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I am just back from another road trip, this one from Chilliwack, BC, up the Cariboo Highway through the Fraser Canyon, to Prince George, BC, a drive of approximately 7.5 hours each way. I went with a dear friend of mine—Karen (Rustad) Bergman—so that we could attend the celebration of life for a cousin of hers. The cousin, Jim Rustad, was a pillar of the community of Prince George, a city of 100,000 people, he having run a big sawmill and planer mill busines for many years. F

I am waiting for something. While I wait, I am thinking of that old black-and-white cow that was tethered to a peg in what was the equivalent of the village green in Langham, Saskatchewan. All that cow could do was circle round and round, grazing on the grass within the circle she could reach. Poor thing, but that was just the way of life for that cow. The village green was a low spot, green in the summer, but in the spring it became the slough — a veritable lake, where boys

There is a curious emptiness to the house when the company leaves. The house was so full when the company was here. All the air in the house was filled with music and happiness and talking and choices and remarks and what to do next and smiles. A very big ratio of happiness per square inch. Then the company leaves, out the door, promises to come again soon, don’t leave it so long, have you got your keys? Your wallet? Your book? If you forgot anything, we can mail it to you. D

Since this essay jumped into my brain yesterday, I have done a lot of thinking about Alberta, and I have moved from outrage to concern and hope. My outrage started with my reaction to the Alberta separatist proponents. How dare they even THINK of stealing away a piece of my Canada?! (Yes, interrobang.) This is my country. Our country. You cannot raid it and plunder it, you selfish idiots. And some of these people flagrantly misusing personal voter information. You don’t own A

Yes, there is good and evil in this world. Let’s not sugar-coat it with “unevolved”. Evil. This morning, enjoying my drive to the gym on a fine sunny day, I was scanning the horizons for anything of interest. I saw a man wearing a black T-shirt, on the front of which was printed: “The next round is mine”. I liked that. Maybe it meant this round is mine, or it meant after you pay for this round, the next round is mine. Either way, good-hearted and funny. Then there was the hel

If you are anything like me, you love a good dinner party. What could be better than sitting around a table, enjoying some especially lovely food, with some entrancing people--just having a good visit and a great conversation? I have dear loved ones who are just so much fun to hang around with. Such good talks. Meantime, since they are all far away from me, I can cook up some great dinner parties in my head. This one is at the Keg in Abbotsford (a short drive away for me). I

On Monday, I was doing some serious gardening—the kind you have to do when spring finally, slowly, reluctantly staggers into the backyard. It turns out that, when I wasn’t looking, a whole bunch of the wood dividers, planters, and wooden whatnots in the garden had been rotting and secretly turning into topsoil. I had to decide what to do. Then I had to do it. I had to hack away, pull out, and drag to the front of my building all these disintegrating planks. You know how they

I read your most recent hilarious Substack posting about the bear-suited scoundrel(s) who successfully defrauded the California Department of Insurance. I so wanted to post a comment. I had the comment all ready, which I believe was: Dave Barry you are so funny!!! But?! You won’t take a comment from me unless I am a paid subscriber! Whatever happened to freedom of the press? Free speech? And your minimum monthly subscription fee, is by the way, way way more in Canadian

I have come to realize why my first marriage failed. I was trying to transform my perfectly good young husband into homo domesticus, or at least someone whose habits would have suited me better. I was ignorant at the time. I didn’t know then, what I know now, that each person just wants to be himself or herself, take it or leave it, don’t be always suggesting improvements. Anyway, when I am out on my walks about town, or shopping, I often have opportunities to spot variations

I enter the inner chamber in a state of amnesia. As I cross the threshold, I feel sound of body and mind. In fact, to me, my mind is perfect. My body is perfect. I am happy and full of hope. After I enter, the door is closed and locked. The walls of the inner chamber are a glaring, glossy white. Above is a searing light from a fixture that covers the entire ceiling. There are black steel hooks on one wall, and on the opposing wall a giant mirror. There are no furnishings in t