I accomplished something this week I’ve wanted to for probably 50 years. I recently received an email from Lew Gregor, friend and membership chair of the Royal Canadian Legion. He was inviting me to the Branch 170 general meeting Tuesday night.
“I want to welcome you,” his note said, “as a new member of the Legion.” (more…)
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…)
It was a morning dedicated to dealing with invisible wounds among veterans. It brought together former soldiers and first responders who are coping with trauma, support groups trying to help them, and politicians finding workable solutions to post-traumatic stress disorder in Canada.
Among the first to speak, Anita Anand, the minister of national defence, climbed the podium steps on Tuesday to address the gathering. She paused, scanned the faces of those present and offered a personal note.
“This is a difficult time for the military community,” she said. “I wish to recognize and remember officer cadets Jack Hogarth, Andrei Honciu, Broden Murphy and Andres Salek.” (more…)
We met because of COVID. Having retired from a surgical practice just before the pandemic struck, Dr. Ian Anderson found that he had a bit more time on his hands. Consequently, he began to read more of the non-fiction books on his shelf, in particular writings about Canadian military medical personnel. During the Alberta lockdowns and stay-at-home orders, he found time to read my book Rush to Danger: Medics in the Line of Fire. That’s when he corresponded.
“I read history and biography,” Anderson wrote in a letter to me in 2020. “The truth is always better than the imagination.”
Thus began a correspondence that has continued through the pandemic. (more…)
It was one of those break-through moments, one that a lot of us have waited for all these many weeks, since the pandemic descended on us. My wife and I were visiting with members of the immediate family, inside our acceptable bubble. I motioned to one of the grandchildren, with my arms. She looked to her mom for permission. Mom gave her the nod. Out went her arms.
“Oh, hurray!” we both sighed, “a real hug!” (more…)
The last time I spent time with Ted Arnold was in 1991. He had contacted me about his Second World War story. So, I travelled to Port Hope and interviewed him. We communicated again later in the year when he was holidaying in Florida. And while I thought of him often after that, I never actually saw him again. His son Rick contacted me some years later.
“We were wondering if you could help us?” he asked.
I said I would try and then Rick explained that his father had slipped through the cracks at Veterans Affairs Canada. Partly because he was born in Argentina, but mostly because he fell into an odd category as a veteran, the system had denied him veteran status, and therefore funds to cover the expenses at an assisted-living facility in Ontario.
“As you know,” Rick Arnold went on, “he’s not entitled to a veteran’s pension.” (more…)
About five years ago, I travelled to Kitchener to help a Second World War vet celebrate his 90th birthday. Harry Watts had served as a dispatch rider, a.k.a. motorcycle messenger, in Italy and Holland, 1943-45. Suddenly, during the birthday wishes and cake cutting for Harry, members of the Canadian Army of Veterans (CAV) pulled up on motorcycles to pay tribute to Harry, their eldest member.
“We’ve come to help you celebrate, Harry,” the CAV riders said.
“Thank you, brothers,” said Harry, his eyes welling up with emotion. (more…)
I almost missed it. My daughter and I were up in the bleachers watching her son at a house league hockey practice. The six-year-olds were skating, falling, trying to stickhandle and the arena was bursting with noise. Then I spotted this one boy standing way off to the side, crying, wanting off the ice. One of the volunteer coaches skated over to him, got down on his knees and quickly connected with the boy in conversation.
The boy stopped crying. The coach’s face looked very encouraging and before long the boy was over the trauma and re-joined the practice. Nobody seemed to notice the exchange. It was low key, calming, but clearly motivational. And I thought of that quote by that U.S. national basketball coach from the 1970s.
“The true test of a man’s character is what he does when no one is looking,” John Wooden once said. (more…)
He was supposedly the warm-up act. He was Tim Isberg, a singer-songwriter from Fort Macleod, Alberta. And I was supposedly the main event, offering a talk about veterans’ stories, and how I came by them. But, as I sat there waiting for Isberg to finish his set, I was mulling over a problem in my head. I wasn’t quite sure where to start my presentation. Suddenly, I paid attention to what Isberg was singing.
“Listen to the voice,” he sang in a calming sort of way. “Listen to the voice calling me … calling you.” (more…)
Joe Tilley recalled the day his son died. He recounted the scene in front of an audience that knew the story. He described the day two years ago, when his wife answered a heavy knock at the front door. The fact that a police officer was knocking didn’t surprise Penny-Claire Tilley. Their son, Spencer, had had several run-ins with the law. But this police visit seemed different.
“You’re here to tell me my son’s dead, aren’t you,” Penny-Claire Tilley said.
“Yes,” the officer said solemnly. (more…)