Category: People
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The Drawers of Lola Rosa
I can’t help but stare. The young waiter with curly dark hair and a pencil thin moustache is a dead ringer for my cousin, Paul, a mirror of his youthful days in the ’70’s. It’s uncanny. Turns out he’s from B.C. (we’re getting closer), but not from Kamloops, home of Paul and my extended family.… Read more
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Frozen
Still, it’s our first time on an ice bridge and our natural instinct says it’s unnatural to walk across a body of water, even if it is frozen. Read more
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Would You Let This Man in Your House?
And what I’ve been reminded of is this: Strangers give something, take something and create something utterly unique for each of us. They are our Scheherezades and our Solomons. They are not stones that we trip over, but the treasure we search for. Read more
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The Lost Villages of the St. Lawrence
The vintage homes and buildings look picturesque and inviting under the winter sky. They’re clustered together, in traditional village style, interlaced with Christmas-like trees frosted with snow. But what I see is not a real village. The clapboard church, barbershop, school and other buildings grouped by the side of County Rd. 2, near Long Sault,… Read more
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Winter Dreaming of a Summer Island
The air was warm with an exotic charm, Not Canada at all And a small northern lake; A land of soft desire. A depth of turquoise fire, A height of foreign stars Only the water glittered In a cool northern way Sparkling against the rocks. – Excerpt from The Island (Experiment in Magic), Katherine Hale Read more
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A Reasonable Expectation of Undisturbed Rest
[pullquote]I am awake, but ’tis not time to rise, neither have I slept enough…I am awake, yet not in paine, anguish or feare, as thousands are. ~ 17th Century religious meditation for the dead of night[/pullquote] With winter darkness falling at 5:00pm, I’m lucky to remain vertically upright until nine. After a hard day’s labour,… Read more
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Present Imperfect
Just after midnight I get out of bed, double-check the calendar, and put the bag on the dining room table. At 5:45am, I search for light and hope I’m not late. My slippers flip-flop on the path in the pitch black. I ring the doorbell, a vision in robe and FrankenHair. Happy birthday to you,… Read more
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The Hartsdale Pet Cemetery
When I was a kid, my brother and I were allowed to choose kittens from the litter of a stray cat. My mother wanted only one cat for the longterm, so she told us that at some future time one of the two would be given away. When that time came, my brother’s cat, Percy,… Read more