This is a story of the sea. Looking back now after more than half a century there is an aspect to it all that is surreal, but it happened. At the age of 15, because of circumstances, I found myself at two in the morning at the wheel of
My friend and I were coming down the front steps of Clovelly Golf Club about five or six years ago. We had played a round of golf and then stopped at the restaurant for what was a great meal. I had the pan fried cod. We had a glass
I just returned from Ontario this week. I haven’t been there in a while. It is a beautiful time of year along the canals that run out from Ottawa. I was reminded of my last visit there a few years ago and I present humbly to you what I
When we were young, brother John and I would visit our grandparents house on Long Pond Road. They were Furlongs and their home was in the woods next to Smithville, the famous catering place and bakery that was also part of the Furlong family. Gonzaga High School and St.
The Vietnam War was a great polarizing event in America and in the world for that matter. It still is. The United States went halfway around the world to fight a war for reasons that were unclear. I was against that war. I still remember that while I was
I took Latin for two just years in school. It was through Grades 9-10. I confess that I was awful at it. My mark one semester was 38 out of 100. It is not easy to understand how I wound up taking courses in a dead language like Latin,
It was with some amusement that I read the other day in what is called the ‘op-ed’ section of the paper. This was a great year for cod fishing and the food-fishery in Newfoundland. I used to call it the “teacher fishery” in its early days because teachers who
Over the years, and there are many of them, a lot of people have given me great advice. Most of it is junk and gets crumpled up and goes in the wastebasket. On the other side of that ledger though there are gems of wisdom that have served me
A few years ago, I wrote about the wonderful smells that were very much part of a St. John’s summer. For reasons I don’t quite understand it is the months of summer that are the great memory triggers rather than those of the grim winter. Where I grew up,
I passed through the main courtyard of the Basilica of St. John the Baptist on a sunny Sunday morning a few weeks ago. People were coming in for the 11 a.m. mass.
I wasn’t going to Mass. I had been the previous day up in Conception