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Carted Away

I’ve made a few observations about this part of the province. People are nice here. Everyone says hello, or gives a wave. A man let me in front of him in the Service Ontario office and even though I told him I had a pile of stuff to do there, he waved me off and took a seat. Maybe they can afford to be nice because they don’t seem to be in as much of a hurry. Cities hurry you up, whether you know it or not.

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A Few of Dad’s Favourite Things II

After I posted last week’s story about my Dad’s jacket and horse-racing suit, I realized I’d handled another, similar situation completely differently. In fact, I decided immediately what I would do, instead of packing the things and lingering over the quandary.  It had to do with my friend and colleague, Jodi Taylor.

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My Brother’s Reply

Your target-shooting brother here. Tell me this. If you were to be convinced to give up your beloved paint brushes, the ones you’ve used and coveted all your long, long (long) life, the ones you sorted through using trial and error to eventually collect your favourites at no small expense, the ones that gave you enjoyment and peace, interaction with like-minded  people and camaraderie,  the ones you used for decades with zero harm to anyone and then found out the arguments used to convince you were  based on biased information that was totally wrong but once you found out it was too late and you could never own paint brushes again, would that be cool with you? It’s ok, I know the honest, unemotional answer. Of course it’s ‘no’. That’s the proposition legal gun owners are looking at right now.

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