The Order of things

Charley Fox and I enjoying each other’s company at a regimental dinner in 2006.

The man told me my future. It happened back in the 1980s. But back then, Charley Fox, my oldest and dearest veteran friend, looked me straight in the eye and told me what I ought to be doing with the rest of my life.

“It’s your job to tell our stories,” he said. And each time we’d meet – usually every month or so at the Husky truck stop on Hwy 401 just east of London, Ont. – Charley would remind me with a “to-do list,” exactly how I was to research famous battles, conduct first-hand interviews and then write and publish the eye-witness stories of Canadian veterans’ experiences. Forty years and a dozen published books later, I realize Charley was right. History storytelling has become the centre of my life. (more…)

Mad dogs and snowstorms

On my morning constitutional, warmed by a toque & scarf (gift from a long-time friend) and surefooted springer spaniel Jazz.

As a general rule – remembering obedience training sessions I’ve attended with most of my canine companions over the years – when I walk a dog, I try to keep the dog on a leash and at my left side. I use the universal command, “Heel,” to keep the dog loping along at the same pace I’m walking. My current canine pal, Jazz, is still learning that command.

But for the first time since I got him about seven months ago, during Monday’s snowstorm, I didn’t care if he heeled or not. In fact, along our walk through the early morning darkness and whiteout of the storm, I encouraged him like Sgt. Preston of the Mounted.

“On Jazz!” I called out to him. “Away you go!”

In the storm, I cast the obedience to the wind because the sidewalks had blown in. There were no footprints for us to follow. I had no footing in the blowing snow. So, I chose to depend on Jazz’s instincts to guide us onto solid surfaces and quite frankly to help me keep my balance. (more…)

Loss of innocence

Cpl. Nathan Cirillo's casket in the streets of Hamilton, Ontario, on the day of his funeral.
Cpl. Nathan Cirillo’s casket in the streets of Hamilton, Ontario, on the day of his funeral.

Politicians, police and just plain people have offered a lot of captions to the events in Saint-Jean-sur-Richelieu and Ottawa over the past week. The Prime Minister called the killings of Warrant Officer Patrice Vincent and Corporal Nathan Cirillo an attack on Canada’s democracy. Law enforcement officials referred to the murders as “lone-wolf terrorism.” And friends of mine have said it was an assault on this country’s innocence. A paramedic who joined those watching Cpl. Cirillo’s body pass on Hwy 401 last Friday summed it up:

“I never expected to be standing here for a Canadian soldier killed on our own soil,” Roger Litwiller told the Toronto Star. (more…)

Days that change us

President Roosevelt signs declaration of war on Dec. 8, 1941.
President Roosevelt signs declaration of war on Dec. 8, 1941.

There was a day in my parents’ lives that changed everything. It happened in 1941. My father was 19 that September. My mother was a year younger. They both had grown up and gone to school in New York City. But events that day just before Christmas, meant that my mother would see her brother-in-law and her future husband, my father, go off to war. My parents were both U.S.-born and their American president described the change that day indelibly.

“December 7, 1941, is a date which will live in infamy,” Franklin D. Roosevelt said.

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