Monthly Archives: August 2011

Bread and cheese and suicide

Posted on August 30, 2011 by

My needs were simple: Bread and cheese. Buffalo mozzarella in a sea of oil and a stiff baguette. And so I leaned my bicycle against the brick wall on Queen Street, beside “Andy’s Family Restaurant” frequented by drunks, and stepped … Continue reading →

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A Prairie Layton marker

Posted on August 26, 2011 by

Here is how my morning begins: with a coffee and the death notices. Not so very unusual really but what’s more unusual is that I do it as a fishing expedition: hoping to catch a glimmer of a story (excuse … Continue reading →

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Death knell on Toronto’s public libraries?

Posted on August 25, 2011 by

Toronto Mayor Rob Ford threatens to kill our libraries. I’d like him to walk–or drive–to his home branch, unsnap his cell phone, cram himself into a chair and make his way through Farenheit 451. Unfortunately, that’ s a thinking man’s … Continue reading →

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Stealing memories

Posted on August 19, 2011 by

Writer’s block at summer’s end. There might be a connection. I want to dive beneath waves not lean across keys. Lick ice cream cones not blog. Read popular trash not research inside intelligent sources. Meanwhile, another deadline looms: Monday 9 … Continue reading →

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JFK is a good angle

Posted on August 12, 2011 by

Seems that some words just know how to trip us up. Camouflage, for instance, leaves me badly bruised. I keep having to pick myself off the ground, breathe deeply, and try to spell it again. But rotten spelling isn’t the only … Continue reading →

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Tomato Man Defies the Skies

Posted on August 10, 2011 by

I’m writing an obituary about an Ottawa man who handed Princess Elizabeth a shovel. Later, when she became Queen, he handed her another one. Sometime between these two visits he grabbed another shovel and this time gave it to President … Continue reading →

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Gratitude at 3 a.m.

Posted on August 2, 2011 by

She had been knocked off her bike, stuck by a car, and rushed to emergency. I got to St. Mike’s Hospital just behind the ambulance. “Is she alive?” I screamed. And then I woke up. Telling dreams don’t work unless you’re … Continue reading →

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