My Hana’s Suitcase Story

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Have you ever had a book change your life? I did. This is the story of a book that gave me my favourite experience as a classroom teacher ever!!! Please enjoy. 🙂

Prologue: Hana’s Suitcase by Karen Levine, is an award-winning story that is actually two stories in one. The story begins by introducing us to the Brady Family and, in particular, the two Brady children; George and Hana. As we meet them, they are blissfully unaware that they are about to be swept up into one of modern history’s darkest chapters: the Holocaust. In the next chapter, we fast-forward sixty years and meet a Japanese teacher named Fumiko who has organized a peace club. In order to help her students understand the true nature of the Holocaust, Fumiko knows that children usually learn more deeply when they have actual materials and objects to hold rather than simply looking through photographs. So, she sends requests to Holocaust museums all over the world for any resources that they could spare to help her in her lessons. She received rejections from every museum except for one.

That museum sent a collection of artifacts that included a suitcase with the name Hana Brady on it. And so begins a detective story than ended up spanning the globe as Fumiko and her students attempt to discover who this “Hana Brady” really was.

Karen Levine constructed her book by alternating the story lines every other chapter. So, as Hana and her family move through the well-known stages of the Holocaust process culminating in being sent to the concentration camps, Fumiko and her students move closer and closer to discovering what eventually ended up happening to Hana and her family members by the end of the book.

As a father, I completely and wholeheartedly endorse the notion of surrounding young children with rich literature. In my home we have books about every conceivable topic imaginable on bookshelves in our living room, in both of my daughter’s bedrooms and in our basement playroom, too. My daughters are growing up surrounded by, literally, thousands of books. Not surprisingly, they are both growing up to have a love of reading and to view reading as an enjoyable way to spend time during their day.

As a teacher, I have attempted to create the same kind of literature-rich environment for my students. There were, again, thousands of books in my classroom; available for students to read for pleasure, to use for research purposes, to listen to being read aloud and much more. The books in our classroom spanned a wide range of reading levels and subject areas so, there was something for every student to successfully read and enjoy in our classroom. Having good books in a school classroom is important so that students can hear wonderful writing and fascinating stories; stories that may inspire anything from flights of fancy to calls for social justice and beyond. Hana’s Suitcase by Karen Levine is an excellent book and I highly recommend it. It is well-suited to students who are in the 8-11 age range. But, I thoroughly enjoyed it as an adult, too. However, my reason to singling this particular book out has nothing to do with remembering the Holocaust or giving a shout-out to Karen Levine. My reason for writing about this book is that Hana’s Suitcase was the book that helped me experience my favourite and most profound reading experience with a student in my entire career. Here is my Hana’s Suitcase story…..I hope that you enjoy it. 🙂

My classroom was loaded with books. I had them sorted into bins and baskets usually based upon topic or genre. For example, I had a bin of “dog” stories, bins of “outer space” books, bins of “Halloween” books and so on. My standard classroom practice was to set these book bins/baskets out and make them available for students to access all throughout the year as interest or need arose for them. However, whenever I started a new Unit of study in the classroom, I would pull those books out from wherever they were and place them in a location of prominence near where our class meeting place happened to be. As I pulled these books out, I would hold a book talk with the students and go over each book so that they became familiar with them.

My Hana’s Suitcase story starts as we approached the special Canadian day known as Remembrance Day. In Canada, Remembrance Day is used to honour our soldiers who have fought in wars all over the world, as well as, those who are presently involved in peacekeeping duties in such hotspots as Afghanistan. As you all can appreciate, war can be a very grisly topic when you explore it in detail so, as a general rule of thumb, when getting Remembrance Day Units of Study prepared for Primary students, keeping things on a very general, basic level is the preferred route to go. So, in this context, I began my book talk with my class of Grade 2 students in Bowmanville, Ontario. I pulled out books such as The Butter Battle by Dr. Seuss and proceeded with the book talk as planned.

Now, I would be remiss if I didn’t stop here to tell you that this class of Grade 2 students was one of “those” classes. When a teacher usually talks about their class being one of “those” classes, they often are referring to classes that are not that well-behaved. The old adage is that every teacher will have one of “those” classes before their career is over. I’ve had mine and I survived my trial by fire. But, this class was not one of “those” classes because it was a bad class. In fact, the exact opposite is true. This class was a class that was full of keeners who all got along well together and who were all very eager to learn. They loved sitting on our carpet meeting place and talking about everything under the sun. They particularly enjoyed book talks. So, as I went through all of the primary-level books that I had in my collection, a young girl put up her hand and said, “My mother told me a story once about a little girl who……….I’m not exactly sure if I remember it right but……the girl and her family had to live in a closet or a basement for two years during the War.” Although she couldn’t remember the exact details, I knew at once that she was referring to Anne Frank. So, as she spoke, I debated with myself as to whether or not I really wanted to go where she was leading me. In the end, I did, as I often do. I decided to listen to the students and follow their interests. So, I told the class that the young lady in question was Anne Frank and I told them the broad outline of her story. I had the actual Diary of a Young Girl book in a cupboard (where I kept books that I liked but that I didn’t feel Grade 2s were ready to handle). I took it out and showed it to the class. This sparked a whole new round of questions and, in the end, they asked me if I would leave the Anne Frank book out with the other Remembrance Day books. I said that I would.

And since they liked Anne Frank, I told myself that there was no reason to keep Hana’s Suitcase tucked away either. So, I pulled that out and talked about Hana’s story in basic terms, too. I stressed to the kids that I thought both books were too hard for Grade 2s to read but that if they wanted to look at the books during reading time, I would answer any questions that they had as a result of what they were able to read themselves or see in the pictures. I concluded the book talk and life went on in our room as it normally did.

Two days later, a young girl in my class named Kaicey, came up to me during our Language time with Hana’s Suitcase in her hand. She asked me if I would help her read the book because she was interested in finding out what happened to Hana. Now, at that moment, I had 26 other students engaged in a variety of reading, writing and spelling tasks. There was a lot of activity going on and, to be truthful, after having told the class that I thought this book was too difficult for Grade 2s to read, I really didn’t want to sit down and slog our way through this 102-page book about the Holocaust. But, Kaicey continued to stand there. ”Will you help me read this book, Mr. MacInnes. Will you help me, pleaseeee!” I truly didn’t want to go down that road but that tiny voice inside my head reminded me that I was a teacher and that helping kids learn to read is my job and that I should just get over myself and help this child who has had her interest sparked by a book. Soooo, I took a deep breath, sighed a little and told Kaicey that I would help her read the book. But, she needed to know that we would not be able to finish it in one day because it was over 100 pages long and that it wasn’t a happy story, either, that I expected her to do most of the reading, that I would only help her with the big words and be there to answer her questions about what she was reading. She looked at me and smiled and said that we had a deal. So, in the middle of a bustling Grade 2 classroom, Kaicey and I sat down on the carpet, with our backs against a wall of cupboards and we began to read Hana’s Suitcase.

That first day, she read three and a half pages. We talked about what she had read so far and what she thought was going to happen to the, then, carefree Hana Brady. She answered. I, then, asked her if she felt like this was a book that she wanted to continue to read. I half expected her to say that the book was too tough, thank me for my time and tell me that she would move on to something else. But, she said that she liked the book so far and was excited to read it again tomorrow. In my mind, I was still not convinced that she would still be as interested the next day but, come the next day, Kaicey was right there with the book in her hand, ready to continue to learn about a little girl named Hana Brady. So, in that fashion, reading 3-5 pages at a time, we started getting deeper into the book and I began to enjoy my time spent reading and talking about Hana with her. She read almost all of the words by herself, with me filling in with only words such as the names of the towns and cities, for example.

Well, we were about 20 pages in, when Remembrance Day came and went. Kaicey knew that my routine was to put the “theme” books back in their bin or basket once our Unit of Study was over and get new books out for the next Unit. So, she came to me of her own initiative and said that she knew Remembrance Day was over and that the Remembrance Day books were going to be put away but, would it be ok if we continued to read Hana’s Suitcase. I told her that, of course it would be ok and that, perhaps, she would like to keep the book in her desk until we were through. She liked that idea.

So, over the next few weeks, reading a few pages here and a few pages there, amid the learning commotion in my classroom, we managed to reach the end of the book. Normally, under such circumstances, an event like this would be cause for celebration. It isn’t everyday that a grade 2 student can read a tough book like that, mostly on her own. But, as we discovered what happened to Hana and her family and to Fumiko and her students, neither of us felt like celebrating at all. In fact, we both felt somewhat sad that our experience had come to an end. While not as intense a bond as a father-daughter bond, we had shared a unique experience none-the-less and it brought us closer together in a way that normally doesn’t happen with a teacher and a student in the course of our academic affairs. So I said to her that, if she wanted, she could keep my copy of Hana’s Suitcase so that she could always remember Hana and remember our time together reading about her and learning about the Holocaust. I expected her to take the book. But instead, she gave me the book back and said that it was such a good story that she wanted to make sure that I would share it with other children in my other classes to come. So, reluctantly, I took the book back.

The story would have ended there if not for some fortuitous timing. Two weeks later, I attended the Ontario Library Association Annual Conference in Toronto. One of the workshops at this conference involved award winning children’s authors discussing their work and, as luck would have it, one of the authors was Karen Levine! I sat in the workshop, spellbound, as she regaled the audience with tales of how she came to be involved in this book project and how she felt as it came to its’ gorgeous conclusion. At the end of the presentation, the authors took questions from the audience. Someone asked Karen what the most satisfying consequence of writing the book was for her. Without missing a beat, she replied that she enjoyed the letters that she received; especially from young students who found Hana to be inspiring and her story to be important.

Now, I do have a brain and it normally functions well. But, the thought of writing to Karen Levine and telling her of my experience in the classroom with Kaicey and her book had never occurred to me until that very moment. So, my next immediate thought was that if Kaicey would’t accept my own copy of Hana’s Suitcase, perhaps she would accept a new copy if I got the actual author to autograph it for her. So I rushed out to the nearest bookstore and bought a brand new copy. However, Karen Levine had left by the time I got back to the conference hall. So immediately, I contacted her publishing company and explained what I wanted to do. Luckily, they were very understanding and were only too happy to help. I sent them the book and they said they would contact Karen Levine on my behalf and have her autograph the book.

About a month and a half later, a parcel arrived at school. It was the book. Karen Levine had, indeed, autographed the book but had gone one step better and wrote Kaicey a personalized note. The note read: ”Thank you for taking such an interest in someone that I have come to view as very special. Reading such a book at your age makes you very special, too. Keep up your interest in reading. Yours truly, Karen Levine.

I contacted Kaicey’s mother and told her what I had done and that I wanted to give Kaicey the book as soon as possible and would she, Kaicey’s mother, like to be there. She was very pleased that I had done what I did. I gave Kaicey the book after school a few days later. Mom smiled. I smiled. Kaicey smiled and accepted the autographed book.

That experience happened many years ago, prior to the advent of social media. At the time, having message boards and chat rooms on my school network was as close to experiencing the interactivity that has come to characterize our use of social media nowadays. At that time, the following Fall, a teacher from another school posted a question asking for good book recommendations for our upcoming Remembrance Day. A good book recommendation!? Did I ever have one for her. So, I posted a letter describing the experience that Kaicey and I had with Hana’s Suitcase. I had never written anything for an audience before so I was unprepared for the avalanche of overwhelmingly positive feedback that poured in from all over the school board. One teacher even asked for permission to print our story off and give it to her mother who collected “Teacher stories”. I had never thought of writing about my experiences as a teacher before but, all of this feedback gave me food for thought.

So, I started my own blog and the first story I wrote was the one you are reading. Back in those days, I had only just joined Facebook and Twitter and was just learning how to link my blog posts up to social media and share them with the world. Before I did this though, I wondered about contacting Kaicey (and/or her family) and letting her know what I was hoping to do. Several years had passed by this point and I was able to find both Kaicey and her mother on Facebook. They were both delighted that this experience had meant as much to me as it did them and that I wanted others to know about it, too. They were enthusiastic in granting permission for me to go forward.

So, I linked my blog post up to Facebook and waited for another avalanche of glowing feedback. I waited. I waited some more. Eventually, a few friends chimed in and said it was a good story and thanks for sharing. But, that was it. I have to admit to being somewhat disappointed. So, I decided to give Twitter a try.

I was new to tweeting and using hash tags. So, I simply posted that I wanted people to know about an amazing experience I had had in class with a great book and an eager student. I hash-tagged it #teacherstories, #HanasSuitcase and sent it out into the world.

A day or two later, I received a reply………from Fumiko, herself! The same Fumiko who was profiled in the book. The same Fumiko who had discovered who Hana really was and who helped her family reclaim her suitcase. That same Fumiko had read my post and reached out to thank me for sharing the story of my experience with Kaicey and for helping to introduce Hana Brady to the world. Needless to say, I was star struck. Immediately, I contacted Kaicey via Facebook.

I told Kaicey what had happened. She was excited, too. Then she floored me by telling me that she still had ever single part of the package Karen Levine had sent. She had the book, the personalized letter, the book mark and, even, the original shipping envelop, too. Then she sent me the photo you can see to the left. Always Remember, Karen Levine had written and Kaicey said she remembered everything we experienced and shared and that she always would.

Thanks to sites such as Facebook, I have been able to maintain contact with Kaicey and her Mom. In fact, when I recently had my birthday in January, she was one of the first to send along birthday wishes “to my favourite teacher EVER!!!!!!!!!” A day or two later, her mother emailed me to say that her daughter’s birthday wish wasn’t mere flattery and that she still regards our experience reading Hana’s Suitcase as being her favourite moment in her whole school career.

Even though this experience happened many years ago now, it still touches my heart every time I think about it. Having opportunities to make an actual difference in the lives of our students is why teachers teach. It is my single-most favourite and treasured memory of a 30 year teaching career. Good books are important. A good book called Hana’s Suitcase helped to give me and a young Grade 2 student named Kaicey, a memory that we will cherish forever. Do you have a special memory of reading with a teacher or adult that you cherish? If so, do share. I’d love to hear your stories, too

A Dementor’s Kiss

The Prisoner of Azkaban is the third book in the Harry Potter series. When this book was released, many fans of the series reacted with mixed emotions. The reason for this was that the first two books had been rollicking adventures that served the purpose of introducing us all to the wizarding world in which Harry found himself. The third book, however, moved more slowly. It was darker, more sinister. The danger in this book was more inferred and less overt. Nothing symbolized the change in tone more than the introduction of a new character element called a Dementor. Dementors were dark, wispy creatures that would envelop their victims; giving them a “kiss” of sorts, rendering them joyless, with a profound sense of nothingness. Once a victim received a Dementor’s Kiss, they were never the same again. When Dementors first appeared in the storyline of The Prisoner of Azkaban, a chill swept through the Harry Potter franchise. Some fans disliked this, more serious tone. Some fans applauded the introduction of such a mature element to the storyline. When author J.K. Rowling was asked about the significance and symbolism of the Dementors, she replied that the after-effect of a “Dementor’s Kiss” was akin to a feeling in the real world of clinical depression.

Emptiness. Darkness. Loss. Despair.

In these Covid-times that we find ourselves in, it is easy to find someone who is struggling with their mental health. That someone can easily be yourself, too. Covid-19 is, at its essence, a deadly disease that can kill you or damage your body in such a way that it impacts your ability to ever live a normal life again. But, it is more than that. It is a bully. The lasting legacy of a bully is the fear that they instill in their victims and, as well, the changes they cause to their victim’s behaviour. Bullied victims stop doing the things they love because they fear the bully will be there, waiting for them, ready to pounce and inflict pain. Bullied victims self-censor themselves, which is the biggest coup a bully can score. Bullied victims lose the power to author their own story. The fear they feel permeates every fibre of who they are and, as a result, they change who they are. The person they were ceases to be. They become shell-like, empty.

Covid-19 has delivered its Dementor-like kiss all across our planet. Approximately, a million people have been killed by this disease and hundreds of thousands more have had their health impacted. But, more than anything, Covid-19 has changed the way we live our lives. It has bullied entire civilizations of people into living lives marked by restraint. Being less than who we can be is now who we all are. It is difficult to strive for greatness when we move in ways that make us small. I have read many stories shared by those who managed to survive being in the concentration camps of the Holocaust in WWII and, to a person, they all said that what helped them to survive was a feeling of Hope. Well, dreams and hopefulness are in very short supply these days. But, ask for a show of hands of those who are sad or who are at a loss with what to do to give meaning to their days and, I am confident, a forest of arms will shoot into the air.

It may seem like a lifetime ago but, do you remember what was, arguably, the biggest news story on the planet prior to the arrival of Covid-19? It was the Climate marches. 2019 was the year that experts raised the alarm that our planet was reaching an environmental tipping point and that immediate changes to the way we were living was required. So, people all over the world marched in the tens of thousands. As ordinary citizens, we began changing how we lived by eliminating plastic from our lives. Governments began contemplating new “green energy” initiatives. Automakers began making the transition away from gas-powered cars and toward e-vehicles. Young Greta Thunberg became the face of the climate movement and was named Time Magazine’s Person of the Year. In 2019, whole populations began to change they way they lived; their actions fuelled by a sense of Hopefulness that they had the power to help create a better world.

In 2020, whole populations have changed they way they lived; their actions were fuelled by fear. The biggest symptom of that fear is fear of each other. We have gone from marching in the streets to huddling in family bubbles. We cross the street to avoid getting too close to each other. We no longer shake hands nor hug in a warm greeting. Children no longer are allowed to sing at school. Whenever we see a photo of someone brave enough to hold a public wedding, we don’t look for the Love and Happiness on their faces, we immediately, look for the masks on their faces…and the social distancing of their friends and family members. Slowly but, surely, we are giving in to the bully that is Covid-19 and we are self-censoring ourselves. We are excising the Joy from our lives by our daily acts of withdrawal from human contact. Having fun has become taboo. We seldom dream about a better future anymore. We are all just trying to survive.

So, what can we do to save ourselves? Well, perhaps the most important thing we can remember is the notion of Kindness. Even with the spectre of Covid-19 lurking around every corner, some aspects of life still go on. Yesterday was my wife’s birthday. My wife is the epitome of who a kind person is. She is always helpful and has a ready smile on her face. She is a positive presence to those around her. She remembers all of the birthdays and anniversaries that pop up throughout the year and always manages to find time for a card or a phone call or, better yet, a visit. She considers the act of friendship to be one of Life’s higher callings. Not surprisingly, she is held in high regard by others. So, it was not that much of a surprise when one of Keri’s dear friends reached out to contact me with a desire to do something….anything….for my dear wife, who had done so much for others, on the occasion of her birthday. That phone call culminated in the organization of a Covid-style drive-by birthday parade in her honour. People decorated their cars, honked their horns and came together to sing “Happy Birthday” to the woman I love. She was completely surprised, which is hard to pull off. Her parents got to watch their daughter being feted and honoured in a very joyous and heartfelt manner. Keri was thrilled with the personal touch. For a short while after the singing had stopped, Keri got the chance to stand in a circle and talk with everyone. It was human contact. It was a happy, fun time for all concerned. It almost felt like the normal, hopeful, good old days of 2019.

And, therein lay the path forward.

It will not be a vaccine that restores the spring in our step and the song to our hearts. It will be simple acts of human kindness. There is beauty in our hearts that, when shared and given freely to others, adds colour and warmth to our world. I am so thankful to those friends and family members who did so much on my wife’s behalf yesterday. Such a simple gesture helps to reaffirm the notion that goodness will triumph over fear in the end. Our lives are meant to lived in the full and warm embrace of all that our dreams may conspire. While the need to stay safe still exists as we move about in our daily routines, it is so very important that, in doing so, we keep each other close and not drive each other away. Isolation plays into the hands of the bully. Well, to heck with that bully! I don’t want a Dementor’s Kiss any longer. I am tired of the chill of avoidance. I want a real kiss from warm lips. As my wife smiled while we sang to her in front of our house, she smiled with her whole heart. I want to see more of those kind of smiles, too. Life is meant to be lived. Let’s all conspire to do so with boldness and vigor. Stay safe, all but, as I recently heard in a song, don’t be afraid to “sit under the light that suits you.” Be brave. Be kind. Be you. And soon these terrible times will end.

From all of us, to all of you, thanks for being such a treasured part of our lives. We love you all.

20- Yer Not The Ocean

This is one post in a series. Each post will focus on one song by The Tragically Hip, a Canadian rock n’ roll band. I am a fan, not an expert. The thoughts expressed in these posts are my own, with the following two exceptions: I have drawn inspiration and knowledge from a book entitled, The Never Ending Present by Michael Barclay. I have, also, learned much from a website dedicated to Hip fans, entitled The Hip Museum. I will give credit to either source when applicable.

In 2005, The Tragically Hip released their best selling cd of all time, Yer Favourites. This 2-CD set was a collection of live performances, re-mixes and studio versions of their most popular songs to date. It says something about the success of The Hip up to that point that they had enough legitimate hit material to warrant a double CD. But, they did. Fans, like me, ate it up. Listening to Yer Favourites is like being at every Hip concert that they played. As fans, we like to hear the songs that we like and this collection tied the career of The Tragically Hip up neatly with a bow. It was every song that made The Hip seem like The Hip. It was a complete a collection of the songs that we really wanted to see them play live when we saw them in arenas or at festivals. Truth be told, if the members of The Hip had decided to stop creating new material and spent the rest of their career touring and simply playing their hits, no one would have minded.

But, Gord Downie and the rest of the members of the band were never ones to sit on their laurels. Coasting, in an artistic sense, went against the grain of who they saw themselves as artists. So, in 2006, they released an album of completely new material called World Container. Coming, as it did, on the heels of the wildly popular, Yer Favourites, many fans were not prepared to embrace this new material. In fact, many fans thought that The Hip had “sold out” because many of these songs sounded different. There was more instrumentation featured. Many of the songs had a Pop flavour. This wasn’t our Hip music. What actually had happened?

By the time World Container had been released, the members of The Tragically Hip had been together for almost twenty years as a band. They were no longer the young rockers touring the world, seeing the sights, meeting so many influential people. Life has a way of changing you over time, if you are open to the lessons it has to teach. Because The Hip viewed their world through a poet’s eye, each member of the band had grown as individual human beings and their lives had evolved. They weren’t young, single men anyone. Most were married by this point. Some were fathers now, too. I know that my outlook on Life changed as I grew from a child at home, to a young man out in the world for the first time, to a married man, to a father, to a retiree, which is where I stand now. I thought I knew a lot back in my twenties but, looking back from where I stand today, I didn’t know as much as I thought. For The Hip, the release of Yer Favourites was their way of saying that the fun times would always remain special but, that those days were over now. The release of World Container was the band announcing that it was time to grow up.

Most Hip fans did not want to grow up. The news that new music was being released meant that the band was moving on. While fans were certainly invited to continue the journey, many greeted the release of World Container with skepticism. One of the big reasons for that was that this album was being produced by a legendary figure in the Canadian music industry, Bob Rock. Mr. Rock first came to the attention of Canadian music fans as a member of a band called The Payolas. The Payolas featured singer, Paul Hyde and guitarist, Bob Rock. They had several hits, the biggest of which was called, Eyes of a Stranger. The video for that song can be viewed here. It is instructive to listen to this song because it is not a straight-ahead rock tune. It infuses elements of ska and reggae into the rock song format that was so prevalent at the time. The Payolas were a breath of fresh air that blew across Canada’s music scene in the 1980s. However, like many bands, longevity was not to be their calling card. Paul Hyde and Bob Rock soon went their separate ways. For Rock, that meant beginning a career as a producer. He gained lots of fame by sitting behind the control panel for some of the biggest selling albums of all time. Most notably, it was Bob Rock who produced Metallica’s Black Album. Prior to that album, Metallica had been, primarily, a speed metal, hardcore band. But, under Rock’s supervision, Metallica released songs that became big hits with non-metal fans. Songs such as Enter Sandman and Nothing Else Matters are terrific rock songs. Bob Rock helped make Metallica more accessible to a broader swath of the music-buying public. This did wonders for the financial success of Metallica and those involved in the business of promoting their music. But, to the original Metallica fans, the release of the Black Album was the signal that Metallica had officially sold out. That money seemed to matter more than artistry hit a nerve, even with Metalheads. Metallica’s fans directed their venom at Bob Rock, accusing him of ruining their favourite band. If those accusations hurt, Bob Rock didn’t show it.

(*THM) Bob Rock was introduced to The Tragically Hip by Canadian music promoter, Bruce Allen. Allen was one of the biggest names in Canadian music in the 80s and 90s. But, the scuttlebutt was that Allen didn’t think much of The Tragically Hip’s music. In fact, it is said that he felt they were over-rated and given far more credit than they deserved. In facilitating the connection between Bob Rock and The Tragically Hip, Allen may have been trying to perform a service that he felt was necessary for the band. Instead of singing about Jacques Cartier and small towns like Bobcaygeon, perhaps Bob Rock could bring them more out into the mainstream of Canada’s rock scene. Regardless of his motivation, Allen set in motion a collaboration that resulted in the musical release of World Container.

Not surprisingly, World Container was met with mixed emotions from fans and critics, alike. This did not sound like Road Apples or Fully Completely at all. It sounded more Popish, for sure. But, it, also, heralded a new focus from Downie on writing songs that better reflected the current states of their collective lives. The songs on World Container and those that followed on other albums, were far more personal; often dealing with marriage, children, health, death, the state of the environment…in other words, things that grown-ups tend to be thinking about. The first song on World Container is called Yer Not the Ocean. In short, this song is about looking back at your youth and realizing that many of the things you thought were significant and weighty, actually, were nothing of the sort at all compared to what awaits in the future. When I listen to this song, I can almost envision the conversations that went on in studio prior to recording it. I can imagine Gord Downie telling Bob Rock that the band wanted to explore weightier themes in their songs going forward and Rock replying that this was fine but, first, the band was going to have to explain this to their fanbase. Yer Not the Ocean is that explanation.

Yer Not the Ocean opens with the following lines:

Again I’m talking to the lake, I’m standing on the rocks
You’re not the ocean, I’m better to watch
Britney Invisible or The Stranger In Myself
Than a wall of water just hitting the shelf

“Britney invisible” is a nautical reference that refers to sailors watching the sea with interest, waiting for something to happen, like the wind to pick up and a storm to come in. “The Stranger in Myself” refers to a book about a German soldier in WWII. Willy Peter Reese was in his late teens when he found himself at the Russian Front. He was a Nazi but, he had a poetic side and, as a result, he kept a diary of what he saw and felt. His diary was found upon his death in battle. In his poems, Reese often commented upon the inhumanity of war and of the nobility of a life dedicated to something larger than himself, in this case, the Fatherland. Many who have read this book have commented that Reese sure had a lot to say about Life when, in reality, he knew so little about all that it had to offer. I can certainly remember being 20 years old and thinking I had all of the answers, too.

When Gord Downie references A Stranger in Myself or “Britney invisible”, he is telling his fans that what the band had talked about in their music before…..on Yer Favourites….was important but that the band knows so much more about Life now and has so much more to say. Of course, Gord says that in his own poetic way but, none the less, World Container was the start of, what has come to be known as, the second half of The Hip’s career. Some fans stopped their Tragically Hip journey with the hits on Yer Favourites. But, thanks to the influence of Bob Rock, as well as, an outlook dedicated to more mature issues by the band, I find much of the material from the second half of their career to be very interesting. I love the hits, don’t get me wrong but, I enjoy their “new” stuff, just as much. I hope that you will think so, too.

The video for Yer Not the Ocean can be found here.

Thanks, as always, for reading my words. I hope that you enjoyed this post. If you wish to comment on anything I have said or to talk about the quality of Yer Not the Ocean or to pass on any great lessons in life that you have learned along the way, please feel free to do so in the comment box below. Thanks to Bob Rock, The Tragically hip and to The Hip Museum for the content of this post.

Bye for now.

Lost Treasure Found

About eight years ago or so, while on a summer trip to Nova Scotia to visit with my mother, we received a phone call. It was from my Father-in-Law. He was calling from my house. That he wished to speak with me and, not his own daughter, was indicative that something out of the ordinary was going on. When I got on the line, he cleared his throat first before speaking. When he did speak, it was not with the usual jocular familiarity of the man we call, “Poppa” at our house. This voice was the one he used in the Board rooms of the companies for which he worked. He was serious and authoritative. In solemn tones, he told me that during that afternoon, our home had been broken into and that we had been robbed.

It is funny what thoughts spring to mind at a time like this. My very first thought was for the safety of our cat, Ringo. He had been left at home for the week we were to be away. My wife’s Aunt and her parents were taking turns visiting our home during our absence. They promised to spend some time each day with Ringo so that he wouldn’t be too lonely. Their promise to do so was the only reason my wife, Keri, ever agreed to go on any trip. You see, Ringo was her cat. He was her furry little boy. He had been rescued from an animal shelter and loved Keri from the very first moment they had met. So, when my Father-in-Law told me there had been a break-in and, that he wanted to talk to me first instead of Keri, my very first thought was that the burglars had done something to Ringo and that I was going to have to break the news to my wife. I’m not sure how I would have had that conversation, to be honest.

So, it was almost a relief to hear that we had merely lost some material possessions. I’m not sure what Ringo must have been thinking as strangers rifled through closets and dresser drawers, looking for treasure that never really existed. But, whatever the case, they ignored my wife’s furry little boy and, instead, concentrated on taking whatever jewellery they could find, along with our desktop computer and a laptop that we had, too. For insurance purposes, the monetary value of the stolen items was under eight thousand dollars. Not the King’s ransom these burglars were hoping for, I am sure.

The burglary happened at the exact mid-point of our trip. I asked my Father-in-Law if there had been any structural damage to the house and he said that, aside from a window screen that had been pulled off that, no, the house was ok. There was mess, for sure but, no broken window glass or smashed in doors. We were lucky, in that sense. The phone call ended with an agreement that we would not tell my wife or daughters about this until we arrived back in Toronto at the airport. There was nothing we could do about anything from where we were. As well, we thought that my own mother might get upset if she knew this had happened because we were away visiting her. So, it was decided that everyone would get to enjoy the rest of the vacation as planned. No need to ruin things with this news. My terrific in-laws promised to tidy the house after the police had concluded their investigation so as not to upset my two children upon our return. Hopefully, despite the loss of jewels and technology, we would return to our home and everything would seem almost normal.

I broke the news to Keri and the girls after we had arrived at the airport in Toronto and were putting our suitcases back into our car. Needless to say, they were shocked. Keri immediately asked about Ringo. The girls asked about their rooms. I told them all that I knew and said that Poppa had promised that things were ok. The hour and a half drive was quieter than normal. Finally, we arrived home. I asked everyone to wait outside while I went in first. I wanted to make absolutely sure that an emotionally-scarring experience wasn’t awaiting us beyond our front door. So, inside I went. And…….everything seemed……well……pretty much just as we had left it. The house was clean. Our furniture was all there. There were a few small things out of place because Gramma and Poppa didn’t know exactly where they had been previously but, other than that, it didn’t look too bad. So, I went back out and invited everyone inside.

A thorough look was had by all. The girl’s bedrooms were left untouched, from what we could see. I am sure that the burglars looked in from their doorways, saw stuffed animals and toys and figured that there was nothing of value there so they quickly moved on. When I explained this to the girls, they were almost offended that a burglar would think that they had nothing of value to steal.

For Keri and I, we began a more thorough search to determine what actually had been stolen. It wasn’t as easy a task as you might think. Keri found her jewellery box empty. But, when asked to list what had been in it, she had a hard time remembering everything. For those of you reading this post, could you list everything in your jewellery box right now if you had to? We saw that our sock and underwear drawer had been rearranged which, immediately, made Keri slightly nauseous. There was lots of laundry that took place that day we arrived back home, let me tell you! But, overall, as far as we could tell, nothing was missing except the jewels and the two pieces of technology.

But, as you all know, it is often not the monetary worth of something that gives an item value. We all have in our possession, items that hold, what we call, sentimental value. They are items that help us recall a favourite memory or else, were given to us by someone special. They may just be, in reality, a photo or a trinket of some sort but, to our hearts and minds, they are as important as if they were bars of solid gold. For us, the biggest loss came when we realized what was missing when it came to our computers. Keep in mind that, even though this incident occurred less than a decade ago, it was still a time before “Cloud” technology existed. There was no magical place where everything on our computer was safely stored for a fee. In those days, we saved what was important directly on our computer. So, as we thought about what was there, we realized that we had actually lost something incredibly valuable to us. The thieves had in their possession, unbeknownst to them I am sure, all of our photos and videos of the kids up until that point in their lives. Leah was five or six at the time and, Sophie was two or three years old. As parents and/or grandparents, you can imagine how many photos and video clips there were. First steps. First Christmases. First swimming lessons. First everything. All of it gone or, at least, all of it in the hands of thieves. If the thieves had been smart, they could have bargained with us for the safe return of those photos and videos. In doing so, they may have actually realized the King’s ransom that they had sought because we would have paid any price to get those memories back. But, alas, all was lost.

Our computer had been an iMac from Apple. They have a feature that enables you to track the location of your computer if it ever becomes lost or stolen. I activated that feature and found out that it was somewhere in North Cobourg. The police didn’t seem to think that was helpful information so, nothing more came of that. Apple, also, has a feature that enables you to remotely lock your computer. I did that so, at least, the thieves couldn’t look at our images and mock them or manipulate them in any way. Then, after six or so weeks of our computer being lost, Keri and I decided to take the third and final step available to us from Apple and that was, to remotely wipe the hard drive of our computer clean. In doing so, it would erase every file and leave an empty shell in its wake. Did we really want to give up any hope of recovering our iMac and all that it contained? I looked at Keri and she at me. We both knew what had to be done. So, I activated the remote wiping feature. And, that was that. Even if we ever got our computer back, those childhood photos and memories were gone. That was the worst moment for us.

But, Life is nothing if not resilient. We got an insurance cheque and got new computers. Keri bought a few pieces of jewellery to replace what she lost. The girls continued to grow up. We lived our lives, made more great memories and took more photos and videos. This time, having learned our lesson, we made back-up copies on external hard drives and took out a storage plan “on the Cloud”. We back up our hard drive every day. The last time I checked, we had over 10,000 photos and video clips saved. I’m not sure if that is a lot compared to everyone else but, we have a good visual record of our lives from the point of the robbery forward. That means a lot to us.

SONY DSC

Then a miracle happened. My Father-in-Law is now retired but, in his day, he was a financial manager and sat on the Boards of several charities and corporations. He continues to dabble in this sort of work to this day. Consequently, he maintains an office in his home. Last week, while preparing to export a presentation he had prepared, he rifled through one of the drawers in his desk for an external USB drive. Apparently, he had dozens of these memory sticks kicking around. He grabbed one at random and plugged it into his computer. Before doing so, he checked the contents of the USB drive and was startled to discover that it was filled with a dozen of our favourite videos we had taken of the girls as pre-schoolers. None of us can remember exactly how or why he would have come into possession of these videos on this particular USB drive. But, like ghosts from the past, there these video clips were.

I tried to load one into this post but, I keep getting error messages that “this type of file is not permitted” so, maybe, the technology used to record them is too old to function properly anymore. So sorry. But, the videos work fine for us on our computer and they have been stored safely “on the Cloud” and backed up daily so, they will never be lost again. In the midst of all that is dark and worrisome about our world at the moment, into our lives has come this beautiful ray of sunshine in the form of lost treasure, found.

So, what are the lessons you can take from our experience? For starters, back up your computer files in some way beyond your actual computer hard drive. That way, if you ever lose your physical computer, the contents are safe and ready to be downloaded in their entirety once you have a new machine in place. Secondly, make a list of the model numbers and serial numbers of the technology you own and keep it is a secure location. For example, we didn’t know the serial numbers of our desktop or laptop computers that were stolen so, even if the police had found them, they would have no immediate way to determine if they were ours. Finally, if you are planning to leave your home for an extended period of time, make sure you have some lights on timers so that they will turn on and turn off without you having to be there so as to give the appearance that you actually are still at home. Apparently, our thieves had been watching our neighbourhood and had noticed that our house was dark at night for a couple of days. That invited closer scrutiny as the week went on until, they determined we actually weren’t home and they decided it was safe enough to break in.

If you have ever been robbed, in person or while away, you know the sense of violation that goes along with such an act. It is creepy knowing someone was in our house, touching our things and doing, who knows what, with what they had stolen. If this has ever happened to you, I am so sorry. No one deserves to have this happen. In the end, despite the mistakes that we made in not having proper file back-up systems, not having our serial numbers written down and not having our lights on timers when we were gone, the fact remains that burglars are jerks who make bad choices. We are thankful that Ringo was not hurt during this incident. We are doubly grateful to have 12 of our priceless videos back, as well. I guess it all comes down to what you define as being “valuable”. For us, our memories are our treasure and, thanks to Poppa, we have some of those memories back.

Thanks, as always, for reading my posts. I hope that you enjoyed this one. Feel free to comment below with your thoughts and feelings about this story or about similar experiences you may have had. Thanks again. Bye for now.

The Last Day I Was Alone

I am alone in the living room. It is evening. It is Friday but, it could just as easily be Tuesday. I don’t know what time it is but, then again, it doesn’t really matter because I have stopped looking at clocks. I know that it is evening because it is getting dark outside.

I am alone in my own home for the first time since March 12th. That was the last day my daughters went to school and the last day my wife taught at her school. March 13th was to be the start of Spring Break for Keri and for the girls. In past years, we had spent the weeks prior to Spring Break compiling lists of places to go, jobs needing to be done and people we wanted to visit. In 2020, we compiled a list that was 15-items long. Everyone was excited about having the week off from the normal routine. All we needed was for Keri to come home and then, Spring Break could officially start.

At 4:00pm, the announcement came. Corona Virus wasn’t just a problem for China or Italy anymore. It was now starting to wash up on Canada’s shores, too. Leah, who was on-line, got the breaking bulletin first: she and Sophie and all of their friends were not going back to school after Spring Break. With that announcement, new words entered our vocabulary: social-distancing, quarantine, self-isolation, lockdown. New words that signalled the start of a new way of having to live our lives.

March 12th at 3:45pm was the last time Keri was truly alone, too. She left her school with sunny thoughts in her mind. Like most teachers, she was tired from all that goes into being a teacher and was looking forward to some time off for fun and relaxation with her family and her friends. As she drove home, she did so with the radio blaring. Her protective bubble of innocence lasted until she arrived home. As she climbed out of her car, she was met by Sophie, our version of the town crier, informing her that schools were closed for three weeks. Keri had no idea at that moment what Sophie was talking about.

Spring Break 2020 ended for us before it even began. As the enormous scale of the pandemic started becoming apparent to everyone, our Spring Break to-do list fell to pieces. One by one, Leah’s speaking engagements were cancelled, as Long Term Care facilities sealed off their residents from the outside world. Leah lost all ten speaking engagements and, with it, $400.00 that she would have made. That’s a lot of money for a thirteen year old girl to lose. But, that was just the beginning.

Much to her delight, Sophie’s dental appointment was cancelled. Much to her chagrin, Keri’s hair appointment was cancelled. The Royal Ontario Museum closed its doors thus, cancelling our outing to see the Winnie the Pooh exhibit. All of the libraries in our area shut down before Leah could get there to stock up on books. My hair appointment was cancelled before I could get in. Several medical appointments I had all fell by the wayside, one by one by one. The biggest blow came when we had to postpone the trip to the battlefields of Europe, scheduled for the first week of June, for Leah, my father-in-law and me. One ironic thing that did actually happen was that Leah found a dress to wear for her Grade 8 Graduation ceremony, slated for the end of June.

During that last week of school, I had a sense that something may be heading Canada’s way, based on the news coming out of China and out of Italy. The talk of lockdowns was widespread on social media. Consequently, I spent my last week alone, trying to be pro-active while I could. I bought extra pasta and sauce. I bought two packages of toilet paper. I bought chicken noodle soup for Sophie. I bought a lot of things that, as it turned out, were not what I should have been buying. That is one of the real lessons of this pandemic: life is very different now and much of what we valued before has next to no value during a lockdown. For instance, I made a point to fill the gas tank on my car and then, to withdraw several hundred dollars from the bank so I would have cash on hand in case of an emergency. I never thought that I would hardly be driving my car because there was nowhere to really go. I never thought that stores would ban cash. But, they did. The cash I withdrew is just so much Monopoly money right now. Btw, for what it is worth, the price of gas has dropped almost 40% in a month. Too bad most of us can’t really take advantage.

If I could live that last week before Spring Break over again, knowing what I know now, I would have stocked up on those latex gloves I saw at Home Depot…..24 gloves for $12.00 at the time. We have one(!) latex glove to our name, as I type these words. I ordered some from Walmart.ca for $50.00 the other day. The same can be said for facial masks. I never knew the abbreviation “PPE” before but, now we all do. Personal Protective Equipment is the difference between life and death for our front-line medical workers and, with each passing day, it is becoming the same for us, as regular citizens, trying to go about our business in the new reality of our lives. A dear friend recently offered to sew masks for anyone who wanted them. I asked for one for each of my family members. I pick them up this Monday. We will join the growing chorus of public mask wearers when we go for our daily family walks or I go to the grocery store for our milk and fruit.

On March the 12th, our lives were filled with possibilities and the world was at our beck and call. Now, our world has been limited to the physical boundaries of our property. We cannot do what we want. We cannot go where we want. We are now living lives of small measures and careful movements. There are no hugs, except those we give to each other. People cross the street to avoid being near us. We have to line up for food at the grocery store…all of us, six feet apart…in lines that stretch down the block. Each day, there are new restrictions on our movement. Public places, like parks and beaches, have been closed. Very soon, there will be no place to go except your own home. Our world shrinks as the pandemic grows.

I was not surprised when the announcement came on the 12th that schools were to be closed. But, I am surprised to my core, at how quickly the humanity has been wrenched from our lives. My girls can no longer hold their beloved Gramma’s hand when they see her. In fact, our visits are now conducted at arm’s length, from two ends of a phone line or from the top of the steps to the bottom. Sophie created this message in her bedroom after we told her that she could no longer cuddle with Gramma.

As for my mother, like all of seniors in retirement residences, she is confined to her room almost every minute of every day. As small as my world has become, hers is infinitely smaller. Aside from what she sees on TV, she has no contact with the outside world. She relies completely on the hard-working staff where she lives. As I write these words, she is healthy. If that changes, I am not sure if I could even make it down to Nova Scotia because all flights into Sydney, where she lives, are cancelled. Even if I made it down, I would probably not be able to see her. Depending on how long this pandemic-inspired lockdown lasts, there is a reasonable chance that I will never see my mother alive again.

So, like everyone else in the world, our social contact has been reduced to what we can manage via technology. In Ma’s case, technology takes the form of a telephone. Because neither of us are doing grand things, our calls basically amount to me telling her that the four of us are all healthy and doing well. She tells me, in reply, that she is fine and that I shouldn’t worry. We always end our calls by saying “I love you” to each other.

My wife, who is not a fan of technology, has been learning to video-conference with her staff at her school. She is working harder than I have ever seen her, trying to help her colleagues prepare to begin distance-learning and helping families of kids on her Special Education caseload, prepare as well. Leah has gone old-school and has decided to write letters and send them in the mail (which is still up and running). She has been thoughtful about this and has started writing, first, to people who find themselves alone so that they might have a little socializing to brighten their day. Sophie has Face-timed with a few of her classmates but, other than that, she just pines for the physical comfort that used to be brought into her life by Gramma. None of us want to live in a world without hugs.

Almost a month has passed since that momentous announcement at 4:00pm on March the 12th that changed all of our lives. In that time, we have sought to bring as much normalcy to our days as we can. The girls asked to have school at home. So, “Mr. MacInnes” has come out of retirement. I had the girls go through the Ontario curriculum for their grades and highlight some skills/topics they had not covered yet. From there, I have started teaching two of the best students I have ever had! Sophie started by learning about the organ systems of the human body. Leah has started with History of Canada and, specifically, with First Contact scenarios as seen from the differing perspectives of those involved. Both girls have been contacted by their classroom teachers and are getting set to begin Distance-Learning next week. Both are curious to see how that goes and both are hopeful that they will be able to re-connect with their classmates, even if it is limited to thumbnails on a computer screen. Both have, also, asked me to be on stand-by should Distance-Learning prove too easy.

Breakfast. School. Lunch. A family walk. House/yard work that may or may not get done. Supper. Phone call to Gramma and Poppa. Social media/reading/TV time. Bedtime. Wake up in the morning and repeat. That is the extent of our lives now, one month removed from the lives we used to live.

The girls have gone to bed now. Keri is downstairs watching a comedy on TV. I hear her laughing. Her laughter has always been one of my favourite sounds. She says she sleeps better having laughed before retiring for the night.

And so, I find myself alone.

I don’t really like the life I am living now but, I do recognize how fortunate I am, as well as, so many of my family and friends are, too. As small as life has become, our lives continue to be rich simply because we remain healthy. An unlabored breath has replaced cash as the currency of value in our world. Although I tremble inside with every small cough I have or every throat tickle I experience, the truth is, I am fine. Those I love are fine. We are lucky to be able to say that in a world where so many can no longer pause their coughing fits nor draw a deep breath.

As March stretched out to an eternity, surprising people emerged as our leaders and heroes. I bow down in gratitude to those medical workers who are working to the point of exhaustion and, even death, to help those in the grip of the Corona Virus. I am so incredibly grateful to every grocery store cashier, stock person, trucker and cleaner who helps to keep food available for my family. I love my girl’s teachers. Sophie’s school staff drove by our house in their cars the other day to remind everyone of the personal relationships that so strongly existed mere weeks ago. Leah’s staff just posted a montage-style video of each of them saying hello to their students, including my daughter who, even though she is in Grade 8, smiled when she saw her teacher appear on screen. I would love to shake the hand of our postal carrier and our garbage guys. Thanks, as well, to all of the independent business owners who have completely re-oriented their stores and made online shopping possible. Whenever we can, we have sought to order from local stores and restaurants as a way of expressing our thanks to them for continuing to be there for us.

Beyond our town, I have watched housebound Italians serenading each other from their balconies. I have watched movie stars, authors and poets reading aloud from children’s books and from Shakespeare. Singers have put on live concerts. Some landlords have begun forgiving the rent of their out-of-work tenants. In Canada, our Prime Minster, Justin Trudeau, has spoken to the country every day, even while his own wife was stricken with the Corona Virus and he was forced into self-isolation in his home. Canada has been lucky in that we have had steady leadership when it has mattered most and that, for much of the time, that leadership has crossed partisan lines.

Keri just laughed at something she has seen on television. It made me smile.

In her bedroom, Sophie remains awake. She is working on a special project for her Gramma that involves the crafting of miniature hats made out of toilet paper tubes and coloured yarn. Each hat will end up forming the letters in a sign she is making that will say, “Happy Birthday, Gramma”. She has made over 100 little, tiny hats so far. Each hat is filled with Sophie’s love for her Gramma. Gramma’s birthday is at the end of June.

In the morning, we will awaken to the sounds of birds singing. The sun will be shining. The day will begin anew.

But, for now, I am alone.

I will luxuriate in these precious moments because since March 12th, I, like all of you, have become a citizen of the world. Prior to that, my world was comprised of my hopes and dreams and opinions. Now, as this pandemic is making so abundantly clear, my dreams never really existed in a realm of their own. No, what Covid-19 has shown in such a powerful way is how borders don’t matter and wealth doesn’t really matter because this virus will find you anywhere, no matter how simple a life you have lead or how powerful you may believe yourself to be. In every nation where the Corona Virus has hit, doctors and nurses have given their lives fighting it. In every country in the world, elderly family members have died alone. In every country, people have sang and danced and engaged in an endless parade of acts of selflessness and kindness toward those they love and strangers they have encountered. The hashtags are all true…..#weareinthistogether.

I may be alone in my home but, I now know that I have never really been alone. I am part of something far grander. And, so are you. We are in this fight together. And, when this is all over, I can guarantee you that there will be hugs.

I Read Canadian

Today is Wednesday, February 19, 2020. It is “I Read Canadian” Day. For the first time ever, Canada is honouring all of the authors and illustrators who have published books in Canada over the years. The effort to promote the Canadian Book Publishing Industry has been organized by the Canadian Children’s Book Centre, children’s author, Eric Walters, CANSCAIP (the Canadian Society of Children’s Authors, Illustrators and Performers), as well as, The Ontario Library Association.

There is much to be proud of, as Canadians, when it comes to our nation’s literary canon. Our stories paint a vivid picture of who we are as Canadians and help to share the physical beauty of our country with the world. As citizens, we owe a debt of gratitude to all of the men and women who have put pen to paper on our behalf. My post today is meant to act as one, small payment that has come due.

The focus of today’s post is going to be a listing of Canadian Picture books and Chapter books that have played an important part in my classrooms over the years. I have been retired for almost two years now but, many of my most cherished memories that I have as a teacher came as a result of the books I read aloud to my students. I was so fortunate to have such rich resources to draw upon in the promotion of literacy and in helping children discover the magic of a story well told. So, here, in no particular order, are some of the best of the best Canadian books that I had the very great privilege of reading aloud.

15- The Secret Life of Owen Skye/Dear Sylvia/After Sylvia

The Secret Life of Owen Skye was the first book in a trilogy that included Dear Sylvia and After Sylvia, too. These wonderful chapter books were written by Alan Cumyn. The series revolved around the Skye Family who, like most families, have their share of secrets, rivalries, shared traditions and various ups and downs that Life tended to throw their way. I liked how Mr. Cumyn allowed life to unfold for this family in an unhurried, very natural manner. There are no zombies, time portals or machine guns in this series. I, especially, like the tenderness with which he allowed Owen and Sylvia to explore the nature of the affection they feel for each other. Overall, a wonderful, wholesome, funny look at family life.

14- The Name of the Tree

The Name of the Tree by Celia Barker Lottridge is one of the single, most important books in my collection. I devoted an entire post to it last year which detailed the magic of this book and highlighted the important role it played in helping my students develop a love of books and of stories, as well as, helping them to grow as little humans and believe in their hearts that they were capable of great things. You can read that post here. There isn’t much that any of us can say with absolute certainty in life but, one thing that I can say for sure is that this book is extremely special and that if I live to be 100, I will still have this book on a bookshelf near to where I am. It is that good. The illustrations are by the incomparable, Ian Wallace and add so much meaning to the text.

13- A Salmon For Simon.

A Salmon For Simon is written by Betty Waterton. Aside from the fact that this book has a super title, the tale told is one that lots of children over the years have been able to relate to. Simon longs to catch his own fish, like the big boys do. But, salmon are strong fish and Simon is still a small boy so, he is unable to catch one on his own. That is, until one day when a salmon actually falls from the sky, released from the talons of an eagle. The fish falls into a small pool at Simon’s feet. It is his for the taking but, as he studies the salmon, he notices the fear on its face. So, instead of taking the fish as a prize, Simon decides to work to save its life and set it free. Many a class of mine engaged in rich discussions when it came to whether Simon should keep the fish or release the fish. Even small children are capable of acts of great compassion and kindness, as Simon showed. Lovely book. The illustrations, by Ann Blades, are soft and warm, in keeping with the feel of the book.

12- The White Stone in the Castle Wall.

The White Stone in the Castle Wall is by Sheldon Oberman. It details how a single, white stone came to find its way into the wall surrounding the historic Case Loma in Toronto. I took many classes on field trips to explore Casa Loma and, before leaving on the bus for home at the end of the day, we always walked the perimeter of the property until we found the legendary white stone. Then, we would all pose beside it as a group and the memory of our trip would be preserved. The story, itself, introduces children to Sir Henry M. Pellatt, who made his fortune bringing electric street lights to Toronto. The White Stone in the Castle Wall also makes the important point that there is value in hard work, as the young boy learns when he meets Mr. Pellatt and tells him the story of how hard it was to get his stone from across the city, all the way to Casa Loma. In addition to the historical bent of the story, the illustrations are gorgeous! The illustrator was Les Tait and each picture is actually a painting. Fabulous work, all around and a wonderful companion piece to many a memorable class trip to the big city from our small town.

11- Barbara Reid Art.

OMG! Barbara Reid is a megastar when it comes to children’s literature in Canada. She is well known as an author and as an illustrator. But, she is most famous for creating exquisite illustrations using the medium of plasticine. I first came to know of Barbara Reid when I discovered her book, The New Baby Calf. I would be willing to place a very large wager that you would have difficulty going into any elementary school in Canada and trying to find any educator who has not read her books or has not had a Barbara Reid art lesson or three with their students. I always enjoyed making Barbara Reid Art with my students because, in order to replicate what she did, students had to be aware of art-related concepts such as foreground, middle ground and back ground in a picture. They, also, were able to incorporate a fair amount of detail in their work because their work surfaces were usually small. I, often used stiff cardboard as the backing for their plasticine art and placed the finished work inside a clear cd jewel case….when cds were still a thing.

10- A Poppy Is to Remember.

A Poppy Is to Remember was written by Heather Patterson. It isn’t easy to explain concepts like War and Remembrance to small children but this book, A Poppy Is To Remember is among the best at doing so that I have come across. In sparse, simple text, children come to learn that soldiers could be in the air, on the water or marching on land and that many were scared and that some did not make it back home to their families in Canada. The famous poem, In Flanders Fields by John McCrae is included in context with the story being told. I credit this book with helping many, many children truly understand this important Canadian poem. When it came time to conduct Remembrance Day services at school, my students often were tasked with reciting this book in front of their peers. They always took that responsibility seriously and made me and their parents and themselves, proud. The illustrations in this book are by Ron Lightburn and are actual paintings, too, as was the case with The White Stone in the Castle Wall. Mr. Lightburn is from my hometown of Cobourg, Ontario.

9- A Northern Alphabet.

A Northern Alphabet is written and illustrated by Ted Harrison. Mr. Harrison has written and illustrated many children’s books but, what sets him apart are two things: (a) many of his stories are set in the northern regions of Canada and highlight the life experiences of the Inuit people, (b) his illustrations tend to use swirling, wavy lines and vibrant hues of purple and pink and shades of blue. As was the case with Barbara Reid earlier, Ted Harrison is an author whose stories lend themselves to further exploration though Art. One of my fondest teaching memories was working at a school where we cooked with the kids quite often (for a variety of reasons). But, specifically, with regard to Ted Harrison, I remember creating homemade soup and then, as we ate it, we painted Ted Harrison-style pictures, while Canadian music played in the classroom. I can never look with passivity at any work of Ted Harrison’s. His work evokes a sensory experience for me every time.

8- Kathy Stinson.

Kathy Stinson wrote two books; Those Green Things and Red is Best waaaay back at the beginning of my teaching career. They were two of the very first books I ever owned as a professional educator. She had a wonderful way of capturing the many moods of small children; especially when it came to eating suspicious green veggies or wearing your favourite red clothes. But, like many people, Kathy Stinson matured as her own career went along and, lo and behold, she came out with an enormously important book called the Highway of Heroes; which talks about the importance of a stretch of highway that runs past my town. The Highway of Heroes is a book about honouring those Canadian soldiers at work today in hotspots all over the world. Many children only think of Remembrance Day as being for soldiers from WWI and WWII. But, Ms. Stinson reminds us that today’s soldiers are helping to keep the peace in many war-torn countries around the world and that, sometimes, that work is dangerous and, even, deadly. When a Canadian soldier dies in active duty, their body is flown to the air force base at Trenton, Ontario. It proceeds down the main 401 highway until it reaches Toronto, where an autopsy is performed. All along the route, people line the overpasses and salute the fallen hero. It is an amazing experience to stand on a bridge overlooking the Highway of Heroes. Kathy Stinson captures that feeling ever so well. What a special book.

8- Waiting for the Whales.

Waiting for the Whales was written by Sheryl McFarlane. This is a beautiful, slow moving story that luxuriates in the warmth of the family bonds it is describing. One of the beautiful parts of being a parent or grandparent is having the chance to share those things that we find special with our beloved children. The memories of such sharing live on, even after death takes the elders away. Waiting for the Whales is a wonderful story for introducing children to the concept of death and to the circle of life. The illustrations are completely lovely and were created by my fellow Cobourg citizen, Ron Lightburn.

7- Have You Seen Josephine?

Have You Seen Josephine? was written and illustrated by Stephane Poulin. Josephine is a cat who is running loose through the streets of Montreal. The thing that every single class loved about this book was how, in each picture, Josephine was hiding somewhere, trying to elude detection. So, part of the joy of reading this book for each child was trying to find Josephine, too. Each page of the book took the reader to a different part of Montreal so, students were given a good glimpse of how the city was organized, what went on in the various places they were taken to and so on. There are a couple of “Josephine” books out there and all were well-loved in my classroom.

6- Town Is By The Sea.

Town Is By The Sea was written by Joanne Schwartz. This book is an exception to my list because it is a book I never got to share with my students. It was published just as I retired. But, I am including it on my list of special Canadian books because it is set where I grew up, on Cape Breton Island in Nova Scotia. Joanne Schwartz grew upon a community called New Waterford, which is about a twenty minute drive from where I grew up in Glace Bay. When I look at Sydney Smith‘s beautifully-illustrated front cover, I see my home as I remember it; the many-coloured houses, the telephone poles, clothes hanging on the line and, of course, the Atlantic Ocean. ***Funny personal note, I’m pretty sure that my mother and Joanne Schwartz’s father knew each other. I believe her father was a man named Irving Schwartz and, if I am correct then, Mr. Schwartz ran a chain of furniture stores from which my mother furnished our homes. I don’t know Joanne Schwartz at all but, that having been said, neither of us has lived in a Town by the Sea for a long time, either. But, regardless, Town Is By The Sea is, yet, another one of those special books that I will keep forever. Home has never been captured so well. Many thanks to Joanne and Sydney.

5- Phoebe Gilman.

Phoebe Gilman wrote some of the most beloved books in my collection, including Jillian Jiggs, Something From Nothing and The Balloon Tree. She was an extremely talented illustrator and used her illustrations to add layers of meaning to her text. All of her stories were whimsical and highlighted creativity and fun and family life, too. The Balloon Tree was her first published book. Phoebe Gilman passed away recently but, her legacy as one of the most popular and important members of the Children’s Literary scene in Canada is firmly entrenched.

4- The Breadwinner Trilogy.

The Breadwinner, Parvana’s Journey and Mud City make up The Breadwinner Trilogy. All were written by Deborah Ellis. All three books take place in Afghanistan, with Mud City, also, spilling over into Pakistan. In each case, the lives of girls and women are scrutinized in ways that are relentless and unflinching. I read these books with my own daughter, Leah, as well as, with a Grade 5 class I taught one year. Many, many important conversations were held regarding the role of women in oppressed societies such as the Taliban-controlled parts of Afghanistan and Pakistan. There are no warm fuzzies with these books but, this trilogy remains an important work of courage and conviction by Deborah Ellis. Not everyone has the luxury of a “happily-ever-after” life story but, for those who don’t, it is crucial to tell their stories anyway so that the world can know the dignity of lives lived differently and, hopefully, make those lives better through knowledge and empathy.

3- Anne of Green Gables.

This story has become the image of Canada that is held by many people from around the world. Lucy Maud Montgomery wrote the story of the orphan girl named Anne who talked so much her tongue must have been hung in the middle, it flapped so! Through Anne, we learned about the importance of kindred spirits and her Lake of Shining Waters. This story takes place in Prince Edward Island and has been made into a multi-book series, a movie series, an animated series, a musical and has recently been given new life in a modern-influenced adaptation called Anne With an E. Anne of Green Gables is a story about family and loyal friends and imagination and uses beautiful, beautiful language in the telling. If Canada is to be imagined from abroad then, having images of Avonlea dance in the heads of those imagining must be a wondrous thing indeed!

2- Hana’s Suitcase.

Hana’s Suitcase was written by Karen Levine. Simply put, this book is the most special book to me of them all! I wrote a post about why it is such an important book to me, earlier in the year, which you can read here. Sometimes a book can change your life. This book changed mine…for the better, too. For a book about the Holocaust, it turned out to be such a warm story about family and the bonds of love that exist between family members. An important portion of this book takes place during wartime but, make no mistake, Hana’s Suitcase is a book about Peace and about Hope but, most of all, it is book about Love.

1- Love You Forever.

Love You Forever was written by the highest-selling Canadian author of all time, Robert Munsch. I read Love You Forever for the very first time in the University of Western Ontario book store while I was attending Teacher’s College. I read it amid the hubbub of a regular business day in that book shop. By the time I finished the book, I was in tears. No one else in the store seemed to notice but, I felt as though the orientation of my life had changed a little at that moment. While I had grown up reading stories such as Hop on Pop and Cat in the Hat, this story was different. It told a generational tale of family love in a way that I had never read before. It was told in simple language and contained a repetitive verse that came to be a trademark of Robert Munsch’s. It was the very first book I ever bought as a professional educator. This is the book that began a thirty-year quest to build a personal library of the best of children’s literature because our children, my students, deserved nothing less than the very best.

This list of mine is the mere tip of the proverbial iceberg when it comes to quality literature for children in Canada. Farley Mowat, Dennis Lee, Mordiceau Richler, Melanie Watt, Sheree Fitch and so many others all come easily to mind when I think of the books that have made a difference to my own children and to those who were entrusted to my care. How lucky we are to live in a country so rich in talent!

Please feel free, as always, to comment in the box below if you have any thoughts you wish to share about the books I have listed or some others that you feel are deserving of praise, too. Happy “I Read Canadian” Day, folks. Thanks for allowing me to play a small part in the festivities.

I Am Hat. You Are Shoe

This past Monday, a blogger friend of mine from Belfast decided to offer his thoughts on this year’s Academy Awards. He began with a simple statement: he had not seen this year’s winner for Best Picture, Parasite. He went on to say that none of his friends had seen it, either. So, he was asking for input from his acquaintances in the blogging world. Had any of us watched this movie or was this another case of Hollywood opting to honour an artsy movie that no one, outside of their own circle, really cared about? He concluded his remarks by stating that he had just seen 1917 and thought it was pretty good.

Like my friend, I had not seen Parasite nor, had anyone that I was aware of. I had seen 1917 so I wanted to comment on the post but, before I did, I felt compelled to research Parasite a little first so that I could speak with a modicum of knowledge in my comment. So, I went to Twitter and typed in #Parasite. Scores of tweets poured forth. The bulk of the initial comments were reactions to some of the racially-insensitive comments being made by those offended by the fact that a foreign film had won Best Picture and that the director, Bong Joon Ho, made his acceptance speech in a combination of broken english and his own, native Korean. Normally, I follow the rule of thumb that advises us all to not go down the rabbit hole when it comes to most on-line comment threads. But, because I was thirsting for facts about this movie, I ignored my own advice and plunged in. For once, I was glad that I did.

About one third of the way into the comment thread, someone decided to take the conversation in a different direction. They tweeted their hope that now that Bong Joon Ho had been brought into the public eye in North America that, perhaps, some of his earlier films would gain renewed interest and recognition. In particular, this person recommended Bong Joon Ho’s very first big budget movie, Snowpiercer. As soon as Snowpiercer was mentioned, the thread took off in a whole different, excitable direction, with dozens of fans chiming in to say what an amazing movie Snowpiercer was. But what really caught my attention…..and what went on to inspire this post…..was a tweet by someone who claimed that Snowpiercer was actually a dystopian sequel to the beloved childhood classic, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory! What!? A violent, futuristic tale of class warfare is the sequel to the tale of the world’s finest chocolate maker? This I had to see for myself!

First of all, let’s review the basic premise of the Roald Dahl classic first. In Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, a mysterious genius has created a perfect world in the artificial setting of a chocolate factory. There is no end to the innovation and imagination on display by Mr. Wonka. Into this world of wonder comes a group of children and adults. Within this group, their are different personality types, reflective of various segments of society at the time. As this group attempts to co-exist with Wonka’s factory, the true characteristics of each child come to the fore and, as they explore one magical room after another, they find themselves facing a reckoning that slowly but, surely, whittles the group down to one. That one child, Charlie Bucket, is declared the “winner” by Mr. Wonka who reveals that, in fact, he is tired of running the factory and is seeking someone to take over the reins and that, in fact, that person is Charlie Bucket. I have read the Roald Dahl book to many students over the years and we have watched the original movie, staring Gene Wilder as Wonka, many times as well. It is a classic tale told very well and is deserving of every accolade it has received over the years.

Snowpiercer is set in the not-too-distant future. In an effort to alleviate the effects of Climate Change, scientists have released a refrigerant into the atmosphere to cool rising global temperatures. However, the effect of this is that Earth freezes and all life goes extinct, except for those lucky enough to find refuge on this train that endlessly circles the Earth. The train is a modern-day version of Noah’s Ark and has been created with enough resources to maintain a complete, bio-diverse eco-system designed to allow those on-board the chance to survive while awaiting the possible return to the outside world should temperature warm enough to allow for regeneration. Like Wonka’s chocolate factory, this train was created by a mythical genius known as Willard, played by Ed Harris. Those who subscribe to the theory that Snowpiercer is, in fact, the sequel to Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory say that Willard is really Charlie Bucket. If you can allow yourself to believe this single fact then, the structure of the remainder of the movie falls neatly into place, despite the fact that Snowpiercer is told more as mash-up between Blade Runner and The Hunger Games.

In Snowpiercer, the Ark-like train is divided up into a series of connected cars; each car containing something different and important when it comes to maintaining the integrity of the eco-system on board. The premise that drives the action forward is that the train has been divided along class lines, too, with the rich at the head of the train and the very poor at the tail of the train. The poor live in squalor and are oppressed at every turn. Eventually, they revolt. The leader of the insurgency is Chris Evans, who played Captain America in the Marvel movies. Like Willy Wonka, the rebels (who are a rag-tag collection of characters) move through the cars on the train, one at a time, like the children moved through Wonka’s magical rooms. At each car, there is action, often violent action, that causes the group to reduce in numbers over time. Eventually, without giving away too many secrets, there is a “winner” in this movie who is asked to take over the running of things on this magical train. As in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, the ending of Snowpiercer hints at the possibility of an entirely different way of living; a world devoid of class stratification, wanton violence and discrimination and poverty, too.

One of the sub-texts to the story of Snowpiercer is why this movie is only becoming known now, eight years after it was released. The story of that is one of abusive power. Snowpiercer was Bong Joon Ho’s first big budget movie. In order to arrange financing, Joon Ho entered into a partnership with producer Harvey Weinstein. As the recent history of the #MeToo movement has documented, Weinstein was not the nicest human on the planet, putting it mildly. He wielded the power of his position like a ruthless dictator. For many actresses, it meant sexual abuse. For Bong Joon Ho, it meant a battle for control of his artistic vision for the movie against a man, Weinstein, who was known for expecting the final say on all edits. Because Bong Joon Ho fought back throughout the making of the movie, Weinstein used his clout to severely limit the release of Snowpiercer, to the point where it almost disappeared completely from view.

One of the big “lessons” from this movie is resistance to oppression. In the photo above, Tilda Swinton is a representative from Willard who has been sent to the back of the train to quiet some murmurs of dissent. At the end of her not-well-received speech, one of the poor folk throws his shoe at her and manages a glancing blow. The scene pivots at that point. The man is taken into immediate custody and Swinton, holding his shoe, launches into a speech about how she is a hat and he is a shoe and how hats belong where hats go…on a head….and shoes belong where shoes go….on feet. To mix the roles of hats and shoes is absurd and upsets the carefully-crafted balance of society. In other words, know your place and stay in it! The punishment the man receives is to have the arm he used to throw the shoe placed through a hole in the side of the train so that it is exposed to the freezing outside air. Those in charge do careful calculations as to how long it will take for his arm to freeze solid based upon current weather conditions, the speed of the train, etc. and Swinton speaks for that length of time, accordingly. At the end of her speech, the man’s arm is pulled back in, revealed to be frozen solid like a statue and then, it is chopped off in front of the rest of the poor passengers as a warning to remain obedient. Throughout the rest of the movie, the presence or absence of limbs becomes an underlying layer of added meaning and significance.

Despite the graphic violence (which is on a par with what was shown during the Hunger Games), I thought this movie was amazing! It is very much like Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory in how imaginative it is, at times, and how mesmerizing some of the scenes are. Social commentary flows through both movies; sometimes, it is blatant and said aloud, sometimes, it is woven into the consequences of the action in a particular scene and remains unspoken. But, through it all, both movies speak to the value and goodness inherent in ordinary humans. Resistance to oppression is healthy and valuable and difficult and dangerous. But, most of all, it is important when forces within a society get too far out of whack. It happened to President Snow in The Hunger Games. It happened to Adolf Hitler in real life. It happened to the likes of Veruca Salt in the Wonka movie. It happened to the inhabitants of Earth prior to the Great Flood in The Bible. It happens in Snowpiercer, too.

Resistance is not futile.

Snowpiercer is playing right now, for free, on Netflix in Canada. I would highly recommend this movie. It is terrific and leaves you with much to think about. But, if I could offer any advice at all prior to watching it would be this; don’t go into this movie expecting The Hunger Games or a Marvel action-type movie. There are enough plot holes in Snowpiercer to drive a truck through. But, if you allow yourself to view this movie through the absurdist lens of Mr. Wonka then, Snowpiercer will blow your mind. The trailer for the movie can be viewed here.

Sometimes it actually pays to read the on-line comments. Without the guidance of others, I would never have even known that such a movie as Snowpiercer existed. Bong Joon Ho is a talented director and is deserving of the praise he is earning for Parasite. Perhaps it is time to give that movie a chance, too. I am betting I won’t be disappointed.

19- Pigeon Camera

This is one post in a series. Each post will focus on one song by The Tragically Hip, a Canadian rock n’ roll band. I am a fan, not an expert. The thoughts expressed in these posts are my own, with the following two exceptions: I have drawn inspiration and knowledge from a book entitled, The Never Ending Present by Michael Barclay. I have, also, learned much from a website dedicated to Hip fans, entitled The Hip Museum. I will give credit to either source when applicable.

One of the most influential books ever written in history is Sun Tzu’s The Art of War. It is a book of military strategies for use by generals in times of war. Not surprisingly, over the centuries, The Art of War has, also, become a favoured resource for high-rolling business executives, as well as, politicians. The cut-throat corporate world that initiates battles for market share, marshals and organizes resources for a cause, mobilizes large numbers of people to carry out a plan of attack, all draw inspiration from The Art of War.

To win any battle during war time, any election, any race for ratings or profits, there needs to be a complete and maximized level of personal commitment. In The Art of War, one strategy used to entice full commitment from soldiers/workers is called “Burn the Boats”. The “Burn the Boats” strategy has been employed many times throughout History and, essentially, it occurs when an invading army purposely cuts off its own means of escape thus, forcing everyone involved to focus on advancing forward. One of the most famous examples of this military strategy being used was in the early 1500s, when Spanish conquistador/colonizer, Hernan Cortes invaded Mexico. His first order upon landing was to burn his fleet. This galvanized the commitment level of his soldiers who, now finding themselves stranded in a new and unfamiliar land, had no choice but to band together and move inland as a united force. They were fully committed to their cause and conquered and plundered the Aztec Empire in short order, as a result.

This brings us to Pigeon Camera by The Tragically Hip.

Pigeon Camera is not one of The Hip’s most famous songs but, it is a favourite of those who are fans of the band. The song was featured on the album, Fully, Completely and more than holds its own against such standard bearer songs as Courage, At The Hundredth Meridian, Fifty Mission Cap, The Wherewithal, Looking for a Place to Happen and, of course, Fully Completely, itself. All throughout this album, The Hip explore themes of commitment (such as what it takes to win the Stanley Cup, staying true to their artistic roots as Canadians, maintaining the highly literate level of their songwriting in the face of those fans who just want to dance and drink their beer while listening to the band), as well as, themes of the breaking down of boundaries (personal, sexual and cultural).

The song, Pigeon Camera, touches on various themes such as war and incest but, regardless of who views the song and how they view it, the over-arching idea at play is that, if boundaries are to be broken then, one has to be fully-committed for whatever follows. For those unaware, a pigeon camera was a real thing and served, at one time, as a way for armies to spy on one another. They were, in a sense, the precursor to drones. Carrier pigeons were trained to carry mounted cameras that clicked automatically at regular intervals and fly over enemy territory. They were used as recently as in the Vietnam War by the U.S. But, like anything, when you spy on an enemy or spy on your neighbours, you gain new information and are forced to deal with what you have just learned. This often causes you to change the personal dynamic of how you interact with the world around you. To start down the road to personal growth requires commitment on your part to follow wherever that journey may take you, which is kinda/sorta what this song is about.

Where’s our pigeon camera? By now, he could be anywhere. And, after all that training. And, after all that training, with something we could no longer contain.”

Gord Downie must have been thinking of Cortes and his colonization of the Aztecs during the making of this album because he mentions “They don’t know how old I am, they found armour in my belly, a sixteenth century conquistador, I think.” in Locked in the Trunk of a Car and then, he closes Pigeon Camera, with his own take on the Cortes/Art of War-inspired line, “Its like we burned our boots with no contingency plan.”

But, even if exploring sexual boundaries or spying on other nations isn’t your thing, please give Pigeon Camera a listen here. It is a gorgeous sounding song. Each note by Rob Baker is lush, like painting a picture in warm colours. It sounds like a Hip song, if such a claim can be staked. If nothing else, listening to a song that you may not have heard before could be the catalyst for personal growth and changes that, like the song says, “we can no longer contain.” It could lead to something wonderful.

Thanks, as always, for reading this post. I appreciate the past few minutes of your life that you so willingly gave to read my words. If you have any comments about this song or the themes of privacy, expanding boundaries, personal growth or the commitment it takes to be fully-actualized, please leave your words in the comment box below. Thanks to The Hip for creating such a musical gem in Pigeon Camera. It is, easily, one of my favourite Hip songs. I hope that you like it, too.

18- Long Time Running

This is one post in a series. Each post will focus on one song by The Tragically Hip, a Canadian rock n’ roll band. I am a fan, not an expert. The thoughts expressed in these posts are my own, with the following two exceptions: I have drawn inspiration and knowledge from a book entitled, The Never Ending Present by Michael Barclay. I have, also, learned much from a website dedicated to Hip fans, entitled The Hip Museum. I will give credit to either source when applicable.

What comes of being together with another? To share our space in this world with another takes a special kind of commitment. It isn’t for everyone. But, it is for some. At a distance, we tend to view those couples or groups with envy or admiration. We enjoy hearing their story. But, sometimes, the story we tell ourselves about others isn’t the real story. Sometimes, the real story is different. What is real and what is a facade? Sometimes, only the couple knows the truth.

Long Time Running by The Tragically Hip is, ostensibly, a song about a relationship that has run its course. There is bitterness in the lyrics. Yet, this song has been the chosen “first dance” song at many a wedding in Canada, too. It is a song that hints at divorce and infidelity but one that people admire for its commitment to longevity. There are no Hallmark moments here unless you count lyrical gems like, “We don’t go anywhere, just on trips” as being your version of romance. Long Time Running ends with a line that has sparked a variety of interpretations. “It’s well worth the wait” has been described as meaning the relief one feels when the pretending is finally over and a relationship that has gone on too long can finally be declared dead. Some prefer the line to mean the satisfaction one feels from a relationship that has stood the test of time, survived the ups and downs of life and has emerged intact. The Hip have never definitively said, one way or the other, what the line means. We are left to draw our own conclusions; each of us viewing the song through the lens of our own experiences.

One of the reasons Long Time Running is such a well-received song is because of the way the structure of the song mirrors its meaning. A song that ruminates over the validity of marrying our lives together over time should be told at a relaxed, leisurely pace. From the opening guitar notes that seem to hover in mid-air and then, slowly move forward like steps on a stairway, Long Time Running meanders its way along, unfolding its layers in a measured, deliberate way. The bluesy, country-esque nature of the music gives the song the feeling of hearing a tale told on a hot summer day, when everything and everyone moves slowly. There are no unnecessary movements on such days yet, you can feel each rivulet of sweat trickling from the nape of your neck, down your spine to the small of your back. Even when Gord belts out the closing line, he focuses on the word, well,….stretching it out as far and for as long as his voice will allow. Everything about the structure of this song is built upon a foundation of length and endurance and the shimmering heat rising from a path that heads out into the distance.

Long Time Running was popular when it was first released and had remained popular throughout the course of their career. In a way, the song came to represent how many people felt about The Hip. The Hip were a group of people who seemed well-suited for each other and were thriving over time. One of reasons for this feeling was the intensely private way all five guys went about living their lives. There were never any scandals. There were never any public spats or disagreements. The band seemed to be like the brothers that they claimed they were. They were school-aged friends who had each other’s back. Egos were parked outside. The Hip were quietly professional in all of their endeavours. Which is why, when it was announced that Gord Downie had cancer, it came as such a shock. For a band that had kept their lives so close to the vest for so many years, Gord’s announcement was not the sneak peak anyone was expecting nor, wanting.

So, when it was announced that the band would do one last tour and that a documentary movie was going to be shot during it, many people were pleased that Long Time Running was chosen as the soundtrack anthem. It seemed a very appropriate choice; being as it touched on relationships and longevity. As fans, we had enjoyed a loving relationship with The Hip for over three decades by the time 2016 rolled around. It was an emotional time for all. It felt like family. It felt like loss. It felt like a celebration of life, too. In the end, the documentary gave us a look behind the curtain, as it were, and revealed a band that were, for the most part, as we expected them to be. They proved to be a brotherhood, in the truest sense of the world. As saddened as we all were by Gord’s demise, we were filled with admiration for the strength of his courage. When the tour ended in real-time, as well as when the documentary ended, the feeling we were left with was one of, dare I say it, satisfaction. It was very re-affirming to see the love that existed between them and to note the pride each felt for having made the shared journey from childhood to adulthood on their own terms.

In my own lifetime, the only legitimate comparison I can offer for the outpouring of affection for Gord and The Hip during that final tour was how Canadians reacted when Terry Fox was forced to halt his run across our country because of cancer. It was big, big news and we all felt it. Between writing letters, creating poetry, promising to work toward Reconciliation and much, much more, people from all walks of life reacted to Gord’s passing with hearts full. So, naturally, when it was announced that Canada’s sweethearts, Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir, were going to dedicate a performance to Gord at the Winter Olympics in South Korea, a nation waited with bated breath.

Much like members of The Tragically Hip, Scott and Tessa had known each other since childhood. From the very earliest of their days skating together, Scott and Tessa possessed a chemistry that was noticeable to everyone who watched them perform. As the pair grew into teenagers and then, young adults, we grew with them. Their journey became our journey, too. We followed their successes through the ranks and, as a nation, we were extremely proud of them, both.

But, more than just having pride in their athletic accomplishments, we, as fans, were heavily invested in the relationship they portrayed. The smouldering looks they gave to each other. The gentle caresses. The loving embraces that, inevitably, gave way to broad smiles and hugs and her head resting on his shoulder. It was a fairy tale romance being played out before our very eyes. They were the most popular couple in Canada. Everyone was convinced that their love was a love for the ages. Wedding fever consumed us all. A Tessa and Scott engagement announcement following the Olympics was what many Canadians were expecting and/or hoping for. So, in this context, when the duo announced that they would skate to Long Time Running and that there would be a denim jacket present (Gord Downie often wore a denim jacket. It became one of his trademarks), it was almost too much to imagine. Canada’s sweethearts honouring Canada’s band and its poetic heart, Gord Downie. The video can be seen here. I will admit to crying freely while Tessa and Scott performed.

Relationships are funny things, sometimes. When The Hip revealed themselves in their documentary, we found what we had hoped to find and we were pleased. After the Olympics, when Scott and Tessa came back to Canada, they revealed a secret, too. It came to light that Scott Moir had had a girlfriend, not named Tessa, for quite some time. The relationship portrayed onscreen and on ice by Tessa and Scott was, simply that, a portrayal. It was a staged play. It wasn’t real. Our collective hearts cratered. Through no fault of her own, Scott’s girlfriend, who Tessa was intimately familiar with, instantly became the most hated woman in Canada. Since that time, she and Scott have kept a very low profile. Meanwhile, Tessa has been attempting to establish a career for herself in broadcasting. She has appeared as host on talk shows and is the product spokesperson in several advertising campaigns. But, each time we see her alone, it reinforces the feeling of heartbreak that resides within us. There is no wrong in this situation. There was no infidelity on Scott’s part. It is simply that the reality for us was not what we were expecting and we can’t help feeling somewhat disappointed.

As it turns out, what comes of being with another is unique to those involved. That was the essence of the song, Long Time Running. Sometimes it actually is well worth the wait and, sometimes, it isn’t.

Thank you for taking the time to read this post. If you have any comments to make regarding the song, Long Time Running or the documentary or how you feel about how The Hip ended it all as a band and/or how Scott and Tessa ended up as a team and as real people, please feel free to leave them in the comment box below. As always, I appreciate the time you spent reading my words. Take care and bye for now.

Two Hot Dogs and an Ice-Cold Pop

When I signed my first full-time teaching contract with the Toronto Board of Education in 1989, my salary was $26,000. Even using the filter of “waaaay back in those days”, $26,000 did not go very far in a cosmopolitan city like Toronto. Needless to say, I did not have an extravagant lifestyle. In fact, the loose change that rattled around in my pocket was often all that I had for necessities like milk and bread. My entertainment often consisted of things that were free. One such example was that I often spent many a sunny summer afternoon watching the Toronto Maple Leaf baseball team playing at a local ballpark called Christie Pits. The good thing about going to Christie Pits was that the ball field was surrounded by a short hill, giving it a bowl-like feel. So, many folks, like me, chose to sit on the grassy knoll and watch the action from there. The grass was free to sit on. The sun felt nice on my skin. Sometimes pretty girls sunned themselves on the grass, too. It was all good. To top it all off, I could buy a hot dog for a buck and pop, too. So, at a time when five dollars was a king’s ransom for me, I could have lunch and see a ball game, all beneath the sunny skies at Christie Pits.

It is funny for me to look back on those times and realize that I was sitting in the very spot that one of Canada’s most notorious events took place, aptly named, The Christie Pit Riot of 1933. In 1933, Christie Pits was still in use as a sports facility. But, that is where the similarity ends between my experience and that of those who were in attendance back then. In 1933, the world was a different place. The seeds of what was to become WWII were being sown in Germany, as Adolf Hitler was elected as Chancellor. The laws he quickly enacted help shape what was to become known as The Holocaust; which resulted in the systematic killing of over 6 million Jewish men, women and children. While the history of WWII tends to focus on the battlefields of Europe and later, in the Pacific, when Japan entered the fray, many of us are woefully ignorant of how life was in Canada at the time for Jewish people. This brings me back to Christie Pits.

In the early 1930s, anti-semitism evolved from being the whispered utterings shared at family gatherings and in community halls to, becoming formal policies in countries all over the world. As news of restrictions placed on Jewish citizens in Europe began to spread across the Ocean to Canada, many Jews in Canada mobilized to help family members immigrate here so as to escape persecution. Unfortunately, their efforts were often met with resistance from government officials who feared an influx of Jews would alter the make up of our citizenry. Compassion was trumped by intolerance.

At the same time, those who distrusted and/or disapproved of Jewish people as a race, were emboldened by what was happening in Europe. Nationalistic sentiment was strong and was not restricted to fringe elements but, was also, to be found in the ranks of the cabinet of then, Prime Minister MacKenzie King. The Christie Pit Riot took place in 1933 and what happened was simple: a group of Nationalists in attendance unfurled a large flag that had a swastika on it……a flag that would soon fly over many European countries. One of the teams playing that evening, The Harbord Playground team, was comprised primarily of Jewish men. They were the target of the taunts from the Nationalist group. Armed with baseball bats, the ball players fought with the Nationalists, who had knives and clubs of their own. According to reports issued the following day, over 10,000 people were eventually involved in the riot. There were many injuries but, luckily, no fatalities. But, from that moment on, Canada was not a safe place for Jewish people.

As mentioned above, it wasn’t just fringe elements, like the gang who started the riot at Christie Pits who made life tough for Jewish people. The Canadian Government did, too. Two famous examples of this can be found in the formal policies of creating internment camps for citizens of “enemy combatants of Canada”. This saw Japanese citizens placed in prisoner of war-style camps. It, also, saw Jewish immigrants, fleeing Nazi oppression placed in “holding” camps, too. The Government of MacKenzie King actively sought to limit immigration at a time when European Jews were, literally, running for their lives. The most notorious example of this was the case of the ship, the M.S. St. Louis. This ship was a German liner filled with Jewish refugees seeking asylum anywhere, besides Europe. They sailed to Cuba and were denied permission to leave the ship. Eventually, the set sail for America and were denied entry there, too. We Canadians like to think of ourselves as a compassionate lot but, when the M.S. St. Louis came to our shores, those Jewish refugees were denied entry here, too. Our refusal to allow the passengers to disembark resulted in the M.S. St. Louis being forced to return to Europe. Hundreds of those passengers ended up dying in concentration camps such as Auschwitz.

As I sat on the green grass at Christie Pits, under the warm summer sun, I never thought about any of that. I had the luxury of living in a country that was not at war, In fact, the Cold War between the U.S. and Russia had ended in peace agreements, the Berlin Wall was coming down, The Soviet Union was breaking up and NATO was a strong, stable military and economic presence in Europe and North America, too. It was as close to world peace as I have experienced in my lifetime. My days at Christie Pits bring with them, warm memories. I am lucky to be able to say so.

This brings me back to today. Did you know that on this day, 75 years ago, the Soviet Red Army liberated the Auschwitz Concentration Camp, freeing those remaining, skeleton-like prisoners? The Holocaust officially ended, with the liberation of those European Jews. Those who entered the camps were haunted by what they bore witness to. Emaciated bodies piled in mounds. Emaciated bodies still alive but barely able to stand or walk. Human beings reduced to sub-human versions of themselves which, after all, is how they were viewed by the Nazis all along. The horror and revulsion of what was found in those concentration camps helped create a saying, “Never Again”. This saying was a promise that, never again, would we lose our sense of humanity to the extent that formal government policies would see the systematic killing of entire races, religious members or sects. Never again should have meant, forever but, as history has gone on, those lessons of the Holocaust seem to have been forgotten. From The Killing Fields of Cambodia, to the Rwandan Genocide, to the ethnic cleanings in the former Yugoslavia, governments continue to slaughter their enemies with reckless abandon and ruthless precision.

Some times we, as Canadians, feel smug in what we believe is our highly compassionate reputation in the eyes of the world. But, you don’t have to search very hard to find people on the right wing side of our political spectrum openly discussing the “problem” of allowing immigrants to come to Canada. One can talk to any indigenous person in this country and find out how difficult it is to be “native” in many towns and cities across this land. And, being a person of colour has been difficult, to say the least, seemingly, forever and a day. Just ask any “black” kid trying to play minor league hockey these days without the racial slurs raining on down every time they step on to the ice.

It is not a warm enough day to be sitting on the grassy knolls of Christie Pits in Toronto today but, it is warm and comfortable sitting on my couch in my home. I am safe and so are my family and my friends and neighbours. We don’t think of injustice much. But, sometimes, we should. Perhaps on days like today, the 75th anniversary of the end of the Holocaust, we should think about children in cages in the US, the sub-human living conditions in many indigenous communities, as well as, in cities like Flint. Michigan, with its predominantly black citizenry and its legacy of unsafe drinking water. Perhaps, on days like today, we should think about how women are treated by men and how we can all do better, as a gender, moving forward. And finally, perhaps on a day such as this, it would be good time to think about those we entrust to power. Are the Putins and the Trumps and the others of their ilk really any different from the Hitlers and Mussolinis of the past? Are their policies making life better for their citizens or, like Hitler, are they starting to lay the groundwork for systemic oppression of those who are different from them and/or a threat? If you think I am exaggerating, it was just this past week that an armed militia descended on Richmond, Virginia in the States; many of whose members openly advocate for race wars to purify the country. Much the same mindset as the Nationalists who descended on Christie Pits in 1933. Just like MacKenzie King denied entry to the Jews on the M.S. St. Louis, Donald Trump is building his wall to deny immigrants entry, too. The separating of people into groups is becoming less of a cultural thing and is now moving into the politics of our societies. Is it really such a stretch to predict how this will all turn out if left unchecked?

Holocaust-like scenarios don’t happen all at once. They happen incrementally and purposefully, over time. It is hard, at times, to see the bigger picture because of the constant onslaught of slights and outrages that seem to be happening, everywhere, all of the time. But, it is important to make time, even if it is just once and awhile, to step back and see if the events of the past days and months add up to something bigger and more insidious than we may have noticed. The 75th Anniversary of the end of the Holocaust seems like a good day to try to be a better person. I wish that peace and love and compassion applied equally to everyone and that, never again, would we allow our souls to become so lost or confused or overwhelmed that the suffering of others became our creed.

Never again. The promise of “Never Again” melted away those summer days, a few decades ago; sold for a couple of hot dogs and an ice cold pop. Who knew that the site of the largest and ugliest riot in Canadian history could be such a lovely spot to forget about my worries and my woes and, instead, simply enjoy the sights and sounds of baseball, amid a bevy of pretty girls? Who knew, indeed.

A Year in The Life of Leah

This is my daughter, Leah. She will be turning 14 in a few months. She is a reader, a blogger, a history lover, a babysitter, a straight-“A” student, a feminist and, to the delight of her parents, she is learning to properly use “hospital corners” when she puts new sheets on her bed on laundry day. She is quite a kid. Her mother and I are proud of her. As things stand now, 2020 is going to be Leah’s year. Let me tell you why.

Leah has many big things on her agenda in 2020 but, arguably, the biggest is a trip she is taking at the end of May to Europe. Leah has always had a love of history. One day, a few years ago, while on a family outing with her grandparents, her Poppa and I happened to walk past a Travel Agency. In the window of this store was a poster for a guided trip to Canadian military sites in Europe to celebrate the centenary of the end of WWI. I looked at my Father-in-Law (Leah calls him, Poppa) and Poppa looked at me and we made a silent pledge to each other to make this trip happen for Leah. So, after a year or so of saving our coins, Poppa and I booked the trip. Leah found out on New Years Eve. Needless to say, she is excited. Poppa, Leah and I leave for Amsterdam on May 31st and will spend two days there. We hope to visit Anne Frank’s house while in that city. We will, also, get to go to see the Vimy Ridge Memorial (pictured above), Passchendaele, Juno Beach and Paris, too, during our ten-day excursion.

One place we want to visit during our trip is the Bayeaux War Cemetery. Bayeaux is approximately one half-hour south of Juno Beach. The reason for going there came about because on research Leah conducted into her own family tree. While researching relatives on her mother’s side of the family, she discovered a Great-Uncle named George Albert Eagle who was a soldier in WWII. He was a member of the Elgin regiment and was involved in the D-Day Invasion of Normandy. Unfortunately, Mr. Eagle was killed in a tank battle three days later. His body was never formally buried as he and his crew mates were burned beyond recognition in the fire that consumed their tank. However, his name is on a memorial plaque at the Bayeaux War Cemetery. We feel compelled to touch his name.

This brings me to a second, related but, different aspect of this trip. We will be visiting several cemeteries operated by The Commonwealth War Graves Commission during our trip. Leah has already researched the names of all of the soldiers from our hometown of Cobourg, who fought and died in the WWI and WWII and, who are buried in European cemeteries. In the photo above, there are plaques in our town hall that list the names of all soldiers from Cobourg who fought in both wars. The names with small crosses in front of them are men who died in battle. Our hope is that if we are scheduled to visit a cemetery where some of these Cobourg soldiers are buried, we will stop and pay our respects by placing a Canadian flag on the grave site (or a flower or a poppy or whatever we manage to have access to) and then, take a photo. If that soldier still has relatives in our area, we hope to contact them upon our return and let them know what we did and give them a copy of the photo as a keepsake for them. Leah and I and Poppa all feel that it is important to be respectful of the sacrifices these soldiers made on our behalf. Hopefully, this act will demonstrate that.

While our trip to the battlefields and cemeteries of Europe is a trip of a lifetime for Leah, Poppa and me, there are still plenty of big events left in Leah’s life that will have a profound affect on her as she moves forward. One of the biggest is that, in June, she will be graduating from Grade 8, which signifies the end of her elementary school experience. In the Fall, she will start High School!!!! As you read these words, Leah and her classmates are being visited in their Grade 8 classrooms by teachers from the various high schools in our area to discuss course selections for the upcoming school year. Her mother and I have already accompanied Leah to an Open House hosted by the high school closest to our home. At this high school, they offer a special academic opportunity called the International Baccalaureate Programme. This programme is an internationally-recognized programme of instruction that is quite rigorous and should prepare Leah well should she decide to pursue a university education in a few years time. She has had to apply to be accepted into the I.B. Programme. She will find out if she has qualified, a little later in the Spring. Hopefully, Leah will be accepted and will start off into the next phase of her life in a situation that pleases and excites her. Stay tuned for further updates as they become available.

As many of you know from your own experiences, one of the hallmarks of being a teenager is starting to earn your own money by getting a part-time job. Leah has already started down this path by babysitting children in our neighbourhood. But, she has loftier ambitions than that. Leah has her own blog called Nose In A Book. In her blog, Leah writes about books and history and life and the inter-connectedness of all three. In the short time she has had the blog, her posts have been featured on the Facebook pages of Scholastic Books, as well as, The Forest of Reading programme sponsored by the Ontario School Library Association. To give you a taste of how Leah writes, I am including a link to a post that she wrote about the TV programme, Anne With an E, which was based upon the Anne of Green Gables stories written by Lucy Maud Montgomery. Leah wrote this post because the Anne With An E tv show was being cancelled and she was trying to rally support to save it. Her efforts resulted in several people agreeing to sign an online petition she had linked to but, more than that, her post was read by Lucy Maud Montgomery’s grand-daughter who graciously messaged Leah privately to offer her thanks for Leah’s impassioned post. You can read the post here.

For Christmas, Leah was given a gift card to have business cards designed for her and printed off. The idea is that, perhaps, she can start using her love of reading and blogging as a way to make money in her teenage years. In the blogging world, there are posts that bloggers publish called sponsored posts. A sponsored post happens when a company wishes to pay a blogger to promote their product or to offer a product review. In Leah’s case, perhaps local authors seeking publicity would like to have Leah review their books in exchange for a small sum. Who knows how well this will work but, hopefully, it will help to put coins in Leah’s pocket. In any case, making money because of her brain and creativity is, in my opinion, a better option than burning her hands on french fry grease at a fast food restaurant.

In keeping with the theme of making money by using her brain, Leah and I hope to boost the number of History Talks we give at area Senior Citizens Homes. We are sending out new promotional letters this month to a dozen or so Assisted Living Centres within an hour’s drive from our home (We are enclosing one of her business cards with each letter, too). Leah and I do these Talks together for now, with the hope that, eventually, Leah will take them over herself. But, for now, we do them together. We have two Talks already created (Titanic and The Halifax Explosion) and a third under way (The Mystery of Oak Island). We charge $40.00 per talk, with all of the money going to Leah. If we are successful with the promotional letters we are sending out, Leah stands to make over $1,000.00, simply because of her love for History. In this photo, Leah is discussing the wreck site of the Titanic with seniors from the Rosewood Retirement Home in Cobourg.

Being a big sister is also a major part of Leah’s world. Sophie is growing up, too and, together they make quite a team. Sometimes they argue and storm off to their separate bedrooms! But, in the end, they are always sisters first and when they head out into the world; especially, if the situation is a new one, the sisters will often greet that new challenge by holding hands and facing it together. Those are the moments that make Keri and I the proudest.

Leah stands to have a wonderful year to come, if all goes well. She is fully deserving of the good things that happen to her because she is a terrific young lady. I am thrilled that she is as immersed into books and history as she is. But, as parents, her mother and I never forget that she is an individual in her own right. She is charting her own course in ways that feel comfortable to her. We support Leah and strive to help her have as happy a life as we can. So, bring on 2020, I say! I can’t wait to see how it all turns out for my girls. Hopefully, it will be our best year yet.