The first book I encountered at university was a slender volume called Reading English by George Story and E.R. Seary. It explained how a student reads for a degree and how important it is to read critically and not believe everything just because it is on paper. Smallwood suffered from
Somewhere in the chic bistros of St. John’s tonight there are probably still people arguing that we were ‘railroaded’ into Confederation and that somehow voting to join Canada was something other than the will of the people. That is an idea that didn’t emerge until well into our marriage with
A tale told today about district nominations in our province. I tell it against a background of the recent warm-up for the provincial election that is coming.
Nomination issues in two different districts. In Mount Pearl Southlands Gillian Pearson is the nominee for the PCs. She almost had an incumbent
Politics is a nasty business. You probably knew that. Here is the question of the day: Have the local New Democrats slipped “the black spot” to Lorraine Michael again? In pirate lure the black spot is a means of conveying the message, it is time to go.
This week an
It was minus ten and too cold to go down to the pond last week, but the wind was light, so I went anyway. It was the fourth day of a hard-biting February cold snap when I grabbed my skates and a hockey stick and a thermos of coffee and
I was working in the newsroom at NTV one morning some years ago when the phone rang. On the line was an irate woman who without introduction launched into an attack on two pieces that I had written for presentation on the Reflections segment of the news.
One was about
Somewhere through my veins courses Luddite blood. The Luddites were early 19th century wackos from England who decided technology was getting too much for them. They thought the new machines of the 1800s were taking control of them and costing jobs so they broke them up. I know how they
Sitting down to write about the loss of the Ocean Ranger isn’t easy. So much has been written and written well in what is surely a cautionary tale. As a journalist I was assigned to the Ocean Ranger Inquiry. I listened to the testimony, much of it technical, but even
It is always good to “go home.” It awakens you and reminds you of who you are. I was down for a walk through my old neighbourhood last week.
I walked down through what used to be a warren of little St. John’s streets that led down to New Gower
These are the times that try men’s souls. These are the days where winter sets in with the grip of Grim Death.
The Christmas guests and visitors have all gone and the ornaments put away. The last note from the final playing of The Little Drummer Boy has mercifully faded