I warned you all that there would be fireworks when I returned to my birthplace in Kenogami, QC, for the town’s 100th anniversary and a reunion of our Saturday night dance club. Continue reading
It’s a good thing I’m not superstitious or religious, because the scene playing out here on the shore behind the Lac St. Jean Motel might just scare the bejeesus out of any other 65-year-year after a lifetime of cigarettes, beer and all the other things on the list that doctors hate.
They say you can’t go home anymore, but I’m calling bullshit on that myth.
So, tell me, where do I have to move to pick up a classier type of ailment, something exotic with more than one accusatory syllable?
I woke up three weeks ago with my right knee swollen to the size of the Greek national debt and MFW (My first Wife of 40 odd years) took one look before snorting: “It’s gout. It’s from booze.”
Now see here, Doctor Ooze, I’ve had gout before and it appears briefly in my left toe caused by my classy consumption of rich traditional French cuisine like poutine on a stick and has nothing to do with booze.
“Yup, it’s gout,” said the doctor when I presented myself to a local clinic two days later Continue reading
Ah, it comes to all of us, kings and peasants alike, as the feared Grim Reaper engages in his really tacky hobby of snagging ever more friends for his Deadbook page.
Even more feared, after death, is the Dim Sweeper, whose motto is: Dust to dust. Ashes all over everything.
Yup, that would be me. I’m telling you, my brother Pete would have lived forever—or at least been buried at sea—if he thought there were the remotest chance I might ever be in charge of any part of his cremated mortal remains.
After all, I hadn’t done such a great job for Our Sainted Mother…. Continue reading
This is not an easy thing to do. Because I know it will be disappointing for all of you out there who think of me as a kindly pensioner tending his little garden after a grey-flannelled career and a personal life that pretty well set the standard for moderation in all things.
Not quite true.
Okay, now that I’ve got rid of all the kids in the audience, let’s get to the nub of the matter contained in an email I got from a correspondent in Texas named Bert posing the following question: “Dear Gord, there has been a lot of stuff on CNN suggesting you Canadians have got a lot of things right on medicare, immigration, banking and crime prevention. You make a lot of sense behind the humor and I’d be interested in your take on what makes two peoples who share a continent, language and Christian faith so different.” Continue reading
It was 35 years ago this week that powerful forces—immigrants wishing to impose their twisted homeland religious culture on our peaceable frozen kingdom—stopped the presses of one of the nation’s biggest daily newspapers to censor my pride in being Canadian. Continue reading
The loyal spouse is always the last to know.
I just found out my wife is sleeping with a senior citizen.
Oops, hang on—what’s that you say? That senior citizen is ME?!
Well, I was going to take this week off for a couple of good reasons.
For a start, two blogs escaped last Thursday to double my normal pollution footprint and then I hit the big 65 this Monday and should have earned some bonus sloth time from that milestone.
But it’s hard to break old work habits and shed the guilt thing that has had me meeting deadlines for 45 years.
On the other hand, you have to cut some slack even for yourself after a death in the family. Continue reading