He spotted me wandering around a section of the store. He came over and I explained I had something in particular I wanted to buy. Before long, he’d led me to the right shelf, pointed out several brand options, their qualities, and the price range. I was a bit surprised by his knowledge and thanked him.
“Anytime,” he said. “Here to help.” (more…)
It was July 1, back in 1966. I was a teenager working for tuition money at my uncle’s restaurant in Baltimore. I was wearing a T-shirt with the red Maple Leaf flag on it (it had become the symbol on our national flag the year before) and a customer at that Double-T Diner in Maryland asked me, “How come you’re wearing that red Maple Leaf on your shirt?”
“I’m Canadian. It’s Canada Day, our national holiday,” I said, “kind of like your July 4.”
He nodded as if he understood, but I quickly realized he didn’t. (more…)
Just over a week ago, my neighbour Gerry Oldham stopped by. She was on her way home from attending Uxbridge Township Council. She looked glum. When I asked her what was wrong, she got even more upset.
“Our park’s been declared surplus,” she said, her voice emotional. (more…)
It was about halfway through the game. The plays for both teams seemed to be clicking constantly. The score was pretty close – a couple of touchdowns for each side. And among the busiest people on the football field seemed to be the volunteers moving the yardsticks as each side made their 10-yard advances to gain a new first down. Then, suddenly we heard a commotion along the sidelines.
“What game are you watching, ref?” I heard one of the volunteers shout.
“Get off the field!” came the retort from the referee crew chief. (more…)
The three of them seemed buried in preparations – arranging the wreath, adjusting their berets, straightening their blazers and ties – and they didn’t notice me approaching with my cellphone camera. Then, suddenly as they stepped to the curb beneath the Menin Gate, a shaft of sunlight caught them.
“Look here guys,” I called out.
Almost in perfect symmetry, the three men – Bill Stewart, Al Thomas and Paul Moffatt – all snapped to attention the way they’ve done thousands of times before. And I clicked the photograph of the three retired firefighters in their parade uniforms, ready to join one of the most poignant Great War commemorations in Europe. (more…)
Last week, inside a modest-looking but sizable Quonset building, known as the D-Day Academy, in Normandy, France, Don Henderson, a visitor from Calgary, made a small presentation. From his backpack, he pulled an official RCAF map of Normandy showing where his father, Leading Aircraftman Wilbert Henderson helped construct one of the first Tactical Air Force (TAF) bases in Normandy immediately after D-Day.
“My dad landed on D-Day-plus-11,” Don Henderson began. “He was the second driver in the air force vehicle. But when the first driver was shot, my dad carried on using this map to reach B4,” site of the TAF base.
Standing next to Don Henderson in the D-Day Academy museum, its director Jean-Pierre Benamou watched as the Canadian unfolded the fragile map revealing all the Juno Beach coastline that Canadians seized from the Germans beginning on June 6, 1944.
“I’ve kept this map all my life, but I want to donate it to your museum” said Henderson, and he handed the map to the clearly moved Benamou.
“Canadian veterans and their families are always bringing important artifacts back to Normandy, so that we don’t forget,” Benamou said. “D-Day is not dead for us. We relive it every day we welcome visitors here.” (more…)
About the time most people in North America were sitting down to dinner that summer day in 1942, a young Canadian whom many of us knew here in Uxbridge, Stephen Bell, was exhausted, bloodied by combat on Dieppe beach and throwing his hands in the air.
“Aufgeben! Aufgeben!” the Germans pointing their weapons at him were shouting.
Bell didn’t speak enough German to know they were shouting “Surrender!” but realized he was still wearing a revolver on his belt. He undid the belt, dropped it to the ground, and again put his hands in the air.
The hit-and-run raid on the French seaport of Dieppe that morning, August 19, 1942, had ended with Bell becoming a prisoner of war; he would spend the rest of the war in various German POW camps. He was one of 1,946 men the German defenders captured that day, more than the whole Canadian Army would lose in Western Europe in almost an entire year of action between D-Day on June 6, 1944, and VE Day on May 8, 1945.
Altogether 3,467 of the nearly 5,000 Canadians who embarked form England that day became casualties. More than 900 of those were killed in the bloodiest nine hours in Canadian military history. (more…)
I walked the last few hundred metres along the beach looking expectantly at the skyline of Norman houses. Somehow, I knew I was on the right track. My walking companion, a fellow Canadian and military tour guide, was using a GPS map on his phone as we searched for a small seaside stretch of beach on the Normandy coastline called La Rive Plage. We passed an older gentleman, a local. I stopped and in my high school French I asked him a question.
“Is this the spot where the famous D-Day film was shot?” I asked.
He paused, then realized what I was asking, “Yes,” he nodded and then said, “Keep going farther. It’s up ahead.”
Minutes later, when my colleague Ian Cowan said we’d arrived at La Rive Plage according to his cellphone, I looked back to the man I’d consulted a few minutes before. He motioned, “Just a bit farther.” Then I saw it. A small, rather square two-storey waterfront home with a single-storey detached garage set back from the shore. And the two buildings matched nearly perfectly the image I’d watched in documentaries about the D-Day landings on Juno Beach nearly 80 years ago. (more…)
The other day, I needed to get an identification card replaced. The transaction required a password entry. Do you think I could remember it? I kept drawing a blank. Frustrating! If you’ve ever been around me when I can’t remember or have to create a new password, you’ll hear me repeat:
“If I were king of the world, I’d have all passwords eliminated!” (more…)
Last Christmas, with my Toronto Maple Leafs clicking along about fourth or fifth in the NHL standings, Matthews netting goals in threes (it seemed) every other night, Ilya Samsonov looking like Johnny Bower between the pipes, and even Sheldon Keefe exuding confidence behind the bench, my daughter gave me a most appropriate gift. It was a Leafs blue T-shirt, complete with logo and an inscription.
“Just once before I die,” it reads. (more…)