Uninhabited Spaces

Elizabeth May must feel even worse than the proverbial spindly geek always chosen last for sports teams. Poor Ms. May is not even allowed to play with all of the big kids as they ready themselves to shout...er...talk over each other...er...debate in mid April. The Green Party leader is now complaining to all who will listen, a move that, unfortunately, makes her look whiny. I miss the real federal election television debates of the 1980s. Who will ever forget the Turner/Mulroney debate of 1984, during which Mulroney eviscerated Turner with a devastating retort on patronage: "You had an option sir to say 'no' and you chose to say 'yes' to the old attitudes and the old stories of the Liberal party," Mulroney argues. "That sir, if I may say respectfully, that is not good enough for Canadians." It was Mulroney's election after that moment. I am no Tory but at least it was an intelligent and well-structured debate. The tv debates of the past n

The Mad Men website has a cute app called "Mad Men Yourself" where you can build yourself as a character. So here is the TV version of Stacy, arriving for work at Sterling Cooper...

Who's to say where the wind will take you Who's to say what it is will break you I don't know which way the wind will blow Who's to know when the time has come around Don't wanna see you cry I know that this is not goodbye.                                                    U2, "Kite" Bono wrote "Kite" as his father, Bob Hewson, was dying of cancer.  The song laments having to say goodbye to someone you are not ready to lose. I have always  been touched by this song but in light of the recent death of my father the song has taken on a much greater poignancy and meaning. Of "Kite" Bono said, "I wrote this for my kids, but now I think my old man wrote it for me."  I've been thinking of my dad quite a lot in these last few days, now that the tornado of being back in Aylmer has ebbed. These little memories come at me, pushing out of me like a bird hatching. And  there is nothing to do to stop them. I am bl

Richard James Kelly September 1, 1944 - February 26, 2011 [transcript of my eulogy for my father] I remember clearly the first time I called my father “Dad”.  I don’t remember what day it was, our how old I was, but I do remember the where and how. My mom and I had been living in that lovely cedar-siding home in Breckenridge for some time and one day mom asked me to go get dad, who was in the basement. So I ran over to the top of the stairs and I paused. Until that moment I had always called him “Richard”. I thought about it, and with heart beating, I called out “dad’? I don’t know if it surprised dad or what he thought but he came when he heard me. It was a watershed moment for me. A few years later dad would formally adopt me.  I was in Grade 7 and my parents took me out of class so we could go to a lawyer’s office to make it official. When I returned to class my teacher announced that instead of “Stacy Hodgins” I was now “Stacy Kelly”. One of my classmates immediately yelled ou