The Bride and I are quickly approaching a milestone anniversary.  On September 1, we will have been married 40 years.  I sometimes wonder, how did that happen, and am I really that old?

To tip or not to tip? And, if so, to tip 10 per cent or 25 per cent?

These are choices many Canadians are making as they strive to continue dining out on increasingly tight budgets. Sadly, they appear to be leaning towards the “not” side. 

In April 2019, when Notre Dame Cathedral was afire in Paris, I was on a cross-country drive. I had decided not to listen to the news, but rather to pray and think, so I was oblivious to the conflagration. As the kilometres sailed by, I became strangely obsessed with the thought that Western Catholics were starving for good religious art. I suddenly knew I was. 

The number 8 bus travels down Main Street in Mount Pleasant, a neighbourhood in Vancouver known for its trendy shops, trendier cafes, and urbane urban dwellers. As the bus passes the numbered avenues running west and east off Main it eventually makes its turn onto East Hastings Street. The last time I was at the corner of Main and Hastings was in 2004 when I worked as a federal public servant. My colleague and I were making a cross-country tour in aid of the Government of Canada’s desire to understand the federal role in cities better. 

Pope Francis instituted a World Day for Grandparents and the Elderly, which takes place this year on July 28, with the theme from Psalm 71 “Do not cast me off in my old age.” One way to respond to this call to care for our elderly loved ones is to discover their wishes related to care and to develop a plan to provide them with a safe environment.

Who greets you on a Sunday morning when you walk into your church? Gentlemanly ushers? Nervous pre-teens co-opted to offer a shy word of welcome? Or an off-duty police officer packing a pistol?

The third anniversary of the May 27, 2021 announcement by B.C.’s Kamloops Indian Band that the unmarked graves of 215 children were found on the site of its Indian residential school has come and gone but its claims are very much alive.

When I was 18 years old, we had a Stocking Family reunion in England. It was the first time I met many of my numerous relatives. My father is one of eleven children, spread throughout England, the U.S., and Canada. That was the last time all of them were together in person. Gathered with them were approximately one hundred of their direct descendants. It was a very formative experience for me as a young man. I was recently reading a journal entry I wrote shortly after the reunion ended,

The journey toward reconciliation between Canadian churches and Indigenous people continues. Not surprisingly, the report of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in 2015 did not end that journey. 

“I am busy with other things, mainly running the household for me and my 90-year-old sister plus a young working man who came to stay three years ago and doesn't look like leaving any time soon,” a friend wrote me recently. I had asked about her retirement and she said she wanted to find time to write. Before retirement, she had been a journalist.