My own father was born in 1936, in Mombasa, in what was then called British East Africa. He was born a colonial subject. A native in the parlance of the day. The imperial government in Britain decided his fate. As luck would have it, my father managed to go to
Generally, Canadian politics are boring. Even our scandals are boring, twinged with legalese and French names we can’t pronounce. The most recent episode, the SNC-Lavalin affair, isn’t actually really worth addressing. It’s not something to be analyzed in isolation. It’s actually part of a trend, a
It’s the end of winter and I know I should write something. We’ve all been there. Staring at a blank page. Awaiting inspiration. So I put my headphones on. Gotta break the block. Pick a good song. The TV was on in the background and I was struck