(Hamilton Spectator – Friday, July 26, 2013)
Love has always been one of those loaded words, one that means everything and nothing at the same time because we can love the latest Bond movie or country music or summer rain, but this has nothing to do with summer love at, say, a July wedding, or the love that shows on the faces of a couple who have sailed through thick and thin.
On anniversaries and a medley of “summer love” Read More »
There is a time to weep and a time to laugh, and a time to keep silence and a time to speak, and a time for many things under the sun. This is how the poet in Ecclesiastes put it. He was talking about time in the sense of what happens in it, that is the type
My daughter Liz is a rather astute little 10-year-old and I can’t help but show off her writing every once in a while. Here’s some verse she just wrote about change called Ancient People of the World. Ancient People of the World My friends, my friends, we gather. So much to talk about, history. We
Ancient People of the World Read More »
It’s the other day, Friday, and I’m saying goodbye to my children’s cousin, the little girl of My Bride’s sister, a bright little six-year-old with wavy brown hair and the best manners. ‘Why thank you for asking,’ she would say all week whenever I asked how her day was, her day at the camp that
Miss Manners goes to camp Read More »
‘This is how you do it, she said, and she put some water in the sink and got some soap and took it all in her hands and showed me how to wash my shirt in the sink. The shirt was short-sleeved and striped blue and white, horizontally, and the sink was in the attic
Cousins and gifts and a different sort of beauty Read More »
We’re talking about telling the truth, Jon and me, and the truth is something that to a seven-year-old boy can be this or that. Apparently at camp, a day camp just a few minutes from our Canadian home, he told everyone yesterday that he had been up at 5 a.m. here at the house playing
Jon to jump from helicopter … maybe Read More »
You never know what to say when you’re up there. Your name is called. There’s a presenter, a certain presenter picked just for you, waiting to hand you the honour, the certificate in this case, the paper of recognition that has your name on it. You walk up and you receive it and then, besides a simple
On Helen Keller, being blind and doing something Read More »
He was a black man and he could recite entire chapters of the Scripture, and this is what he did while teaching in this Muskoka chapel in his booming and prophetic voice. Some of us could barely rub two notes together, but by the end of the week he also had us all sounding like
Living in today with yesterday’s decisions Read More »
