Great ironic humour and truth in your discourses. I enjoy reading and keep it up. Sadly, your story is too common these days but I see light slowly seeping into the darkness. The only alternative is a war that nobody wants.
How I’d love to see Paul Finlayson’s father’s response, if he were sitting in Heaven and awake to our world, to this golden testimony of his fatherhood: “I miss Dad every day. Every hour. When I was a boy, my noble professor father would sit on that battered orange chesterfield in our Winnipeg basement and read aloud to us— Coleridge, Chaucer, Wordsworth — until their cadences carved themselves into my bones. From him I inherited two incurable afflictions: the love of words, and the refusal to lie.”
Bravo, Paul, and thanks for the shout-out, athough I have no memory of writing those words. I am not even sure a clean conscience is a good thing, as we all make mistakes and have regrets, certainly by my age. Did you make it to Vancouver? I’m sorry I missed you. Your courage and ability to articulate continue to impress me. Go from strength to strength!
Boring and polite to the screaming point! Now I understand why your blog is called “Freedom to Offend”. A Canadian’s worst nightmare is to appear offensive. If someone accidentally steps on a Canadian’s toe, the Canadian will suffer in silence.
My son and his family were once invited to lunch by their new Canadian neighbors. The meal went on and on as the sun began to sink in the west. When the host finally slumped over in his chair and started to snore, my son rounded up his wife and kids , thanked the wife for the meal and beat a hasty retreat out of the building.
After relating that incident to me my son asked, “What’s wrong with these people? That meal was wayyyyy too long!”
Great ironic humour and truth in your discourses. I enjoy reading and keep it up. Sadly, your story is too common these days but I see light slowly seeping into the darkness. The only alternative is a war that nobody wants.
How I’d love to see Paul Finlayson’s father’s response, if he were sitting in Heaven and awake to our world, to this golden testimony of his fatherhood: “I miss Dad every day. Every hour. When I was a boy, my noble professor father would sit on that battered orange chesterfield in our Winnipeg basement and read aloud to us— Coleridge, Chaucer, Wordsworth — until their cadences carved themselves into my bones. From him I inherited two incurable afflictions: the love of words, and the refusal to lie.”
Perhaps the best compliment I can add, is that I'm sure your father would be proud. Not because I knew him, but as a father myself.
Illegitimi non carborundum!
Mazal tov......now that you have entered your "terrible twos" of blogdom!
Who could imagine we’d reach a time in CANADA where speaking truth becomes a heroic act with dire consequences?
A great read, and I do so enjoy the amusingly ironic parts!
Can we buy gift subscriptions? How would that work? Let’s give the gift of Paul for birthdays, Christmas, Chanukah, Eid, any occasion!
I’d like to buy two more subscriptions. I know many who would appreciate your writing!
I’ll figure it out and post it thx. Every new subscription helps
I can look into gift subscriptions. I’ll figure it out. Thx.
Bravo, Paul, and thanks for the shout-out, athough I have no memory of writing those words. I am not even sure a clean conscience is a good thing, as we all make mistakes and have regrets, certainly by my age. Did you make it to Vancouver? I’m sorry I missed you. Your courage and ability to articulate continue to impress me. Go from strength to strength!
For a Canadian, you're funny as hell 🤣.
I’d be offended but you are right - Canadians r a bit boring
Boring and polite to the screaming point! Now I understand why your blog is called “Freedom to Offend”. A Canadian’s worst nightmare is to appear offensive. If someone accidentally steps on a Canadian’s toe, the Canadian will suffer in silence.
My son and his family were once invited to lunch by their new Canadian neighbors. The meal went on and on as the sun began to sink in the west. When the host finally slumped over in his chair and started to snore, my son rounded up his wife and kids , thanked the wife for the meal and beat a hasty retreat out of the building.
After relating that incident to me my son asked, “What’s wrong with these people? That meal was wayyyyy too long!”
My answer: “They must have been Canadians.” lol