Hamilton Spectator

I recently watched a debate involving a couple of academics, two cerebral rock stars who talked at length about life, including the nature of goodness. The secular humanist explained that goodness doesn’t depend on God or supernatural agents. “But if they’re around, they can step up and show where we’re wrong.”

Courage is defined in Webster’s as “mental or moral strength to venture, persevere and withstand danger, fear or difficulty.” Not that we don’t know courage when we see it. But it’s a good time to consider it because courage, it seems to me, is the story of 2023. Then again, in war, courage might be

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

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

I know Canada as much as anyone. I’ve tasted its vastness. Live long enough with even a half-curious mind and you’ll get out here and there. I’ve spent time in each of our provinces. Even today I’m in the mountains of Banff with my boy, Jonathan, celebrating his 18th birthday.

“We’re losing Jonathan.” I blurted out the words in the backyard to my sister during a recent gathering. Jonathan, that’s Jonathan Thomas Froese, is Child #2. The boy. It felt strange to hear the words tumble from my mouth.

The life of my mother-in-law, Mum Chamberlain, is now marked in a burial plot near the shade of old trees. Recently it’s been celebrated in various ways. It reminds me of fireworks. Not that “celebration” is a perfect word for these matters. Death can still drag in its bag of

She’s the mother of my bride, Mum, or Mum Chamberlain, as I like to call her. I’m at her bedside. The children and my wife, Jean, are on live video from across the ocean, from East Africa. “We love you, Grams!” Jean shares greetings from the team of Save the Mothers, the Ugandan

Today’s offering is about roots, and where we come from, and these sorts of matters that run under the surface of our lives. My father appreciated roots. And what’s not to appreciate? Roots bring nutrients. They stabilize plants and trees: tap roots for depth, lateral roots to anchor, sinker roots

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about running for president of the United States. I told the family. Everyone got quiet and looked at each other. Then my boy said, “You’ve got this, Paps. I’d vote for you.” That’s all I needed to hear. I’m off. I’m running. I know the way. Follow me!