It is the classic line of protest and here in Newfoundland and Labrador it rings loudly and often. 

What do we want? When do we want it? NOW. 

Perhaps it is our deprived past ringing through and impacting on us today. It has been tough here, out in the Atlantic, and we often seem

I broke my snow blower last week. There is a rope caught up and tangled in it and, well, it stretched a belt. Here it is approaching the end of March and I’m dealing with that.

You do not have to be told that the weather

I stopped into The House of God last week. That is what, in my more whimsical moments, I call the Basilica of St. John the Baptist. It is my parish now with the doors of St. Patrick’s up in the west end closed forever, at least as a Catholic Church. It may reappear someday as a supermarket like Memorial Stadium

I wasn’t a friend of Gordon Pinsent but I knew him. I had followed his career and, through the course of my life, had met him a few times. Our paths crossed. On one memorable occasion, we were at dinner together. We broke bread, as the expression goes. He was a wonderful, endearing dinner-mate who gave much to our table. The occasion was an

I watched with interest and concern the trial of a female St. John’s high school teacher charged with sexually exploiting a 16-year-old student.

The teacher was found not guilty by Mr. Justice Vikas Khaladar in the Newfoundland Supreme Court. That was the verdict. I don’t

He was larger than life. That is a good expression for Don Jamieson. His presence filled up a room. There are people like that. His was the classic story of local boy makes  good. From being a bell hop at the old Newfoundland Hotel, he went on to

There is a haunting issue hanging over our civilization. We have talked about it several times over the years. I first saw the problem expressed by a Chinese businessman and it was about how things were changing in China, how a new economic reality was emerging. I was aware of the issue. I watched it

Politics used to be of a more genteel endeavor. You didn’t have to vilify and hate your opponent the way you do now in the post-Trump world. At least I hope and pray it is post Trump.

In Canadian politics there were lots of decent people on both sides, or ALL

There is in my childhood a loose connection to infamy. I was born on Pleasant Street, in the heart of the west end of St. John’s. It was a great neighbourhood. I was born at house number 112, in 1946. That is right by Atlantic Avenue. Guess who else was from Pleasant Street? The answer is the family of the notorious Boston mobster, James

There is a part of me that feels a tinge of guilt in writing something about a brief encounter I had with the late Randy Druken. There is a sense that doing so is taking advantage of someone who was dealt a bad hand by our justice system. I fear it might be some form of intrusion. I