I make big plans, a list even, of what I want to write about. Then something forces me to make a sharp right (or left), and I find myself tapping out something completely different on the keyboard. I’d make a lousy novelist, as I can’t seem to stick to one thing. My wildly wandering imagination would take far too my detours. The ending would have absolutely no relation to the beginning! ….and so it begins with today’s offering.
Continue reading
A few weeks ago we had some snow that didn’t really stick. A few days later I saw a young father pushing his kid in a baby carriage. “Are the sidewalks clear?” I asked and he said … “yes .. FINALLY!”
In January.
He was a very young man.
The Canadian relationship with winter and snow is a lot like marriage; some love it, and look forward to their time together. Others tolerate winter, but spend a lot of time apart during cold patches. Still others grumble, but it’s a loving martyrdom that takes the good (skiing) right along with the bad (shoveling.)
Here we are once again, dear reader, when the tinsel is hung like your panties with care in hopes that your knickers while end up down there. No, wait…that’s not right. But it is Christmas time and I intend on taking full advantage of the fact that for the first time in four years I have a Christmas vacation. This year we’ve been blessed with warm weather. That’s certainly a bummer for many but I’ve never considered snow the defining aspect of Christmas. Snow or not, I still view it as a magical time of year.
Dear Drake,
You and I have never met so I hesitate to call you by your given name, Aubrey, but it’s times like these where it’s important to talk to the man your Mama raised, and not the superstar visage the world has grown to know.
Here we are once again, dear reader, when the tinsel is hung by the panties with care in hopes that your knickers while end up on a chair. No, wait…that’s not right. But it is Christmas time and I intend on taking full advantage of the fact that my new employers were kind enough to give me Christmas Day off.
In the early morning aftermath of two tragic military assassinations in Quebec and Ottawa, Ontario this week America tuned in and saw a different kind of Canada.
There is an old adage that says that you can’t go home again. It has a double meaning – not only can’t you relive the past but in many cases the places where the events in your past actually happened are no longer there.
On Friday night I spent 2 hours in the car traveling from Toronto International Airport to my house in the far-off suburbs. Why? Because it was the first true snowfall of the season. It wasn’t even a particularly bad snowfall but despite the best efforts of the perpetually inaccurate Weather Network, people just weren’t prepared. A massive accident to the east of Toronto involved over 50 cars. Ramps off our main highway (401) were littered with flipped vehicles, impacted vehicles and stalls. Fortunately, a phalanx of 21 snowplows passed us in the opposite direction to clear the 401 from east to west. In other words it was a winter night like any other in this country. We live a Bob & Doug MacKenzie cliché.
I’m going to do something this year that I’ve never done at Christmas – ever. I’m staying home with my immediate family – my beautiful wife, my beautiful son and my beautiful daughter who is home from University (yeah, that 11 Km trek from the suburbs will be a huge sacrifice!) in my rustic World War II bungalow which isn’t quite as enticing as the one David Byrne talks about in “Once In a Lifetime” but has its own cottage-like charm. I am starting a new tradition – one that allows me the luxury of not having to battle it out between two sides of the family for a change.
Bullseye Records of Canada
Segarini: Don't Believe a Word I Say 