A true victim of our times

Waiting on every table in a restaurant these days is common.

My friend and I arrived at the hotel restaurant last Saturday morning at the same time as a large family did. The waitress – who was doubling as the hostess – asked how many in the family party. And one of the women in the group began counting out loud the people they expected to join the group for breakfast. First it was six, then eight, and finally a dozen people. I watched the waitress’s eyes roll. She wasn’t happy.

“I’d have thought the waitress would be delighted having to serve a large group,” I mentioned to my breakfast partner, and I added, “Bigger tip.” When the waitress came back to seat my friend and me in another booth, I mentioned that to her. “Doesn’t serving a bigger group make you happy?”

“Not when I’m the only one serving the entire restaurant,” she said. “They just can’t find people to fill service jobs.” (more…)

Truly unsung Canadian heroism

On his own initiative, RCAF pilot Norville Everett Small, quietly made Air Force anti-submarine attacks more effective.

His first job in the RCAF in the Second World War was training young military aircrew for combat. U-boats, the submarines of the German Kriegsmarine (war navy), had descended like wolf packs on merchant shipping off the coast of Nova Scotia since 1940 – sinking upwards of 300,000 tons of freight destined for Britain each month.

So, Canadian bomber pilot Norville Everett (Molly) Small had to teach his green bomber crews not only how to handle their aircraft, but also how to surprise and try to sink U-boats on the Atlantic. He and his Canso (flying boat) crew got their first opportunity on April 28, 1942. They attempted to drop bombs on an unsuspecting U-boat. The bombs exploded, but wide of the target.

“The captain of the aircraft,” Molly Small later reported drily of his attack, “feels though the possibility of a clean kill is not very strong, he is certain that he made their back teeth rattle. He’ll do better next time.” (more…)

Off-leash going a bit off-base

Rare moment when Jazz took a break from running at the off-leash park.

I generally arrive there about sunrise and make a second trip there about sundown. As usual, I have to restrain my four-legged pal each time I get there; my English springer spaniel knows we’re going to the off-leash park. With varying levels of success, I try to keep my dog Jazz leashed and at the heel until we get inside the entry area. Then, when he’s relatively still, I open the main gate and give him his release command.

“Go free,” I tell him. And away he runs and runs. Almost without exception, it’s only a matter of moments before he defecates. And even in the gloom of the dawn or the dusk, I make sure that I follow him closely, so that when he crouches I’m there to stoop and scoop. (more…)

The forgotten of the forgotten

HMCS Shawinigan, corvette torpedoed off the East Coast in 1942.

I almost missed her. I’d finished a presentation to the Tillsonburg military historical club. In fact, I thought I’d answered all of the questions from the audience. Then, I noticed a woman in the back row with her hand raised. Even when she stood, I could only see her head and shoulders above the seated audience. Diminutive though she was, however, her voice was strong.

“My father was in the Battle of the Atlantic,” she announced. “He went down with HMCS Shawinigan. All hands were lost.” (more…)

Sovereignty of conviction or convenience

René Lévesque – sovereignty of conviction.

He stood at the lectern in front of hundreds of us. A lit cigarette dangled from his left hand (they were allowed indoors back then). He spoke almost entirely without notes, as if his words were a credo he’d crafted over years until the message came out as his own. I’m paraphrasing now, but here’s what this man from Quebec said on stage at the University of Toronto’s Convocation Hall that day:

“We are heirs to a fantastic adventure – an early America that was almost entirely French,” he said. “We are heirs to an obstinate group which has kept alive that portion of French America we call Quebec…”

The year was 1969. I’d sat mesmerized for the better part of 90 minutes inside Convocation Hall, listening to the man who wanted to lead Quebec out of Canada. (more…)

Gratitude’s good for your health

Thanksgiving with a new branch of the family included.

It’s coming up to five months since the derecho winds struck our community on May 21. In those first few weeks after the storm, I wrote extensively about the experience – the fearful moments prior to, the anxious moments during, the mixed emotions afterward. But as damaging as those times proved to be, I think we all shared the sentiment. It could have been worse.

“At least we don’t have bombs falling on our heads,” I remember thinking (a reference to the plight of Ukrainian civilians facing Russian bombardment in their homes and streets).

My family and I spent part of Thanksgiving weekend gathering, catching up, feasting, laughing and shedding an emotional tear or two. (more…)

What sustains Canada’s small towns

The Hive in Nanton – just one of many attractions created by local entrepreneurs.

Whenever I get the chance to visit other provinces, I find myself gravitating to smaller towns. Last week, I was travelling through southern Alberta on a public-speaking tour. One of the places where I’d been invited to speak was Nanton (population 2,000), about an hour’s drive south of Calgary.

While there, my host invited me to lunch at a new eatery in town called The Hive. It was part vendors’ shop and part truck-stop café. Inside I was introduced to owner/operator, Kristen Hall.

“Welcome to The Hive,” she said. “It’s what’s buzzing in town.”

I rolled my eyes and groaned.

“It’s always a good idea to start your visit with a laugh,” she said. “Enjoy your stay.” (more…)

Quiet heroism of muscle memory

Burned out building on Brock Street East, Uxbridge.

Monday night’s candidates’ forum was drawing to a close. The next to last questioner in the Q&A portion of the forum at the Uxbridge arena had to stand on a chair to reach the microphone, but her dad helped her get there. It was probably long past her bedtime, but Bella McKenzie-Pugsley collected her thoughts and spoke clearly but with concern.

“Why are there so many fires?” she asked the candidates seated across the south wall of the hall. “Our firefighters are great people. They are our heroes.”

The fire that frightened nine-year-old Bella, broke out last Wednesday night (Sept. 21) and in a matter of hours gutted 11/13 Brock Street East. (more…)

A few degrees of separation

John Dougall wrote his mom about WWII from a merchant ship. His letters coincidentally made their way to me.

I wasn’t expecting to be surprised. This particular public-speaking event seemed straight forward. I’d arrived early and worked with the tech guy to get my presentation ready. I’d met with the bookseller to pre-inscribe some books. Then, I sat watching people file in. Then, a face registered, and her name tag – Jane Hutchison. She spotted me and came right over.

“Hi, Ted,” she said with a smile. “I’m John Dougall’s niece.”

“What are you doing here?” And I gave her a hug.

She said she was a longtime member of Canadian Club of Halton and heard that I’d been invited to speak about those who’d served at sea in the Battle of the Atlantic (the subject of my latest book). She said she didn’t want to miss this event, since the subject was near to her heart. (more…)

Anger with no clear target

In 1976, the movie character Howard Beale epitomized society’s rage.

I had just finished one of my anti-technology rants. I’d complained about something my computer had lost. I was angry that our television service provider had updated all of our access to programming such that I needed an electronics degree just to tune in the news. And I hated the way some of the on-air newscasters mispronounced names and places. My wife patiently waited for me to take a breath.

“Is there anything that made you happy today?” she asked.

And I smiled sheepishly back at her. Then, apologized. (more…)