Forty-five years ago today, on November 18, 1978, more than 900 people died in the Jonestown massacre. They were Americans in a Guyana settlement named after Jim Jones, a self-proclaimed prophet who’d been once lauded as an exceptional voice and humanitarian. Jones’ followers
We’re all lonely to one degree or another, this side of eternity. If it was different, there’d be no longing. Or expectation. Even so, we’re living in unusually lonely times. Some call it a loneliness epidemic. Alice Aedy, a British filmmaker, calls it a dystopian time. “Almost Orwellian.” Call it
Think of the war in Gaza and think of flowers. This, with a nod to Banksy. He’s the street artist who moves anonymously at night to paint public spaces. Often powerful images – you’ll see them from Paris to Detroit – they pull at our collective conscious.“ The Flower Thrower,” painted
It was a tea house and I was having, funny enough, coffee, and the woman waiting on me was pleasant. She brought extra cream and looked at the book I was reading. It was my birthday, a summer day. The book was, “Count Your Blessings.” Then she said somewhat indifferently, “My father would
Here’s something for young people. Who you marry will have a larger impact on your life than your career. I’m reading about it in The New York Times and The Atlantic. There’s a new wave of research. Marry and be happy. This is what it says. It’s interesting because it’s easy to assume
It was in the park at a picnic table and the talk was about food and the GTA’s Metro grocers strike. This and record profits for Canada’s largest grocers juxtaposed against thinning pay of staff who help you and me with our daily bread and everything else. The man made a
Today I’d like to give some advice to Canada’s soccer players. But first let me say that I’ve decided to finally start that rock-and-roll band. We’ll call ourselves “The Barenaked Feet.” This is because “The Barenaked Ladies” is taken and “The Barenaked Men” conveys certain images
Let’s see now: Cynthia, Cloe, Cindy, Carole, Cassandra, ah, here we are. Cathy. The first girl I ever kissed. (Or did she go by Kathy?) (This doesn’t include the failed kissing venture in the park trees involving Penny and Patty with myself and my boyhood buddy, Paul, on that summer day
