Ah, Bruce. Bruce Cockburn, Canada’s Bruce, the quirky, prickly, questing, gentle angry man who has provided the soundtrack to most of my life.
My Canada 25/150: A different flight path
For nearly four decades, my Aunt Blanche commuted across the river from Windsor to Michigan to work for the Canadian Consulate in Detroit.
My Canada, 24/150: The food of love
My mother was an indefatigable worker. She just was never paid for her labours.
My Canada, 23/150: How warm fur cooled
That coat my mother is wearing, was known at the time as a “Hudson Seal”. It was not seal at all, but in fact muskrat.
My Canada, 22/150: When Irish eyes are smiling
Having both Ukrainian and Irish heritage has served to make me more Canadian than if I had only one ethnic background.
My Canada, 21/150: Rough waters on the journey
Some people are polished by adversity, while others are scratched by by it.
My Canada, 20/150: A nation molded by immigrants
Unless you are a member of one of Canada’s aboriginal First Nations, the truth about being Canadian is that you got here because you, or your ancestors, moved here from somewhere else.
My Canada, 19/150: The games Canadians play
I assumed everyone grew up with a round wood game board in the back of the closet.
