True reconciliation

Authors connect with readers at the Saskatchewan Festival of Words.


The festival began the way most events do these days in Canada. With respect. Last Thursday evening, the creative director of a festival in which I was participating, came to the microphone at the lectern, looked at the assembly of novelists, non-fiction writers, poets and all the other festival-goers. With appropriate sincerity and solemnity, she read the local land acknowledgement.

“We acknowledge that we are on Treaty 4 land,” she said, “encompassing the lands of the Cree, Saulteaux, Dakota, Nakota, Lakota and on the homeland of the Métis Nation.”

That’s the way the 27th edition of the Saskatchewan Festival of Words began in Moose Jaw, last week. (more…)

Thank you, Your Majesty

She’s gone now. Queen Elizabeth II died last Sept. 8, and was eulogized at Westminster Abbey 11 days later. Her son, the Prince of Wales, immediately acceded to the British throne as King Charles III.

“We mourn profoundly the passing of a cherished Sovereign and a much-loved Mother,” Charles said the day she died. “I know her loss will be deeply felt throughout the country … and by countless people around the world.”

While I’ve never considered myself a monarchist, I nevertheless do owe Her Majesty a debt of gratitude. (more…)

The challenge of sitting

In their day, paddlewheel steamers cost thousands and took months to build...
In their day, paddlewheel steamers cost thousands and took months to build. I had to build mine in minutes for nothing.

It was one of those moments you can turn into something brilliant. Or, just as easily, one you can see yourself going down in flames. It happened over the holidays. I was suddenly thrust into the position of having to do some babysitting of our grandchildren at our daughter’s and son-in-law’s house. The three grandkids had finished dinner. Their parents had dashed off for some quality time away from the kids. And I had to come up with something creative for entertainment. I asked the eldest grandchild – the six-year-old – what she wanted to do.

“Let’s make something really cool,” she said.

“Like what?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she said, “but let’s draw it first.” (more…)

Aid, not Apolcalyptic nonsense

The hospital at Sylmar, California, had to be demolished following the Feb. 9, 1971, earthquake.
The hospital at Sylmar, California, had to be demolished following the Feb. 9, 1971, earthquake.

The only time I came close to experiencing a natural disaster first-hand was in 1971. I landed in Los Angeles a few weeks after the 6.6 magnitude Sylmar earthquake rattled the San Fernando Valley. At the time, my parents and sister lived in the valley suburb known as Tarzana (where MGM studios shot all those movies with Johnny Weissmuller as Tarzan back in the 1930s). I remember sitting in my folks’ living room a few nights after I’d arrived when I felt a faint vibration beneath me. I looked at my sister.

“Oh, that’s nothing,” she said casually. “Just an after shock.”

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The spirit of writing

It was a reverent moment. Our host entered. We had all enjoyed our first meal in the dining hall together, while on the wall over our shoulders a painting depicted Christ and the apostles at The Last Supper. Our host – a middle-aged monk – apologized that not all seven Franciscans normally resident there could be present; two of them – men in their late 80s – had recently been moved to hospital for elder care, he said. Nevertheless a younger 70-ish Brother Dominic bid us welcome.

Brother Dominic
Brother Dominic

“We are brothers of prayer,” he said. “But we welcome you here to St. Michael’s, your home away from home.”

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