lamented the Globe and Mail in 1963.

“Churchill Mourned,” announced the Toronto Star in 1965.

“Man Steps On The Moon,” read the Toronto Telegram on July 21 1969. And the newsprint of the Tely, some of you will remember, was coloured pink! (more…)

A willingness to work

In the 1950s, this is the kind of work ethic that got John Zentana and his family into Canada.

He was only 18, back in 1955. He didn’t speak a word of English when he and his parents arrived from Italy. And his skills were few; he knew how to sharpen knives, so his father could butcher what livestock the family had raised for food. But when John Zentana arrived in Canada, none of that mattered. The basic criterion for entry to this new country was simple.

“Are you all prepared to work?” immigration authorities asked.

“Anything,” John’s father promised. (more…)

Left to their own devices

The boys’ visit to the Cosmos.

A few months ago, you may recall, I was rationalizing walking my grandsons to school. I tried to make the point that it was both time and exercise from which both the boys and I could benefit. Well, this week those chickens came home to roost. I got the call.

“Need some summer escape time,” the daughters announced.

“And?”

“And the boys are yours for a day!” (more…)

Democracy and the flames of economy

Book burnings by the Nazis in 1933 – Wikipedia.

When I left on a short holiday, about 10 days ago, this fall’s municipal election in my home own looked rather dull. While the mayoral contest and the regional council races were shaping up to be competitive, the number of candidates running in our wards left several virtually uncontested and even on the verge of proclaimed winners. Within the span of my holiday, though, the picture changed radically. To quote a friend of mine:

“It’ll be democracy, after all!” (more…)

Truth in the eye of the beholder

World Daily News Report photograph, which the source readily admits is fictitious.

I think it was sometime last winter when one of my hockey buddies and I got talking about one of my favourite topics – history and history-making. He knew that I’ve always been curious to check out different, off-the-beaten-path stories. Suddenly, the latest one on his mind came to him and he blurted out the gist of it.

“Did you see the latest World War II story?” he asked. “They found a U-boat up the Niagara River near the Falls.”

I thought about it for a second, then said quietly, “I’ll bet you read that on the internet.”

“Yup. And there were pictures,” he added for verification. (more…)

Media godparents

Rescuers attempting to reach those trapped in a cave-in at Moose River, Nova Scotia, in 1936.

Their enemy was water above and below the ground. And gravity, since the water and rock underground were sealing off any escape. Days passed and nothing seemed to happen, at least not on the surface anyway. Underground, it was different. People were holding on, conserving, surviving. Then, when communication was finally made, it seemed like a miracle.

“Hello, hello!” the voice shouted from underground. “Do you hear me up on the surface?” (more…)

Not only journalists die

Calgary Herald (Postmedia) reporter Michelle Lang in Afghanistan.

I’ve never worked in a war zone, the way some from Canada have. I’ve never pursued the crime beat so seriously as to encounter violence face-to-face. I’ve never been physically assaulted while carrying out my work as a journalist. The closest I’ve come to confrontation occurred back in the 1980s, when an oil company representative trying to keep the physical and media lid on a drilling-rig blowout in the Alberta oil patch, told me to remove myself from their property.

“Leave,” the company spokesman said, “or I’ll have you arrested!” (more…)

A taste of Canada

Günter Kiel in full flight telling us about his favourite place – Dresden.

We were meeting for the very first time. I wanted to give my new acquaintance a gift that reflected where I came from and made a friendly first impression. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a souvenir. It was a lapel pin with the Canadian flag on it.

“Here,” I said, “please have a symbol of Canada – our flag pin.”

My acquaintance, one of the guides on our recent tour to Eastern Europe, looked back at me and said, “But I’m German,” meaning, “Why would I wear a pin that doesn’t represent who I am?”

I had to admit that Günter Kieb, our guide in Dresden, Germany, was absolutely correct. Why would a middle-aged German wear the emblem of Canada? Some hours later, however, when I was thanking Mr. Kieb for his service to us that day, I reminded him (and our touring group) that he had seemed perplexed by my Canada flag pin. “Not a problem,” I said. “But how about this?” And I pulled a small flask-shaped bottle from my backpack and gave it to him.

Günter’s eyes widened with delight. “Canadian whisky?” he asked.

“No. Better,” I laughed. “It’s maple syrup!” (more…)