Last week, having visited a few more stops in my week than had become the norm during the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic, I finally felt like I was doing the job I loved again.
When taken beside other news about the state of democracy, the news that only 43 per cent of eligible Ontario voters cast a ballot in last week's provincial election is depressing.
It must have been so very, very hard to make the decision to leave homes and family to immigrate to "the new land". The reasons were varied and as the result of different degrees of hardship.
Over the long weekend, I met with a group of friends for the first time in a very long time. What happened was what happens when you get together with people around a table with nothing to do but talk and share a beverage...
For most of my youth (which I feel I can now officially say, as a 40-year-old), I played pretty competitive baseball as a member of a team whose members remained pretty consistent from season to season.
Watch any American television talk show and sooner, rather than later, you're bound to hear someone make the claim that the U.S. is "the greatest country in the world". Really?
Among the most terrifying words that parents could hear, in past decades, was that of "diphtheria". Known by various names, such as the strangling angel of children, diphtheria was a scourge that caused grief for many centuries.
Well, everyone -- I'm 40. Thanks for coming along for the ride with me. Those reflections on age were so successful that I've been compelled to stick with them.
New York's Attorney General Letitia James will be investigating some social media services for the part they may have played in the devastating shooting that took place in Buffalo, just over the border, on May 14.
Since I'm an old guy with a limited time left on this earth, you'd think I'd be absorbed in the present, yet I find myself depressed by the human propensity to forget the near past and live for the moment.
Last week I had a little blast from the past by way of a scraped knuckle. As I was walking through my kitchen, my hand clattered into the counter on that magical angle that's square enough for a bone bruise...
We've all been through this before but, after a letter to North Huron Township Council leveled some charges against The Citizen, I think we need to review what this page, page five, is all about.
As we approach (on June 6) the 78th anniversary of the invasion of Normandy, a symbol of the sacrifice of my parents' generation to restore democracy, it's depressing to see how little regard people around the world seem to have for this precious gift.
When part of a verse about worrying popped into my head one day, I turned to my little autograph book. This plaid-covered booklet with pastel pages was a treasured object when I was about 10 years old.
Because I am someone with more than a passing interest in the work of the great Jane Fonda, the cover story from this month's issue of Glamour made its way to me last week. Fonda is on the cover an amazing 60 years after she first graced that page.
Last week, with the exception of a few hours Tuesday morning, I was out of the office almost the entire week due to a cold (which didn't start out as mine).
The other morning, as I did my exercises (the price of living to old age), I was entertained by a rabbit hunting food under some nearby cedar trees on our country property and some blue jays seeking material to build their nest.
For the second installment in what I guess will be a loosely-connected four-part series on turning 40, I wanted to really focus on a recent Sunday at the Loughlin home that felt like one of the best days of my life.
I used to really enjoy The Simpsons. It went from a show I watched at friends' houses, because my parents wouldn't allow me to watch it, to a guilty pleasure, to something I would regularly watch with my roommates at school. (One of them even splurged...