Exquisite Corpse

After Auntie Annemarie dressed up like a sozzled Santa in 1966, the mysteries of Christmas were revealed to me. My parents never really “did...

Sex education was controversial in my small town. Eventually it was decided that we Grade Sixes would receive a single morning of instruct...

In the silence after the argument—with miles to go before they reached home—Grace death-gripped the steering wheel and stared at the road, i...

My man came into my life a few years ago.      I first met him in Burlington. It was a long haul there, but I was told he was a “licker”—s...

Hail to the bus driver Bus driver Bus driver Hail to bus driver Bus driver man . . . . . . who’d put up with us for all of the 280 miles to ...

I recently joined a Facebook page dedicated to my grade school. I did a deep dive until I landed on a group picture, circa 1975, of some o...

For my parents’ fiftieth anniversary, we sons banded together to buy them a trip anywhere they wanted to go. They’d already travelled a lot ...

On the cusp of adulthood, one Friday in the 1950s, Dad, with his Elvis pompadour, left work and picked up his brother Alan. They drove all n...

George was her first real boyfriend. Desperate to be in love, he happened to come along at the right place and time—a drunken house-party. T...

Sometime in 1987, I got it into my head to write some science fiction and, as authors do, decided to consult with an expert, which essential...

Apart from Hockey Night in Canada, CKLW news, and the occasional late night soft porn, Gerry didn't watch television, he slept by it. I...

“Imagine ten men in a cabin on an island. There’s a blizzard. The power goes out. All they have is duct tape, 48 beers, three cans of beans,...

My favourite card game growing up was Cheat because, duh, you were allowed to cheat. My favourite type of cheat in the game was not the bold...

I’ve been wasting a huge amount of time playing word games online. One, at least, is simple enough: six letters, and your job’s to find as m...

In grade four, Cathy Maxwell got caught chewing gum and told to put her name on the blackboard. She wrote in a fast hand, piqued at being c...

Amid the ooze of kegs, and boomèd vox, it was a nifty act. A sage heart, the quiet niece (she weds anon), drew useless vowels and blessèd X ...

Shopping to my mother was part medicine and part recreational sport. Many Saturdays she’d drag us to the mall. We’d spend the afternoon get...

Most happily, the holidays are over. The days are getting brighter and longer, and the brain-numbing cycle of Christmas music is over. The M...

In 2017, I started delivering the West End Phoenix . . . because at 56, all I really wanted was the simplicity again of being nothing more ...

Skiz and I were having pedicures when we were invaded.  By one of those trendy sleeping-bag/bedspread tarps. It wore a lady. A Mini Her alon...