One cello was destined to become a canvas when a 63-year-old musician with two cellos and an artist fresh out of high school regularly volunteered together at The Carrot. After all, Bernadette Alseth could not play both cellos simultaneously. During one of their conversations, Alseth asked the artist, Ariel Casapao Jr., to read John McCrae’s poem, In Flanders Fields.
Dominion Day was my favourite holiday as a child. My parents would load the family into the station wagon and we would drive off to watch the fireworks. That we were celebrating the founding of our nation didn’t factor into my jubilation. My joy was rooted in school being over for another year. That we were celebrating the founding of a nation that relied on a strategy of cultural genocide certainly didn’t cross my minContinue reading Celebrate Canada Day with perspectiveRemember our history when celebrating our nation→
When thinking of historical houses, we usually imagine well-preserved old mansions where important people lived. But throughout our inner-city neighbourhoods are homes with histories that haven’t been uncovered yet.
For centuries throughout the Northern Hemisphere, May Day has been a traditional day of festivities celebrating the arrival of spring. Towns and villages throughout Europe would hold gatherings. With seeding mostly completed, farmers would often give their labourers a day off. To this day, May Day is a national public holiday in several countries, many of which refer to it as Labour Day or International Workers Day.
Growing up as a post-war baby boomer, I’ve often thought the Second World War cast a shadow over my childhood and youth. My father lived through occupied France between the ages of eight and 13. My close friend’s father was a veteran who had marched north up the Italian peninsula with the Canadian Army. My grandmother would speak sadly of her older brother, who was lost when his plane went down while serving in the air force. War left a strong impression on these people which took a long time to process, not only touching them but also those close to them.
In the photo where the men walk down Alberta Avenue supporting the war effort, the two ladies rolling up the awning in front of Smith Bakery are Selina Smith, Francis Smith’s wife, and Ruth Smith, his daughter. His daughter Ethel Smith and niece Edna Ore were also working in the bake shop. Information provided by Francis Smith’s granddaughters Barbara and Frances.