Column 6 results

D-Day’s Canadian Heroes found courage through human connections

History: D-Day 75th Anniversary “I don’t think people realize what our boys did,” says one D-Day veteran who watched his brothers in arms succumb to enemy bullets in the bloody battle that marked the beginning of the end of World War II.

The Winnipeg General Strike fought the pejorative optics of “Socialism”

History: The 100 year anniversary of the Winnipeg General Strike of 1919, Part One Disillusioned workers demanded fair wages and the right to collective bargaining, but their biggest foes throughout the historic, 40-day labour action weren’t just the powerful and privileged -- but the rabid rhetoric surrounding “Bolshevik” forces and "undesirables, socialists, radicals, enemy aliens, Marxists, foreign agitators, revolutionaries, reactionaries, extremists, and (of course) anarchists.”  

Aloha A-bomb! A Postcard from the Edge of Armageddon

News Comment: Nuclear Scare in Hawaii A seasoned reporter faces the End on holiday in Kauai as locals either shrug off alerts or hide behind palm trees By Rod Mickleburgh KAUAI, Hawaii -- It’s a while since I’ve been caught up in a world-wide news event, especially one where I MIGHT HAVE DIED. But there we were, after a five a.m. wake-up call by Kauai’s ubiquitous red roosters, on the first day of our holiday, groggily sipping our coffee in the Saturday morning sunshine. All of a sudden, the island quiet was pierced by an urgent loud buzz on our cellphone. It sounded like an Amber Alert on steroids. “What the heck was that?” I said out loud to other breakfasters gathered on the patio of our inn. No one looked up from their buttered toast. Thinking it was just some sort of glitch, we didn’t investigate further. Then, my companion reported back from the office. The woman behind the front desk had said something about a missile threat, as she busied herself with the office ...

Move over Pinocchio, this new Daddy’s got strings

Daddy Diary #8: The Puppetry of Parenting What does a puppet parent looks like? Imagine a new form of entertainment if choreographed by a drunk, one-legged Danny Kaye and a zombie cheerleader. By Chris Lackner “I've got no strings so I have fun, I'm not tied to anyone. How I love my liberty, there are no strings on me!” Sure, Pinocchio made those words famous. But they also describe my motto before becoming a first-time, 37-year-old father. For the last 10 years, I have enjoyed a rare combination: disposable income and disposable time.  With apologies to Walt Disney, I’d add an extra verse or two to my own song (e.g. “I’ve got no strings, so I drink beer. If I sleep in, I’m in the clear. How I love my drinks sudsy, there are no strings on me!”) As the father of a five-month old, I now have a different kind of fun… but the puppet strings are both many and unbreakable. Mommy and Daddy often feel like puppets – our daughter a mad-cap, unpredictable puppeteer...

Bob Dylan don’t need Nobel, or stinking badge

Comment: On Bob Dylan, Nobel laureate Looking back on a close encounter of the Dylan kind reveals a slightly rumpled honouree who has a hard time accepting praise, let alone the Nobel Prize *Caution: This article contains a top-100 list of Bob Dylan songs. By Rod Mickleburgh In the winter of 1990, I waited with a handful of reporters and photographers in a grand salon of the Palais-Royal in Paris for Bob Dylan. More than 25 years ahead of the Nobel Prize people, the French had decided that Dylan’s lyrical prowess was worthy of the country’s highest cultural honour, Commandeur dans l’ Ordre des Arts et des Lettres. T.S. Eliot was one of the first to receive the award in 1960. Borges followed in 1962. And now, following in the footsteps of Sean Connery (1987), it was Bob’s turn. Finally, the gilded, ceiling-high white doors opened, and there he was, ambling into the opulent room, followed by France’s flamboyant minister of culture at the time, Jack Lang. He was wearing a ...

Journalist takes Labour Day weekend literally

The Daddy Diary: Labour with help from Jack Bauer An expecting first-time father channels the spirit of a super agent as he faces the unknown, an earful of Portuguese expletives and the beautiful face of a brand new baby girl By Chris Lackner 1:30 a.m. A gentle voice. "Wake up, babe. My water just broke. She's coming." Two minutes of unintelligible, groggy mumbling, and then: "Are you sure it isn't one of those fake things? You know, Higgs boson... or whatever its called?" Sigh. "Higgs boson is a particle (my wife is a scientist). Braxton Hicks are fake contractions... (again gently) there's no such thing as fake water breaking." "Oh." The panic sets in, and I immediately forget everything I learned in our prenatal class. I silently (for fear of being slapped) ask myself one thing: "How would Jack Bauer handle this?" 1:45 We're desperately gathering everything on our hospital checklist at the front door. From clothes to food, and Gatorade to diapers. The baby is two ...