Newspaper columns

Our faces are doorways into our lives

There was a time when I’d walk down the street and look at people’s faces.

Any city would do as long as it had a downtown drag of even modest substance. The first was Kitchener-Waterloo where I was a student living away from home for the first time.

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I hereby resolve – No more children, no, not ever

I don’t know how we get on these things. We were talking about the dog. Next thing we’re talking about my manhood.

Did we get the dog fixed? Nobody remembers. The boy thinks yes. The girls say no.

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Awe and joy on the journey

(The Hamilton Spectator – Saturday, December 24, 2016)

MUKONO, UGANDA ✦ It was just past sunrise in Congo at a mission refugee camp. This is when I walked into it. It was a certain and gentle light. It was in a church. I was alone.

It wasn’t much of a church, just plain with a dirt floor and simple benches and open ceiling. The space was empty. Still. Voiceless.

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Winning, like losing, is about more than meets the eye

(The Hamilton Spectator – Saturday, December 9, 2016)

KAMPALA, UGANDA ✦ The story of 2016 is the story of surprise.

Surprise isn’t always the worst thing in the world. When all goes as expected, day after ordinary day, it’s hard to remember what matters in life.

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How a simple skipping rope changed lives

(The Hamilton Spectator – Saturday, November 12, 2016)

KAMPALA, UGANDA ✦ It started with a skipping rope, a plain green skipping rope, the kind you’d find at any dollar store.

It was a simple investment. You’d be forgiven for opting to instead spend the money on your morning double-double.

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Belief, truth and monsters who are all too real

(The Hamilton Spectator – Saturday, October 22, 2016)

KAMPALA, UGANDA – It’s hard to know what to make of it somedays, what to make of these remarkable matters like belief and truth and monsters.

I mean, when I was a young reporter I wrote about a monster that nobody believed in, and even that caused a stir. It was the so-called Lake Erie Monster, affectionately known as LEM.

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On gardening, grace and writing

(The Hamilton Spectator – Saturday, October 8, 2016)

MUKONO, UGANDA ✦ Someone (a writer, naturally) once said that writing is like prayer. Prayer, it seems to me, is like gardening. I’ve struggled with all three.

The small garden behind our African home is testament to this. Many seasons it’s been a disappointing annoyance. Nearby trees steal valuable sunlight and nutrients. I suppose the space should never have been chosen to start.

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We live with our parents, even when we don’t

(The Hamilton Spectator – Saturday, September 17, 2016)

ABOARD KLM FLIGHT 535 TO UGANDA ✦ I’ve always envied people who could watch their mothers grow old.

My mother, I’ve shared previously, passed on when I was in kindergarten. I hadn’t seen her for two years prior to that.

Funny to think of it here, half asleep at 40,000 feet.

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