Mark S. Burnham in Douro, just outside Peterborough, is the smallest provincial park I’ve ever seen (not that I’ve seen that many). It has no staff, just paid parking.
We went on a very hot day and were met with a very cool forest. Unfortunately, the trail was blocked off at a certain point as they are still cleaning up from the wind storm in May. It feels pretentious to call it ‘derecho’ but I will.
At the entrance it says that the land was owned by the Burnham family who never cleared their land. Therefore, what you see is what the land might have looked like over a hundred years ago, probably more. The sign also says to look up as some trees have their ages on them from sometime before 1975. I’m guessing that’s when the land passed to the province? We only saw one such sign near the entrance to the trail. When I started taking pictures I didn’t notice that I had the camera set to “illustrated” mode. So here’s a kind of funny take on that tree. And then the actual sign.
Actually, the land came to be a provincial park in the 1950s. Here’s what its management plan says about its history: “This land was donated to the Province of Ontario in the1950’s, by the descendants of the Honourable Zaccheus Burnham, a judge from the Town of Cobourg, who originally acquired the land in the 1830’s. From the 1830’s to present day, the woodlot has not been substantially disturbed, except for the removal of fuelwood for the needs of the Burnham family.” (Source)
Even though the park is just off Highway 7 with quite a lot of passing traffic, including lots of trucks, I didn’t mind the sound: reminds me of walking in the Don Valley where you are usually not far from the DVP. It does not take away from the experience of nature, in my opinion.
There are a lot of trees down in this park, and a lot of signs down, too. So I don’t know what the signs said. The one sign still readable was at the start and it said to watch for woodpeckers. I didn’t see any but here’s some evidence that they’re present!
It’s a lovely small park, very accessible. I look forward to going back when the trails are cleared.
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After visiting Mark S. Burnham we drove around in Peterborough, including on Ashburnham and Burnham. I must look into these Burnhams more. One funny thing: the locals apparently call the park Burnham Woods. That’s a nice little play on Birnam Wood in Macbeth. I don’t know if that’s intentional, or not.
Charlie Angus’s book, Cobalt, went everywhere with me – backyard, streetcar, subway, doctor’s waiting room, cottage – because it’s highly readable and really well done. I zipped through it even though it’s a depressing topic. Initially I picked Cobalt for two reasons: one, I heard Charlie Angus speak many years ago and found him to be very insightful; two, one of my family members was born in Cobalt and it is part of family lore of the “northland.” Of Ontario, that is.
Cobalt is the story of exploitation of northern Ontario. It starts not with the mining of the precious and elusive metal, but with internal colonization of the north of the province for the purpose of what all mother countries want – extraction of resources. And that meant, consistent with the rest of Canada’s history, disempowerment of the Indigenous people who were there. They lost their land and their rights to its riches.
Next came the exploitation of the workers who mined the silver for the benefit of large corporate interests. Cobalt was a boom town in the early 1900s. Like most, it saw its share of highs and lows, but the town is still there. It’s a real, thriving town, not a ghost town. That I like about Charlie Angus’s attitude toward the town where he lives. He details the ins and outs and who’s who of corporate control that essentially built the Toronto stock exchange, while he details the absolute mess they made of the town site. Poisoned water, no infrastructure, garbage everywhere. The Ontario government just didn’t want to pay and it didn’t want to force rules on precious corporations. Sound familiar? Eerily so.
Cobalt attracted a multicultural workforce from the start, and that’s where my family’s history comes in. While experienced American miners made their way there, so did Poles, Ukrainians, Finns (that’s Val’s family history), and Jews. From what I know, my family came from a small town (a shtetl, probably) in Belarus called Bichov. I may be mixing up different sides of my mom’s family, but suffice to say that they came from the former Russian empire. They set themselves up following the extension of the railroad in northern Ontario and sold supplies to local miners and lumberjacks. Eventually they settled in South Porcupine and then Timmins setting up a store and provisioning business. Timmins and Porcupine feature prominently in the book as the mining boom travelled north for gold after it was finished with Cobalt.
Like that, Cobalt’s story mirrors the Canadian experience that all started with the total exploitation of Indigenous peoples. We are all colonization and its after-effects, sadly.
My next book imagined the dystopian future of a colonizing past. The Marrow Thieves by Cherie Dimaline was an excellent if highly disturbing book. Written for young adult readers, it picks up the story of Indigenous people in the future after some kind of climate disaster has rocked the world. People can no longer dream, except for Indigenous people, so they are hunted for their bone marrow which supposedly returns the power to dream. It’s basically residential schools the second time around except that that the inmates are all killed for their marrow.
I picked up this book in my school’s English department book room. In case I recover grade 9 or 10 English, I like to read a few of the books they use. So was the story with with Richard Wagamese’s Indian Horse. I found a lot of parallels with the The Marrow Thieves though they deal in different time periods. Both books were very tough to read but also very hard to put down. The protagonist in The Marrow Thieves, Frenchie, is a boy who has been on the run after losing his family. He finds a new ‘family’ with a group of fellow travelers who are trying to escape the recruiters who literally hunt Indigenous people. It’s really the story of people trying to hang on not only to their existence but to their culture. There are many scenes in which the elders astound the youngsters with their knowledge of their language. Sound familiar? After taking a quick look through some reviews of this book, I don’t understand why so many negative readers couldn’t see that. It’s not really about running or dystopia. Those are just frames.
It’s a nicely written book. I liked Dimaline’s style: simple yet poignant in a very to the point way. I think Indian Horse has more depth and detail to it (the setting and the characters), but I don’t really think they’re meant to be compared. They are complimentary. After finishing The Marrow Thieves, I started up another YA book I had picked up: A Very Large Expanse of Sea by Tahereh Mafi. It didn’t last long before I decided it was poorly written and I put it down. Every sentence was written as if a teenager was speaking it. I guess for some people that is the point of YA’s realistic appeal. For me, I may swear A LOT when I speak, but I don’t want to read it. I’d like to (if I’m going to read fiction, that is) read a more idealistic voice at least in terms of language.
I think a 14 or 15 year old kid could do a lot worse than read the prose and the subject matter in The Marrow Thieves. We all need to keep learning the true history of our country.
Next, I have returned to a book I put down about four years ago because I found it too negative: Yuval Noah Harari’s 21 Lessons for the 21st Century. Now, the pandemic makes the book seem more tame and less depressing so I’ll give it another try.
Looking back, I now realize that a hospital is somewhat like a school and somewhat like a court. In other words, institutions have a lot of similarities.
I am very grateful for the excellent treatment I received at Michael Garron Hospital (MGH). Though my stay was brief (two nights), I feel I got some insight into how a ward worked, just as I tried to gain some insight into the court system when I nearly became a juror a few years ago.
Nurses are wranglers, like teachers. Their patients have to be corralled to take their medications and follow doctors’ orders. This is especially true at night. Even if they’re sleeping they have to submit to the same schedule of blood pressure and heart rate checks as during the day. Like teachers they must impose this care with the utmost kindness and efficiency. I was very lucky at MGH to have wonderful nurses who brought a sense of humour and compassion. Most of all, they listened.
Like a court, a post-operative hospital ward is full of mostly newbies (though there were definitely some repeat patients just as there were repeat potential jurors). There are a lot of signs and procedures. The most interesting procedural moment was when the entire gaggle in the pre-op waiting room moved together down the hall to the surgical waiting room. Val said it looked like a bunch of waggling ducks, all of us in our matching hospital gowns, socks and footcoverings. Thinking back, it was kind of similar to how we travelled as a group of 20 jury candidates as we moved in the not-often seen corridors behind the courtrooms at 361 University Avenue.
The court system doesn’t feed potential jurors. I wonder what they feed actual jurors??? I don’t want to sound offensive about the vegan food at MGH because the intentions were good. Execution was hit and miss: A palatable lentil soup but a slop of vegetable stew that I am sure contained meat; a passable chana masala with incredibly bland green beans and rice (though mixed together there was some seasoning there). I didn’t eat the first meal that was delivered as it wasn’t vegan. The PSW showed it to me and that was enough to make me turn off food for a day. The second delivery (vegetable chili) seemed okay but my appetite still hadn’t returned after seeing and smelling the hard-to-identify fish patty. Regardless, the meals were delivered in a timely and friendly manner. There were options, and the trays were picked up routinely. The humans behind the system are obviously working hard and doing their best to provide healthy options.
Nurses and teachers have family members of their “clients” in common. Just as teachers must keep in touch with parents, nurses must reach out to family members about visiting times (it is the covid era, after all), clothing items needed, missing medications, etc. Covid probably keeps this issue more at bay for nurses, though that is just an outside observation. Perhaps not having family members physically available means more chasing after phone calls and emails. As far as I saw when I was “auditioning” for jury duty, there was no familial connection at all, except for the fact you’re not supposed to discuss anything with anyone!!
One thing that is in demand in a hospital is a walking straight-away. By that I mean a long corridor uninterrupted by rabbit-warren-like offshoots (due to renovations and additions over the years). There was one such runway on the fifth floor of MGH that seemed to be used by patients of both units A5 and B5. It ultimately led to a small elevator area with a good overlook on the new construction. From there I could see the old buildings and their connections to the new building, the attempts to match brick colours, the courtyards, and the open spaces. It looked quite nice and I suppose its future completion is aspirational for patients hopping to get out of the joint! At that same end of the above-mentioned corridor was a seemingly unused back used doorway to the “end of life” care area, MGH’s palliative care ward, I suppose. I felt sad every time I went near that door, especially knowing that my stay would be brief.
So, like a school and like a court system, a hospital – though an institution – is at heart a place full of people.
Ai Wei Wei, Ross King and Catherine Hernandez are the authors of the three books I read on my time off from school.
A few days after surgery I walked with Val to the local bookstore. It’s not really that far but it was a nearly exhausting experience. However, I knew I had to have something to read during my recovery.
I started with Ai Wei Wei’s memoir. I can’t say I previously knew too much about him; I’d seen a few documentaries and studied a bit of his art for the grade 12 World History e-learning course. I’m familiar enough with Chinese history to be able to contextualize him. The first half of the book was a quick read in which he detailed his father’s experiences in various camps and forms of detention in the Mao era (and not just the Cultural Revolution). So young Wei Wei lived with his poet father in these isolated, harsh places and learned to make the best of them. His free spirited nature as an artist surely developed out of those experiences.
Similarly, in Scarborough, the characters live difficult lives, some of which they overcome, and some they don’t. The novel is hard to put down – this coming from a reader of primarily non-fiction. Hernandez gets right to the point and doesn’t mince any words in narrating and describing the lives of families who make use of an early learning centre in a public school. All of them face challenges, not just economic ones. The teacher (or social worker) who runs the centre is caring and compassionate, though her boss is not. The boss does not want her to provide food to the families and children. Sick political angle.
Ross King’s latest Renaissance book follows the life and career of Vespasiano, a man who commissioned the hand-scribing of manuscripts – primarily editions of Greek philosophy – in Florence and beyond during the 1400s. He became so good at his craft that he worked with Medici’s and popes. The book was interesting to me not so much for the content of the Humanist books that Vepasiano created, but for the descriptions of the process: paper, parchment or vellum; modern or Gothic script; rubricated (I love that word)! At the same time as this self-made bookseller reached his zenith, the new technology of printing was spreading across Europe. The competition began.
Great spring reading. I highly recommend all three.
Recently I read a book whose cover I wanted to hide when I was on the subway or bus:
It was actually a fast and interesting read but often a horrifying one due to the subject matter – how to be a Roman slave master. Written by a modern day professor, Jerry Toner, it takes on the ‘voice’ of a Roman slave owner as author. Each chapter offers the view of slave owner Marcus Sidonius Falx on a particular aspect of slave ownership such as punishment or manumission. Falx is of course a fictional character based on Toner’s research. After each chapter there’s a brief commentary section where the professor addresses the original Roman sources he has relied on and spends a lot of care making sure the readers don’t think the Romans were anything like us.
Though I am relatively well versed in Roman history and society, I found it quite a deep dive into the patrician class and their snobby views of their own superiority, obviously as pertaining to their perceived social inferiors. I can’t help but come to the conclusion that Romans were nasty people. I don’t know if Toner set out to generalize about slave owners or felt that by crafting such a hypocritical and callous character as Falx he would attract more readers.
Falx considers himself a kind and generous owner for his positive relations with his slaves (including fathering many children out of such relations), his generosity to those who have served him well, his fair punishments for those who trespass against him and his property, and his genius theories of what motivates slaves to work harder. He is aware of the problems of slavery in the empire (the book is set before Rome’s long downfall really began) in that he admits that Romans have become too dependent on slavery. However, he makes it more than clear that he’s unwilling to do anything he finds beneath him as a member of a ‘chosen’ class.
One subtext that I picked up while reading is just how litigious the Romans were. Many cases relating to slavery ended up in the law courts. This, to me, says both good and bad things about the Romans. They had laws to guide them in their social relations; however, those laws were never about being good or bad.
By HUGE contrast, my next book is a gentle and calm tract on people and nature. I feel no need to hide it when I’m on the subway. In fact I finished it on the Bathurst streetcar and was looking for someone to discuss it with.
Forgive me if it’s naïve to ask, “where has this book been all my life?” I find it very calming. The author is an Indigenous American woman from the Citizen Potawatomi Nation, a biology professor, and a lifelong student of the relationship between humans and nature. I like that she has a teacher voice but one that also recognizes there’s always more to learn.
While I love the material, possibly because I’m a vegan, I am absolutely mesmerized by Robin Wall Kimmerer’s writing style: descriptive in an earthy way. Not frilly. Not pious. Not sanctimonious. Calm and easy going.
The book’s main argument is that our relationship with nature must be reciprocal in order to help both us and the planet survive. We have to give, not just take.
As a history teacher, I know that we cannot judge the people of the past for acting within the norms of their own societies. But there were always dissenters and voices (though not loud or powerful enough at the time) who make it impossible for us to say that things could not have been different. I often think back to England in the late 1700s when industrialization was getting started. While no one could have foreseen the damage that would be done to our climate, there surely were those who saw the new way of life as being anti-nature. Robin Wall Kimmerer asks us to listen to those voices in our society. People who think there is another way. Really she’s asking us to listen to nature.
It may be surprising that this vegan found the chapter on the trapper quite interesting. Morally I am squeamish about hunting, trapping, even fishing. But if it’s for sustenance and done in as humane a way as possible, I accept it as part of the relationship Indigenous people have with the environment. Sport hunting? Absolutely not. Fishing so buddies can drink some beer (as I often see on Rice Lake), not in my book.
The book is probably not going to make me change my lifestyle further. However, it makes me more thoughtful about nature and how young people could learn to interact with it. Perhaps along with the land acknowledgement that we recite every morning we should take to heart parts of the Honorable Harvest:
“Harvest in a way that minimizes harm.” …
“Sustain the ones who sustain you and the earth will last forever.”
No coincidence here … I just watched “My Octopus Teacher” on Netflix. I was already pre-disposed to love this species after watching PBS’s Nature: Octopus – Making Contact. I’m not going to go out and seek to meet an octopus, nor do I think the Octopus trusted the man (Craig Foster). They were just curious about each other and that, in my books, is just fine, if no harm was done.
Blunt admission: I am a very passionate skating fan, especially of ice dance. I am not only a viewer during the Olympics. When Covid first broke one of the saddest things for me was the cancellation of the World Figure Skating Championships in Montreal. There, said it.
First, I am tired. I stayed up late to watch the team event, the men, the ice dance, and some of the pairs. And I am a person who is almost always in bed by 11:00 pm.
Second, I didn’t watch the women’s event at all because I haven’t followed the women for the last few years for many of the same reasons that have become the media focus during the games. Just stuff I don’t enjoy talking about. Ick. Ick.
Third, I only watched skating. I didn’t watch any other competitions. No, not even hockey or speed skating, two big sports for Canada!
Let’s start with the Team Event. I know some skating purists don’t like the team event, only in its third Olympics. To be frank, I like it because I think it’s only fair that skaters should have more opportunities to win medals like so many of their fellow athletes in multi-event sports such as speed skating, swimming, etc. It’s also a great warm-up (usually) for skaters in their individual competitions.
I thought it was highly enjoyable, though I was very disappointed in Roman Sadovsky, the Canadian man who had to step in for Keegan Messing when he was delayed in flying to Beijing due to a positive Covid test.
By contrast, I was so pleased by Maddy Schizas, the only Canadian woman in the competition. If it weren’t for Maddy Canada would not have even made the team final (top 5 teams) which would have been a great shock after Canada won the team gold at the last Olympics. So great job to her – very mature, responsive and poised.
Two of my favourite skaters, Piper Gilles and Paul Poirier, in the dance event, just didn’t have the best time. I’ve been watching their programs all year and all the changes they’ve made over the months. They looked more fluid, less rushed. But judges were really tough on them and they didn’t have their best skates. On the other hand I was beyond excited that Americans Madison Chock and Evan Bates won the free dance. Amazing. I have loved their alien free dance from the start of the season when it was taking so much criticism for being un-Olympic.
Piper and Paul’s free dance in the team event
On to the men. I am a very big Nathan Chen fan. Absolute unparalleled athleticism and focus. Not as much a Yuzuru Hanyu fan, though I respect his huge ambition and his technical greatness. I personally find that many of his programs look the same and thus I don’t admire his artistry as much as perhaps I should. But what I loved most about the men was Yuma Kagiyama. There’s this expression that skating commentators have often used over the years to describe very fluid skaters: “a skater’s skater.” It could not apply to him any more! He is so musical, so smooth. So clever and creative, and expressive in both happy and sad emotions. On a Canadian note, Keegan did a great job considering how long it took him to get to Beijing. He brings an energy all his own to the event and it’s that uniqueness that I appreciate. Just a note on his spins: he is one of the best spinners in the world and doesn’t seem to get appropriate marks for it. Is it because he’s not a classical-type skater? Speaking of, of course I was extremely happy that Jason Brown finished sixth overall. No quad. No need. Beautiful musical skating. Especially in the short program, the Sinnerman choreography is unique, challenging, fresh and a perfect fit for Jason. I just cannot say how much I love him. He’s probably one of the skaters I would most want to meet in person! He has a perspective and something to contribute to the world, not just to skating. It sometimes shocks me that I haven’t stalked him outside the Cricket Club in Toronto.
Jason Brown
Ah, the dance. Such an incredible last flight in the free program. I was so happy for Madison Hubbell and Zachary Donohue to skate so powerfully and cleanly in their final amateur skate. I don’t love their program so much but that is irrelevant when they skate it so well. I personally would have had Chock and Bates in third and the Russians Sinitsina and Katsalapov in fourth (or lower). Listening to Scott Moir commentating very frankly on them on CBC was fascinating. Having also watched it on the Olympic feed, I feel the commentators there, especially Belinda Noonan, were kind to all the skaters. They were very positive and human. And I have no problem with that.
About the Canadians in ice dance. I felt heartbroken for Piper and Paul to have made a mistake in both programs. However, I found the rest of their programs were stronger than their marks indicated. I am not saying I thought they should have been on the podium: no, not here. Not the right energy. And as much as I have enjoyed the creativity of the Elton John-themed rhythm dance (and the bright orange costumes), the Long and Winding Road long program just felt heavy at the Olympics. I didn’t think of it until I heard Sandra Bezic refer to it as “over-produced.” I did not feel that way all season long. So sad that it concluded this way for them. I have really come to appreciate the work of Nikolaj Sorensen and Laurence Fournier Beaudry over the past few years. Again, it’s very unfortunate that they had some mistakes because they have been rising up the ranks lately. I am very pleased they switched their free dance to Gladiator. The previous spoken word program just didn’t hit it with me. I thought the third-ranked Canadian team, Marjorie Lajoie and Zachary Lagha, skated well and were somewhat undermarked. Especially in the free dance, their choreography is very sophisticated for their ages.
If I’m being honest, my favourite programs all season have been Chock and Bates’ alien meets astronaut theme due to its creative choreography and fantastic lifts, and Piper and Paul’s Long and Winding Road. One worked at the Olympics, one didn’t. That’s sports. Third spot would go to the Spanish team, Olivia Smart and Adrian Diaz, for their Zorro program. That they were able to skate it so well after having to compete it at the highest level all season long against their fellow Spanish team for that one ice dance spot for Spain, AMAZING. How they did it, I do not know. Again, that is the amazingness of sports!
Chock and Bates
I didn’t watch the women and have little to say except that there is no surprise to the initiated that something is wrong with Eteri Tutberidze, her so-called methods, her humanity, her choreography (or lack thereof). Everything. Just one high point: Kaori Sakamoto is another of those pure, fluid skaters. A person is allowed to and should be expected to show joy in skating!
The pairs surprised me. Pairs skating has gone in a very weird direction in the last few years with such downer music. Slow, weepy, teary. I’m not in love with that trend at all. However, there were a number of stunning performances. For one, the Japanese team of Riku Miura and Ryuichi Kihara. Such joy, abandon, love of skating. This has been building all season long and it is such an absolute pleasure to have seen them on this Olympic journey. Not quite with the same freedom, but close, Russians Evgenia Tarasova and Vladimir Morozov finally had a clean, passionate skate. Wow. What a pressure relief for them after the disappointment of the free program at the 2018 Olympics. I respected and appreciated the cleanliness of the third-place Russians, Anastasia Mishina and Alexandr Galliamov. Very talented and mature. They just need to push harder and put more emotion in until the very last moment. Finally, probably the biggest emotional event of the skating competition, the gold medal for Sui Wenjing and Han Cong. Yes, they made a mistake. But they also took a big risk with the quad split twist. Beautiful program and choreography. Such incredible skating skills, such passion and intensity. And how could one go wrong skating to the lyrics of Paul Simon’s “Bridge Over Troubled Water”?
Riku Miura and Ryuichi Kihara
I still love skating. I’m very sad that such a bad light has been shone on my sport. But hopefully it will be cleaned up and the road for future skaters will look brighter.
Val did something very sweet for me yesterday. I didn’t know in advance – he just told me he needed the car.
When I arrived home he told me he’d gone to Sheridan. I immediately thought he’d purchased a sapling to plant at the cottage since we’ve recently had another tree taken down (and Val is growing a bunch of trees in the upstairs bathroom).
It turns out he went out to pick up a tiny puzzle of Frederick.
Frederick is the mouse in one of my favourite children’s books. I still have my copy from 1973.
Frederick is a different sort of mouse, a real non-conformist. I like him!
I did not read nearly enough books this year. Blame it on the pandemic, I conveniently and shamefully say.
I started and got 300 pages into Barack Obama’s A Promised Land, really liking the personal and family bits. But I found myself politically tired as I read the sections on passing bills in Congress. By the time Afghanistan rolled around I could not stomach it anymore. I really admire Obama’s non-cynical nature and his careful examinations of his decisions. However, reading about damned if you do and damned if you don’t discussions on Afghanistan just tested my patience too much and I abandoned the book, hoping to return one day.
This one I got through pretty quickly. As usual I picked it up at my local Book City on one of the remains table. Liking social histories, I thought it would offer a good perspective on those who don’t always make it to the historical headlines, domestic servants. Yes, I’m a fan of Downtown Abbey and I used this book as a measuring stick to gage Julian Fellows’ historical accuracy! That aside, the book was fast moving, filled (nay – jammed) with incredible quotes. The only problem was I probably ended up learning more about the wealthy employers than the servants themselves. That is partially owing to the nature of the sources.
I have no problem plainly saying that every Canadian should read this book. Though I considered myself relatively educated about the Indian Act prior to reading this short but devastating book, I realize that was just dispersed knowledge. Here Bob Joseph puts it all together, with historical context, quotes and commentary, in a way that is incredibly readable and relevant. There is just no way to understand Canada’s history without a full picture of the intents and damages of the Indian Act.
I’m not ashamed to admit I read Romeo and Juliet for the first time in modern English “translation.” Though I am of course familiar with the story through movies and the ballet (to which I took my mom some years ago), I had not actually read the play (it was Twelfth Night for grade 9s at St. Andrew’s Junior High School back in the 1980s). I started out reading the original play but I found it very difficult to navigate those little footnoted comments on the bottom of the page. My aging brain just could not handle going back and forth – it just broke the momentum of the narrative. So I picked up a few copies of the No Fear version, intending to read it with one of my credit recovery students. That didn’t happen. Nevertheless, I found it a fast-moving, relatable story. It provoked some uncomfortable thoughts about young love and its not so reliable passions.
I have now nearly finished this new book from Margaret MacMillan. Even when I am tired on my morning subway and bus rides, if I am sitting, I pull it out. It’s quite an addictive, easy read. Most of the examples are western, many pulled from the World War One era. Obviously I feel most comfortable with this book when it’s on familiar terrain (both the author’s and mine). She challenges me as a history teacher who likes to ignore war as too messy a subject, reminding me that so much comes of war. True. True. As much as I have enjoyed it, I would like to see the author stop using “the great” as a descriptor for all kinds of historical figures. It drives me mad!!!
The few other books I read this year have already been reviewed on this blog: David Chariandy’s I’ve Been Meaning to Tell You, Melissa Gould’s Widowish, and Dava Sobel’s The Glass Universe.
I resolve to read more this year, starting with Malcolm Gladwell’s Talking to Strangers which I just received as a gift from the kind and generous Barry Pietersen.
Special magazine mentions:
When I’m on the streetcar heading down to riding at the Horse Palace, I often bring a copy of The Walrus or Scientific American. Here are some standout articles from this year.
“Journey into the Americas” by Jennifer Raff, Scientific American, May 2021 – about when and where the early people of North America came from (I am fascinated by this topic as a world history teacher)
“Deadly Kingdom” by Maryn McKenna, Scientific American, June 2021 – about the rise of fungal diseases (surprises lurking)
“Why Animals Play” by Caitlin O’Connell, Scientific American, August 2021 – who wouldn’t want to read an article accompanied by cute animal photos
“Lifting the Venus Curse” by Robin George Andrews, Scientific American, September 2021 – the case for new missions to study one of Earth’s closest neighbours
“Women at Risk” by Melinda Wenner Moyer, Scientific American, September 2021 – part of a special report on autoimmune diseases, this article really shows the double burden of the female body – incredibly interesting potential reasons why suffer disproportionately from autoimmune diseases such as lupus.
“Northern Inroads” by Gloria Dickie, The Walrus, Jan./Feb. 2021 – surprising ways China is making its way into Canada’s north
“How Immigration Really Works” by Kelly Toughill, The Walrus, May 2021 – we always think of federal jurisdiction when it comes to immigration but these days so much more is locally driven
“Justice on Trial” by Eva Holland, The Walrus, June 2021 – Canada’s legal system through the eyes of Indigenous Canadians
“Students for Sale” by Nicholas Hune-Brown, The Walrus, Sept./Oct. 20`21 – an indictment of the international student racket run by Canadian colleges and universities.
“The Campus Mental Heath Crisis” by Simon Lewsen, The Walrus, November 2021 – important reading for a high school teacher – the need to know what happens to mental health after high school is pressing
“The RCMP Revisited” by Jane Gerster, The Walrus, November 2021 – fascinating history of the national police force and its origins in the policing of reserves
Ever since my whole school live Zoom presentation on September 30, the first annual National Day for Truth and Reconciliation, I have said that I wanted to continue the conversation.
I have not lived up to that as well as I wanted. I’m working on it.
One thing I’d like to share is the “Save the Evidence” campaign from the Woodland Cultural Centre, home to the former Mohawk Institute Indian Residential School.
We know as historians how important primary source evidence is. That’s what the school building represents. People need to see it to appreciate its significance in the history of residential schools that Canadians are learning more about.
When I first drove up that driveway and saw that imposing colonial-style building, I felt uneasy. After learning more about the place known sadly known to students as the “mush hole”, I felt pretty sick. There is nothing child-friendly about it.
When our group visited Woodland Cultural Centre, we had the privilege of hearing survivor Geronimo Henry speak about his 11-year ordeal at the Mohawk Institute. He had a number of items with him – primary sources – including this letter that his mother sent the school to enroll him in 1942. Please note that Geronimo gave permission for me to take this photo.
We must always remember that history is about real people. Geronimo Henry, now in his 80s, speaks passionately about his experiences to educate the public about the impacts of residential schools.
Watch this short clip from Sept. 30 at the Mohawk Institute.
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