So sorry for your loss: an open letter to VIA Rail Canada VIA Rail President and CEO Mathieu Paquette 3 Place Ville Marie, Suite 500, Montreal, QC H3B 2C9 1 email @viarail.ca Dear Mr. Paquette, I am writing you as an inveterate train enthusiast. My father spent 30 years as a railway employee, and..
Unsafe at any speed revisited I’m a horrible driver; I’ve always been a horrible driver. This deficiency is in my DNA: behind the proverbial wheel, my father was unsafe at any speed and my mother was beyond a shadow of a doubt the worst driver in history. (Various friends and relatives wanted to sue the..
Escaping the rough by choosing the right club In 1964, when I was 12 years old, our family moved from Georgetown to London Ontario. This permanent change of scene came as a devastating blow, complete with the typical leaving behind of school and friends, entailing the requisite adjustment to a new, bigger city culture. In..
Winning the brownie For Lindsey Reed When I was a child growing up in Georgetown, Ontario, I loved playing little league baseball. The American side of my family was made up of baseball fanatics, including a second cousin who was a renowned semi-pro. I was a pudgy wanna-be star. My goal throughout my six-year..
Riding the Insomnia Express I have suffered from insomnia since the age of about four years old, when the minister of our local United Church convinced me that all my cursing and swearing would lead me straight to hell, where unimaginable torment awaited. Going To Hell – Robert McBryde I am now a wretched,..
Losing My Marbles 1957, Chapel Street Public School, Georgetown, Ontario, kindergarten with Mrs. Smith. If you misbehaved, “behind the piano” was your place of penance. We kids lived for recess, when we could “play marbles,” or allies, as we also called them. (Mrs., Smith was neither a big fan of marbles nor of the word..
A Hole in my Heart In the small town of my childhood, the 1950s spoke in lowered voices: electrocution, harelip, stillbirth, a baby born with a hole in her heart. My parents carried these sorrows home as if misfortune were weather, settling over porches, kitchens, beds. I was but a fragile nestling, but already knew..
For Anne in her palliative care bed, every day is “Sweet Dessert Day” Rewind to the early 1980s: Like so many first-time parents, Anne and I were brimming with righteous resolve to shield our offspring from the evils of junk food. “Sweet Dessert Day” was our grand idea, a weekly treat so exclusive it..
Anne is Real Butter Back in the fabulous fifties and swinging sixties, Canadians were all but commanded to cast aside their beloved butter in favour of margarine – this so-called “modern marvel” that promised thrift, health, and, if you squinted hard enough, a resemblance to butter. But in its original form, margarine looked as appetizing..
Ramblings on January 25 to celebrate Robbie Burns’ Birthday Every year, on January 25th, the Scottish people, including the Scottish diaspora, celebrate Burns’ Night. This is the night where Scots highlight the life and works of Robert Burns, a poet and lyricist, and arguably one of Scotland’s most notable figures. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/robert-burns In my..