Aunts and uncles that are not

T&J_RENTABUG-1It happened during my first great adventure as a writer. It was in the spring of 1973. Jayne and I packed up an orange VW bug with all our travel and camping gear and headed west on a 20,000-kilometre odyssey. We were beginning our summer-long journey to gather research and personal accounts for my first book of popular history. Two friends – brothers Hal and Jim Sorrenti – suggested when we arrived in Winnipeg that we drop in on a relative.

“Be sure to stop and see our Auntie Marg,” they said. “She’ll help you out.”

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Growing into quality time

There used to be a public service announcement on TV. The first scenario showed an adult hurrying his child into the car. The parent then raced away to a local arena. There, in a moment of false sincerity, Dad smiled, opened the door, nudged his son out the door, waved goodbye and zoomed away. The voice-over announcer scolded the parent. Then, in the second positive scenario, Dad helps his son gather his hockey gear, parks the car at the arena and joins others in the stands watching his son play.

“Don’t just drop your son at the rink,” the voice-over announcer says. “Take your son to the rink.”

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Lines of duty

When I got my cup of coffee at a downtown café the other day, I got in line right behind a police officer. Like me, he was going through his pockets in search of enough change for his java. I was about to say that I was sorry about the two officers who’d died on duty in Ontario this past week. But before I could say anything a woman in the café approached him.

“Can I ask you a question?” she said.

“Sure,” the officer said.

“Is there any way I can report a guy who’s been stalking me in his car?”

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Oh, O Canada

CAN_USA_MEN_GOLDTEAM_10_sThe 21st Winter Olympics wrapped up Sunday night. The closing ceremony began with a moment that could only have happened in Canada. Uniquely able to poke fun at themselves, Canadian organizers allowed speed skater Catriona Le May Doan to light that fourth cauldron – the one that malfunctioned during the opening ceremony. Then, thousands of spectators and athletes opened their mouths and let patriotism come out.

O Canada

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Rooting for the home team

I remember it as if it were yesterday. It’s one of those ‘where were you when…’ moments. I sat with co-workers in the audio-visual department at the University of Saskatchewan in Saskatoon. We huddled around a 17-inch TV screen. The signal was coming from halfway around the world. But we felt as if we were right there, because Foster Hewitt made the call:

“Henderson has scored for Canada!” he shouted.

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Twitter this!

Hands up, if you believed the statement that President Barack Obama is a radical Muslim who would not recite the U.S. Pledge of Allegiance. Or more recently, and closer to home, the story that began circulating last Thursday, that Canadian folk music icon Gordon Lightfoot is dead. When the legendary singer-songwriter heard about his so-called demise he contacted the Toronto media outlet CP24.

“I haven’t gotten that much airplay of my songs in weeks,” he told them.

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A true inheritance

WHIT_SINGINGIt’s a turn of phrase. It’s the way my hair continues to disappear atop my head. Sometimes it’s the stance I take on certain issues or my philosophy of life. Other times it’s just similar mannerisms that people notice. But those who knew us both often comment about the way I’m very much like my dad.

“Apple didn’t fall far from the tree,” people say.

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Paper weight

Most Saturday mornings, when we rise and shine around our house, I head outside for one of my weekly rituals. I trek down the driveway and retrieve the weekend newspaper. It’s usually not hard to find – even in the snow – because it’s such a huge package inside a plastic bag. It’s got about eight or 10 regular sections in it, from world news to the insight section to the latest in condos (which frankly, I can take or leave). But there’s so much paper in that edition of the Star, that I often joke to my wife:

“Here it is, my dear,” I say, “your tree.” (more…)

When the earth shook

HAITIFUND_MC5Earlier this week, I happened to be on a massage table. Because my massage therapist also happens to be one of the most plugged-in and erudite people I know, she and I talked about the devastation in Haiti. To my surprise, she informed me that Uxbridge has become involved. She said that among a number of awareness-raising and fund-raising activities, the Rotary Club of Uxbridge has rallied to assist victims of last Tuesday’s earthquake. I wondered how our community – so far away from the disaster – could hope to deliver any tangible help.

“Well, there are 17 Rotary Club branches in Haiti,” she said. “That’s how local donors can be reassured donations will get there.”

That was some of the first reassuring news I’ve learned since the earthquake took place on Jan. 12. Almost since the next day, stories of victims enduring limb amputations without anesthesia, of marauding gangs stealing from homeless victims, and of orphans roaming the streets of Port-au-Prince, have haunted all of us outside this impoverished Caribbean nation.

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Custodian of the Maple Leaf

PETRY_PICIt happened early last spring. With just a few days remaining before I led one of my annual tours to the battlefields of Europe, I paid a visit to the man who regularly supplies me with this country’s greatest calling card.

Bryan Petry was ready and waiting for me. At his All Seasons Display office in Markham, Ont., he had three full-sized Canadian flags I planned to use as official gifts. He had bags of Canadian flag pins we would give as souvenirs to French and Belgian acquaintances, and he had bundles of paper Canadian flags we would plant in front of Canadian military headstones at Commonwealth War Grave sites.

“Plant one for me, would you?” Bryan asked me.

His request caught me a little off guard. “Of course,” I said eventually. “Anything for my favourite custodian of the flag.”

I guess I didn’t realize how telling that moment in his office really was. Though I would see Bryan Petry a few more times later that summer and into fall, his request to be remembered during one of our cemetery visits turned out to be the last favour I was able to return to him. On Monday, Bryan died of complications caused by cancer at Toronto East General Hospital. He was 54.

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