A Watcher has passed

A dozen years ago, I got involved in the annual community variety show, uxperience. Our publicity committee came up with the idea of running profiles in the local paper of cast members during the weeks leading up to the show.

That year, we profiled the members of probably the most popular reprising characters of uxperience, “The IGA Watchers.” The three amateur comics in the sketch were veterinarian Fred Cotie, high-school teacher Steve David, and resident Ken More. At one point we asked the three about the success of the IGA Watchers sketch.

“We just do what we’re told,” Fred Cotie said in jest.

“Steve does what’s in the script,” Ken More said. “Fred doesn’t.”

“Yeah, they’ve been riding on my coattails all these years,” Steve David kidded.

“I’m actually just a prop for Fred and Steve, that can walk,” Ken More concluded.

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A rearranged life

The rearrangement of my life at home began last spring when we knocked down the old garage. The next phase began last week when my sister-in-law arrived from Saskatchewan.
The rearrangement of my life at home began last spring when we knocked down the old garage. The next phase began last week when my sister-in-law arrived from Saskatchewan.

My wife’s sister has been visiting from Saskatchewan the past two weeks. Unlike that cliché that a husband loathes spending time with his in-laws, I have always enjoyed time spent with Pat, as I did with the sisters’ parents. There is generally one time during Pat’s visits, however, when I sense I’d better butt out. That’s when I hear either my wife Jayne or Pat say:

“OK, let’s do some rearranging around the house.”

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Being there

Linda Carter - artist, filmmaker and public speaker -
Linda Carter - artist, filmmaker and public speaker - says, “In this society, we need people who’ve been there before.” She spoke to reporters at a Black History event at Centennial College this week.

Earlier this week, I hosted a Black History Month event in Toronto. The guest speaker was fashion designer, actress and filmmaker Linda Carter. A couple of weeks ago her latest production, a film called “The Making of a Judge,” documented the life of her father, George E. Carter, Canada’s first native born black judge. Following her short talk about the film, several journalists posed questions. They ranged from her thoughts about her career to the importance of Black History Month to her feelings about Afri-centric schools. Then she got this one:

“What are your thoughts on the causes of such things as the Jordan Manners shooting in a Toronto school?” the young journalist asked.

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Via VIA

120px-Edinburgh_Waverley_station_viewed_from_Edinburgh_Castle_2005-06-17_02
I remember a train trip from London to Edinburgh in the U.K. once; after about six hours en route, when we pulled into Waverley Station in Edinburgh two minutes late the conductor apologized profusely.

They issue tickets on the internet now. Unlike at the airport, there’s no window overlooking the tracks to see the trains arriving and departing. In fact, even at Union Station in Toronto – perhaps the busiest passenger rail terminal in the country – you can barely hear the clatter of wheels on steel or feel the rumble of the locomotive in the station. They don’t even blow a whistle on departure anymore. And yet VIA Rail’s slogan still reads:

“There is nothing quite like seeing Canada by rail.”

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Who is on the dark side?

PRESSRELEASE_LTRHEADE
Press releases by the thousands flow daily between public relations people and journalists who use them as research for news stories.

I recently took a call from a Humber College student. She asked if I was a working journalist. When I informed her that I both wrote and taught, she asked if I could help her with an essay she was researching. In her studies, one of her instructors had directed her to answer this question:

“Can public relations people get along with journalists? And conversely, can journalists get along with PR people?”

“It depends,” I told her on the phone.

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Gretzky at 50

The Great One, Wayne Gretzky, as seen on a hockey collectors' card in the Edmonton Oiliers' heyday during the 1970s.
The Great One, Wayne Gretzky, as seen on a hockey collectors' card in the Edmonton Oiliers' heyday during the 1970s.

All last week, they remembered his 50th. Hockey commentators waxed eloquent. His on-ice peers remembered their brushes with him as teammates or opponents. Most columnists had at plenty of anecdotes about his goal-scoring prowess, his record number of records and his so-called sixth sense on skates. Well, I was there for his 50th too. Not his 50th birthday. I was there to witness the final seconds of the game of games:

“Anderson gets it to Gretzky. He’s got the open net!” shouted Rod Phillips, the Oilers’ play-by-play announcer that night. “Will he shoot? He does. He scores! He has broken the record. Wayne Gretzky’s 50th goal in 39 games. Gretzky has done the unbelievable.”

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How much living space is enough?

Most of these mansions or estate homes end up having two people rattling around in thousands of square feet of unused, unnecessary living space.
Most of these mansions or estate homes end up having two people rattling around in thousands of square feet of unused, unnecessary living space.

In most parts of Canada, they’re located in the suburbs where the lots are larger. In downtown areas they’re called mansions. In some older communities they’re found on former estates. In fact, out in the country, they’re described as estate homes. A few weeks ago, we were driving past a group of them north of Stouffville and an older passenger in our car gasped.

“Unbelievable aren’t they,” I said.

She nodded and reacted with an unexpected comment: “How on earth would anybody clean something like that?” she said.

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Gift of serving

Police officers file toward the Toronto Convention Centre on Jan. 19 to attend the funeral of Sgt. Ryan Russell. As many as 12,000 law enforcement and emergency response officials from across the continent attended the event. Photo courtesy Octavian Lacatusu.
Police officers file toward the Toronto Convention Centre on Jan. 19 to attend the funeral of Toronto Police Service's Sgt. Ryan Russell. As many as 12,000 law enforcement and emergency response officials from across the continent attended the event. Photo courtesy Octavian Lacatusu.

Like many, I found myself drawn to the real-life drama of two families coping. In the aftermath of Sgt. Ryan Russell’s senseless death in the streets of Toronto, last Wednesday morning, I watched the policing family try to come to terms with the loss of one of its own. Then, on Tuesday afternoon, I listened and watched his widow Christine Russell put her mourning into words in front of 12,000 people.

“Ryan always put others before him,” she said at the Toronto Convention Centre funeral Tuesday. “On Jan. 12, it cost him his life.”

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A skate of passage

Grandfather and granddaughter celebrate "skate" of passage.
Grandfather and granddaughter celebrate "skate" of passage.

Our family enjoyed a once-in-a-lifetime moment last weekend. It was one of those events that almost always happens in this country. You can bet on it each winter when snow falls, ponds freeze and community recreation centres shift to wintertime activities. This rite of passage began a few weeks ago – at Christmas – when it was agreed our granddaughter would take her first skate this winter.

“I’ve got the bob skates,” my daughter told me last week. “Let’s take in a pleasure skate at the arena.”

“I’ll be there,” I said.

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A verdict falls short

My Corolla sitting in a wrecking yard the afternoon of Dec. 30 last year. Almost a year after being t-boned in a Whitby intersection my case came to an Ontario courtroom.
My Corolla sitting in a wrecking yard the afternoon of Dec. 30, 2009. Almost a year after being t-boned in a Whitby intersection, my case came to an Ontario courtroom on Dec. 17, 2010.

It happened one day last summer. I think I had just finished mowing the lawn, when a police cruiser motored up the driveway. A couple of Durham Regional Police officers stepped out. My wife and I exchanged a surprised glance.

“Are you Ted Barris?” one of the officers asked.

“Yes…” I answered a little nervously.

“I have a summons here for you,” he continued, “in connection with an automobile collision last year.”

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