The times they are a-changin’.

Writing in 1962 about anticipated dramatic changes to family, racial, social, political and sexual dynamics, singer-songwriter Bob Dylan warned the old guard that their existing road was rapidly aging and they’d better get out of the way if they couldn’t lend a hand to those driving world change.

Fake news. The term is bandied about almost daily and has quickly grown tired and annoying.

Remember the good old days.

Christmas packages come in all sorts, shapes and sizes.

Nobody goes there anymore … it’s too crowded.

A time to search and a time to give up. 

I only wish I had a chance to do that all over again.

Making something out of nothing. When somebody pulls that off, it tends to evoke wonder and admiration.

For weekends on end now in the tiny western Cape Breton seaside community of Inverness, more and more people have been seeking a bonanza of easy money by chasing the ace.

A few weeks back, I attended a funeral Mass about a half hour from my home. With the priest’s comforting words and the heavy smell of incense still commandeering our senses, the congregation filed out and into the nearby church hall for sandwiches, tea and a story or two about Sandy, the deceased. The elderly man, from all accounts that flowed from inside the church and out, was a kind, gentle soul who put family and God above all else.