Saturday, July 13, 2019 – Print Edition, Page B15


November 5, 1940 Toronto, Ontario July 6, 2019 Calgary, Alberta Martha slipped away quietly after a battle with COPD complicated by pneumonia.

She was born in Toronto, Ontario, raised in Alliston until she finished high school at Banting Memorial, then returned to Toronto where she worked as a title searcher out of City Hall.

Once she retired she moved to Calgary where she enjoyed cards at her seniors group, cruises to Alaska and Mexico, trips to the casino, Stage West & Vertigo Theatre and watching her beloved Toronto Blue Jays. Martha was adored by her many friends in both Toronto and Calgary.

She was predeceased by her parents Bruce and Phyllis Anderson and her younger sister Shirley Stewart.

Martha is survived by her sister Cindy, nephews Bruce (Juliana) and Ross, her niece Emily (John), brother-in-law Alex and her grandnieces and nephews Luka, Cera, Adelaide, Gordon and Jack.

Martha's last weeks were spent at the Peter Lougheed Centre in Calgary. She made instant friends with the nurses and staff who were beyond wonderful, caring and gentle from the ER to Units 39 and 44. It's impossible to fully express her family's gratitude to these wonderful staff members for their honesty, dedication, compassion and expertise.

At Martha's request there will be no memorial or funeral service. Should you wish to remember Martha, memorial tributes may be made directly to Calgary Health Trust - Peter Lougheed Centre, Suite 800, 11012 Macleod Trail S.E., Calgary, AB T2J 6A5, Telephone: (403)943-0615,


It is with great sadness that the family of Gordon Bale announces his passing on June 26, 2019, at the age of 85 years. Gordon is lovingly remembered by his son Dougal, daughter-in-law Alison, and grandchildren Cameron and Robyn. He was predeceased by his beloved wife Maureen.

Gordon was born in 1933 in Hamilton, Ontario, to Cecil and Christine (Nichol) Bale. He attended Stamford Collegiate in Niagara Falls and later studied at Royal Roads and Royal Military College, graduating with the top academic standing in his class.

From there, he pursued postgraduate work in economics at McGill University and the London School of Economics.

After teaching economics at RMC, he then completed a Law degree at the newly founded Queen's University Law School where he subsequently returned to teach for the rest of his career.

In the late 1960s, Gordon met Maureen, the love of his life. They were married at Dunfermline Abbey, Scotland, on December 26, 1970. They soon built a home on Treasure Island where Gordon worked steadily to transform a rocky bare site into an idyllic waterfront garden. They lived happily on the island for over 40 years, frequently entertaining both old friends and new friends made during their many travels.

Over the last years of his life, Cerebral Amyloid Angiopathy limited his mobility and led to dementia, but despite these frustrations, Gordon remained ever the gentleman. The family is grateful for the dedicated care provided by Deb Brennan as well as Leo Cordona, Laarni Lim, and many other caregivers from Bahay Caregiver Services. We would also like to thank the caring staff at Arbour Heights.

A private memorial service will be held at Cataraqui Cemetery. In lieu of flowers, please consider a donation to the Heart and Stroke Foundation to help fund Cerebral Amyloid Angiopathy research.


Of Coral Springs, FL son of Gerald and Joan Base was born 15 October 1948 and died on July 7, 2019. He is survived by his partner Gary Snow, sister Jennifer Mellalieu, Lindy (deceased), brothers John (Casey) and Rick (Debbie deceased) and numerous nieces and nephews.

Tom graduated in 1974 with an MBA from Queens University, retired from a successful career as an automobile executive and a dedicated human rights activist and currently President of his HOA. Most of all he was a lover of dogs and cats, great cook and an avid orchid aficionado.

Tommy will be remembered at a "Celebration of Life" being planned at the Dauer Classic Car Museum in the City of Sunrise, FL on August 3, 2019 at 2:00 p.m.

JUNE BLAKE (née Adams)

June Hilda Blake, age 74, of Stratford, Ontario and formerly of Mississauga passed away peacefully on June 19, 2019. June was born in Hamilton, Ontario, daughter of the late Joseph and Sadie Adams. June is survived by her long-time friends James Robertson and Ian Duncan, by her sisters Noreen Reid, Jeannie Easterbrook (Bruce Singleton), Josephine Holden (Rai Lauge) and Brother Robert Adams, and their families.

Special thanks must be made to James Robertson and Ian Duncan for their care and commitment over her final years.

June had a 30 year teaching career included are, the City of Hamilton, Ontario, the Borough of York, Ontario, the City of Mackay, Queensland, Australia and the City of Stratford, Ontario.

She will be remembered for her love of travelling, the outdoors and her generosity to those less fortunate than herself.

A private interment will be followed by a Celebration of Life in the Reception Centre of the W.G.

Young Funeral Home, 430 Huron Street, Stratford on Monday, July 22, 2019 between 2 and 4 p.m.

with words of remembrance starting at 2:30 p.m.

Expressions of sympathy, in lieu of flowers, donations may be made to the Stratford/ Perth Humane Society, House of Blessing or Spruce Lodge Foundation, through the Funeral Home at 519-271-7411


Passed away peacefully at home in Toronto on July 9th at the age of 82, attended by her son. Born and raised in Ottawa, the daughter of Manada and V. N. Bruce, she graduated from Glebe Collegiate and McGill University, winning an award for Occupational Therapy. After moving from Montreal to London, England, she settled in Toronto where she became Head of the Department of Occupational Therapy at Toronto General Hospital and simultaneously completed a BA in sociology from the University of Toronto.

Barbara was gifted with natural intelligence, grace and a deep curiosity about the world around her.

She was interested in music, current affairs and the arts. She was devoted to Canadian artists and for many years was active in the volunteer programs at the Art Gallery of Ontario and the Gardiner Museum.

At the age of 39 Barbara put her career on hold to raise three sons with her husband Dr. David Elliott (predeceased). In her mid-fifties she began a successful second career as a real estate agent, a field in which she gained respect for her integrity and her dedication in helping many clients find the right house to make a home.

She developed many lifelong friendships before retiring in 2012.

Above all Barbara was a woman of endless generosity who took great joy in helping others, her family, friends, neighbours, clients and colleagues alike. She was never happier than when she was giving of her time or her talents. Random acts of kindness were her daily routine. She will be truly missed.

Barbara is survived by her sister, Phyllis; brother-in-law, Dr. Gotham Clements; cousins, Johanna, Brian, Edith, Vincent, Lorraine and Jack. She is lovingly remembered by her sons Michael, Marc, and Robin Elliott, by her daughter-in-law Christine Zadorozny, by Sean Arnold, and by granddaughters Vivienne, Michelle and Fiona.

A celebration of her life is planned for an upcoming date and will be announced. If you wish to be notified please write to

If desired, donations can be made to The Friends of the Wellington Library, at the Prince Edward County Public Library, 208 Main St. Picton, Ont., K0K2T0.


Born April 21, 1951 Died July 8, 2019 In loving memory of Dr. Susan Wendy Campbell.

Susan is survived by her spouse and family by marriage.

Susan loved nature and animals, particularly feathered ones. Her house is full of birds and chinchillas, all of which were rescued and orphaned before Susan provided a home. She fashioned her yard into a natural habitat for wild critters as a little retreat from asphalt and urban lawns.

Susan will be fondly remembered by all she touched with her passion for nature and her concern for animals caught in an uncaring human environment.


86 years old, son of the late Nathan Cohen and the late Sarye Jessel Cohen. Passed away on July 11, 2019 at Cummer Lodge, surrounded by his wife, Judy; daughter, Michelle; and son, Jonathan. Other mourners are nieces, Kathi Cohen-Hovey and Natalie Cohen; nephew, Michael Hovey; grandnephew, Kyle Ethan Hovey and Kyle's partner, Sarah Dykstra. At Benjamin's Park Memorial Chapel, 2401 Steeles Avenue West, Toronto (3 lights west of Dufferin) for service on Monday, July 15, 2019 at 10:00 a.m. Interment in the Anshei Minsk section of Bathurst Lawn Memorial Park. Shiva at 3181 Bayview Avenue, Toronto.

Memorial donations may be made to Baycrest Foundation 416-785-2875 or Cummer Lodge 416-392-9500.


It is with heavy hearts we announce the passing of our beautiful mother in Vancouver, BC on July 3, 2019.

Born October 16, 1932 in New Westminster, Morag grew up in Fraser Mills, then known as Maillardville, and spent lazy summers at Crescent Beach winning numerous swimming medallions as a youngster. The family later moved to Adera Street in Vancouver. One of three women, Morag graduated from UBC earning a Commerce degree in 1956. It was at UBC she met Mike (predeceased) her husband of 60 years. Fond memories were created in the Town of Mount Royal - with life long friends established on Beverley Avenue and on the ski hills in the Laurentians.

Fifty years of adventure would follow in Oakville with weekends skiing in Ellicottville, many house renovations, gardening work and dinner parties hosted at the 'Guest House' and Cox Drive.

A modern-day explorer, Morag travelled the globe with Mike and friends. A fountain of knowledge, Morag was recognized by the Ontario Provincial Government for her 36 years of service devoted to researching, assisting with script writing, and leading tours at the Royal Ontario Museum.

Her home was filled with stacks of research notes in every room - her favorite writing tool was her pencil. Extremely well read, she was known for her attention to detail, historical knowledge in a variety of subject matter, and ability to recount every date and detail of her travels she had an uncanny ability to remember even the smallest tidbit of information. Morag will forever be remembered for her (long) red hair, exotic jewelry, and unique, well thought out table centerpieces. Gracious, loyal and loving; she was stoic with a razor-sharp intellect and loved a good debate with varying viewpoints. She was a veritable "Renaissance Woman" with lots of 'moxie'. Morag is greatly missed by her three children: Lisa (Robert), Heather and Peter (Charlene), and her four grandchildren whom she adored: Hailey, Dexter, Sydney and Max.

Special thanks to her doctors in Oakville and the many wonderful staff at VGH. In accordance with her wishes, cremation has taken place and there will be no funeral service. In lieu of flowers, tribute gifts can be made to support the Palliative Care Fund at VGH & UBC Hospital Foundation at or the Royal Ontario Museum ways-give Condolences for the family may be left at


July 1, 1935 July 4, 2019 In Loving Memory of Rosemary Elizabeth Faye Cozens.

Feminist psychotherapist; passionate advocate for human and animal rights; Nature lover and avid reader; good food and tai chi enthusiast. Rosemary adored all her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. She was a spunky (and sometimes opinionated), ardent trailblazer looking deeply into life, ceaselessly exploring the human shadowlands as well as the bright and beautiful - she just loved the adventure of traveling, both on the planet and inside the human experience.

She passed away peacefully in her home. Rosemary, may you walk in Beauty, no matter where your travels take you next. You are dearly missed by so many.

Beloved mother of Susan of Orillia, deb of Orillia and Kinmount, Robyn (and Frank) of Oshawa, Scott of Toronto.

Previous wife and lifelong dear friend of Bob Svanefelt. Loving Gran to Andrea, Lee, Jeff, Chris, David, Allison, and Great-Gran to Tavish, Yevette, Savannah, Amelia, Gwendolyn and Rowan.

Cherished sister of Elaine, and fondly remembered by Randy.

Friends are invited to join the family at the Kinmount United Church, 15 Cluxton St., Kinmount on Saturday, July 20, 2019 for a Service to Celebrate Rosemary's Life at 1:30 p.m. Reception to follow in Royal Canadian Legion Br. 441 (upstairs), Kinmount.

Cremation has taken place.

Memorial Donations to the SPCA or to World Vision would be appreciated by the family and can be arranged through the Gordon A. Monk Funeral Home Ltd., P.O. Box 427, Minden, Ontario K0M 2K0.


April 7, 1963 - July 7, 2019 Susan Diane Graham passed away suddenly at Lake of the Woods her favourite place in the universe doing what she loved with her cherished husband, Adam Pankhurst. Beloved mother of Kaitlyn and Robert Scott, brother of Bruce Graham, Aunt to Holly and Fisher and lifelong friends with Lisa Fraser and Lynn Savage, Sue will be missed more than words can express.

Sue was predeceased by her parents Diane (née Wilson) and Robert, whose example guided and inspired her throughout her life.

In all that she did - whether as Head girl of Balmoral Hall, completing her BA of recreation from the University of Manitoba, raising funds to build the Canadian Museum for Human Rights and to support the Health Science Centre Foundation - Sue acted with integrity, respect, and kindness.

Sue had vision and commitment, working at Medallion Milk Co and serving on the Board of Cancer Care Foundation at the time of her passing.

Known for her open-hearted hospitality, Sue was easy to talk with and offered fair and wise counsel without judgment.

Profoundly grateful for all she had in her life, Sue's laugh was contagious and she inspired those around her to become the best they could be.

Sue will be deeply missed but will be remembered with joy wherever her people gather.

A celebration of Sue's life will be held on Friday, July 12th at 11:00 a.m. at The Gates on Roblin, 6945 Roblin Blvd, Headingley, MB.

In lieu of flowers, donations may be made in Sue's honour to Health Sciences Centre Foundation PW112-700 William Avenue Winnipeg, MB R3E 0Z3.

Thomson "In The Park" 204-925-1120 Condolences may be sent to


It is with deep sadness that the family of Paul Harris announces his passing on Thursday, July 11, 2019, at the age of sixty-eight.

Beloved husband and best friend of Lenore Cohen.

Adored father and hero to Michelle Harris and Jonathon Luft, Kenny Harris and Ari Crudo, and Andrew Harris.

Devoted son and son-in-law of the late Brina Harris and the late Dr. Mortimer Harris, Ruth and the late Edgar Cohen.

Proud Papa of Mia and Harlow Luft; Ella and Evan Harris.

Cherished brother and brother-in-law of John Harris and Susan Guttman, the late Barry Harris, Judy Cohen and Michael Jacobs, Andrew Cohen and Mary Gooderham.

Devoted uncle of Maggie Harris, Molly and Joanna Harris, Jesse Jacobs, Alexander and Rachel Cohen.

Paul will be fondly remembered by his cousins, friends, and colleagues.

Special thanks to Virgie and his extraordinary caregivers at the Jewish General Hospital.

Funeral service from Paperman & Sons, 3888 Jean Talon St. W., Montreal, on Sunday, July 14 at 11:30 a.m.

Burial at Congregation Shaar Hashomayim Cemetery, 1250 ch. de la Forêt. Shiva private at his home. Contributions in his memory may be made to the "Paul Harris Memorial Fund" c/o the Jewish General Hospital Foundation, (514) 340-8251.


July 12, 2019 Born in Halifax, N.S., December 17, 1923, second son of Col.

William Grasett Hagarty, D.S.O.

and Mary Kinney of Boston, MA.

Predeceased by his wife, Evelyn Joan Reilly, RN, (2006); his three brothers, John, Ted and Ken; sister, Jacqueline Riddell; and son, Gerard. Survived by his youngest sister, Mary Sue Strain (Terry) of Calgary, Alberta and sister-in-law, Elaine Hagarty (Ted); brother-inlaw, Jack Riddell; his five children, Maura Bannon (Murray), of South Carolina, Megan Hagarty Smith (Geoff), of Oakville Ontario, Sean, Catherine of London, Dr. Sarah Hagarty (Dr. Kevin Draxinger) of Rockford, Illinois; 11 grandchildren and one great-grandchild.

Bill served three years in the Royal Canadian Artillery as an observation pilot in WWII in Holland and Germany. He returned safely with his brother Ted and good friend Cal Smith (both paratroopers). After some further flying shenanigans involving a dare to fly under the bridge at Western Road, with "Chickens at 1000 feet" per the newspaper headline, and a near fatal car accident with the three of them on their way to a ski trip, he often said he wondered why he had survived all that. He went on to study law at Osgoode Hall.

With a deep regard of philosophy and theology, he studied a further four years at St Peter's Seminary in London. Luckily for all of us he decided that wasn't the life for him and he left to practice law.

After a blind date at the Sertoma Club, he met and married the love of his life, Evelyn Joan Reilly. He spent 55 years plus practising law in London Ontario. His religion and strong belief in a willingness to serve others less fortunate were a strong part of his daily life, volunteering to bring the sacraments to those were unable to leave home. His faith was a great comfort to him. Happily retiring at 89, still driving, he discovered and enjoyed many new friendships at both Richmond Woods and Parkwood Veteran's Hospital. He particularly enjoyed sitting in the gardens and listening to the birds and nature all around him. A well loved Uncle Billy to his many nieces, nephews, and their families.

Visitation at John T. Donohue Funeral Home, 362 Waterloo St., London Ontario, Sunday July 14, 2-4 p.m., Funeral Mass at Holy Family Catholic Church, 777 Valetta St, Monday at 10 a.m., light luncheon to follow in parish rooms, and interment afterwards at St. Peter's Cemetery, 806 Victoria Street.

In lieu of flowers, donations to Occupational Therapy, Veterans's Care Program, St Joseph's Health Foundation would be appreciated.


In the evening of June 30, 2019, Mary Kathleen Hummelen (Copeland) passed to be with God. She joins her husband, Remmelt, and together they will continue to watch over their treasured son, Brendan (Christine Hansen). Kathleen is also the daughter of Aubrey and Hazel Copeland, now deceased, and sister of Muriel (Bill Boryk).

Kathleen was devoted to her family and friends worldwide, and was a loving, caring connector of people, creating community wherever she went. Her concerns were for social justice, respect, equality, honesty, and she lived her values with passion, courage and a great sense of humour. She was deeply loved and will be deeply missed.

A Celebration of Kathleen's Life will be held on Saturday, July 27 at Friends' House, 60 Lowther Ave., Toronto, Ontario, at 1:30-4:30 p.m. If you wish to make a charitable donation in her memory, the Princess Margaret Cancer Research Centre, the Princess Margaret Hospital, or the Red Cross would use it well.

"Death is not extinguishing the light; It is putting out the lamp because the dawn has come." - Tagore


July 8, 2019 Vince Keyes was born the seventh of eight to Josef and Emily Keyes on Brock Street in Gananoque, Ontario in March 1930. Although part of a big loving Catholic family, he always said that the last thing anybody needed at the start of the Depression was another mouth to feed. Named Norman Vincent Keyes, he was Vince, Vin, or around town Vinny. Being from a large family, from a small town, born into tough times shaped his life.

He left town to make his way in the world, first to Scotland in 1949 to play professional hockey; certainly one of the great periods of his life. He loved all of it; the people, Mrs. Cavendish's boardinghouse, and Saturday night dances. And although he said that he had to take a penalty just to get off the ice, he loved that too.

His career and the work he did for all his days began with IAC in Kingston, the only company he ever worked for. He soon went to Kirkland Lake which started a purposeful journey across Canada going to Edmonton, Medicine Hat, Lethbridge, Winnipeg, Toronto (twice) and finally Vancouver (twice again). He rose to become the Senior Vice President of one of Canada's chartered banks, a source of great pride for all his family. The mosaic of people that came into his life over that time is remarkable, something he cherished and would recount with amazing detail until the very day he left us.

However, his greatest feat was the creation of his own family. It started when he met and instantly fell in love with Merle Jean Adams, his one true soulmate. So much so that when she was gone too early in 2003 he never remarried, never finding her equal. Kids - Four: Susan, Jim, Helen and Peter, who then gave him grandchildren to delight in. When retirement came, he and Merle settled on a mix of the life that they had lived, sharing time between Vancouver, Florida and their favorite place, the cottage on Howe Island, barely a stone's throw from those humble beginnings on Brock Street. His service in Gan is planned for mid-August. He kept the troubadour pace until his last year really remarkable. He had come full circle, living life on his own terms and don't we all want to say that.


Dr. Edward Levinson, born February 9, 1925, died July 10, 2019, son of Harry Judah and Bertha Levinson (Echenberg) of Montreal. A great man, patriarch and humble source of advice for many. He served as navigator in the RCAF, World War II, graduated McGill University as MD '53. Highly regarded in adult psychiatry, his work with children, and Holocaust survivors. He held many positions: at McGill University Medical School, and as Clinical Chief of Psychiatry, Jewish General Hospital.

Survived by his wife of 69 years, Lorraine (Engel); their children, Yehuda, Sara, Seth, Risa and Beth; 3 grandchildren and 9 great-grandchildren.

Donations in his memory may be made to The Jewish Public Library (Montreal) or Princess Margaret Hospital (Toronto).


De Montigny Marchand, distinguished senior Canadian public servant and Ambassador died in Victoria on June 24, 2019.

He leaves in mourning his loving companion and wife of forty years Marie-Andrée Beauchemin. He is sorely missed by his devoted and much-loved children from his first marriagetothelateNathalieClift,Julie, Emmanuelle, Charles and his wife, Noom; and his adored grandchildren, Anne-Sophie, Marie-Claude, JeanChristophe (Goulet), Adèle, Laurent, Renaud (Chiricota), Sémira, EmilieSasi, Prom (Marchand). He will also be much missed by his sisters, Marie (Marc Filion) and Francine (Robert Clarenc); his sister-in-law, Francine Beauchemin; and his nephews, nieces, cousins, and many other members of his extended family.

De Montigny was born on March 19, 1936 in St-Jérome, Quebec, the son of Jean-Charles Marchand and Françoise Magnan. A graduate of the University of Montreal where he obtained his law degree, he also attended Boston University where he pursued postgraduate studies in communications.

Having served as Secretary General of the University of Montreal (19671969), de Montigny joined the federal public service where he rose rapidly to the highest ranks, serving as the Privy Council's Deputy Secretary to the Cabinet during the government of Prime Minister Pierre Elliott Trudeau.

Senior appointments followed as Deputy Minister of Political Affairs at External Affairs, as Deputy Minister of Communications, of Energy, Mines and Resources and as Under Secretary of State for External Affairs. During these years he served also as the Prime Minister's Personal Representative for several G7 Summits, including Versailles (1982), Williamsburg (1983) and London (1984). De Montigny also served as Canada's Ambassador to the United Nations in Geneva (198789) and as Ambassador of Canada to Italy (1991-96).

Throughout his career, de Montigny played a key role at the nerve center of government as both a proud Quebecker and as a defender and promoter of federalism and bilingualism during challenging years for the country.

After living the first phase of their retirement in Tuscany for 12 years, de Montigny and Marie-Andrée moved to Victoria in 2014 where he maintained his life-long interest in international affairs and greatly appreciated the closer vicinity to his family and year-round golfing at the Victoria Golf Club.

De Montigny was an exceptional gentleman, a charming lover of family, music, wine, golf and baseball (especially the Boston Red Sox) and a great raconteur. He will be greatly missed but fondly remembered by his family and many friends in Canada and abroad.

Celebrations of his life will be organized in Victoria and Montreal in September. Condolences may be offered to the family at


It is with great sadness that we announce the passing of our father, David Leslie McInnes, within weeks of losing Winifred, his life partner of 66 years. David passed away May 16, 2019.

David will be deeply missed by his children, Patricia (Barry), John, Kim (Constance), and Donald. Also missinghim will be his grandchildren Derek (Roseanne), Kathryn (Kyle), Callum and Elizabeth (Lucy, mother of Callum and Elizabeth), great- grandchildren Skyler and Hudson as well as nieces, nephews and the many other relatives and friends whose lives David has touched. David was appointed as an Ordinary Seaman in 1947 and served in the HMCS Discovery from 1947-1951. He was appointed naval cadet and sublieutenant with seniority dated 1951. David graduated from the Faculty of Forestry at U.B.C. and followed a career in the forest industry beginning with McMillan Bloedel on Vancouver Island and culminating with him becoming President and Chief Executive Officer of Weyerhaueser, Canada.

David chaired and volunteered on numerous industry committees.

His contribution to the forest industry and to the Forestry Faculty was recognized by naming the Undergraduate Student Lounge inthe Forest Science Centre at U.B.C. after him.

David was a loving, devoted father who made the family a priority. He spent time with family and friends through entertaining at home, travelling extensively throughout the world and boating and fishing on the West Coast.

David once said "If anything is to happen to us inour travels, always remember we have had an amazing life!"

If friends so desire, in lieu of flowers, a donation may be made in David's name to the Nature Trust, British Columbia or to a charity of your choice.


October 10, 1963 July 1, 2019 Our Karen was a beautiful person, daughter to Lenore and Kelly, big sister to Jackie (Stuart) and Joe (Alli), best friend to Robb (Adam), amazing aunty to Caroline, Sarah, Emily and Luke. Karen loved her family and her friends, a network, vast and deep, stretching back to childhood family cousins and the Glenrose Ave kids, through the UTS and Trinity College U of T years, to her book club gang, Sheraton/Marriott work colleagues, PWA volunteers and all the people, and at least one cat (Tasha), she met along the way. Karen loved to read. Nobel prize winners, airport bestsellers, anything with words, a trait she has passed on to her nieces and nephew. She also loved to travel, the last big trip being to Italy, with her Mom and sister, and a more recent getaway in May, with the entire family. It was a special time.

Karen was the calm O'Connor.

She never raised her voice. Her laugh was pure joy. She always put others ahead of herself. She "loved fearlessly." She was happy, and she died, peacefully, at home, another place she loved to be. A celebration of Karen's life will be held in the Fall, her favourite season. In lieu of flowers, please feel free to make a donation in Karen's name to the charity of your choice.


1940 - 2019

It is with great sadness that we announce the passing of our beloved wife and mom, Gail, on Saturday, July 6, 2019. She was 78 years old.

Gail leaves behind her loving husband of 51 years, Douglas Moshoian. She was the caring, generous mother to Andrew and Heather (David). Gail was an incredibly devoted 'Nanny' who was adored by her five remarkable grandchildren, Matthew, Charlotte, Rachael, Sarah, and Leah.

Gail was the eldest daughter of Wellington and Audrey Tyers, and in her adult years, was the matriarch of the Tyers clan, including her three siblings, Judy (Bob) Ferguson, Jane (Ken) Weeks, and Robert (Shelley) Tyers; and her nieces and nephews whom she loved as much as her own children, Kimberley, Kyle, Byron, Keegan and Stuart.

When Gail and Doug married in 1967, she was welcomed with love and affection by his family living in Brantford and St. Catharines, ON.

Ron, Dolly (Sam Manoogian (D)), Susie (Jack Dardarian (D)), and Gerry (D) loved her like a sister, and all of her nieces and nephews, Tom, John, Pauline, Paul (Narges), Patty and Mark each had close and trusting relationships with Gail.

She was known for her generosity and fierce loyalty, supporting and inspiring others as a big sister, aunt, confidant, mentor, and devoted friend. She happily gave her time to listen, share, and help shape the future of so many people.

She was the glue that held our friends and family together. She left us too soon, and we will miss her tremendously.

A memorial service will be held on Wednesday, July 17th at 1:00 p.m. at the Humphrey Funeral Home A.W. Miles - Newbigging Chapel, 1403 Bayview Avenue (south of Davisville), followed by a reception at the same location.

In lieu of flowers, and to honour the love Gail had for children and animals, please consider donating in her name, to the Hospital for Sick Kids or The Toronto Humane Society. Condolences may be forwarded through


In loving memory of my mother, Francine Okuda.

Mom was born April 10, 1946 in Phalsbourg, France. The adopted daughter of Charles Marcel Lacom and Margerite Keller. She is survived by her daughter, Isabelle; son-in-law, Mike; and granddaughter, Samantha McAllister living in San Diego. Her cherished friend, Nick Alipheris of Toronto; friends, Jenny and Torben Wittrup; and family Simeon, Annie, Ludovic, Stephane, Beatrix, Julian, Audrey, Paul and MarieJeanne in France.

Mom received her Bachelor of Arts in Strasbourg, France, a Masters in English Literature from Moravian College in Bethlehem, PA and her teaching certification from the University of Toronto. She worked as a translator and teacher at Ryerson in Toronto. She loved to travel, talk, quilt, do stained glass and was gifted with languages. Mom suffered from Alzheimer's for the past 4 years. She died peacefully July 11, 2019 while resting.

Grateful for the caregivers and staff at Vermont Square and Ewart Angus.

Private cremation. Online condolences may be left at

May you find peace Mom, we love you dearly.


In his 84th year, peacefully at his home, Edward passed away on Thursday, July 11, 2019. During his remarkable life, he influenced and motivated innovation. He was a Patent and Trademark Agent, with a long and distinguished career working for Westinghouse, G E Canada as well as his own practice. When he was not in his office, you could find him working on his fruit trees, vegetable garden or working on his Volkswagen cars. He was an active member in his community with Rockton Agricultural Society and a supporter of the Arts in Hamilton. Ed was a lover of music and sang for many years in the Burlington Welsh Choir and Canadian Male Orpheus Choir. Ed truly never recovered the loss of his wife, Frances Janet Oldham four years ago.

He was the proud father of Kym, Scott, Heather (Doug) Spence and Charlene. His true joy, were his grandson's, Gregory and Tyler Spence and Jacob Oldham.

He was the son of Ewart and Margret Oldham, brother to Jean (Jella) Nauta and late sister Ruth (Ritchie) Swan. He was the brother in law to Bill Richardson, Noreen Richardson, Don and Lois Richardson and Peter and Laurie Sturm and many nieces and nephews. His last four years of life where supported by some very special people but most of all Mark Pangowish and Bernadette Gamboa. It is because of their help, support and love for Ed that he had such a great quality of life.

Visitation will be held at Turner Family Funeral Home, 53 Main Street, Dundas, on Tuesday, July 16th from 2-4 p.m. and 7 - 9 p.m. Followed by a visitation on Wednesday, July 17th at St.

Andrews Presbyterian Church, 115 St Andrew's Rd, Scarborough, at 11 a.m. with a Funeral Service to follow at 12 p.m. Donations, in memory, can be made to Rockton Agricultural Society or the Kidney Foundation. Please sign Ed's online Book of Condolence at


(Pete) Passed away suddenly July 3, 2019. Peter is survived by his three children, Madison Palmer, Kayla Palmer, Luke Palmer; their mother, Paula Ellis; his parents, Peter and Rose Marie Palmer; uncle, Pat Cipriano (Jennifer); uncle, Steve Palmer (Catherine); aunt, Lynn Hamber (David); and several cousins.

Peter was a free spirit who had a passion for the outdoors and anything to do with nature. He attended Hillfield Strathallan College as well as Guelph University and Humber College following which he very much enjoyed developing a landscaping lawn maintenance business.

Peter's primary focus in life was centred on his three wonderful children who loved to be with him always.

A private family service has taken place. A celebration of life reception will follow on Tuesday, July 30, 2019 for family and friends at the Tamahaac Club, 180 Filman Road in Ancaster from 2 to 4 p.m.

The family would like to thank the Hamilton EMS team and the St. Joseph's Hospital emergency team for their extraordinary efforts.

Donations in lieu of flowers may be made to the Hamilton Community Foundation or a charity of your choice.


Of St. John's, Newfoundland and Labrador passed away peacefully at home on July 2, 2019 in his 89th year.

Born in Plymouth, England in 1931, Ivan was the son of the late Harley and Olive (Bett) Palmer, and brother of the late John Palmer.

He is survived by Ann, his wife of 64 years.

Ivan will be deeply missed by his children: Elizabeth (Luc) of London, England; Matthew (Elda) of Boston; Richard (Manita) of Ottawa; Steven of Windsor, Ontario; and Louise (Stephen) of Greenwich, Connecticut; and grandchildren Zachary, Ava, Chloe, Sophia, Emil, Giorgio, Ghilenn and Beatrice.

Generous, creative, witty and well rounded, Ivan enjoyed the world and all it had to offer. He was a fine writer and discerning reader who delighted in good company and lively conversation.

Ivan was educated at Kirkham Grammar School in Lancashire.

He played on the school's first eleven cricket team and became Head Boy.

He graduated with a BSc in Chemistry from the University of London, and began his career at British Drug Houses.

Ivan immigrated to Montreal in 1956 where he joined BAShawinigan (later Gulf Oil Canada) as an industrial research chemist and worked at its Montreal East, Shawinigan and Varennes plants. In the early 1970s he was a senior research and development manager for Johnson & Johnson Canada.

In 1974, Ivan joined the Newfoundland government's Department of Development where he oversaw projects in the oil and gas sector, the Labrador Sea and Lake Melville Ice Management programmes, and numerous ventures with local development corporations.

After retiring as an Assistant Deputy Minister, he worked as a consultant for clients that included the Labrador Inuit Development Corporation and the Music Industry Association of Newfoundland and Labrador.

He was a fellow of the Canadian Society for Chemistry.

Ivan loved to sing, and lent his rich baritone voice to several St. John's-based choirs. He was a keen gardener and member of the Horticultural Society, and a dedicated watercolourist who studied and exhibited with Diana Dabinett's art group, "Monday's Company".

Cremation has taken place.

Funeral service will take place at the Carnell Memorial Chapel, 329 Freshwater Road, Friday, July 19th at 2 p.m. In lieu of flowers, donations in his memory may be made to Doctors Without Borders.

To send a message of condolence, please visit


1930 - 2019

It is with profound sadness we announce the passing of our dearest Don Robinson on June 22, 2019. Son of the late Norman and Helen Robinson of Toronto.

He will be greatly missed by his three children and four grandchildren.

Don was educated at Upper Canada College. Formerly a member of Rosedale Golf Club and the Granite Club. Don was once National VP for the Canadian Ski Patrol. He will be dearly missed by his many friends in the Brewing, Malting and Filtration industries. Don was a member of the Master Brewers Association of the America's since 1954. Don was their longest serving member.

Funeral arrangements are under the direction of Munro & Morris Funeral Homes. A service will be held Saturday, July 20, 2019 at 2 p.m. in St. John The Evangelist Church, South Lancaster, ON.

Condolences welcomed at


September 10, 1931 July 6, 2019 Sheila died peacefully at her cherished family home, 'The Knoll.' Beloved wife of Ronald Neil, daughter of Theodore 'Ted' and Marjorie Graham.

She is lovingly remembered by her children, David (Kelly), Neil (Tricia), Sarah (Garth), Colin (Amy); and grandchildren, Kate, Ella, Nan, Molly, Cooper, Rosie, Jessica, Grey, and Tessa. She is survived by her brother, Donald Graham (Betty).

Sheila was born and educated in Toronto and received her BA from Victoria College, University of Toronto. After her marriage to Ron in 1957, Sheila dedicated her life to her home and family where, with wit, wisdom and tolerance she raised her four children and then welcomed their spouses and the nine grandchildren who gave her such joy. Sheila's life was also greatly enriched by a variety of animals-dogs, cats, and horses-who were companions and friends. Her other great focus was the arts in which she pursued a life-long interest, especially through classes at the University of Toronto and work as a volunteer docent at the Art Gallery of Ontario. She conveyed to her children and all around her a great love for reading, music, and theatre. Sheila was fully engaged in her community both in Toronto, as part of her Veritas and TSO friends and in Inglewood, where she was a member of the UCW, the Friends of Caledon Library, and the Inglewood Garden Club.

She lived a life informed by a curiosity that took her and Ronmostly travelling in style-to many places around the globe often with their dear friends Malcolm and Sheila. While much of her life was spent raising her family in Toronto, The Knoll was her true home, and she returned there to live full-time in retirement with Ron. In her final years, and after Ron's death in 2011, she received wonderful care from the many Personal Support Workers, especially Theresa Daubney, who enabled her to continue living with comfort at The Knoll.

Family and friends will be received on July 21, 2019 from 12 Noon with a funeral service to follow at 1:00 p.m. at Inglewood United Church, 15673 McLaughlin Road, Inglewood with reception to follow. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to the Halifax Humanities Society: http:// http://www.halifaxhumanitiessociety.

ca/home Please visit the Book of Memories at


Passed away peacefully at Arbour Trails, Guelph on July 5, 2019 in her 93rd year. Beloved wife to Frank (d. 2012) for 59 years.

Loving mom to Frank Jr. (Gayle), Jim (Diane) and Sue (Blaire). She will be tenderly remembered by her 8 grandchildren and 8 great-grandchildren. Predeceased by her sister Jane Lovering.

A graduate of St. Clement's School in Toronto and U of T, Mary will be remembered for her love of life, family and friends, her piano playing and teaching, as well as her beautiful smile and blue eyes! The family would like to thank Arbour Trails, for their care of Mary during her last few years.

A private family service will take place. If desired, donations may be made to the Heart and Stroke Foundation. Online condolences may be made at www.


Peacefully in Toronto on July 11, 2019 at age 95. Loving mother of Irene Haras (Orest) and Chrystyna Kozak. Beloved grandmother of Anna Ochrym (Alexander), Katryna Haras, Adrian Kozak (Emma), Natalka Haras (Dimitri Gagnon Morris), and Alex Kozak (Ashley). Dear greatgrandmother of Theodore, Marcus, and Roxane Ochrym; Isabel and Zoe Kozak; Matilda Gagnon Haras; and Remi and Quinn Kozak. Predeceased by her late husband of 67 years, Hryhorij "Harry" Swerhun, she also leaves behind her sister, Anastasia, and many friends and relations in and around her home village, Sukhostav, Ukraine.

Born in Yabluniv, Ukraine on March 2, 1924, Kataryna Kowal was displaced as a forced labourer in Germany during the Second World War.

In 1945, she and Hryhorij married in Rothenburg ob der Tauber and in 1949, they immigrated to Canada with their daughter Irene and settled in Toronto, where Chrystyna was born.

Kataryna's love for her family, homeland, and for Canada touched many lives through her work in many community organizations and her beautiful traditional embroideries "vyshivanky;" in 2017, she received an Ontario Volunteer Service Award for 60 years of service.

Visitation will take place on Monday, July 15 from 5:00 9:00 p.m. with Panakhyda at 7:00 pm at Cardinal Funeral Home, Annette Chapel, 92 Annette Street, Toronto.

Divine Liturgy will take place on Tuesday, July 16 at 10:00 a.m. at Saint Nicholas Ukrainian Catholic Church, 4 Bellwoods Avenue, Toronto followed by interment at Park Lawn Cemetery. To honour Kataryna's life, donations may be made to Saint Nicholas Ukrainian Catholic Church, the Canada-Ukraine Foundation, or the charity of your choice.

PAUL ROBERT SWYER M.A, M.D. (Cantab), F.R.C.P. (C), F.R.C.P.(L), D.C.H.

1921 - 2019 Neonatologist, Hospital for Sick Children, Toronto, passed away peacefully, fulfilling his final wish to die at his home, on July 8, 2019. Paul leaves his beloved wife and best friend of 73 years, Fernande (née Rumbaut) and two loving daughters, Sandra (Dennis) and Michèle (Senechal).

He will be mourned by son-in-law Alan Dennis and grandchildren, Jonathan Senechal, Elijah Senechal, Jessica Dennis (Boucher), Jeremy Dennis and Gregory Dennis as well as three great grandchildren.

Paul was born on May 21, 1921 in London, England, the only child of the late Dr. Robert Swyer and Kathleen Swyer (née Rodwell).

After attending Bedford School, he entered Cambridge University just as war was breaking out in 1939.

Graduation with a medical degree followed in 1943, after which he was enrolled in the RAMC and landed in France in June, 1944.

Paul was a medical officer in the front-line field ambulance clearing stations with the advancing Allied troops in the 49th (West Riding) Infantry Division, known as the Polar Bear Division. These troops fought their way across France, Belgium, Holland and finally, into Germany. His division became part of the First Canadian Army towards the end of 1944. During the grim winter of 1945 Paul forgot these hardships having met the love of his life, Fernande, at a liberation ball in Belgium in 1944.

They were married in June, 1947.

After the war, Paul specialized in paediatrics at the Hospital for Sick Children Great Ormand Street, London England, and then emigrated to Canada in 1952. He joined the Hospital for Sick Children (HSC) in Toronto in 1953 and set up the first intensive care unit for sick newborns in 1961. Paul became a full professor at the University of Toronto in 1975. During the 1970's, the 7G unit at HSC became a model upon which worldwide Neonatal Intensive Care Units (NICUs) were developed. Paul influenced the international scene further through his training of many fellows from abroad, and also spent time in China with the World Health Organization in 1988.

Numerous neonatology fellows have been influenced by his knowledge and enthusiasm and learnt from his clinical acumen.

Paul retired from HSC in 1987, but continued to play an active role as one of the founders of the International Perinatal Collegium, and in committee work for the WHO and for the Provincial Ministry of Health (Ontario).

He will be deeply missed by his family, friends and medical colleagues.

In lieu of flowers, Dr. Paul Swyer has made a wish that donations in his memory, should be made to the SickKids Foundation - Division of Neonatology, 555 University Avenue, Toronto, M5G 1X8.

Link: http://my.sickkidsdonations.

com/DrPaulSwyer Private funeral arrangements were made with the Humphrey Funeral Home at 1403 Bayview Avenue, Toronto, M4G 3A8 with a private cremation. A memorial service and Celebration of Life for friends, colleagues and family will take place at The Toronto Cricket Skating and Curling Club, 141 Wilson Avenue, Toronto M5M 3A3 from 2 p.m. to 5 p.m. on Thursday, July 18, 2019.


March 17, 1938 - July 4, 2019 Passed away peacefully in Toronto.

Loving wife of the late Owen Ray Tilley. Sadly missed by her children Karen (Mark) and Craig (Katherine), devoted grandma to Anna, Joe, Owen and Spencer. Partner to Don Kowalinski.

Born in Winnipeg, Patricia spent her life in Toronto and at her beloved Kushog Lake.

She will be remembered for her devotion to family, her sharp sense of humour and her love for the outdoors, travel and the arts. Patricia lived her life to the fullest.

Service was family only.Donations may be made to The Scott Mission in her memory.


Passed away unexpectedly at Toronto Western Hospital on June 13, 2019, at age 67.

Beloved wife of Eric Trimble, daughter of Melva Burns, sister of David Burns (Cathy Sloane), mother of Blair (Jesse Stanchak) and grandmother of Anna Stanchak, all of whom miss her terribly.

She was a strong guiding force in all our lives. Karen had a successful career in marketing, and later in real estate, and was passionate about all things equine.

A Celebration of Karen's life will be held in the Atrium of 21 Shaftesbury Ave., Toronto at 1:00 p.m. on July 20. In lieu of flowers, donations in Karen's memory to Community Association for Riders with Disabilities would be appreciated.


Joe passed away peacefully at Trillium-Mississauga Hospital on July 9, 2019 at the age of 92.

He was predeceased by his loving wife, Mary Kosters, and dear son, Eric. Joe is survived by his daughter, Ingrid (Manuel Costa), his grandchildren Paul, Kevin, and Caroline and his sister, Joan (Luke Neaven). Dear brother-in-law of Fred and Florence Kosters and John Malick.

Joe enjoyed a rewarding career at Northern Telecom for over 35 years in Engineering and Marketing.

His family will privately celebrate Joe's life. We have honoured his wishes for cremation and no funeral.

Donations in memory of Joe to Trillium Health Partners would be gratefully appreciated. Many thanks to his long-time physicians Dr.Michael Gitterman, and Dr.George Wu, and to the compassionate nurses and doctors at Trillium who cared for Joe on his final day.

"When death comes for you, my dear let him take you like a candle flame that is taken from its wick by a gentle stir of wind smelling of lilac" -Irving Layton WILLIAM JOHN WHELAN CA, CPA June 4, 1928, Perth, Ontario July 6, 2019, Calgary, Alberta Bill passed peacefully into the arms of God at home while Margaret, the love of his life and wife of 66 years, held his hand. His family surrounded him with love, returning to him the same love that he had nurtured over a lifetime of devotion to them.

Bill was a highly respected executive, entrepreneur, mentor and advisor in the oil and gas industry. He served faithfully in many church communities, including Thornhill United Church and most recently Living Spirit United Church. Bill delighted in his time with his friends, often intersecting with his love of golf, for example at the Summit Golf and Country Club and Canyon Meadows Golf and Country Club.

He gave freely of his time, talents and wisdom, and kept close to his heart many charities, most often with children and people with special needs as their focus.

Bill brought his compassion, love and leadership to every aspect of his life.

He was lovingly cared for over the last several years by many wonderful people, including Dr.

Tom Szabo.

Bill is survived by Margaret (née Harris); his brother, Jim; his children, Jerry (Pam), Blair (Rochelle), Tom (Michelle), and Elizabeth Broeke (Roger); and many treasured grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

A family service was held on July 11th and a Celebration of Life will follow in September.

Memorial tributes may be made in support of Brain Health to the Alberta Children's Hospital Foundation.

Condolences may be forwarded to the family by visiting www.

e d e n b r o o k c e m e t e r y. c a .

Arrangements entrusted to Eden Brook Funeral Home and Reception Centre, 24223 Twp. Rd.

242, Calgary, AB, T3Z 3K2.


We announce with sorrow the passing of Robert Benjamin Weeks in his 83rd year after a short battle with cancer at North York General Hospital on June 24, 2019. Robert will be dearly missed by his loving wife of 55 years, Catherine; and son, David of Montreal. He was predeceased by younger son Alan in 1991. He will be equally missed by his surviving sibling, Beryl, and his many nieces and nephews and their children around the Bristol area in England.

Robert was born at Longwell Green, Bristol in 1935. He studied mechanical engineering at the University of Wales, Cardiff, and enjoyed playing rugby and cricket during his time there. He came to Canada in 1962, arriving in Montreal, where he met Catherine. They married in 1964 and moved to Kingston where for a year he worked for DuPont.

From there, they moved to Toronto where Robert worked at Canada Wire and Cable, finally in the position of vice president of the Power and Control division in Leaside. Later, he was president of Graham Fiberglass in Erin, Ontario. Before retiring, Robert was a management consultant to numerous clients.

Robert was a very kind-hearted, compassionate person who always made time to listen to others and give of his time where it could provide the most benefit. As a long-time member of the North York YMCA, he spent many hours volunteering there, served on the board at the Toronto East General Hospital, as well as giving time to various other organizations throughout the years. For his contributions, Robert was a recipient of the Queen Elizabeth II Diamond Jubilee medal in 2012.

The family would like to thank the compassionate and professional care provided by the cardiology and palliative care teams at North York General Hospital.

A private family service has taken place.

Donations in Robert's memory may be made to the Canadian Cancer Society, or a charity of your choice.


BGen (retired) - Canadian Army It is with great sadness that we share the sudden passing of our father, William Yost in his 93rd year, on July 5, 2019. Born May 20, 1926 in Caledonia, ON, he was the son of the late Arthur Yost and Rose Wagner. He is survived by his children Alison Clohessy (Australia) and son David Yost (Caryn) (Virginia USA). Adoring Grandfather to Jon and James Clohessy (Australia) and Samantha and Victoria Yost. Bill was predeceased by his loving wife of 64 years Elizabeth "Betty" Yost in 2017, along with stepmother Alma Yost, brother Gerry Yost and sonin-law Kim Clohessy.

A Visitation will take place at Beechwood, Funeral, Cemetery and Cremation Services (280 Beechwood Avenue, Ottawa), on Wednesday, July 17th from 10am to 2pm followed by the Funeral Service and Reception. In lieu of flowers, please consider making a donation to the Canadian War Museum.

Saturday, July 20, 2019 – Print Edition, Page B14


David Matheson and Sarah Gillin are very pleased to announce the birth of their handsome and strong son, Peter Franklin Douglas Matheson, at 4:16 p.m. on July 13, 2019, weighing 8 lbs.

10 oz. Franklin is welcomed by his paternal grandparents Linda Matheson-Deeks, Gordon Deeks, Paul Young and Donna Davis-Young and by his maternal grandparents Peter and Dianne Gillin. His Aunts and Uncles Peter and Stacey Matheson-Young, Andrew Gillin and Samantha Weng, Tom Jolliffe and Elizabeth Gillin and Claire Gillin are all overjoyed to meet the little man. His cousins Graydon, Caleb, Eve and Crosby Matheson-Young as well as Hazel Jolliffe are looking forward to countless hours of mischief together in the years to come.


March 20, 1928 July 17, 2019 We are deeply saddened to announce that Marg died peacefully, with her family by her side, at Belmont House long term care, on Wednesday, July 17.

Beloved wife of Allan McNiece Austin (Mac, 2018) for 66 years; adored mother of Allan (Lyn), Jim (Sue) and Tom (Rosaria); devoted and loving grandmother of Maggie (Jeremy Packard), Gren (Kimberley Dossett), Graham (Mallory Lazarus) and Michael (Felicia Birmingham).

Marg was the only child of William Armstrong Kyle and Euphemia Marguerite Hunter. She is survived by her cousins Bill Kyle in Pointe Claire, QC and Fergus Kyle in Burlington, ON.

Marg was born in Toronto and attended Parkdale Collegiate Institute and Branksome Hall, before going on to Victoria College at the University of Toronto, where she earned a BA in sociology.

After completing university she worked for the Bell Telephone Company in customer service.

Marg married Mac Austin in 1951 and soon began managing their busy family life, which centred on their three sons, and included their home in Toronto, their cottage on Shadow Lake, and "that male chauvinist pig of a dog."

Marg worked for many years for the Volunteer Centre of Toronto, which recognized her contributions with an award.

She enjoyed sports, including golf, curling and skiing. She also loved travelling, to the South and to Europe, particularly the south of France.

She was a dedicated and longtime member of Eglinton-St.

George's United Church.

Mac and Marg moved into the retirement side of Belmont House in June, 2013. From then until Mac's death she worked valiantly to support and care for him as his life was taken over by Alzheimer's Disease.

We are profoundly thankful for the care she received from the whole team at Belmont House, and her personal caregiver, Yeshi Choedon.

A celebration of Marg's life is planned for late summer.

Please consider a donation in her name to the Belmont House Foundation, 55 Belmont Street, Toronto, ON M5R 1R1. Condolences may be forwarded through


July 12, 1922 July 13, 2019 We have lost a good man.

Jim passed away the day after his 97th birthday having enjoyed a long and full life.

He is survived by Jackie, his beloved wife of almost 69 years; his children, David (Kelly), Susan (Peter) and John (Verlee); seven grandchildren, Diane (A.J.), Debbie, Daniel (Kelly), Jim, Stephen, Sean and David; and a great-granddaughter Adaline.

Jim was born in Webbwood, Ontario into a railroading family and after obtaining his BASc (Civ) in 1946 from the University of Toronto he continued the family tradition and joined the CPR. He started as a transitman and rose through the ranks to the position of Executive Vice-President for Western Canada. In 1990, he was named Transportation Person of the Year by the B.C. & Yukon Transportation Industry for "Personal Achievement and Outstanding Contribution to the Transportation Industry". He retired that same year.

His career took him and his family to Sudbury, North Bay, Toronto, Smith Falls, Schreiber, Toronto (again) and finally Vancouver.

Wherever he worked, he earned the respect of others as an exceptional railroader who was tough but fair. He was famous for his vice grip handshake. His job often meant he was away from home but he had the love and support of Jackie and he knew that his successful career would not have been possible without her.

Jim was not one to blow his own horn but led by the example he set for honour and integrity both at work and in his personal life.

He was a great athlete. At university, he played varsity hockey, football, rugby and participated in track and field. In his graduating year his classmates selected him for the Most Outstanding Athletic Services to the University and Faculty Award.

He played hockey into his 90's and any opponent soon learned to stay away from his elbows! For many years, he was an enthusiastic participant in the Snoopy's World Hockey Tournament in Santa Rosa, often joined by his son David and Jim's best friend and co-worker Bob Morrish.

A longtime member of Capilano Golf and Country Club, he loved the game and continued to play until he was 92.

Jim loved his grandchildren and he and Jackie were enthusiastic supporters of all their activities, attending countless hockey, ringette, lacrosse and baseball games.

He was generous to a fault. For many years he donated annually to at least 43 diverse charities. If you wish to honour his memory, you can follow his example and make a donation to the charity of your choice.

The family would like to thank Dad's caregivers of the last several years and the home care nurses who helped make his last days easier. They are all wonderful people.

An informal reception in his honour will be held on Sunday, July 21st from 3-5 p.m. at 1905 Peters Road, North Vancouver, B.C.

To write a condolence to the family, please visit


On Thursday July 18, 2019 at Baycrest. Formerly of Montreal.

Beloved wife of the late Herman Cohen, and loving partner of Bill Kofsky. Loving mother and mother-in-law of Dr. Jeffrey Davidson and Thomas Morphis of San Francisco, and Marvin and Marcy Davidson of Newton, Massachusetts. Dear Sister and sister-in-law of Ben and the late Chana Marmur, and the late Ida and John Share. Devoted grandmother of Daniel, and Michael and Alexis Davidson, as well as many loving nieces and nephews, and great-nieces and great-nephews. At Benjamin's Park Memorial Chapel, 2401 Steeles Ave. West, Toronto (3 lights west of Dufferin) for service on Sunday July 21, 2019 at 10:00 am. Interment Pardes Chaim Cemetery. Memorial donations may be made to the Baycrest Foundation,416-785-2875,

H. JOAN CUMMING (née Russell)

April 20, 1933 - July 18, 2019 Joan passed peacefully in her 87th year with her family by her side in the afternoon of July 18, 2019. She and her brother John, who passed away in April 2012, were raised in Arthur, Ontario by their parents: father, Dr. Jack (John) Russell and mother, Peg (Margaret). She was the loving mother to Allison, Andy (Hillary), Tom (Jennifer) and Suze, and "Daddo" to Ali, Owen, Holly, Sydney, Travis and AJ (Alexandra Joan).

Joan was an extraordinary person. Loved by all who knew her, friends for a lifetime or new acquaintances from just last week. She had an authenticity about her which was perceived immediately by all. Joan endured many challenges including some major health issues with a couple of her children, and later on in life struggles with her own health. She dealt with all of these with a peaceful almost superhuman inner strength coupled with a deep and abiding pragmatism. She was unwavering in her support of all of her children, even as she almost certainly had reservations from time to time about what path they had embarked upon. In the end, they all turned out fine and that is a testament to her intellect, integrity and grace in the way they were reared. She will be missed by all.

There will be a celebration of Joan's life held at Tom and Jennifer's house at 26 Butternut St., Toronto, ON M4K 1T7 on Saturday, October 5th from 1-4 p.m. All are welcome. In lieu of flowers, please consider a donation to Dying With Dignity Canada in Joan's honour.


It is with great sadness we share the tragic loss of Charlotte, a longtime resident of Oakville, Ontario, who died suddenly on July 10, 2019. Predeceased by her soulmate and loving husband of 35 years Dr. Ronald G. Cross, her middle daughter Diane (1968-1996) and her sister Loretta Witton (1929-1996). Charlotte is survived by her two daughters Barbara and Patricia and her three precious grandchildren Michael, Jack, Victoria and Michael's fiancée Rachael. Charlotte had a loving extended family of nieces, nephews, brothers and sisters-in-law who are devastated who will miss her dearly.

With her beautiful capacity to embrace people and adventure, her circle of friends was vast, cherished and lifelong. Special thank you to the 911 responders.

A formal funeral will be held on Sunday, July 21, 2019 at 11 a.m.

at Glen Oaks Funeral Home, 3164 Ninth Line (Ninth Line and Dundas St. E.), Oakville, Ontario L6H 7A8 with reception to follow.

A Celebration of Life of an incredible daughter, sister, wife, mother, Nana and Grandma, aunt, great-aunt and great-great aunt will be planned for September.

Donations to the Lions Foundation of Canada Dog Guides or the Girl Guides of Canada would be an honour to Charlotte's memory.


It is with profound sadness we announce the unexpected passing of David on Saturday, July 13, 2019, at the age of 60 years.

David, cherished firstborn son of Audrey and the late Edward Cusack. Survived by his loving wife, Christine and his beautiful Lupie. Best friend to brother, Jeffrey (predeceased) and adored big brother to Sandra (Graham).

Proud 'Best Ever' uncle to Thomas.

David had a passion for life and nothing was more important than his family and friends. A generous, gentle soul, 'The Cuze' will be forever loved and remembered by all who were blessed to know him.

Thank you to the staff at Sunnybrook Health Sciences Centre, and in particular to Dr. Lisa Chodirker for the exemplary care and support provided to David this past year.

A celebration of David's life will be held for family and friends on Thursday, July 25th from 5:00 p.m. at Originals Ale House on Bayview Avenue.

If desired, donations in memory of David may be made to the Sunnybrook Foundation or Tails From Greece Rescue (www. Condolences and memories can be shared at


June 19, 1932 July 14, 2019 David loved his family, dogs, and all things to do with words in English, French, Greek and Latin.

He enjoyed long walks by the Ottawa River, loved books and music and kept up on the latest CBC radio news. Born in Ottawa to Kathleen and David Davidson, he graduated from Glebe Collegiate.

In 1953 he graduated from Bishop's University, where he was editor of the university newspaper. He was principal at Petawawa Public School before going on to teach at Crescent School in Toronto, Appleby College in Oakville, and King's College in Windsor N.S, where he was senior Latin master.

Always keenly interested in news and politics, he switched to journalism, reporting and editing at the Orillia Packet and Times, the Peterborough Examiner, and The Canadian Press national news agency, where he worked in Halifax, Toronto, and New York City before going to the Ottawa bureau in 1966. During his time there, he became CP's Parliamentary Editor, was a director and secretary of the Parliamentary Press Gallery and president of the National Press Club.

In 1970 he married fellow CP staffer Susan Becker and they had a daughter, Sarah, in 1974. In 1972 he became director of communications for Robert Stanfield of the Progressive Conservative Party of Canada before joining the federal public service. After a stint as Director of Information for Statistics Canada, he was seconded to the Prime Minister's Office during the last term of Prime Minister Pierre Elliott Trudeau, and twice to the Privy Council Office. He was executive director of the Canadian Unity Information Office and then director-general of communications for Solicitor General Canada as well as first chairman of the Council of Federal Information Directors. He was an active Anglican from his school days as a chorister at Christ Church Cathedral to his adult work for the parish of St.

Matthias and for the Diocese of Ottawa on its executive committee and at synod, as well as twice attending the national church's general synod. He had a long and fulfilling retirement before becoming ill with cancer in 2015, after which he had nothing but admiration for our health system and those who work within it. As well as the wonderful support he received from his beloved daughter and son-in-law, Sarah and Rob Labelle, he and Susan especially appreciated the care given to him by Dr. Timothy Asmis at the Irving Greenberg Cancer Centre, Dr. Paul Fluit of the Meadowlands Family Health Center, caregiver Rachel Cormier and nurse Geoff Blampied of Bayshore Home Health, and caregivers from At-Home Hospice, as well as before that, Dr. Louis Weatherhead, Dr. Peter Konzuk, Dr. Kathleen Davis and Dr. David Halliday. He leaves Susan, Sarah and Rob and extended family.

David was predeceased by his sister Diane (Ian Turnbull) of London. A Funeral Service will be held at All Saints Anglican Church, Westboro on Monday, July 22th at 2 p.m., with visitation at the church from 1 p.m. until 2 p.m. Private interment to follow immediately. No flowers please, but memorial donations may be made to All Saints Westboro Memorial Fund.


God's faithful servant was called home in his 97th year on Friday, July 5, 2019. His service on this earth was complete and he can now be with the love of his life in heaven.

Born March 23, 1923.

Predeceased by his parents, sister, wife Eleanor Fairhead (nee Varty) (June 25, 2017) and grandson Jesse Fairhead (October 1, 1994).

Survived by Peter (Jackie Woodward), Julia, Tim (Jennifer Nixon) Kathleen (Mark Waschkowski). Grandchildren Nicholas, Rachel, Michael, Andrew, Zachary, Matthew, Alexandria (Lexi) and Tylar.

Gerry was a graduate of Lakefield College School, University of Toronto (Engineering 1948) and Wycliffe College (Theology 1958).

He will be greatly missed by his family and friends.

Memorial Service will be held July 23, 2019 at 11 a.m. at St. Bride's Anglican Church, Mississauga.

In lieu of flowers, please send memorial donations to the Cancer Society.


February 12, 1930 July 16, 2019 Robert Fitzhenry ("Fitz") passed away at home on July 16, 2019.

He was born on February 12, 1930 in Hamilton Ontario to Charles Fitzhenry and Margaret Reagan, older brother to Janet (deceased) and Ruth (Helmut Schiller). He was married to Patricia Turner (1931-1966) in 1955, and in 1984 to Andree Rheaume (1941-2013), and was father to Ann (Michael), Mary, Sean (Dorothy), Michael (Elizabeth) and Alyxandra (Khaman). His family grew to include seven grandchildren: Scott, James, Kelly, Zoe, Duncan, Griffin and Reagan.

Fitz graduated from McMaster University in 1954 and remained a proud alumnus for over six decades. His donations to McMaster led to the creation of The Robert E Fitzhenry Coach's Office, The Robert E. Fitzhenry Vector Laboratory, The Robert E Fitzhenry Varsity Training Room, The Robert Fitzhenry Specialized Rehabilitation and Exercise Lab, The Fitzhenry Multipurpose Studio, and the Dr. Robert and Andree Rheaume Fitzhenry Studios and Atrium. In 2009, he was awarded an honourary doctorate, of which he was extremely proud.

After graduation, Bob worked for CIL and then Monsanto, first in Montreal and subsequently in Toronto. In 1978, he and his partner, Bob Beamish, purchased the Urethane Foam Division of Monsanto and grew this into a flourishing multinational company, Woodbridge Foam.

From a single plant in Woodbridge, Ontario, the company has grown to over 8,000 employees in 54 locations in 10 countries.

A bon vivant and philanthropist, Dad enjoyed countless adventures around the world. He loved sailing, golf, fishing, hunting, music, art, fine food and wine.

He was happiest at the table, surrounded by family and friends, telling stories.

A Celebration of Life will be held at Mount Pleasant Visitation Centre, 375 Mount Pleasant Road (East Gate Entrance) on Sunday, July 21, 2019 at 11:00 a.m. Interment and reception to follow.

If you wish, memorial donations may be made to McMaster University ( or the McMichael Canadian Art Collection. (http://mcmichael.



Professor Emeritus, York University January 20, 1931 - July 11, 2019 Passed away peacefully on Thursday, July 11, 2019, at his home in North York.

Devoted husband to Lois Fusé (nee Prochaska) for 57 years.

Beloved father of Megumi Fuse and Kenji Fuse. Proud grandfather to Sasha Fuse.

Fondly remembered by his nephew Masaki Fuse and his family Yoko, Misako and Kazumasa, in Sapporo, Japan, and by extended family in the USA, and many friends in Toronto and around the globe.

Born in Sapporo, Japan, Dr.Fusé was the head of his English club as a teenager, but had to take on many adult responsibilities during WWII.

After the war, he impressed American soldiers and missionaries with his keen intellect, good English language skills, and resourcefulness, and at the age of 19 he acquired an early Fulbright scholarship to study in the USA.

He received his bachelor's degree from Missouri Valley College, and his master's and Ph.D. degrees from the University of California at Berkeley. He held positions at Cornell University, l'Université de Montréal, and York University.

After becoming interested in suicide research in the '70s, Dr. Fusé helped establish suicidology as an important academic discipline. His global research has added important data to the field, and his numerous articles and books on suicide continue to be used as references works.

In his own words, he "practiced what he preached by serving one of the suicide prevention centers in Toronto for eight years as a volunteer and trainer of volunteers".

Dr. Fusé had a deep and lifelong love of travel, cooking, Swiss-style chalets, good writing, and movies. He was as comfortable at a university lecture, as he was in one of Toronto's repertory cinemas, and dined at the finest restaurants as well as Tim Horton's. He was friends with people from all walks of life, including factory workers, academics, monks and celebrated film directors.

Special thanks to his medical staff and care workers Ella, Sami, and other members of the Temmy Latner Palliative Care unit.

In lieu of flowers, please make donations to the Wellspring Westerkirk House a t S u n n y b r o o k (, the Bayview United Church (, or the charity of your choice.

A memorial service will be held on Saturday, August 17th, at 2 p.m., at Bayview United Church (2609 Bayview Ave).


After a courageous battle, Michael closed his eyes forever at the age of 67 on July 10, 2019 at the Toronto Western Hospital. Optimistic up until the end, he will always be in our hearts and never forgotten. Sadly missed by his wife Rita, family, and friends.

Cremation to take place on Thursday, July 18, 2019 at the Mount Pleasant Cemetery. For online condolences, please visit


October 20, 1925 Toronto, Ontario July 11, 2019 Markdale, Ontario Doug Henry, dearly beloved husband of Lois for 67 years, passed away on July 11, 2019.

Doug was a gentle soul, and while being a friend to many could always provide a story, a smile or a laugh.

He spent his career working in Toronto for Thorncrest Motors, and weekends farming in Markdale. He continued running his cattle farm during his early retirement years. His children, nieces, and nephews will always cherish the days they spent riding the ponies and haying on his farm. He enjoyed being active in his community and could be seen driving around town in his 1947 Willys Jeep. Doug got a great charge from great grandchildren Henry, Malcom and Kari and loved them dearly.

Besides his beloved wife, left to love and cherish him are his children: daughter, Susan Robertson (Peter) of Hanover, granddaughter, Sarah Barnes (Brad) of Aurora, their children great-grandsons, Henry and Malcolm; daughter, Judith James (Mike) of Knoxville, TN, granddaughter, Melissa Willis (Derek), their daughter, greatgranddaughter, Kari, and grandson, Michael James; and daughter, Lois Anne Evans (Fred) of Kerwood.

Predeceased by grandson, Grant Henry Robertson and granddaughter, Charlotte Evans.

In respect of Doug's wishes, there will be no funeral service. Condolences may be sent to Box 591, Markdale, ON, N0C 1H0. The family would like to thank the staff of the Markdale hospital for the exceptional care Doug received. We are especially grateful to Dr. Winfield for his care over the last several years. A private family gathering will be held at a later date in remembrance of Doug. Arrangements entrusted to Fawcett Funeral Home, Flesherton.



We are sad to announce the passing of Roberta Imboden on Tuesday, July 9, 2019. She was predeceased by her parents, Robert and Margaret (nee Morford) Imboden and her husband, David Grimshaw.

Roberta was born in Buffalo, New York on July 11, 1934. She earned her B.A. at Canisius College in Buffalo and then went to Hawaii to teach. Later she taught in Quebec and finally came to Ryerson in Toronto where she was a professor in the English Department. At the same time she earned an M.A. in religious studies at the University of Toronto.

Roberta and David were married on June 4, 1977 and spent their summers travelling to many countries including Europe, China, Australia, South America and Cuba.

Roberta had an active literary career, publishing three books and presenting many papers at various symposiums. She was particularly interested in liberation theology, the "communidades de base" of Central and Latin America and the philosophers Jacques Derrida and Jean Paul Sartre.

The family will receive friends at the Humphrey Funeral Home A.W. Miles - Newbigging Chapel, 1403 Bayview Avenue (south of Davisville) from 6:00 - 8:00 p.m.

Monday, July 22nd. The Funeral Mass will be held in St. Anselm Church, 1 MacNaughton Road on Tuesday, July 23rd at 10:00 a.m.

In lieu of flowers, Roberta can best be remembered through donations to UNHCR - the United Nations Refugee Agency, Canada or a charity of your choice.

Condolences may be forwarded through


April 14, 1927 July 17, 2019 Mic passed away peacefully in his sleep at home, aged 92. He was predeceased by siblings, Harold, Gerald and Ann. He is survived by Bridget, his wife of 65 years; children, Michèle (James), Isabel (Terrence), Alexandra (Michael) and Nigel (Petra); grandchildren, Sybil, Charlotte, Matthew, Laura, Aedan, Cole and Tiernan; and great-grandson, Lucian.

Born and educated in England, Bridget and Mic settled in Canada in 1954.

Mic enjoyed all sports, excelling at rugby and cricket. He was described as "A true gentleman...

once the match was over, the results were never discussed."

Throughout his life he was greatly involved with a number of charities, including ShareLife, the CNIB and the Rotary. He was a Past President and Life member of the Toronto Lawn Tennis Club and was an active member of his parish church where his oratorical skills made him the most popular reader.

Beloved by his family and friends, he will be greatly missed.

The funeral service will be held at Our Lady of Perpetual Help Church, 78 Clifton Road, Toronto on Wednesday, July 24th at 1:30 p.m. A reception will follow at Toronto Lawn Tennis Club.


Beloved husband of Linda Vallis Benoit Kelk, passed away suddenly and unexpectedly in Toronto on Wednesday, July 17, 2019 at Bridgepoint Health Services, ending a challenging time with a debilitating disease.

Born in Toronto on July 22, 1943, Leigh, the son of Alfred and Dorothy Kelk (née Bailey) grew up in Brantford, Ontario. He leaves his brother, David Kelk (Patricia Doherty), and his sister, Jane Kelk (Don Reid) and their families, Linda's brothers and sisters, their children and grandchildren, and many cherished Bailey, Twamley, Zavitz and Kelk aunts and cousins.

Bradley Ryan, Leigh's stepson, predeceased him in 2008.

Leigh attended Ryerson University, where he met his lifelong friends George and Nancy Leonard. While a student, he worked at Cy Mann's The House of Mann, where he learned his wonderful sense of style. Leigh enjoyed a long and fruitful career as a broadcast advertising executive, lastly at Global Television. Linda and Leigh first met in the early 70s, when she was his sales assistant at Stephens & Towndrow. As they pursued and progressed through their separate careers and personal lives, they kept in touch. Leigh and Linda reunited in 1998, fell in love, and married in 2000.

In 1999, Leigh and Linda bravely retired from their respective careers, left Canada and moved to Sunapee, N.H., where they owned and operated American Plate Glass. They sold the business, retired, and returned to Toronto in 2013.

Leigh loved fast cars, especially Porsches. Being behind the wheel was always a happy time for him.

One of Leigh's lifetime dreams come true was driving the Targa Florio racetrack in Sicily just a year ago on his 75th birthday. He was an active member of the Porsche Club for more than 50 years.

Classical music was another passion. He and Linda frequently attended the Tanglewood Festival in Massachusetts, as well as many performances at Roy Thomson Hall. Leigh and Linda's love of travel took them to South America, Australia, New Zealand, Britain, Europe and annually to Sarasota, Florida.

When the Kelks were home, Leigh's favourite perch was his wingback chair, where he would work on a glass of Rioja (or maybe a Beck's) as he read his favourite car magazines.

Leigh will be dearly missed by Linda, his family and many circles of friends. Cremation has taken place. A celebration of his life will be held at a later date.

Condolences may be extended at


Harry Levine died peacefully at Bethell Hospice, Caledon, Ontario at the age of 99 years old, on July 9, 2019.

Harry was born in Yarmouth, Nova Scotia in 1920, and grew up in Saint John, New Brunswick.

He is predeceased by his wife, Mary (McCarthy) Levine. He is survived by his brother, Edward Levine (Nora), nephews, Alan Levine (Patricia) Joel Levine (Kerri), Daniel (Sharon), Ron, and Patrick Van Tassel and several grandnieces and nephews.

Harry served in the Royal Canadian Navy from 1939 to 1945.

He served on the HMCS Gatineau on D-Day. Harry was proud of his service to Canada and loved to talk about his adventures.

Following the War, Harry worked as a shoe salesman in Saint John.

In the 1960's, Harry moved to Bramalea, Ontario and worked at the Three Little Pigs children's shoe store near Lawrence and Yonge Street in Toronto, which he eventually purchased and operated until his retirement.

Harry was a figure skater and gave performances throughout New Brunswick. He continued to skate well into his '90s, several times each week.

Harry was always a charmer, who had a great sense of humour. He will be lovingly remembered with great affection by all whose lives he touched.

His interment will take place in the Field of Honour at Cedar Hill-Greenwood Cemetery, Saint John, New Brunswick at 11:00 a.m. on July 24, 2019, with a graveside service.

In memory of Harry, donations to Bethell Hospice, Caledon, Ontario, or the Saint John Jewish Historical Museum would be greatly appreciated.


FCPA, FCGA 1932 - 2019

Died peacefully in the comfort of his own home surrounded by his family on July 17, 2019.

David is survived by his beloved and inseparable wife of 68 years, Gladys; sons, Michael, Lorne, and Paul; as well as many loving grandchildren, nieces, nephews, and extended family. David was a loyal friend, confidante and mentor to so many and set a high standard for all to follow.

David had a distinguished career in the healthcare field including being the Director of the formerly named Ontario Crippled Children's Centre and President and CEO of Michael Garron Hospital (formerly Toronto East General Hospital), Hospital for Sick Children and the Ontario Hospital Association. Later in life his passion shifted to bird carving where he won numerous awards at national competitions.

A special thank you to all the health care professionals who cared for him at Toronto General Hospital and Oakville Trafalgar Memorial Hospital during his 14 year battle from the complications of stomach cancer.

A memorial service will be held at a date to be confirmed.

Memorial donations may be made to the Oakville Hospital Foundation (www.


June 26, 1929 - July 6, 2019

With family by his side, John Angus MacNeil passed away peacefully in South Lyon, Michigan. John Angus was born in New Waterford, Nova Scotia to Anna Mae and John Alexander MacNeil. He attended Saint Francis Xavier University (B.Sc. '53) where he was a standout athlete, including captain of the X-Men rugby team '51-52. While at St F.X., he met his wife, fellow B.Sc.

student, Viberta Marie MacLean, from Port Hawkesbury, NS. They enjoyed 63 years of marriage and raised four children while residing in Oakville, ON, Holden, MA and Brighton, MI.

He is survived by Viberta and their four children: William (Pamela) of Byron Bay, Australia, John (Diana) of Toronto, ON, Mary Patricia Harding (Blair) of Brighton, MI. and Peter (Kerry) of Brighton, MI.; by seven grandchildren: John Michael (Berkeley CA.), James Angus (Sydney, Australia), Laura (Toronto, ON), Catherine and Carolyn Harding (Brighton), and Riley and James (Brighton); by his sister Theresa of Halifax NS, brother Robert of Barrie, ON, sister Agnes of Alliston, ON, brother Michael of Burlington, ON; and by many MacNeil, Laffin, Birmingham and MacLean nephews and nieces. His sisters, Anne and Bernadette, and his brother, Charles, predeceased him.

Though a patriotic (naturalised) American, John Angus was always proud of his Cape Breton roots and Scottish heritage. After working his way through university in the coal mines of New Waterford, John Angus entered the pharmaceutical industry and enjoyed great success throughout his career and, finally, as President of Vortech Pharmaceuticals Limited of Dearborn, MI, a company he co-founded with Viberta. A devout parishioner of St.

Patrick Catholic Church, a longtime member of Oak Pointe Country Club and a staunch supporter of the Republican Party, John Angus was happiest when entertaining friends and family with his wife, 'Bert', at their home, 'Braigh Mohr', outside Brighton, MI. He will be greatly missed by his family, Vortech employees, classmates, neighbours, business colleagues and many friends.

A Funeral Mass and a memorial service will be held at a later date.


June 20, 1920 - June 27, 2019

Peacefully, in her 100th year, with her children at her side. Daughter of Conrad S. Riley and Jean (Culver) Riley, and much loved and admired wife of Gordon P. Osler (2012).

Born and raised in Winnipeg, Nancy was the sixth out of eight children, and being part of a large family was central to her identity throughout her life.

After graduating from Elmwood School in Ottawa, she travelled to London following the outbreak of World War II to volunteer for the war effort. She later joined the Canadian Womens' Army Corp, ultimately attaining the rank of Staff Captain and serving in France, Belgium, Holland and Germany.

Towards the end of the war, a rather terrified German soldier handed over his revolver to Nancy in surrender. She kept that Mauser for most of her life.

In 1948, Nancy married Gordon Osler in Winnipeg. They were happily married for 64 years and were proud parents of three children: Sanford (Betty Ann), Sue (Biff Matthews), and Gill. A large part of their early family life centered around Lake of the Woods, where many wonderful summers were spent sailing and enjoying cottage life. The family moved to Toronto in 1964.

Nancy's life was marked by a love and appreciation of beauty in all things, particularly classical architecture, and the decorative and fine arts. She had an overarching sense of style and was always impeccably turned out - classic and elegant with a touch of flair. A dedicated Anglophile, Nancy had a lifelong love of the Royal family, well turned-out children with good manners, poodles and chocolate. In addition to great presence, she had a fine command of the English language, and was quick to correct her children's and grandchildren's grammar.

Nancy and Gordon wintered in Florida for almost forty years, latterly in Palm Beach, where they had many friends and led an active social life.

Nancy's remarkable memory and insatiable curiosity served her well in her role as de facto family historian and archivist for the Osler and Riley families.

She remained mentally at the top of her game to the end, continuing to amaze those around her with her ability to recall detailed facts from decades past.

Nancy was predeceased by her siblings, Culver, Ron, Betty, Conrad, Albert, Derek and Sanford, and by her granddaughter, Shannon Matthews (2015).

She will be missed by her grandchildren, Matthew Osler (Tanya Rank), Lynn Osler (Nick Duran), Graham Matthews (Meredith Roy), Trevor Matthews (Catalina Zbar), Madelaine and Nicholas Fortier, as well as the wider Riley clan, with whom she loved keeping in touch. She is also survived by her great-grandchildren, Felix Osler, Jayden Duran and Hannah Matthews.

The family would like to thank Dr. Jean Marmoreo for her compassion and assistance. Should you wish, donations can be made to Dying With Dignity Canada.

A reception to celebrate the life of Nancy Osler will be held at 3:30 p.m., with remarks at 4:15 p.m., on Tuesday, July 23, at the York Club, 135 St. George Street, Toronto.


Peacefully at home on Tuesday, July 16, 2019 after a mercifully brief illness.

Jan Casey was born in 1932 outside of Mitchell, South Dakota, the youngest of seven children.

She was predeceased by her parents Agnes and Edward Casey, her siblings Ed, Jerry, Virginia, Jack and Dennis and is survived by her sister Delores Kovarik of Denver. She leaves her husband of sixty years Ben, her daughters Maureen and Kelly, her beloved granddaughter Laura Casey Buttke, Casey's father Bob Buttke, more than fifty nieces and nephews and friends near and far.

Jan entered the R.N. program at 17 and was graduated: as a Registered Nurse from Creighton Memorial Saint Joseph Hospital School of Nursing in Omaha, Nebraska; with a Bachelor of Science in Nursing at Creighton University in Omaha and with a Master of Science at Boston College. At the ripe old age of 24 Jan joined the nursing faculty of the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor.

After an invitation to a party hosted by some U of M hockey players, a Canadian redhead named Ben charmed Jan into a date and then another, and they were married in 1959. The newlyweds moved to Sudbury, Ontario where Jan worked as a nursing instructor. After Mo was born and they moved to Toronto, Jan joined the University of Toronto where she worked as a professor of med-surg nursing until her retirement in 1996.

Jan loved many things - being "Shanna" to her favourite grandchild (and namesake) Casey, her American roots, good scotch, a fast wit, Dairy Queen Blizzards, making "to do" lists, her gun license, treasured friends, an organized toolbox, planting trees at the cottage and many more varied interests consistent with a modern-day renaissance woman.

Jan's laugh was loud and memorable and she loved sharing it with her family and friends. Her wonderful sense of humour and ability to laugh at life is a treasured gift that she gave to us all. Her generosity will continue long after she is gone via the bursary that she established for single parent students at Woodsworth College, U of T.

One of Jan's many memorable phrases was "GOD LOVE YA!"

There is no doubt that, after her long, blessed and generous life, God loves her.

A Funeral Mass will be held on Monday, July 22nd at 1:00 p.m. in Blessed Sacrament Church, 24 Cheritan Avenue (1 block south of Lawrence), Toronto.

In lieu of flowers, please consider a donation to the Jan Monaghan Award at Woodsworth College, University of Toronto or to a charity of your choice.

Condolences may be forwarded through


February 10, 2019 - July 16, 2019 Celebration of Life will be held on Thursday, July 25th from 1 - 3:30 p.m. at the Kopriva Taylor Community Funeral Home, 64 Lakeshore Road West, Oakville (one block East of Kerr Street, 905-844-2600) Oakville.

Visit our guestbook online at


B: February 20, 1936 (Vaiste, Estonia) D: July 17, 2019 (Toronto, Canada) Our beloved Mother and Grandmother, Linda Pint, passed away peacefully in her 84th year.

Linda was predeceased by her loving husband of 55 years, Andres; her parents, Karl and Aliide Kriisa; and her older brother, Paul. Linda was a loving mother to her two children, Monika Valvur (Ken Valvur), and Paul Pint (Karen Maddison).

Linda's four grandsons, Stefan a n d Markus Valvur, and Charlie and Matthew Pint will dearly miss their Mamma Linda and Aama. She will live in our memories and hearts forever.

A service will be held at St.

Peters E. E. L. Church, 817 Mount Pleasant Road on Thursday, July 25th at 11 a.m. Condolences may be forwarded through


Professor Political Science Colorado College Andrew died in his 51st year, of cancer July 11, 2019 at his home in Colorado Springs, CO. He was predeceased by two sets of grandparents, Marjorie and Harry Price Smith and Hon. D.C. and Margaret Thomas, his stepfather Prof. John T. (Jack) McLeod. He is sadly mourned by his devoted wife Janell, their children, his sister Adrienne Smith, her children, his mother Cynthia Smith, his stepsister Heather McLeod Bennet (Kelly) and their children and his in-laws Gerry and Maria Harvey. Cremation has occurred. A funeral will be held at Shove Memorial Chapel of Colorado College September 7, 2019. A gathering of his Canadian friends will be held in Toronto in mid-September.

Born and educated in Toronto and camper at Ahmek, he received his BA from Queen's University, M.A. from University of Western Ontario and Ph.D. in Political Science from the University of Toronto. He held a post doctoral fellowship at the Earth Institute of Columbia University, NY.

After tenure track positions in two other universities, he joined the Faculty of Colorado College in 2005 and was promoted to rank of full professor in 2017. He held the David Packard Professor of International Relations chair and was Director of Global Health Initiative. He chaired the Departments of Political Science 2016-2019 and Environmental Science 2009-2010.

His many interests outside of academe included hiking, boating, skiing, tennis, hockey, football, soccer. A talented musician and song writer he performed in a band at Queen's, that became part of the college circuit. Music continued to play an important role in his private life.

Always an out-of-the-box, cross disciplinary thinker, he specialized in the analysis of effects of disease, environmental change and energy scarcity on the security of nations. His books include: Plagues and Politics (Palgrave/Macmillan, 2001), Health of Nations (MITPress 2002); Contagion and Chaos; disease, ecology and national security in the era of globalization (MITPress 2009) winner of 'Choice Magazine Award' for outstanding Academic volume in 2009; Oil, Illiberalism and War (MITPress, 2015). Rising Threats, Enduring Challenges (Oxford University Press, 2015) with one, U.S. Foreign Policy in a New Era (Oxford University Press) in press at the time of his death.

He gave invited lectures in Canada, the UK(Oxford), Europe, the USA and Costa Rica. He testified on climate change, disease and International Security before the US House Science and Technology Committee and advised the US Director of National Intelligence and the Department of Defense during previous administrations.

He packed a lot into fifty years of life. Brilliant, curious, productive, funny, loving and kind. He will be missed.


July 2, 1914 July 15, 2019 Rene Purden died at Kensington Gardens, Toronto after a brief illness and exactly 80 years after she married her beloved husband Pat, who predeceased her. Loving mother of Carolyn Purden Anthony (Bill Hanna) and Christine Purden. Deeply loved by grandchildren, Steve (Vanessa) and Jen (Sunni) Anthony; and great-grandchildren, Elise, Everett, Finlay and Theador.

Born in Epsom, Surrey, England, Rene was a talented artist who also created beautiful gardens wherever she lived. She was a courageous, determined and independent woman. Like so many of her age, her life was affected by the Depression and two World Wars and these events cultivated in her a firm belief that you never give in.

Special thanks to the staff of Palmerston West, Kensington Gardens, who gave her such loving care in her last years.


December 4, 1935 - May 15, 2019 Don died of complications resulting from a bicycle accident earlier this year. He was a dedicated cyclist and, unfortunately in this case, never let anything deter him from his passion. He grew up in Grand Forks, British Columbia, and always maintained his connection there.

As a young man, he moved to New York City and graduated from the New York School of Interior Design.

Toronto was his home for the rest of his life, where he enjoyed his career with the CBC. He will be missed by his many friends and people whose lives he touched.

A celebration of life will be held at 3:00 pm, Thursday, July 25, 2019 at HumphreyMiles Funeral Home, 1403 Bayview Avenue, Toronto, Ontario.


Margaret Robertson died peacefully at home in Toronto on July 17, 2019 at the age of 81, surrounded by loving friends.

Born on December 7, 1937 in Whyteleafe, Surrey, England, Margaret immigrated to Montreal in 1958, where she worked at the Montreal office of the Cockfield Brown advertising agency. During her time in Montreal, she also became a student at Concordia University, enrolling in night courses from 1966-1976 and graduating with a BA in 1973 and an MBA in 1976.

In 1973, she joined her former colleague, Ian Roberts, as a founding member and manager of the Montreal office of Ian Roberts Communications, an advertising agency with offices in Montreal, Toronto, Saint John, and Vancouver. She moved from Montreal to the Toronto office in 1976 and retired in 1990 following the sale of the agency.

In her retirement, Margaret joined the Academy for Lifelong Learning in Toronto where she continued to be an active member for the rest of her life, making many new friends in the process, enjoying the Academy's activities and participating as a volunteer in the organization.

Margaret is survived by her brothers, John (Glenda), Neil (Vivienne) and Sandy (Clare); nieces and nephews and great nieces and nephews to whom she has always been known as Aunt Margaret the Great. She will also be deeply missed by her chosen Gilderdale family and close friends in Toronto.

At Margaret's request there will be no service.


Peacefully at her home in Cobourg, with friends and family at her side, on Monday, July 8, 2019, Carole Ross at 74 years of age. Beloved spouse of Peter Bolton. Dear mother of Jamie Ross and the late Graham Ross. Sister of David Ross and Gordon Ross (Jennifer).

Also missed by her numerous friends and her dog Islay. At Carole's request she will have private interment in the Cobourg Union Cemetery Green Section.

A public Celebration of Life will be announced at a later date. Those wishing may make a memorial donation to the Cancer Research Society or the Municipal Animal Services. Condolences received at


Shirley Rubin, passed away on July 13, 2019 at Sunnybrook Hospital Palliative Care Unit surrounded by her family. Shirley was married to Harry (z"l) for 62 years. She was mother to Laurence (Cathy), Karen (z"l) (Howard), Linda and Mark (Anne).

Grandmother to Eric (Anya), Gregory, Max, Laura (Jacob), Kathryn (Yoav), Elizabeth (Eli), Charles and Caroline, and great-grandmother to Naomi, Harry and Toma.

She lived a long and fulfilling life. Always loving, strong, honest and curious. She was the rock of our family and the one we could always count on, no matter what.

May her memory be for a blessing.

Donations may be made to the Sunnybrook Health Sciences Centre, Palliative Care Unit.


Visual artist and long-time instructor at the Ottawa School of Art, died July 15, 2019 of acute myeloid leukaemia, two years after a successful double lung transplant.

Born in Montréal in 1954, Blair's early life was nomadic, with frequent moves across Canada and overseas due to his father's military postings.

He arrived in Ottawa in 1973. His childhood interest in art as a means of investigating the universe became a serious preoccupation in his late teens. Over a career spanning five decades he exhibited widely, with numerous solo shows in Ottawa and Toronto, as well as group exhibitions across Canada and abroad. His work is represented in private, corporate and public collections, including the Ottawa Art Gallery, the City of Ottawa's collection, and the Art Bank. His publicly commissioned works include the mural Ouananiche at the Jack Purcell Community Centre, and the site-specific floor work, River's Invitation, at the Smyth Transitway Station in Ottawa.

Blair was predeceased by his parents, Norman Keith Sharpe and Gwynneth Mary Sharpe (née Chambres). He is survived by his wife Brenda, and by his four siblings: Brian (Maria Eugenia Montes Viera) of Aylmer, QC; Doug (Kris Sharpe) of Toronto, Kathryn (Will Livingstone) of Toronto, and Janet (Randy McNally) of Salmon Arm, BC. He is loved and remembered by several nieces and nephews.

The Sharpe family extends deepest thanks to the UHN Multi-Organ Transplant team, the Ottawa Hospital Hematology Program, and the hospice at Élisabeth Bruyère Hospital for their exceptional care of Blair during the past four years.

In respect of his wishes there will be no visitation or formal service.

There will be a memorial event at the Ottawa Art Gallery at a later date. Arrangements entrusted to Kelly Funeral Home, Walkley Chapel, 1255 Walkley Road, Ottawa, K1V 6P9, 613-731-1255.

Donations to the Ottawa Art Gallery, Ottawa Hospital Foundation, the Bruyère Foundation or the Toronto General & Western Hospital Foundation's Lung Matching program would be appreciated by Blair's family. Donations are also welcome to the Blair Sharpe Student Endowment Fund (Ottawa School of Art) https://www.canadahelps.

org/en/pages/blair-sharpe-studentaward/ Condolences and sharing memories at


On Thursday, July 18, 2019. A beautiful, warm, and bright spirit. Loving mother, grandmother and greatgrandmother. Nurse and community volunteer.

Remembered for her contagious smile.

Beloved wife of the late Mohan Soni. Loving mother to Kitty and George Grossman, Shelley and John Cohen. Devoted grandmother to Justine and Aaron, and Elissa. Proud greatgrandmother of Celeste and Stella.

A private family service is to be held. Visitation at 179 Warren Rd., Toronto, is welcome, Sunday, July 21, from 2 - 5:30 p.m., and evening prayers 7-9 p.m and Monday, July 22, morning prayers 8 a.m., 2-5 p.m., and evening prayers 7-9 p.m.

Donations may be made to Baycrest, where Uma worked and volunteered for over 30 years.


Jim died peacefully Sunday, July 14, 2019. Predeceased by his adored wife, Toni; and survived by his brother, Ian; daughter, Leslie (David); and son, Jamie; and grandchildren, Nicole, Taylor, James and Jill.

Jim was born in Calcutta in 1929, and Jesuit educated. A triple blue while completing his Economics MA at University of Edinburgh, he remained a lifelong amateur of sports, and debate.

His own man, deeply quietly loving and loved, and the truest gentleman any of us ever met.

Rest in Peace.


1931 - 2019

He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest - W.H. Auden David Torrey died peacefully on July 16, 2019 in the Montreal General Hospital surrounded by his family.

David was the loving father of Heather, John (Tanya), Bruce (JoAnn), David (Kerri), grandfather of Kate Murphy (Tony), Celia, Owen, Julia and Reid, and greatgrandfather to Quinn and Bridget.

He was predeceased by his sister Barbara, brother and best friend Bill, mother of his children Maggie and his beloved daughter Diana. He is survived by his younger sister Jane.

Born in Ottawa in 1931, to New England transplants Arthur S.

Torrey and Josephine Torrey (née Leonard), the family moved to Montreal and David grew up a stone's throw from the old Forum.

His siblings formed a merry band of brothers and sisters. His education took him from Roslyn School to Vermont Academy to St. Lawrence University to the University of Western Ontario.

This most unpedantic of teachers remained a lifelong student.

David had an outstanding career as an investment banker at Pitfield McKay Ross, Dominion Securities and RBC Dominion Securities.

The hallmarks of his career were trusted advice and longstanding relationships.

Always exceptionally generous with his time and resources, he took particular pride in his decades long relationships with the MS Society of Canada and St. Lawrence University. David was one whose acts of kindness, large and small, went unnamed.

Helping others and giving back were natural reflexes that he exercised his entire life.

Discreet, elegant, charming and successful, what defined him most was his dedication to his family, the true center of his life.

He was the most dedicated son, brother, father, grandfather, great grandfather and uncle. To all that knew him he was engaged, loyal and caring. David was a man of great intellect and curiosity. About the past. About your present and future. Nothing gave him more pleasure than to sit around a dinner table with family and friends.

The family's much loved childhood home. Poole, Jeroy and Tar Islands. Angler. Lake Champlain. His bespoke but well-worn running attire. His newspapers. His cribbage board.

His eyeglasses. He was a man of constants. And he was a constant.

At hockey arenas, school plays, concerts, graduations, piano recitals and ballet performances.

No distance was too far for any event involving family.

David was a pumper of tires. Over the decades, he repaired more than his fair share of flats. He counted himself lucky. We count our blessings.

If the spirit moves you, a donation in his name can be made to the Multiple Sclerosis Society of Canada.

David's family would like to thank the capable and caring staff at the MGH, caregivers Jilma, Chris, Sushmita, Marrie May and his long-term doctors/friends Dr. Michael Churchill-Smith and Dr. Colin Chalk.

A celebration of his long and full life will be held in the early Fall.


July 19, 1969 July 5, 2015 On your 50th birthday, we give thanks for your remarkable life.

Forever loved and missed by all who knew you and your family.

- Pat, Bob, Chris, Sarah, Mac, and Finn


The opportunity for a young farm reporter to interview the first female International Plowing Champion led, on July 18, 1959 in the village of Tara, Ontario, to Mary Catherine Byers and Rodger Daniel Schwass exchanging wedding vows. Now sixty years later, after eight university degrees (including one PhD each), four children, seven grandchildren, two great-grandchildren (and counting), travel to all points of the globe and countless lives positively affected, we celebrate with you the life you have made together based on the vows you exchanged that day.

Love, Ron (Lisa), Rick (Kirstin), Cathy (Kevin) and Marion

He was IndyCar's fastest-rising star, a natural talent who seemed destined for greatness before a horrifying crash nearly killed him, and left his body shattered. A year later, Canadian Robert Wickens is embarking on one of the most extraordinary comebacks in sports. But first he must learn to walk again
Saturday, July 13, 2019 – Print Edition, Page S6

Last August, Canadian racecar driver Robert Wickens opened his eyes after a marathon sleep. He was on vacation in England, spending time with his fiancée, Karli Woods. They were to be married in a little more than a year. Life was good.

After years of sacrifice, Wickens had broken through into the highest echelons of his sport, emerging in 2018 as one of the world's best drivers and executing the most dominant rookie season IndyCar has seen in decades. He thought about getting up and going for a run. It had been a few days since Wickens had hit the gym.

A voice told him he couldn't.

Why not? "I was running, like, two days ago," Wickens said.

"No, Robert, you weren't."

Lying in bed, Wickens was confused. What was going on? He was groggy and disoriented.

"Robert, your legs don't work - you're paralyzed."

At that moment, everything he thought was real - the trip to London, his training at the gym - was just a drug-induced hallucination, a cruel vivid dream spun by the powerful painkillers coursing through his body.

In reality, the 30-year-old from Guelph, Ont., had just spent 10 days in a medically induced coma.

His spine was broken, his neck was broken, both hands and legs were broken, along with an arm, an elbow and four ribs. His lungs were severely bruised and he was badly concussed.

His family - his mom, dad, brother and fiancée - stood ashen-faced around his hospital bed, fighting back tears, and trying to explain the situation to a man who refused to accept it.

"One of the first things I remember is them basically telling me that I was paralyzed - and I just couldn't understand," Wickens said.

"I was just like, 'No - you're wrong. You're wrong!' "And then people would cry and leave the room, because I guess I was being stubborn."

Less than two weeks earlier, Wickens's car flew off the track and slammed into the catch fence at Pennsylvania's Pocono Raceway in Long Pond, Pa., a few hours north of Philadelphia, destroying the vehicle and bringing his burgeoning career to a sudden halt. In a matter of seconds, Wickens went from rookie sensation to a man trying to piece his life back together.

But against incredible odds and warnings from doctors that his injuries might be insurmountable, Wickens is now trying to engineer one of the most remarkable comeback stories Canadian sport has seen - even if he knows it defies all logic.

This weekend, he will watch from the sidelines of the Honda Indy Toronto, a race he dreamed of winning as a young boy. Without the full use of his legs, he will lead the warm-up lap before the event using a specially equipped car controlled entirely with his hands, guiding drivers at halfspeed around the track as they warm up their tires. Then, sitting in his wheelchair, he will don a headset in the paddock and provide strategy to his teammates during the race.

It is a ceremonial return, but it's not enough. Wickens has bigger plans. Less than a year after the sport nearly killed him and in the midst of a brutal recovery process that sometimes leaves him defeated and in tears at the end of the day, he is vowing to get back into a race car.

First he must teach himself to walk again, one step at a time, then eventually he wants to race for real.

He doesn't expect people to understand the compulsion to return. He is well aware that the risks of the sport involve worstcase scenarios such as this. But the terms of his comeback are non-negotiable.

"I need to get back to racing. I need to get back to IndyCar," he said.

'THE ONE THING THAT I WAS UNSURE ABOUT' It began with a few dollars, some asphalt and the stench of motor oil. Robert Tyler Wickens was 6 or 7 when his parents paid his admission at a roadside GoKart track in Grand Bend, Ont., to let him try it out. The kid had been transfixed by race cars for as long as he could remember. When he was three, Wickens spotted a Formula One race on television and became entranced. He ignored other toys, playing only with miniature cars, and begged his parents to let him see the movie Days of Thunder. Eventually, his grandfather made Robert a copy with the racy parts edited out, and he watched it non-stop.

Those first few turns around the GoKart track only confirmed it. He wanted to be a race-car driver. Tim and Lise Wickens acquiesced, allowing Robert to enroll in junior racing for a year.

After that, they figured he'd probably move on. He never did.

By the time Wickens was a teenager, he was winning championships and pegged as one of Canada's brightest rising stars, alongside his good friend James Hinchcliffe. But racing isn't like other pastimes; it takes huge resources to pursue a career in a sport in which drivers eventually have to bring in sponsorships or pay their own way.

The Wickens family wasn't rich. His mother drove a school bus. Tim, a heavy-machinery mechanic, and older brother Trevor helped keep his kart tuned up.

When Robert got older, the family sold their house in Guelph and moved in with relatives to keep him going.

Hailed as a racing prodigy, he was often talked about as one of Canada's next great Formula One drivers. But talent alone wasn't enough. Wickens was unable to muster either the sponsorship dollars or the vast personal bankroll needed to catch on with a team at that level.

He spent the bulk of his mid-20s driving various European circuits, beating out drivers who later moved up to Formula One and IndyCar. Meanwhile, Hinchcliffe, of Oakville, Ont., had become an established driver on the IndyCar circuit in North America and, in early 2018, lobbied to bring Wickens over to his squad, Arrow Schmidt Peterson Motorsports.

With two Canadian drivers behind the wheel, they were dubbed Team Canada, and Wickens did not disappoint.

Before his first race in St. Petersburg, Fla., last spring, he surprised the field as a rookie by taking the pole position in qualifying. Even Wickens himself seemed taken aback, joking that - after years of focusing on Formula One - he'd have to brush up on IndyCar's rules on how to start the race because he was going to be at the front.

The race itself was just as surprising. Had it not been for a collision with two laps to go, Wickens would have won in his very first outing. He seemed destined for IndyCar greatness. Over the first 13 events of the 2018 season, Wickens rattled off seven top-five finishes, including four trips to the podium - one of them a dramatic third place in Toronto, the only Canadian stop on the schedule.

"His rookie season was really one for the history books," Hinchcliffe said. "He obviously came in with a wealth of racing experience, having driven at an incredibly high level for over half a decade, but his ability to adapt and apply that experience to what was a very unfamiliar environment was astonishing."

IndyCar is unique. Drivers must display more versatility than any other racing series, which makes it extremely challenging. Formula One courses tend to be tight and twisty, mixing heavy braking with all-out acceleration. NASCAR drivers race around oval speedways for all but a few events, but the design of the stock cars means the speeds are not as extreme.

IndyCar - the top level of openwheel racing in North America - is a hybrid of the two. It flips back and forth between both kinds of tracks, using cars designed for maximum speed. One week, drivers might be cornering left and right on a claustrophobic street course, the next race they could find themselves screaming counterclockwise around a banked oval track, where physics matter most and speeds regularly top 230 miles an hour.

"To be a champion in that series, you have to be a great allround driver," Wickens said. "It's not just the same type of circuit over and over and over again."

The wide-open nature of the oval speedways has led drivers from disciplines such as Formula One to steer clear of IndyCar. At those speeds, the margin of error while hurtling around a banked oval, such as Pocono, is just too slim for some to risk it.

"There's no denying it, a superspeedway is not particularly designed for an IndyCar," Wickens said.

Having competed in Europe, Wickens knew he could handle the street courses. The ovals? He was never one to back down from a challenge.

"I'd never driven an oval before," he said.

"I wasn't saying, like, 'No, absolutely not, I'm going to hate these.' I just didn't know anything about them, so I wasn't super excited about it."

"It was the one thing that I was unsure about."

'TELL KARLI I LOVE HER' It was his fifth oval race. Wickens remembers very little of the crash.

For him, most of the details of the accident in the ABC Supply 500 on Sunday, Aug. 19, have been pieced together after the fact.

He saw a photo of the crash in hospital and noticed his right hand protruding from the car as it spun violently through the air before slamming into the catch fence.

"That must be how my arm broke," he thought.

Aside from a relatively minor collision in Texas, Wickens had looked extremely comfortable on the speedways. He took second in Arizona, fifth in Iowa and ninth at the Indy 500. But Pocono would be different.

As wrecks go, there has never been another crash like it. Never in the history of IndyCar has the black-box data recorder that sits beneath the driver's legs been destroyed - along with whatever measurements it was taking at the point of impact. The last bit of data collected by the recorder before it went dark suggested Wickens was travelling slightly

faster than 184 miles an hour and hurtling through the air when his car came apart.

"To be honest, I don't really remember anything of the whole day," Wickens said. "I have seen photos of James and I goofing off at the autograph session before the race, and I've heard a lot of fans saying, 'I got to meet you right before the crash.' I don't really have any recollection of any of it."

Pocono is one of IndyCar's superspeedways - though from above it's more of a triangle with rounded corners. It's fast and, at times, demonstrably deadly. In 2015, IndyCar driver Justin Wilson was killed at Pocono when debris from a car accident ricocheted off the track and struck his helmet.

Wickens was entering Turn 2, seven laps in, jockeying for position with Ryan Hunter-Reay. He went to pass on the inside, but Hunter-Reay, on his right, had more straightaway speed. Their wheels touched for a split second.

Suddenly, Wickens was airborne.

His low-slung car, which was roughly 16 feet long and weighed more than 1,600 pounds, spun like a propeller into the catch fence, a mixture of wires and poles designed to keep cars from careening into the grandstand or, in this particular turn, smacking into a grove of trees. The fence acted as a net, but its metal construction also had the effect of a cheese grater, shredding the vehicle to pieces.

The on-board camera affixed to Hunter-Reay's side mirror shows Wickens's car vaulting over top, coming so close that Hunter-Reay later said he had to "shrug down" to avoid being hit.

Wickens's car tore a swath in the fence before hitting a pole and spinning back onto the track, disintegrating before the TV cameras as it came to a rest on the inside of the speedway. When it finally slid to a stop, all that was left of the car was the cockpit - the small capsule that houses the driver.

Almost everything else had been shorn off or crushed.

At home in Indianapolis, Karli was watching the race on television with Hinchcliffe's fiancée, Becky. The two couples were planning a fall trip to Germany, and the women were looking online for coats. Karli glanced up from her laptop just in time to see Wickens spinning out of control. She knows the sport is dangerous, but in that moment she had no idea what she was seeing.

"Initially I was like, 'Aw no, he's out of the race.' Because I know how mad he gets when he doesn't do well," Karli said.

"I just thought, 'Nothing hit his head, he's fine.' I'd seen other really crazy crashes and people walked away."

"But then they kept showing it over and over again."

She remembered something Wickens once told her about televised racing: If they stop showing live pictures of the driver - it's probably bad.

She kept waiting for the NBCSN broadcast to show Wickens being pulled from his car, or loaded onto a stretcher - anything. But there was nothing, just the replay, over and over in slow motion.

"They never showed Rob again.

And he always told me that wasn't good. ... So I was just like, 'Okay, now it's getting bad.' "Her phone rang. It was Trevor, Robert's brother.

"What do you know?" Karli recalls him asking, thinking she was trackside at Pocono. From where she sat, she didn't know much. The Wickens family knew a lot about racing though. "His parents, they all thought that he died instantly," Karli said.

When emergency crews arrived at the car, they expected the worst, but they found Wickens conscious.

He remembers none of it, but according to the briefing he later received from IndyCar officials, the conversation was strangely calm.

"Are you okay?" they asked.

"Yeah, I think so."

What's your name?

"Robert Wickens."

What track are you at?

"Pocono International Raceway."

Do you know what turn you are in?

"Turn 2."

Wickens seemed lucid.

But the question about the racetrack was a dead giveaway that something was wrong.

Never in his life had Wickens referred to the track by its full name: Pocono International Raceway. "I would never call it that," he said.

Wickens was in shock. He was favouring his arm. The emergency crews could see it was broken.

Then they looked down beneath the steering wheel. Inside the battered car, both of his legs were mangled.

Wickens spoke again: "Actually, my back's really starting to hurt, and I can't feel my legs."

"And that's when things escalated really quickly."

He was taken to an on-site hospital. He started blacking out.

The paramedics revived him with oxygen, and a few seconds later he passed out again. Then, more oxygen.

Karli's phone rang again. Amid the chaos, a woman inside the medical facility - the wife of another driver who happened to be a nurse - had found her number. She yelled across the room at Wickens: I have your fiancée on the phone, is there anything you want to say?

"Tell Karli I love her," Wickens said.

That was when Karli knew it was bad. He never talked that way.

Those sounded like last words.

As emergency crews prepared to airlift Wickens to a nearby hospital, a member of the Arrow Schmidt Peterson Motorsports team staff went over and sat next to Wickens.

Karli couldn't be there. His family couldn't be there. Somebody had to be at his side.

"So that he didn't die alone," Karli said.

'THOSE ARE YOUR LEGS' Wickens was flown by helicopter to the emergency room at nearby Lehigh Valley Hospital. He was delirious. Before they put him under for the trip, he pleaded with the doctors: "Am I paralyzed? Am I paralyzed?" But no one would answer. Aboard the helicopter, out cold, he nearly died choking on his own blood until paramedics were able to get a breathing tube down his throat.

Karli boarded a plane to Pennsylvania. Wickens's family drove south from Guelph. None of them knew what they would find when they arrived in Pennsylvania.

"This is for sure the hardest part," Hinchcliffe said. "The waiting bit is terrible."

In 2015, Hinchcliffe nearly died in a crash during practice in Indianapolis, severing a major artery when a rod on the bottom of the car broke through and punctured his seat. Paramedics held the artery closed long enough to get him to the hospital, which was the only thing that kept him from bleeding out.

"My parents had to get on a three-hour flight with no internet, with the last thing they heard being, 'We hope he pulls through.' " Hinchcliffe said.

"In a similar way, Rob's family drove through the night to get to the hospital and at times, through the country, would lose signal for a few minutes at a time. Those moments can be agonizing."

When Karli arrived from the airport, the prognosis was bleak.

Wickens couldn't move his legs.

There were serious spinal and neck injuries, broken legs, a broken arm and head injuries. He would need multiple surgeries.

But doctors weren't sure if, given all his injuries, he would survive the first spinal procedure, which had to be performed with him laying face down. The family was handed papers to sign acknowledging he might die on the operating table.

"I knew he was alive, but they didn't know if there was brain damage, they didn't know if he would be the same, they didn't know how paralyzed he was," Karli said.

For the first few nights she slept on a couch in his hospital room.

Eventually, family and friends insisted she get some rest at a nearby hotel.

"I can't sleep. I'm just staring at the ceiling. That's the moment where you are like, I am completely alone right now," she recalled. "I just wanted him to wake up. ... I just wanted him to say, it's going to be okay."

When Wickens did eventually wake up, he could barely talk. The heavy painkillers he was on - fentanyl, an opioid 100 times more powerful than morphine - kept him foggy and confused. When he was awake, he hallucinated. Items hung on the wall would vanish before his eyes. He heard a baby crying. He imagined he was somewhere else - in London. Once, Karli came to visit him and he didn't recognize her.

"I didn't know what was real or what was fake," Wickens said.

Even after being told of his injuries, he failed to fully grasp the situation.

When his brother came to see him, the two were talking at his bed and Wickens felt a big lump beneath the sheets, which he thought was a pillow. That's odd, he thought.

"Trevor what is this?" Wickens said through the haze of the fentanyl, pawing at the blankets.

"What do you mean? Rob - those are your legs."

For all the things he can't remember, it's one memory he'll never forget. That was the moment it all sunk in.

"I couldn't feel anything," he said.

A NEW REALITY If Wickens was to have any hope at recovery, the first thing he figured he needed to do was get off the painkillers immediately. He needed his brain back.

"How am I going to walk again if I don't even know I have freaking legs in the first place? I need to at least know that they're there," he said. "I need to be in a good, conscious mental state to get through this."

He quit the fentanyl cold turkey and switched to less-powerful painkillers, but it plunged him deep into withdrawal. He had the shakes, cold sweats and debilitating nausea. One minute he had five fans trained on his bed trying to keep him cool, the next he'd be buried in blankets, teeth chattering.

But in that moment, he made a choice. He was determined to focus solely on rehabilitation.

In the early days soon after the crash, IndyCar issued a statement saying that Wickens had suffered "orthopaedic injuries." It was a vague term that served to underplay the trauma he was in. Little else was known publicly about how bad the situation was.

Talk soon spread on social media that Wickens was, in fact, doing well and would be back at the track in no time. It wasn't true, but the rumours proliferated and gained believability. As pundits and news sites picked up on the chatter, the myth took root: Robert Wickens was fine.

It spun false hope and added to the emotional toll on his family, who were confronting reality inside the hospital. Less than three weeks after the crash, the Wickens family issued an unusual public statement in response, looking to set the record straight. It was unapologetically blunt.

"As unverified sources immediately following Robert's accident inaccurately and without permission portrayed his condition as less than severe, in an effort to remain transparent and open, we are providing a list of Robert's injuries to truly showcase the severity," the statement said.

In professional sports, where injury details are guarded like state secrets, it was an unprecedented disclosure. The bulletpoint list read like a medicalschool text book: thoracic-spinal fracture, spinal-cord injury, neck fracture, tibia and fibula fractures, fractures in both hands, fractured right forearm, fractured elbow, four fractured ribs and a pulmonary contusion. He also sustained a concussion.

Doctors told Wickens about the body's ability to sometimes rewire itself after a spinal-cord injury, to reroute and re-establish nerves, to repair itself. He clung to this. With enough will, he thought he could get there. But he didn't know what he was in for.

"We had no idea what rehab actually entailed," Wickens said.

"We thought that when I went to rehab it would just be short term, I would learn how to walk and I would go home."

He admits he was naive. Wickens had to learn the basics of paralysis. Things he once took for granted were now monumental chores - moving from a chair to the bed, avoiding bedsores, and even the most rudimentary daily bodily functions. Having lost the feeling in his bowels, he needed a catheter to urinate.

"It was pretty eye-opening at the beginning, just how much of this rehab was about your bladder and your bowels," he said. "Everyone knew everything, everyone was asking you questions that you would have never been asked before the injury - family members, everyone - because they were so involved at the early stages of my recovery they were in the loop on all those things. It got to a point where I was just like, stop. I need privacy. I need my own space again."

Robert and Karli were given some key advice from Sam Schmidt, co-owner of Arrow Schmidt Peterson Motorsports, and his wife, Sheila. Schmidt, a former driver, went through a years-long recovery following a crash in 2000 that left him a quadriplegic. They told the young couple to do their best to keep such things separate from their relationship. It would be better in the long run.

"Because we're young and we want romance to stay," Karli said.

It meant she had to fight her natural inclination to help him with everything.

Schmidt has been around paralysis almost his entire life.

"My father was paralyzed racing when I was 11 years old, so unfortunately, our family had been through it before," he said.

His advice to Wickens was to tap the mental and physical energy that made him successful on the track and redirect them into his recovery.

"If he put as much thought, energy and perseverance into his rehabilitation as he did into driving, there was no reason he couldn't walk again without assistance and, God willing, race again," Schmidt said.

Focusing on a goal helps. So Wickens wrote his down on a piece of paper: I want to walk again.

Karli asked him if he wanted to postpone the wedding, slated for the fall. He refused. It was something else to strive for - a new finish line.

Yet, psychologists cautioned him to be realistic. Some patients slip into depression if they set their expectations too high. "They always kept saying, we just have to prepare you for the worst, in case it doesn't get better," Wickens said.

"I'm like - but it will."

He was told not to expect any sensation or movement in his lower body for the first six months after the injury. But five weeks in, something extraordinary happened.

Lying in his hospital bed, immobilized by a neck brace, back brace and casts on his broken legs, Wickens felt a twitch.

Something moved. It was his leg - a muscle in his inner left thigh.

Did he imagine that?

He peered under the covers, He thought about moving the muscle. It flickered again.

"Come look at this," he shouted frantically across the room at Karli.

"And then I did it again - and it worked."

They both broke down.

"Like it was the happiest day of our lives," Wickens said.

LEARNING TO WALK Wickens grips the handles on his walker and pushes himself, slowly, out of his wheelchair. He takes a second to steady himself and, ever so gingerly, slides one foot forward, then another.

They are baby steps. More of a shuffle, really. His legs shimmy and shake, but his eyes don't waver. Staring forward, he looks like a man concentrating on every nerve synapse, however faint.

Sometimes he has a therapist helping him, bracing his ankles, holding his knees. Other times, he does it on his own.

It is nine months after the crash, and Wickens has moved to a specialized rehabilitation facility in Denver. Bit by bit, he has regained some of the feeling he lost.

He can feel his abs, his glutes, he can move his legs, ever so tentatively. He is one of the lucky ones.

His nerves are slowly trying to rewire themselves around the injured part of his spine.

On the six-month anniversary of the crash, he surprised Karli by forcing himself into a standing position from his wheelchair and taking a few steps toward her.

They embraced. He shuffled a bit.

He joked that they were practising the first dance at their wedding.

In March, pining for the racetrack, he travelled to the first race of the IndyCar season, in St. Petersburg. Two therapists helped him climb the stairs to the plane, one holding his legs, the other bracing his hips. By mid-May, when he travelled to the Indianapolis 500, he made a point of climbing the stairs himself, shaking like a leaf as he urged each limb forward in slow motion.

They are massive strides, but for Wickens it's not enough. He wants to walk cleanly again, so that no one knows he was injured.

"People looking at my MRIs early on basically told me that they saw almost no hope for me to regain anything, and I've gotten as far as I have," he says. "So I like to think that my mindset and my work ethic and everything is playing a large part."

While in Denver, he and Karli live in a hotel near the rehabilitation centre. The days begin around 6 a.m. as he transfers himself from the bed to his wheelchair and then to a shower chair.

"It's the same morning ritual that I think any person has. But everything just takes a little while longer," he said.

From bed to being out the door, he's cut it down to an hour and a half. Six days a week, he's at the centre doing four to six hours of therapy a day. There are treadmills, spin bikes set to minimal resistance, pool workouts, muscle stimulation with electrodes, boxing and weights to put back 35 pounds he lost in the hospital. He is working harder than he ever has.

There have been major setbacks - unexpected surgery to correct an injured left ankle and an infection from a small scratch that spread throughout his entire body and could have turned fatal.

But his progress has been better than expected. Still, he finds himself glancing over at other patients with the eye of a seasoned competitor. If someone is walking better, he wonders what they are doing that he's not.

"The hardest thing about this is that you can't compare to another injury, because every spinal-cord injury is entirely different," he said.

The scrutiny that comes with being a professional athlete has not necessarily been kind. People who Karli has never met reach out on social media with comments and criticism.

A few months in, a woman contacted Karli on Instagram and told her she was strong for persevering. The woman added she was surprised Karli was sticking around.

The message gutted her. Of course she was sticking around.

What was presented as a compliment felt backhanded and condescending.

"I don't think I'm strong. I don't. We break down," she said.

"It's the hardest thing we've ever done. I feel like we're just trying to go day-by-day to get through everything."

'RISK MANAGEMENT' Sam Schmidt has already told Wickens that his No. 6 car will be there for him if he is able to drive it.

Wickens knows it may sound reckless to want back into racing, having narrowly cheated death already. But he can't help it. The lure of competition helps keep him going, particularly on bad days, when the rehab gets difficult.

Hinchcliffe understands what Wickens is going through. When he nearly died, he couldn't wait to drive again.

Drivers have one of two psychological responses to a horrific crash, he said. Either they decide it's not worth it and never get back behind the wheel again, or they see their return to the car as a healing force.

"If you're the first driver, you don't ever have to battle the psychological part, because you'll probably never drive again," Hinchcliffe said. "If you're the second driver, you are counting the seconds until you get the chance to drive again because without it you feel incomplete. Getting back behind the wheel makes you whole again."

Drivers know they are risking their lives. Some call it a compulsion, a form of addiction.

"I think we have a way of blocking out whatever part of the brain controls self-preservation, and we are willing to put ourselves into dangerous situations," Hinchcliffe said.

"Racing isn't a want, it's a need.

It's all we know, and we don't want to live without it."

Still, Wickens's crash has given a few drivers pause. Wickens has heard rumblings that some who were looking to make the jump to IndyCar are now reconsidering that decision.

In June, 28-year-old British Driver Max Chilton, a former Formula One racer who made the switch in 2016, said he would no longer race ovals and stick exclusively to road courses, effectively pulling himself out of four of the remaining nine races on the calendar at the time, including Pocono.

Chilton didn't go into detail about the decision, but said "risk management is a central consideration."

Wickens tries not to dwell on what went wrong. Despite his injuries, he maintains the car absorbed the crash exactly how it was designed to. After ripping an 80-foot hole in Pocono's catchfence, the car crumbled around him, leaving the driver's cockpit - though not the driver - mostly intact.

"This tested new boundaries of what an IndyCar is capable of.

Pieces of my car failed in the correct manner," he said.

It took clean-up crews nearly two hours to clear the debris from the track. When the race finally got going again, the remaining drivers sped past the gaping hole in the damaged fence every time they rounded the second turn.

But the race went on.

Asked later how he dealt with such a chilling reminder of the crash, the eventual winner, American driver Alexander Rossi, said he had no choice.

"You've got to compartmentalize," Rossi said. "Deal with that emotion after the race."

FEAR OF FAILURE Not everything has been about racing. One afternoon this spring, Wickens mustered all his strength, gripped the edge of his walker and pushed himself up into a standing position.

As he stood bracing himself, a tailor measured him for the wedding tuxedo he'll wear this fall.

Less than a year ago, just standing there would not have taken the enormous amount of strength it does now.

"It's a new perspective on everything," he said. "You just have to press reset, and what I could do before is in the past. Now it's just trying to rebuild and regrow."

Karli tells a story of a time, early on, when Wickens was still suffering from delusions brought on by the painkillers. Sitting at his bedside, she had taken his hand and held it gently. Her hair was still wet from a shower and looked darker than usual. When Wickens opened his eyes, he stared blankly into her face. He had no idea who she was.

"'You know, you shouldn't be holding my hand,' Karli recalls him saying. "'My fiancée is upstairs and she's going to be really upset that you're holding my hand."

Wickens laughs now at how out of it he was.

For Karli, it was a small comfort. "He knew he had a fiancée.

He's loyal. He just didn't know it was me."

With every small improvement Wickens makes he inches closer to his goal. He is starting to gain more feeling in his body. Last month, he sneezed for the first time since the accident.

Even if he never races again, he is determined to walk down the aisle, stand for his vows and dance with the woman who's helped take care of him all these months.

Wickens biggest fear now is failure. He's not giving up.

"I don't want to fail for myself," Wickens said. "Most importantly, I don't want to fail for Karli."

Associated Graphic

Ditching painkillers and teaching himself how to walk again, Wickens has made massive strides in his recove

An eight-year-old Wickens, in his first year of racing, participates in an event at the Waterloo Regional Kart Club in Ontario in 1997.


ry. But it's not enough for the racer. He wants to walk cleanly again, so that no one knows he was injured.

Left to right: Wickens is photographed with Arrow Schmidt Peterson Motorsports team owners Sam Schmidt, Ric Peterson and Penni Peterson on April 7, 2018. A former driver, Mr. Schmidt was in a crash of his own in 2000 that left him a quadriplegic


Wickens's fiancée, Karli Woods, says his rehab has been 'the hardest thing we've ever done,' and they are both taking things day by day.

Schmidt advised Wickens to tap into the mental and physical energy that made him successful on the racetrack and direct it toward his rehabilitation.

Wickens attended Indianapolis 500 events at Indianapolis Motor Speedway in May. INSTAGRAM

Woods asked Wickens if he wanted to postpone their wedding, but he refused. They plan to tie the knot this fall, and he plans on dancing.

Tuesday, July 16, 2019

Canada's AI dream
Montreal-based innovator Element AI has impressive backers and a hefty bankroll, but can it deliver what it promises? Sean Silcoff investigates
Saturday, July 20, 2019 – Print Edition, Page B6

Officially, the event is known as the 32nd Neural Information Processing Systems conference. Unofficially, it is the world's largest gathering of artificial intelligence experts.

For Jean-François Gagné, the co-founder and chief executive officer of Element AI Inc., the conference is a coming-out party of sorts.

In fact, he is determined to make it hard to miss the name and brand of his Montreal-based artificial-intelligence software company. At Pierre Elliott Trudeau International Airport, the company has persuaded the airport authority to superimpose "AI" in Element's corporate purple over the terminal's "Montreal" sign. When the conference's 8,000 guests arrive at their hotels, many are welcomed by greeters in Element AI T-shirts. The company is throwing a giant party in Old Montreal and Mr. Gagné is hosting Prime Minister Justin Trudeau for a G7 event at its headquarters.

The CEO speaks of all this as though he's defending a castle: "This conference is on our turf and there's no way we'll let all the foreign organizations that are already invading from all fronts across Canada just own this place," says the perennially unshaven Mr. Gagné, wearing a suit jacket, Element T-shirt, jeans and sneakers.

Think big, spend big and be loud about it: that might as well be Mr.

Gagné's motto. The Canadian technology industry is in the midst of a boom and is teeming with AI startups, but few have launched with a bigger splash than Element, a software company that is not yet three years old. The company launched in October, 2016, with a big vision and a global superstar on its founding team: Yoshua Bengio, the University of Montreal professor known as one of the godfathers of "deep learning," the foundational science behind today's AI revolution.

Element set out to build a Canadian AI company to rival the world's biggest tech giants. "The dream was, 'The next Google is going to be Canadian,' " Dr. Bengio said in an interview.

Big names brought their chequebooks: Microsoft Corp., Intel Corp., Nvidia Corp., Tencent Holdings Ltd., mutual-fund giant Fidelity Investments, plus a South Korean conglomerate, a Singaporean sovereign-wealth fund and several Canadian investors, provided US$102million in financing in Spring, 2017. It was an unheard-of amount for a brand-new Canadian company and enabled Element to hire 500 employees, including 100 PhDs. "Clearly, I've been a factor in attracting capital, attracting talent," Dr. Bengio said. "But it's not only that."

Element has positioned itself as a global business star and thought leader on emerging issues around AI. The startup called itself "an unprecedented Quebec success story" in a submission to Quebec Finance Minister Éric Girard this year and attracted generally flattering media coverage. A 2018 headline from Fortune magazine asked, "Can This Startup Break Big Tech's Hold on AI?" and Fast Company in May named Mr. Gagné one of the world's 100 most creative people in business.

Element has also become the self-appointed representative of Canada's AI sector, lobbying federal politicians and government officials 85 times since the start of 2018 - startups rarely do direct lobbying - securing $5-million in federal aid and landing two photo-ops with the Prime Minister.

And there's more money on the way. Sources familiar with the company's plans say it is close to raising another US$100-million to US$250-million from a group of investors that includes pension fund manager Caisse de dépôt et placement du Québec, the Quebec government and a global consulting firm. Early backers already provided tens of millions of dollars in capital this spring.

But some are not buying into the hype. One financier who looked at an investment in Element last year, but passed, said: "I just didn't believe the story ... the math is not clear, the product road map is not clear, the only thing that's clear is [its strategy to] 'Hire as many people as we can.' " The skepticism is widely shared across the fledgling Canadian AI sector. Although no one will speak on the record, several rival AI entrepreneurs complain Element's rampant hiring has squeezed the market for scarce talent, while its progress is at odds with its claims to be Canada's premier AI company. Element doesn't yet have a proven track record of delivering products, said one AI entrepreneur in Eastern Canada who questioned whether the company even has a viable business model, and yet it's draining the AI ecosystem.

In response to its critics, Element has unveiled ambitious product rollout plans: It is developing seven products during its fiscal year ending next Jan. 31, Mr. Gagné says, with three set for general availability by summer's end.

But Element has experienced setbacks on two of its flagship products in development and shed senior staff charged with taking them to market. Other products promised by the company are still in early stages and unlikely to be released for months. According to Public Services and Procurement Canada, Element as of early this year did not yet qualify among the top level of AI suppliers entitled to bid for government business because it hadn't delivered at least five successful AI projects. Startups consume cash, but with its big roster of expensive engineering talent, Element is burning through it at an unusually high rate.

Element can attract talent. But can it build a sustainable business?

The stakes are high. AI is infiltrating many industries and will change how people work, travel and get information, and how businesses operate as self-teaching algorithms replace human efforts. It's still early days in this transformation, but AI is already confronting governments and regulators with issues such as data sovereignty, privacy and built-in machine biases.

For its proponents, Element AI is Canada's bet to build a giant company and capture some of the value in this country, where many of the big AI breakthroughs happened. "I am tired of Canada acting like the world's greatest poker player walking into casino after casino with two aces in its hands and folding halfway through," said Matt Ocko, an Element AI board member and managing partner at Data Collective, a Silicon Valley firm that was an early investor in the company. "I want to see Canada have a massive ... win." Canada already risks falling behind: Chinese rivals Megvii Technology Ltd., and SenseTime Group Ltd. have already raised more than $1-billion each. Mr. Gagné knows that if he wants Element to be the flag-carrier for Canada's AI industry, he still has a lot to prove. "It's really the year of execution for us," he said.

Element's beginnings date to 2015, sparked in part by a conversation Mr. Gagné had with a troubled Dr. Bengio. Mr. Gagné had just taken a job as entrepreneur-in-residence with a Montreal venture-capital firm, Real Ventures, which had backed his previous tech startup, optimization software developer Planora Inc. Mr. Gagné was responsible for developing Real's strategy to invest in the fledgling AI sector.

Meanwhile, his friend Dr. Bengio was getting worried about the state of the AI field he had helped create. U.S. tech giants such as Google, Apple and Facebook were realizing the commercial potential of AI breakthroughs made by Canadian academics and their students, and hiring as much academic talent as possible, including fellow deep-learning pioneer Geoff Hinton, a professor at University of Toronto.

Dr. Bengio suggested they create a company that would anchor a thriving domestic AI sector and help Canadian universities retain their academics. Their first plan, seeded by Real, was to build a core AI platform and fund an incubator that could spin off startups to deliver machine-learning tools to businesses that could perform functions such as reading and processing insurance applications or detecting and responding to anomalies on production lines. Key to that plan was quickly amassing top-tier AI talent. "Think about how much money is being invested in China and in Silicon Valley," Dr.

Bengio said. "There's no way we're going to succeed if we don't push on the gas as much as is reasonable."

To Mr. Gagné, that meant aiming larger than the typical "lean startup" approach by young technology companies of stretching scant resources to get their first products to market. "We knew it was not going to happen by scraping and bootstrapping your way and getting one solution and hiring a few folks" at a time.

He and his co-founders, including his spouse, Anne Martel, research scientist Nicolas Chapados and Real partner Jean Sébastien Cournoyer, felt their company had to get big, fast.

Element's founders aimed to establish their so-called "supercredibility," a notion championed by visionary Silicon Valley entrepreneur Peter Diamandis in his 2015 book, Bold: How to Go Big, Create Wealth and Impact the World. Mr. Diamandis implored entrepreneurs to be brash and unapologetic, acting like they had already succeeded.

Some of the basic principles of supercredibility include: "Start at the top, and build your way up"; "When forced to compromise, ask for more"; "If you can't win, change the rules"; and, "If you can't change the rules, then ignore them."

"We really wanted to make a dent," Mr. Gagné said. "The notion of impact, from the start, was one of the criteria that we wanted to make sure we had."

When Element launched, Dr. Bengio was front and centre, although his time spent on the company would be limited to an advisory role and board membership due to his other commitments. "I am a very busy person," he said.

But the timing was perfect. The market was growing aware of the vast potential for AI to help companies derive new insights and make predictions by mining vast troves of their data. Money poured into the sector. Against that backdrop, Dr. Bengio's involvement anointed Element with supercredibility. Element was flooded with CVs from AI scientists and seasoned executives and more than 20 requests a day from potential customers "from literally every corner of the globe" asking how they could use AI in their business, said Naomi Goldapple, one of Element's earliest hires. (Ms. Goldapple spoke to The Globe last December, when she was a director of industry solutions.

She recently left the company and declined to comment further.)

Weeks later, Microsoft announced it was investing an undisclosed amount in Element, one of its first venture deals in AI. Calls followed from other prospective investors, including Data Collective's Mr.

Ocko. His company was "looking for the strongest independent concentration of self-sustaining AI talent that could actually drive product outcomes for global companies. Element AI met that set of criteria," he said. It wasn't a Chinese company subject to state influence, nor within the gravitational pull of AI-savvy, data-rich Silicon Valley giants that other corporations might be loath to work with. That was "reinforced for us by Yoshua Bengio's position as co-founder and his unambiguous moral stature as the only truly prominent AI researcher who had not sold out," Mr. Ocko said.

The founding team set out to raise US$40-million in venture capital, a sizable sum for a fledgling Canadian company. Mr. Ocko encouraged them to think bigger and raise enough "to be a global champion for Canada and a magnet for capital and talent to Canada." The founders decided to "be as ambitious as we can [and] take the money," Mr.

Cournoyer said in 2017. The ensuing financing announced in June, 2017. was one of the largest early-stage rounds for a nascent company in Canada.

But Element's path forward was fuzzy. It abandoned plans to be a startup factory that spun off AI businesses after determining large corporations weren't yet ready to deal with a slew of AI startups and still needed to wrap their heads around what AI could do for them.

Instead Element decided to build those businesses in-house. It dabbled with different ways of helping corporate customers devise AI implementation strategies; most of its work for the first two years involved consulting to Canadian and multinational companies to address specific problems using AI.

The strategic shifts and consulting focus left observers wondering why investors would shell out so much for a company that did custom piecework, since consultants typically generate lower margins and command lower valuations than software sellers. "We created a lot of confusion in the market," Mr. Gagné acknowledges.

But Mr. Ocko insists the plan was always that Element would evolve into a product company. "That was going to take some time" for Element to experiment and build out AI-based products that met customer needs, Mr. Ocko said.

In early 2018, Element decided to focus on two sectors: financial services and supply chain/logistics. Those target industries were rife with data, repetitive and paper-based processes and deep-pocketed companies willing to embrace AI, making them ideal targets for standardized AI products. Last July, Mr. Gagné told his staff he didn't want any proposals going out for work "that didn't have eventual licence-recurring revenue attached to it for a product."

Starting in late 2018, Element began to reveal its product strategy and some early customers. It was working with investor GIC Private Ltd., the Singapore sovereignwealth fund, to develop a tool that automatically and frequently rebalanced investment portfolios. Another investor, National Bank of Canada, agreed to work with Element to develop a program that would help cybersecurity operators do their jobs by taking on some of the routine tasks of threat detection. The company signed up Gore Mutual, a property and casualty insurer in Cambridge, Ont., and financial-services giant HSBC to develop products for their industries. But it won't be until 2020 that the first products are ready to go to market.

Element has been quiet about its financial performance but a confidential document prepared for prospective investors last year and obtained by the Globe offers a rare glimpse.

As of June, 2018, the company had generated $4.7-million in revenue (primarily from consulting projects) for 19 customers including Maple Leaf, Barrick, L'Oréal and Hyundai. Sources briefed on Element's financial performance say revenue in the fiscal year ended Jan.

31, 2019, totalled less than $10-million. Mr. Gagné declined to comment on financial performance except to say 90 per cent of revenues as of last December were for non-recurring business. He added results are on track with plans; Mr. Ocko said Element's revenues reflected in signed contracts covering future years is "dramatically ... larger" than $10-million.

While that might be an impressive output for many startups, context is important. Software startups typically stretch resources and hire prudently until they build a "minimum viable product" that they take to market. Once they generate sales and market acceptance, they hire engineers and product designers to build out the offering and sales and marketing people to generate revenue.

Element took the reverse approach, snapping up machinelearning research scientists and marketers and amassing a big internal infrastructure before it had products in market. Element "has lots of applied research scientists that think about and develop AI algorithms, but those aren't the same people that write software and intimately understand a use case and a particular problem you're trying to solve," one recent insider said.

As a result, Element is an expensive company to run, even in Montreal, where costs are lower than in the Bay Area. And that's before it has commercially ready products to sell.

Aside from the normal startup accoutrements - staff are treated to a free kombucha and latte bar as well as complimentary lunches, snacks and carbonated water on tap at its Park Ex neighbourhood headquarters - the company also pays for things other startups can't afford.

That includes a 71-person fundamental research team led by 13 applied research scientists doing basic research whose main purpose is producing work "to have academic impact," said Dr. Chapados, Element's chief science officer. "Normally, investing in fundamental research is the stuff of very large corporations," he acknowledges.

(Element has filed more than 50 patent applications.)

The company also compensates 24 outside AI academic "fellows" to provide occasional advice or feedback when needed. It maintains offices in Toronto, Seoul, Singapore and has a 20-person London operation that does pro bono work to deliver "AI for good" - a keen interest of Dr. Bengio's. Element also advises a South Korean AI venture fund and partners with Singapore institutions to help develop their local startup sector.

Element does extensive lobbying (it hired a head of public policy and government relations early last year long before it had a chief financial officer) and even has a "brand guru," also rarities for earlystage companies.

Element has so many employees that by early 2019 it was no longer defined as a "small business," meaning it qualified for significantly lower research and development tax credits than companies with fewer than 500 people. (By comparison Shopify Inc. only reached the 500-employee mark the year it surpassed US$100-million in revenues.) That prompted Element to ask Quebec's Finance Minister to reconsider the rules, saying it was still a startup "in hypergrowth mode."

Outsiders estimate Element's "burn rate" exceeds $5-million a month. The burn "is pretty high," said Ms. Martel, Element's senior vice-president of operations, without confirming the amount. "It's higher than a typical startup, definitely." Said Mr. Gagné: "If burn equals risk, then yes, we're taking more risk. ... It's an ambitious play, we never shy away from saying that."

Anchored by the belief that it needed to offer a full range of AI tools, and not just a single product to corporate customers, Element set out to launch seven products this year. "Yes, we could sell one product at a time but we wanted to sell very quickly a suite of products to be able to penetrate larger organizations ... that can help [solve] many of their problems," Ms. Martel said, calling it a "contrarian, bold [strategy that] makes sense. Our expectation is that the revenue will also follow once we're in place in all these organizations."

With the market for AI solutions still nascent, Mr. Gagné acknowledged that the revenue potential of its offerings isn't clear. Selling to large corporations typically takes a long time, and it's hard enough for most startup to build a business around a single product, let alone seven.

Element has already had some product setbacks.

In January, Element staff told The Globe and Mail during a product demonstration at its headquarters that its cybersecurity project with National Bank was in the advanced prototype stage and close to being sellable once it had been "trained" on National Bank data. But within a few months, The Globe has learned, the company quietly shelved the flagship project this past spring and parted ways with many of the business leaders hired to take the product to market. Element declined to comment on the status of the project and referred questions to the bank, which also declined to comment.

Element has also had some challenges developing a program to help the clogged Port of Montreal to develop software that would ease congestion by predicting wait times for truck drivers delivering or picking up loads. The predictions, available to truckers through the port's smartphone app, would come from mining data sources, including vessel arrival times, train manoeuvres and weather.

Element has worked with the port authority since early 2017 and progress on the client side has been slower than expected, Ms. Goldapple said in January. When the port expanded operating hours last fall, that threw things off for months because Element's algorithms were relying on historical data; testing is still ongoing and will only conclude later this year.

The port authority's director of information technology, Serge Montpetit, said the product had the potential to make his operation more effective. "We want to be a smart port," he said. "We're creating history here, we're at the beginning of something."

But is this a smart product for Element AI? The company hasn't worked out pricing yet but the cost would have to come out of the port's information technology budget, which is less than $10-million and already covers everything from business software to cellphones and computers. And it's not clear whether the product can be sold in a standardized form to other customers - ports are typically distinctive, depending on geography, local dynamics and differing operating and ownership models.

Asked how much he thought Element's product would have to be altered for each customer, Mr. Montpetit replied "my guess is 30 per cent" - a high amount that would hurt margins because of the work required with each sale. Element insiders also expressed doubt about the size of the potential market for the port product, which Mr.

Gagné acknowledged would be highly customized and sold to operators that "don't have a super large IT budget."

The company's foray into financial services may be more promising.

Gore is Element's lead customer on a product that automates the intake and uploading of data from insurance applications for home, automobile and commercial insurance policies. Gore's chief information officer, Sean Christie, said the software will save the insurer money, increase its efficiency, reduce errors and provide the opportunity to capture and use more information from application forms. "It's a slam-dunk business case for us. If they can price the product in the right space, they will be very successful."

But with a pilot project under way, Element will only be ready to market the product near year's end. The project with GIC is in the early stages and Element hasn't yet started to deploy the product with the Singapore fund.

And while HSBC's head of transformation for global banking and markets, Chuck Texeira, said the Britain-based bank picked Element AI after "scour[ing] the world to find the best AI firms," it won't be until 2020 that the parties determine what products they will pursue together.

Nearly three years in, Element is still a work in progress. Then again, the entire AI ecosystem is. With deep-pocketed backers, Element still has the means to improve on its outcomes to date, and some observers in the Montreal investment community expect it will sharpen its focus and make staffing changes necessary to commercialize products in the months ahead with a greater sense of urgency.

"Element AI is not a perfect company," Mr. Ocko said. "They are still for all intents and purposes a startup. They have a long way to go to be a global export champion for Canada. ... They will make mistakes.

They have made mistakes." But Mr. Ocko says he's "very happy" with the company's progress toward commercialization. "Anyone who had a bad attitude about the company is going to be gravely disappointed."

Associated Graphic

Two key players in Element AI are artificial-intelligence pioneer Yoshua Bengio, opposite left, and company CEO Jean-François Gagné.


In a short period of time, Element AI has built a team of more than 500 employees, including 100 PhDs, with dozens of projects on the go. Element has offices in Toronto, Seoul, Singapore, London and Montreal.


Canada's junior miners hammered by a string of technical blunders
Saturday, July 13, 2019 – Print Edition, Page B6

Even though the price of gold bullion had tumbled by more than a third from its 2011 peak, and many of his competitors were struggling, his company was defying the odds.

Guyana Goldfields Inc. had managed to raise US$700-million from investors and put a high-grade gold mine into production in early 2016.

Mr. Caldwell, an avuncular mining engineer with a soothing tone, was happy to promote the company's Aurora mine, located in a remote Guyanese rain forest, as a cash machine.

Indeed, at the prevailing gold price of US$1,200 an ounce, Guyana looked like a surefire winner.

"A little less than US$800 an ounce [cost], US$400 an ounce margin," he said during a segment on Business News Network (BNN). "Pretty easy to figure out how we're going to do."

The company's share price soared as it ramped up production, and its market capitalization crested above $1.5-billion.

But last October, seemingly out of nowhere, the wheels came off. Guyana shed half its stock-market value in one trading session after the company raised doubts about the geology at Aurora.

A technical report, upon which the mine was built, had vastly overestimated the amount and grade of gold at Aurora. This past March, Guyana cut its reserves by more than 40 per cent, after releasing an updated study on the mine.

Guyana's chairman, René Marion, later admitted in an interview that some 1.5 million ounces of gold assumed by Guyana to be in the ground were "never there."

Ten months on, Guyana's share price is down 87 per cent from its peak. Its founder and almost its entire legacy management and board of directors have left. Mr. Caldwell will step down once a replacement is found. Nobody is sure whether the company can weather the crisis.

The meltdown at Guyana's isn't a one-off. Over the past few years, several other mining companies have shocked the market with nasty technical surprises.

Vancouver-based Pretium Resources Inc. has seen its share price whipsawed on multiple occasions by geological setbacks at its erratic Brucejack deposit in British Columbia; Toronto-based New Gold Inc. saw the economics of its Rainy River mine in northwest Ontario go up in smoke last year after it fell short on grade; and shareholders in Rubicon Minerals Inc. were almost completely wiped out after its deposit in Ontario's Red Lake camp turned out to be not mineable at all.

Virtually all of the incidents are occurring at technically demanding ore bodies that require exhaustive study.

While seniors, such as Goldcorp Inc. (now owned by Newmont Mining Corp.), haven't been immune to technical blunders, this is mostly a small company problem.

Many juniors have little or no experience in building mines and lack the technical talent that might head off calamities in advance.

Small mining companies rely heavily on external consulting firms that prepare resource models. The bigger companies have reams of inhouse talent - geologists, metallurgists and engineers - who vet the work of consultants. But juniors often don't have the same level of expertise to be able to push back if something seems off.

"[Smaller gold companies] don't have the human expertise to be able to steer away from those disasters. They don't have the technical bench strength.

They don't have people that can look at it and say, 'hey, this is wrong.' "said Andrew Kaip, mining analyst with BMO Nesbitt Burns Inc.

"They're reliant on external advice and that can be flawed. It can have wildly bad outcomes."

The industry's recent flops also raise the issue of accountability when things go wrong. It's very easy to blame the consultant when the mine plan falls apart, but the management and boards of troubled companies, often responsible for making questionable decisions, are no angels either.

"In order for these things to collapse, half a dozen constituents of people have to not do their jobs," said John Tumazos, chief executive of New Jerseybased Very Independent Research.

"And the reason they don't do their jobs is that no one wants to kill the golden goose, the gravy train. Even when the project sucks." Compared with almost any other mineral, gold is a geological nightmare - harder to find, harder to model and harder to mine. There is no MRI machine for finding gold. Prospectors still have to identify a promising property, drill test holes, send samples to a lab for analysis and cross their fingers.

Even if you find gold, invariably there will be hardly any of it in the ore. The term "high grade" is actually misleading. Eight grams of gold in a tonne of rock is considered high grade. That's eight parts per million. Low grade is one part per million - a grain of salt in a giant bag of Doritos.

The gold industry is perhaps unrivalled in its wastefulness. A producer has to dig up about 20 tonnes of ore for enough gold to make a wedding ring.

Sometimes gold plays nice, occurring as a fine powdery-like substance in rock, with consistent grades throughout the entire ore body - specks of salt uniformly spread across the Doritos. If drill samples confirm that consistency over and over, such deposits can be fairly straightforward to model.

But gold deposits can also be "nuggety" - low grade in most spots, but with the occasional highgrade cluster. And often there is no discernible pattern - like finding a random pretzel in the Doritos.

These ore bodies are among the toughest to model, because geologists can't be entirely sure whether the high grade is a statistical fluke, or a pattern across the entire deposit.

Since it's financially feasible to drill only a tiny proportion of any potential gold deposit, experts have to take sample data and try to figure out what the rest holds.

Correctly modelling a mine, based on a sample that is perhaps only 0.13 per cent of the total mineralized rock, requires immense skill. Such work is typically done by a select group of independent mining consultants. Combining geological field work, and a branch of mathematics called geostatistics, the job is a blend of art, science and luck.

In 2012, SRK Consulting (Canada) Inc. produced a model for Guyana's Aurora property. Like all gold deposits, Aurora had its charms and its challenges.

Early drilling revealed it was a little nuggety.

One way geologists deal with the presence of high-grade gold in what appears to be a mostly lower-grade deposit is to assume it's an anomaly. In constructing a geological model, consultants will routinely disregard high-grade drill samples above a certain level.

This practice, known as "capping," is supposed to prevent consultants from overestimating the overall average grade. But here's the rub. If a deposit is capped too low, that can kill the financial case for building the mine.

In 2012, SRK capped a section of Aurora, called Rory's Knoll, at 80 grams of gold per tonne. That meant Guyana could expect to find a certain amount of high-grade ore when it mined the area.

But last year, as it mined Rory's Knoll, the high grade simply wasn't there.

"We weren't seeing the grade that we thought we would, based on the original 2012 model," Guyana's CEO, Mr. Caldwell, told The Globe and Mail earlier this year.

Guyana's chairman, Mr. Marion, pointed the finger squarely at SRK. The consultant was "very aggressive" in capping the deposit, he said.

Late last year, Guyana asked another consultant, Roscoe Postle Associates (RPA Inc.), to redo the technical report on Aurora from scratch. In its report issued in March, RPA capped Rory's Knoll at just 35 grams per tonne. Guyana's current management team maintains that RPA's capping is much more appropriate.

But SRK isn't taking any of this on the chin. The consultancy points the finger back at Guyana. After an internal review earlier this year, SRK concluded that its 2012 report on Aurora was technically sound based on data available at the time.

Adam Nott, general counsel with SRK, disputes any notion that the consultancy was aggressive in its modelling. The report was produced when Aurora was at an early stage, and was never meant to be relied upon for the construction of the mine, which came some four years later.

SRK would have had discussions with Guyana about the need to update the model and get lots more data before building Aurora. That would have required more drilling and the outlay of significant amounts of additional capital from Guyana. "For whatever reasons, internal to Guyana Gold, that update wasn't done until 2018, when new management came in," Mr. Nott said.

If SRK had access to the same data RPA did in 2018, including three years of actual mining, the consultancy "probably would have come to different results," he added. Of course, any allegation that a consultant was too aggressive in its interpretation of the geology of a deposit hits a nerve in the Canadian mining industry.

Consultants are supposed to provide an unbiased and impartial view of an orebody. But the reality is more nuanced.

"Some [consultants] look at deposits and imagine all kinds of good things happening, and others, and we're among them, try to be more realistic," said Graham Farquharson, veteran mining consultant with Strathcona Mineral Services Ltd. in Toronto.

(In the late 1990s, when doubts arose about Bre-X Minerals Ltd.'s 70-million-ounce gold find, the industry turned to Strathcona to investigate. Mr. Farquharson himself later made what he calls the "sixbillion-dollar phone call," to Bre-X's board, definitively declaring Busang a hoax.)

There is also an inherent conflict of interest. Because consultants are paid by the mining companies, they face financial pressure to be positive. Having a negative stand on a project, even if it's spot on, can result in the consultant getting canned.

"It's a very hard battle telling your client that we think they need to go back to the drawing board," SRK's Mr. Nott says. "Especially when the clients know there are other consultants who are willing to use those [data points] and say that's within a reasonable range."

Mr. Nott added that SRK has lost work to rival consultants who were willing to provide a more bullish outlook on a deposit.

The technical reports themselves are also heavily influenced by clients. Consultants and management go back and forth on many issues, such as appropriate capping levels, the distance between drill holes and what long-term gold prices to assume in projecting returns.

Sometimes technical reports aren't as thorough as they could be, either, and that is often because of money. A client may not want to spend more on drilling and will choose to live with the added risk that entails. "SRK, in a lot of ways, is driven by what the client is willing to pay for, and what the client feels its risk-reward balance is," Mr. Nott said.

Most of the time, these kinds of behind-closeddoors discussions between consultants and mining companies are kept secret. But once in a while they become public. High up in the mountains of northwest British Columbia, Pretium Resources' Brucejack property was an enigma from the get-go. Early work in 2012 pointed to an extremely high-grade gold deposit. Some drill holes came back with as much as 41,000 grams of gold per tonne.

Despite extensive drilling, Brucejack was incredibly difficult to pin down. "You could come back with one sample that would have spectacular results and then 10 samples all around it that had nothing," said Mr. Farquharson, whose consultancy did a bulk sample on the deposit.

In 2013, Pretium shares shed half their value within two weeks after it revealed that Strathcona's analysis didn't square with a far more optimistic study by an Australian firm, Snowden Mining Industry Consultants. Strathcona insisted that Pretium disclose the discrepancy to its investors, then resigned in the aftermath.

Pretium, in turn, stuck with Snowden and trashed Strathcona's work as subpar.

Snowden felt Brucejack had similarities with deposits in the South Pacific with similarly eccentric geology. The consultant used a mathematical model called multiple indicator kriging (MIK) to predict the grade and location of the high-grade gold.

MIK is well suited to "mosaic" deposits such as those at Brucejack, where extremely high-grade gold occurs next to low grade, or even no grade, said international geologist Ashley Brown, who's now based in Kazakhstan. But MIK is extremely challenging. "The implementation of MIK is very difficult," he said. "It's easy to screw up."

What struck Mr. Brown as odd about Brucejack is that Snowden decided against capping the grade. By forgoing capping, SRK allowed the pockets of high-grade gold samples to strongly influence the average grade for the entire deposit. Brucejack's reserve grade was pegged at 14.4 grams per tonne, which made it among the highest-grade gold mines in North America.

Snowden's approach didn't sit well with Haywood Securities Inc.

analyst Kerry Smith, either. A former mining engineer, he's seen his fair share of geological goofs in his almost 40 years in the business.

About four years ago, Mr. Smith attended an information session with Snowden about Brucejack.

"Snowden spent the whole day trying to rationalize why they should model it the way they did, which was basically to model those high-grade numbers and use them to influence the ore around it," Mr.

Smith said. "I came away thinking 'I wouldn't do that. That makes no sense,' because these numbers are not going to have any continuity."

Mr. Smith was right to be wary. In January of last year, Pretium said Brucejack's grade was only corresponding 75 per cent to Snowden's model. The stock lost more than a quarter of its value.

"The high-grade mineralization was in narrower corridors than originally thought," Pretium CEO Joseph Ovsenek said in an interview.

Earlier this year, after undertaking a review of Brucejack, Pretium cut the mine's grade to 12.6 grams per tonne, increased its cost projections by 12 per cent and reduced its expected mine life by four years.

Snowden declined an interview request from The Globe. Ivor Jones, who had responsibility for the technical report on Brucejack, also declined to comment beyond saying, "It is easy to criticize other people's work. Especially something as challenging as Brucejack."

Pretium's CEO meantime refuses to play the blame game. Mr. Ovsenek instead points to the baffling geology, calling Brucejack a "beast."

"I can tell you from talking to a lot of people in the industry and others, there is no orebody like ours out there," he said. "I challenge anyone to say that they could have done better."

While Pretium has been wounded, even with a materially lower grade, Brucejack is still plenty profitable. Over the past 18 months, amid a recovery in bullion prices, the company's share price has regained most of its losses since early 2018. The trouble for many other juniors is that they don't have deposits with grades that come anywhere close to Pretium's Brucejack, or the financial cushion to recover from geological setbacks.

It is possible for a gold producer to make lots of money from a low-grade mine if costs are kept in check and the geology is sound. But it's crucial that there be a margin for error built in, in case things go wrong. Otherwise, a small slip can spell big trouble.

New Gold Inc.'s Rainy River mine is exhibit A.

Midway through 2018, less than a year into production, New Gold said it was seeing a roughly 11per-cent shortfall in the grade at Rainy River. With that, the mine's profit margin vanished.

New Gold also made a basic engineering error in designing the tailings dam at Rainy River and had to build a drastically strengthened structure. The episode blew its capital budget to smithereens.

New Gold now loses hundreds of dollars on every ounce of gold it produces at Rainy River, its debt load is US$780-million and it isn't expected to produce any free cash flow until 2021.

"Some of these things should just never ever get built. That mine was one of them," said Rob Cohen, manager of the Dynamic Precious Metals Fund.

If Rainy River's economics were so dicey, why did it get built? A close reading of the mine's technical report would have shown how thin the margins were. The projected average grade was just 1.12 grams per tonne and the return on mine was forecast at 11 per cent. But technical reports for the most part are impenetrable, and few investors are skilled enough to understand them. Reports can be penned by as many as a dozen authors, run 700 pages or more and are laced with terms such as "kriging" and "variogram."

Here's a passage from New Gold's 713-page report in 2014, describing Rainy River: "The volcanic rocks have been intruded by a wide variety of plutonic rocks including synvolcanic tonalite-diorite-granodiorite batholiths, younger granodiorite batholiths, sanukitoid monzodiorite intrusions and monzogranite batholiths and plutons."

The seeds of some mining disasters are buried in technical reports, there for the world to find them before a cent is spent on a mine. But these reports are written by geeks for geeks. The common investor doesn't stand a chance. New Gold declined an interview request for this story. In addition to technical challenges, however, an old chestnut plays a role in some, if not all, of these cautionary tales. The gold industry is renowned for its culture of exaggeration, hype and promotion, and even the smartest among us can fall victim.

Gold mines are almost always built off a feasibility study (FS), which entails extensive drilling to confirm the existence of gold.

But Rubicon Minerals built its Phoenix underground mine in Northern Ontario off a preliminary economic assessment - a much more rudimentary early stage study.

Despite the obviously materially higher risk profile, Rubicon raised more than half a billion dollars from investors. It even attracted one of Canada's most sophisticated institutional money managers: The Canada Pension Plan Investment Board put $50-million into the miner.

In late 2015, mere months after starting production at Phoenix, Rubicon suddenly halted production, citing complications with the geology. Over time, it emerged that Rubicon hadn't done nearly enough drilling to confirm the gold was actually in the ground. The company, which at one point was worth $1.2-billion, never recovered.

Shareholders lost almost everything. In this case, they should have known better.

While most of these catastrophes involve small mining companies, there are a few outliers in the junior and intermediate sectors that have demonstrated both geological prowess and sound judgment.

In 2011, junior gold company Osisko Mining Inc. put what is now Canada's biggest gold mine into production. While the Canadian Malartic mine in Quebec is low grade, it is very profitable.

The technical team behind Osisko did their homework, including drilling the deposit like crazy. Two of the company's top three executives were geologists and the other was a mining engineer. (Osisko was acquired by Agnico Eagle Mines Ltd. and Yamana Gold Inc. for $3.9-billion in 2014.)

Vancouver-based B2Gold Corp. is another example. Founded in 2007, the company acquired, developed and built Fekola in Mali, now one of the world's most profitable gold mines. Instead of outsourcing mine construction to external engineering firms, as is industry practice, B2 builds its own mines with a tight-knit staff CEO Clive Johnson has worked with for decades.

But of all of Canada's gold miners, Toronto-based senior Agnico Eagle Mines probably has the strongest reputation for technical excellence over the long term. Over more than 60 years, the company has never experienced a serious geology mistake, despite dealing with many technically demanding orebodies.

To access ore at its LaRonde mine in Quebec, the company mines three kilometres underground. Agnico built two mines in Nunavut, despite having no access to power, or roads, and operating in a brutally harsh climate. In Finland, the company deals with complex metallurgy.

Agnico is known for its conservative approach. It's stacked with technical staff, and renowned for its airtight chain of command that starts at the top, with CEO Sean Boyd, and extends through the entire organization.

"Sean Boyd knows how to delegate responsibility. He understands the importance of his technical guys, understands about getting the mine engineers talking to the metallurgist, talking to the electricians.

Everyone," Dynamic's Mr. Cohen said.

"That's what brings success to these projects. Having a sharp pencil and being no nonsense." A decade ago, Pretium, Guyana Goldfields and New Gold might well have been bought by a bigger miner, well before major problems occurred. Within a technically stronger and better capitalized senior, basic geology mistakes could have been averted or minimized.

But in 2012, the mergers and acquisitions (M&A) market in mining went into a deep freeze.

A vicious gold bear market in the first half of this decade, and terribly timed acquisitions during the most recent bull market, forced the majors onto the sidelines.

Smaller companies have been forced to hang around as stand alones longer than before. That has forced many of them into the uncomfortable terrain of building mines by themselves - often for the first time.

The risk of something going wrong was always going to be higher.

While M&A has taken off again in a limited way among the seniors, for the most part it's crickets further down the ladder. If that dynamic doesn't change, more mines will invariably be built by the tenderfoot, and investors will be left to wonder where the next geological shock lies.

Associated Graphic

Before being acquired by Agnico Eagle Mines and Yamana Gold, Osisko Mining put the country's biggest gold mine, the Canadian Malartic, into production in Quebec.

Despite being faced with challenges from the start, Pretium Resources' Brucejack mining operation in British Columbia is still profitable.

Friday, July 19, 2019 – Print Edition, Page B14


March 20, 1928 July 17, 2019

We are deeply saddened to announce that Marg died peacefully, with her family by her side, at Belmont House long term care, on Wednesday, July 17.

Beloved wife of Allan McNiece Austin (Mac, 2018) for 66 years; adored mother of Allan (Lyn), Jim (Sue) and Tom (Rosaria); devoted and loving grandmother of Maggie (Jeremy Packard), Gren (Kimberley Dossett), Graham (Mallory Lazarus) and Michael (Felicia Birmingham).

Marg was the only child of William Armstrong Kyle and Euphemia Marguerite Hunter. She is survived by her cousins Bill Kyle in Pointe Claire, QC and Fergus Kyle in Burlington, ON.

Marg was born in Toronto and attended Parkdale Collegiate Institute and Branksome Hall, before going on to Victoria College at the University of Toronto, where she earned a BA in sociology.

After completing university she worked for the Bell Telephone Company in customer service.

Marg married Mac Austin in 1951 and soon began managing their busy family life, which centred on their three sons, and included their home in Toronto, their cottage on Shadow Lake, and "that male chauvinist pig of a dog."

Marg worked for many years for the Volunteer Centre of Toronto, which recognized her contributions with an award.

She enjoyed sports, including golf, curling and skiing. She also loved travelling, to the South and to Europe, particularly the south of France.

She was a dedicated and longtime member of Eglinton-St.

George's United Church.

Mac and Marg moved into the retirement side of Belmont House in June, 2013. From then until Mac's death she worked valiantly to support and care for him as his life was taken over by Alzheimer's Disease.

We are profoundly thankful for the care she received from the whole team at Belmont House, and her personal caregiver, Yeshi Choedon.

A celebration of Marg's life is planned for late summer.

Please consider a donation in her name to the Belmont House Foundation, 55 Belmont Street, Toronto, ON M5R 1R1. Condolences may be forwarded through


Patricia Cozens -- a beautiful mother, lovely wife, world historian and world traveller --gave so much love and is loved by all. Just 89 years-old, she died on Tuesday, July 9, 2019 surrounded by her children in her home in Phoenix, Arizona.

No one has ever lived life more joyfully, cherished her children -- all nine of them -- with such tenderness, or loved her husband with more passion.

She was born in Toronto, Ontario, Canada, and she was raised in the Beaches area, where she graduated from Malvern Collegiate Institute. Patricia received her bachelor's degree from University of Toronto with a double major in History and Languages.

After travelling through many European countries, Patricia began working for Trans-Canadian Airways, where she met her groom-to-be, Wilfrid Lawrence Cozens. They were married in a castle when Patricia was 22 yearsold and remained together until Wilfrid, an airline executive, died on February 24, 1991.

Patricia moved to Phoenix, Arizona, United States, with her husband in 1955 to raise her nine wonderful children, who became her best friends in adulthood. In addition to her own children, she continued to sponsor other children in lesser developed countries.

One of Patricia's favorite hobbies was gardening in her English style garden. She especially loved her roses. She was a voracious reader who loved history and enjoyed science fiction and romance novels. Patricia was a fiercely independent thinker. Through her actions and words, she taught her children to be independent thinkers as well. She also taught her children to be honest, to do their best, and to value education.

But above all and by example, she taught her children to love.

As she travelled around the world, she explored many exotic and historic locations, including the Egyptian pyramids, the Nile River, the Amazon River, the Panama Canal, Costa Rica, Ecuador, the Galapagos, Machu Picchu and Cusco in Peru, the West Indies, the Virgin islands, New Zealand, Tahiti, Great Britain, Ireland, many countries in continental Europe, many countries in Africa (Tanzania and Kenya were favorites) and China, where she experienced the Yangtze River before it was dammed.

She was born on May 8, 1930 as Patricia Guest, to William C. and Ruth Guest. Her father was a business owner, while her mother raised three children, including her sister, Virginia Linde, and her brother, William A. Guest. As a child, her family would often spend summers in Haliburton, Ontario, where Patricia once swam around twelve-mile lake.

Surviving Patricia are her nine children (and spouses), Diana (Mark), Michael (Yongyi), Mary (Don), Thomas (Michelle), Teresa (Mark), Catherine, Angela (Jim), John (Kathy) and Veronica (Duane), and their families, including 14 grandchildren: Eric, Selena, Christopher, Colter, Thomas, Jennifer, Jason, David, Alyssa, Cassandra, Alicia, Matthew, Sara and Lindsey, as well as six great-grandchildren: Anna, Evelyn, Eleanor, Lilou, Roland and Alexa.

Other survivors include her brother William A. Guest (Eleanor) and his family, and the family of her late sister, Virginia Linde (Walter).

Patricia's funeral service will be at Holy Cross Catholic Cemetery & Funeral Home (623-936-1710;, 9925 W. Thomas Road, Avondale, AZ 85392 on Saturday, July 20, 2019 with a Gathering at 9:00 a.m. and Funeral Service at 10:00 a.m. followed by Committal.


It is with great sadness we share the tragic loss of Charlotte, a longtime resident of Oakville, Ontario, who died suddenly on July 10, 2019. Predeceased by her soulmate and loving husband of 35 years Dr. Ronald G. Cross, her middle daughter Diane (1968-1996) and her sister Loretta Witton (1929-1996). Charlotte is survived by her two daughters Barbara and Patricia and her three precious grandchildren Michael, Jack, Victoria and Michael's fiancée Rachael. Charlotte had a loving extended family of nieces, nephews, brothers and sisters-insisters-in-law who are devastated who will miss her dearly.

With her beautiful capacity to embrace people and adventure, her circle of friends was vast, cherished and lifelong. Special thank you to the 911 responders.

A formal funeral will be held on Sunday, July 21, 2019 at 11 a.m.

at Glen Oaks Funeral Home, 3164 Ninth Line (Ninth Line and Dundas St. E.), Oakville, Ontario L6H 7A8 with reception to follow.

A Celebration of Life of an incredible daughter, sister, wife, mother, Nana and Grandma, aunt, great-aunt and great-great aunt will be planned for September.

Donations to the Lions Foundation of Canada Dog Guides or the Girl Guides of Canada would be an honour to Charlotte's memory.


It is with profound sadness we announce the unexpected passing of David on Saturday, July 13, 2019, at the age of 60 years.

David, cherished firstborn son of Audrey and the late Edward Cusack. Survived by his loving wife, Christine and his beautiful Lupie. Best friend to brother, Jeffrey (predeceased) and adored big brother to Sandra (Graham).

Proud 'Best Ever' uncle to Thomas.

David had a passion for life and nothing was more important than his family and friends. A generous, gentle soul, 'The Cuze' will be forever loved and remembered by all who were blessed to know him.

Thank you to the staff at Sunnybrook Health Sciences Centre, and in particular to Dr. Lisa Chodirker for the exemplary care and support provided to David this past year.

A celebration of David's life will be held for family and friends on Thursday, July 25th from 5:00 p.m. at Originals Ale House on Bayview Avenue.

If desired, donations in memory of David may be made to the Sunnybrook Foundation or Tails From Greece Rescue (www. Condolences and memories can be shared at


February 12, 1930 July 16, 2019 Robert Fitzhenry ("Fitz") passed away at home on July 16, 2019.

He was born on February 12, 1930 in Hamilton Ontario to Charles Fitzhenry and Margaret Reagan, older brother to Janet (deceased) and Ruth (Helmut Schiller). He was married to Patricia Turner (1931-1966) in 1955, and in 1984 to Andree Rheaume (1941-2013), and was father to Ann (Michael), Mary, Sean (Dorothy), Michael (Elizabeth) and Alyxandra (Khaman). His family grew to include seven grandchildren: Scott, James, Kelly, Zoe, Duncan, Griffin and Reagan.

Fitz graduated from McMaster University in 1954 and remained a proud alumnus for over six decades. His donations to McMaster led to the creation of The Robert E Fitzhenry Coach's Office, The Robert E. Fitzhenry Vector Laboratory, The Robert E Fitzhenry Varsity Training Room, The Robert Fitzhenry Specialized Rehabilitation and Exercise Lab, The Fitzhenry Multipurpose Studio, and the Dr. Robert and Andree Rheaume Fitzhenry Studios and Atrium. In 2009, he was awarded an honourary doctorate, of which he was extremely proud.

After graduation, Bob worked for CIL and then Monsanto, first in Montreal and subsequently in Toronto. In 1978, he and his partner, Bob Beamish, purchased the Urethane Foam Division of Monsanto and grew this into a flourishing multinational company, Woodbridge Foam.

From a single plant in Woodbridge, Ontario, the company has grown to over 8,000 employees in 54 locations in 10 countries.

A bon vivant and philanthropist, Dad enjoyed countless adventures around the world. He loved sailing, golf, fishing, hunting, music, art, fine food and wine.

He was happiest at the table, surrounded by family and friends, telling stories.

A Celebration of Life will be held at Mount Pleasant Visitation Centre, 375 Mount Pleasant Road (East Gate Entrance) on Sunday, July 21, 2019 at 11:00 a.m. Interment and reception to follow.

If you wish, memorial donations may be made to McMaster University ( or the McMichael Canadian Art Collection. (http://mcmichael.



It is with great sadness that we announce the passing of Leon Hoppel at the age of 83 at his home in Toronto after a long illness, peacefully with his beloved wife of 60 years Pat Kay by his side on July 14, 2019. He also leaves behind his sister Greta Lawrence and husband Ian, nephews Brian and Daniel Lawrence. Leon was an employee for many years of IBM Canada and Amdahl Corp.

Leon was a proud member of AA for 47 years and he would like the world to know it changed his life and made him a better person!! There will be a Celebration of Leon's life on August 6th, at 11:30 a.m. at Lambton Golf and Country Club 100 Scarlett Rd. Toronto. For those who wish, donations may be made to Charity of their choice.

Online condolences may be made through

Life Celebrations by


In her 76th year, a retired high school English and History teacher, died on July 16, 2019 in Toronto, Ontario. She was the devoted daughter of the late Dr.

H. David Land and the late Sophie Gold Land of Sydney, Nova Scotia, the dear sister of Dr. Vita J.

Land (Dr. Harold Zarkowsky) of Chicago, Illinois, and of Ronald Land of Pugwash, Nova Scotia, the aunt of David L. Zarkowsky of Rochester, NY and of Sarah J.

Dillas of Riverwoods, Illinois, and the great-aunt of 6. A graveside service will be held at Beth Tzedec Memorial Park, 5822 Bathurst Street, North York, Ontario M2R 1Y6 on Friday, July 19 at 2:30 p.m.

The family would like to thank the devoted staff at Elm Grove Living Centre in Toronto who cared for Janet with compassion and skill during the last several weeks of her life. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to Beth Tzedec Congregation, 1700 Bathurst Street, Toronto, Ontario M5P 3K3


1932 - 2019 Died peacefully in the comfort of his own home surrounded by his family on July 17, 2019.

David is survived by his beloved and inseparable wife of 68 years, Gladys; sons, Michael, Lorne, and Paul; as well as many loving grandchildren, nieces, nephews, and extended family. David was a loyal friend, confidante and mentor to so many and set a high standard for all to follow.

David had a distinguished career in the healthcare field including being the Director of the formerly named Ontario Crippled Children's Centre and President and CEO of Michael Garron Hospital (formerly Toronto East General Hospital), Hospital for Sick Children and the Ontario Hospital Association. Later in life his passion shifted to bird carving where he won numerous awards at national competitions.

A special thank you to all the health care professionals who cared for him at Toronto General Hospital and Oakville Trafalgar Memorial Hospital during his 14 year battle from the complications of stomach cancer.

A memorial service will be held at a date to be confirmed.

Memorial donations may be made to the Oakville Hospital Foundation (www.


June 26, 1929 - July 6, 2019 With family by his side, John Angus MacNeil passed away peacefully in South Lyon, Michigan. John Angus was born in New Waterford, Nova Scotia to Anna Mae and John Alexander MacNeil. He attended Saint Francis Xavier University (B.Sc. '53) where he was a standout athlete, including captain of the X-Men rugby team '51-52. While at St F.X., he met his wife, fellow B.Sc.

student, Viberta Marie MacLean, from Port Hawkesbury, NS. They enjoyed 63 years of marriage and raised four children while residing in Oakville, ON, Holden, MA and Brighton, MI.

He is survived by Viberta and their four children: William (Pamela) of Byron Bay, Australia, John (Diana) of Toronto, ON, Mary Patricia Harding (Blair) of Brighton, MI. and Peter (Kerry) of Brighton, MI.; by seven grandchildren: John Michael (Berkeley CA.), James Angus (Sydney, Australia), Laura (Toronto, ON), Catherine and Carolyn Harding (Brighton), and Riley and James (Brighton); by his sister Theresa of Halifax NS, brother Robert of Barrie, ON, sister Agnes of Alliston, ON, brother Michael of Burlington, ON; and by many MacNeil, Laffin, Birmingham and MacLean nephews and nieces. His sisters, Anne and Bernadette, and his brother, Charles, predeceased him.

Though a patriotic (naturalised) American, John Angus was always proud of his Cape Breton roots and Scottish heritage. After working his way through university in the coal mines of New Waterford, John Angus entered the pharmaceutical industry and enjoyed great success throughout his career and, finally, as President of Vortech Pharmaceuticals Limited of Dearborn, MI, a company he co-founded with Viberta. A devout parishioner of St.

Patrick Catholic Church, a longtime member of Oak Pointe Country Club and a staunch supporter of the Republican Party, John Angus was happiest when entertaining friends and family with his wife, 'Bert', at their home, 'Braigh Mohr', outside Brighton, MI. He will be greatly missed by his family, Vortech employees, classmates, neighbours, business colleagues and many friends.

A Funeral Mass and a memorial service will be held at a later date.


Peacefully at home on Tuesday, July 16, 2019 after a mercifully brief illness.

Jan Casey was born in 1932 outside of Mitchell, South Dakota, the youngest of seven children.

She was predeceased by her parents Agnes and Edward Casey, her siblings Ed, Jerry, Virginia, Jack and Dennis and is survived by her sister Delores Kovarik of Denver. She leaves her husband of sixty years Ben, her daughters Maureen and Kelly, her beloved granddaughter Laura Casey Buttke, Casey's father Bob Buttke, more than fifty nieces and nephews and friends near and far.

Jan entered the R.N. program at 17 and was graduated: as a Registered Nurse from Creighton Memorial Saint Joseph Hospital School of Nursing in Omaha, Nebraska; with a Bachelor of Science in Nursing at Creighton University in Omaha and with a Master of Science at Boston College. At the ripe old age of 24 Jan joined the nursing faculty of the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor.

After an invitation to a party hosted by some U of M hockey players, a Canadian redhead named Ben charmed Jan into a date and then another, and they were married in 1959. The newlyweds moved to Sudbury, Ontario where Jan worked as a nursing instructor. After Mo was born and they moved to Toronto, Jan joined the University of Toronto where she worked as a professor of med-surg nursing until her retirement in 1996.

Jan loved many things - being "Shanna" to her favourite grandchild (and namesake) Casey, her American roots, good scotch, a fast wit, Dairy Queen Blizzards, making "to do" lists, her gun license, treasured friends, an organized toolbox, planting trees at the cottage and many more varied interests consistent with a modern-day renaissance woman.

Jan's laugh was loud and memorable and she loved sharing it with her family and friends. Her wonderful sense of humour and ability to laugh at life is a treasured gift that she gave to us all. Her generosity will continue long after she is gone via the bursary that she established for single parent students at Woodsworth College, U of T.

One of Jan's many memorable phrases was "GOD LOVE YA!"

There is no doubt that, after her long, blessed and generous life, God loves her.

A Funeral Mass will be held on Monday, July 22nd at 1:00 p.m. in Blessed Sacrament Church, 24 Cheritan Avenue (1 block south of Lawrence), Toronto.

In lieu of flowers, please consider a donation to the Jan Monaghan Award at Woodsworth College, University of Toronto or to a charity of your choice.

Condolences may be forwarded through


July 17, 1924 - July 16, 2019 Holocaust survivor, born in Lodz, Poland. Died peacefully at Baycrest. Beloved wife of the late Saul Morowicz. Dear mother and mother-in-law of Hanna and Karol Goldman, and Jolanta Morowicz.

Cherished baba of Jessica and Bram Rothman, Natalie Goldman and Allan Eisen, and Pauline Girouard and Doug Leech, proud and loving great-grandmother of Oliver, Miles and Henry Rothman and Theo and Arlo Eisen. Eva's family is very grateful to the Apotex 7th Floor North staff and her devoted companions Leda and her friends. Special thanks to Dr. Rosen and Ocia Henry. A graveside service was held on Thursday, July 18, 2019 at 12:00 noon in the Community Section of Pardes Shalom Cemetery, 10953 Dufferin Street, Maple.

Memorial donations may be made to the Friends of Simon Wiesenthal Center/Holocaust, 416-864-9735 or The Baycrest Foundation, 416-785-2875.


Margaret Robertson died peacefully at home in Toronto on July 17, 2019 at the age of 81, surrounded by loving friends.

Born on December 7, 1937 in Whyteleafe, Surrey, England, Margaret immigrated to Montreal in 1958, where she worked at the Montreal office of the Cockfield Brown advertising agency. During her time in Montreal, she also became a student at Concordia University, enrolling in night courses from 1966-1976 and graduating with a BA in 1973 and an MBA in 1976.

In 1973, she joined her former colleague, Ian Roberts, as a founding member and manager of the Montreal office of Ian Roberts Communications, an advertising agency with offices in Montreal, Toronto, Saint John, and Vancouver. She moved from Montreal to the Toronto office in 1976 and retired in 1990 following the sale of the agency.

In her retirement, Margaret joined the Academy for Lifelong Learning in Toronto where she continued to be an active member for the rest of her life, making many new friends in the process, enjoying the Academy's activities and participating as a volunteer in the organization.

Margaret is survived by her brothers, John (Glenda), Neil (Vivienne) and Sandy (Clare); nieces and nephews and great nieces and nephews to whom she has always been known as Aunt Margaret the Great. She will also be deeply missed by her chosen Gilderdale family and close friends in Toronto.

At Margaret's request there will be no service.


1947 - 2019

With heavy hearts we say our goodbye to Carole, who died peacefully from recent illness.

Carole was born in Montreal and grew up in Winnipeg and Toronto.

She was a personal assistant to the well known Canadian designer Don Watt for many years. In 1978 she married her photographer husband Robert, and enthusiastically welcomed his two children Alexandra (ElAsfahani) and Oliver, and in the same year gave birth to a son, Rob.

Carole was intelligent - she had a truly encyclopedic mind and was unbeatable at Trivial Pursuit. She was generous, had a great sense of humour, and a love for Ella Fitzgerald and the great ladies of song.

After spending many years at home with her children she became manager for Robert's food photography studio, which she ran with panache. She had a wonderful knowledge of food and was a marvellous cook.

She leaves her husband Robert, children Alexandra, Oliver, and Rob, brother Dan Bolger (Christine), nephews Gordon, Chuck and Tom, grandchildren London, Gramercy and Aiko, and family in Montreal. Predeceased by sister Jo-Anne, parents Lewis and Jeanne Bolger.

A celebration of Carole's life will follow later.

In lieu of flowers, a donation would be appreciated if made to The Scarborough Hospital where Carole was lovingly cared for. Online condolences: basicfunerals.


Are you more important than this cat?
Animals exist at our pleasure. Some are companions, others are hunted or raised to be slaughtered or imprisoned in zoos. They are also victims of a belief system that could be described as human supremacy, writes Elizabeth Renzetti. Its time might be coming to an end
Saturday, July 20, 2019 – Print Edition, Page O1

Elizabeth Renzetti is a Globe and Mail columnist and author of Shrewed: A Wry and Closely Observed Look at the Lives of Women and Girls.

In the centre of the table is a box of Kleenex and several books about grief. The overhead lights are harsh, clinical, unflattering to our pink and wet eyes. There are four of us gathered there, and three are blubbering.

About our dead cats.

You didn't expect that, did you? Grieving over a human, fine. Over a dog, maybe. Dogs are noble and stalwart. Cats are sly and opportunistic, with one eye on the food bowl and one on the next chance. If you were to ask a human to draw a chain of mammalian hierarchy, it might go something like this: humans > primates > dogs > cats > anything I put in my stomach.

And yet here we are, blubbering. I've dragged my friend to this meeting of the Toronto Pet Loss Support Group, over his protests, and now he's outlining in beautiful and moving detail the recent death of the cat he and his partner had loved deeply. They had rescued the cat and his brother, who were both living with feline HIV. Now both cats are dead in the prime of their lives, and my friend has a balled-up tissue in his hand.

I'm sitting with my own shredded Kleenex, and a line from Love Story, slightly twisted, keeps running through my head: What can you say about a 15-year-old cat who died? That he was beautiful (true) and brilliant (a bit of a stretch, though his rodent-killing skills were top notch).

His name was Perdu, and yes, he did get lost a lot. Or at least he wandered away and came back when it suited him. He was black, but turned a lovely rusty brown in the summer. He was our kids' first and oldest friend. We got him as a kitten from our neighbour one hot summer day in London, and 15 years later, he died in my arms while I bawled and the very kind vet looked discreetly away.

He was "just" a cat, and when I told people I was going to a pet-loss support meeting they looked at me as if I had grown a second, slightly furry head. But that gathering gave me a chance to mourn Perdu, and think about animals in general, and the central place they hold in our lives. And the place we hold in theirs - a position of mastery and dominance, with humans always on top. We are so desperate for their company that we slap little jackets on squirrels and corgis and call them "emotional support animals" because we can't bear to be apart from them for the length of a flight. We will spend thousands keeping some of them alive, if they live in a house, and put others on a grill, if they live on a farm.

It makes no sense, when you think about it. Canadians spent $8.3billion on their pets in 2017, a figure that has been steadily rising for years. Forty per cent of Canadian households have either one cat or one dog. There are 8.3 million pet cats in this country, and 8.2 million pet dogs. Yet, we also killed 819 million livestock animals last year. A good number of those I put in my own belly, because until now I have subscribed to the doctrine that my old roommate once taped to our fridge: Remember your place in the food chain.

Unthinkingly, most of us follow a belief system that could be described as human supremacy. Well, except for the half-million or so vegans in the country. Animals exist at our pleasure. We hunt them or raise them to be slaughtered, gawk at them in zoos and test mascara on them to make sure it won't burn our eyes. The lucky ones live beside us, on our couches, and we sprinkle their ashes under their favourite tree when they die.

What if the era of human supremacy is coming to an end? What if, a century from now, we look back on the idea of keeping animals captive and eating their flesh with revulsion? If the human race survives, that is. Intensive animal agriculture is one of the leading causes of greenhouse gas emissions, and consumers' desire to reduce meat consumption in the Western world has led to the explosive growth of plant-based meat alternatives. At the same time, there is a growing movement toward giving animals legal rights, so that they can be represented as individuals in court.

One day those of us who live in the Western world may realize the need to achieve some kind of greater harmony with our fellow species, one that does not rely on dominance and exploitation. If our robot overlords haven't made us their pets, that is, as Elon Musk predicted. That would be poetic justice.

On my way to meet animal-rights activist Jenny McQueen at a vegan café in Toronto's east end, I pass a man asking his dog, "Are you stressed?" I also pass Pets at Peace, a pet crematorium, and I realize with a lurch that may be the place where Perdu was reduced to, in the vet's words, "cremains." (They're sitting on my bookshelf at the moment, next to his pawprint pressed in clay.)

Ms. McQueen sits at the front of the café surrounded by pamphlets portraying the suffering of chickens and pigs and sled dogs. In October of 2018, she woke before dawn to the sound of banging on her window and shouts of "police!" She let the officers in and they led her out in handcuffs. They took her phone and camera and laptop. At the station, she was charged with breaking and entering and mischief over $5,000.

"I've been in handcuffs a few times, all for animal rights," Ms. McQueen says. Her accent puts her place of origin in Liverpool, and her t-shirt reveals her avocation: It says Direct Action Everywhere, the U.S.-based animal-liberation group that is devoted to exposing the practices of industrial livestock farming and "to openly rescu[ing] animals from places of violence." Of course, one man's enslaved animal is another man's property, and when Ms. McQueen "liberated" two piglets from a sow farm in Ontario, she brought down the wrath of the law. Which was part of the plan.

In 2016, Ms. McQueen and fellow activists entered the Adare Pork Ltd. pig barn, armed with cameras. They documented what Ms. McQueen called "shocking" conditions, including "dead piglets everywhere." She reported what she'd found to the Ontario Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. But much of what she found is in fact industry standard - gestation crates in which pigs cannot turn around have been prohibited in Canada since 2014, but only for newly built facilities, not for ones that already exist.

Ms. McQueen was not only willing to be a martyr for the pigs' sake, she was hoping to be one. "I wanted a full trial. I wanted a platform for the animals. That's what it's all about." A trial might draw worldwide attention, which happened when fellow activist Anita Krajnc was tried in 2017 on public-mischief charges after she gave water to pigs on their way to an Ontario slaughterhouse (the judge dismissed the charges). Ms. McQueen was frustrated when the Crown dropped the charges against her, but she is involved with other animal-protection causes, including fighting the practice of adorning parkas with coyote fur, and flesh-shaming a guy who runs a popular barbecue joint (she persuaded him to carry the Beyond Burger vegan option, on a separate grill from the meat).

As I leave, Ms. McQueen gives me the pamphlets. I don't particularly want to look at them. I eat meat - although much less than I used to - and my guilt cup runneth over. Love some animals; eat others. This is the air we breathe from the first delicious whiff of hot dog cut into tiny non-chokeable bits. It is a cognitive dissonance we live with.

In an academic paper called The Psychology of Eating Animals, this dissonance is known as the "meat-eaters paradox." The academics who wrote the paper, Steve Loughnan, Nick Haslam and Brock Bastian, note that people who eat the most meat are tied more to authoritarian tendencies and "social dominance orientation" - i.e., they know their place on the food chain and don't wake up in a cold sweat about it.

On the question of how we can hold a burger in one hand and Bubba's leash in the other, the authors suggest that we humans are very good at compartmentalizing. The more "mindful" we believe an animal to be, and the more capable of suffering, the less likely we are to want to eat that animal. The authors performed an experiment where they gave test subjects nuts or beef to eat, and then asked them afterward about cows' capacity for suffering. "We found that participants who had recently consumed beef, but not nuts, restricted their moral concern for animals and rated the cow as less able to suffer."

But not only do cows suffer, they also "feel" in a more traditional way than we are willing to recognize. As neuroscientist and animal advocate Lori Marino recently wrote in Aeon magazine, experiments on livestock demonstrate their inner lives: Sheep and cows can distinguish individuals among other sheep and cows, for example, and lambs and calves are betteradjusted if they have longer, closer bonds with their mothers. As she writes, "the scientific literature on everyone from pigs to chickens points to one conclusion: farmed animals are someone, not something."

The Dutch primatologist Frans de Waal has spent decades studying the inner lives of mammals, a vocation that earned him scorn from fellow scientists early in his career. In his latest bestseller, Mama's Last Hug: Animal Emotions and What They Tell Us About Ourselves, chimpanzees cherish friendship and rats display empathy. Willfully ignoring the complexity of animals'

social behaviour is a form of human supremacy he calls "anthropodenialism."

Dr. de Waal writes, "To me the question has never been whether animals have emotions, but how science could have overlooked them for so long."

If we accept that animals not only can suffer but also experience what we call fellow feeling, then we humans are indeed in a pickle. "If animals are like rocks, we can throw them onto a heap and stomp on them," Dr. de Waal writes. "If they are not, however, we have a serious moral dilemma on our hands. In this era of factory farming, animal sentience is the elephant in the room."

The inability to recognize the inherent value of other sentient beings, apart from the use we can extract from them, is a fundamental people thing. "Human beings are speciesist," writes the moral philosopher Peter Singer in his seminal 1975 book Animal Liberation. Not only that, we've been trying to justify our place on the apex from toga-times, from Aristotle's argument that nature "has made all animals for the sake of man" to the Old Testament fable about God giving his favourite creation dominion over all things.

Speciesism has had a remarkably long run, and has rooted deep in Western consciousness. Only recently is it being seriously challenged by some biologists and legal experts. It has taken a climate crisis caused by our own profligate behaviour, as we gaze over dying ocean reefs and the prospect of a million extinct species in the coming decades, to begin to grapple with the consequences of industrial farming and deforestation, two of the most serious consequences of speciesism.

There is a paragraph in Dr. Singer's book that is so staggering I went back and looked at the copyright page. The version I was reading had been updated by the author in 1990 - nearly 30 years ago. "The prodigious appetites of affluent nations for meat means that agribusiness can pay more than those who want to preserve or restore forests. We are, quite literally, gambling with the future of our planet - for hamburgers."

That gamble has turned out to be a very bad bet, and it is only small consolation that, at this late stage in the climate emergency, people in the Western world are looking for a new hand. The consumption of beef is falling in Canada; the number of vegetarians is growing, especially among the young, and boomers are turning into flexitarians - that is, restricting their meat consumption. Beyond Meat, a vegan substitute that tastes remarkably like beef, is the hottest flavour in the food industry and is being served at several fast-food restaurants, including, as of recently, Tim Hortons. Even KFC is introducing a vegan "chicken" burger.

"It's a plant-based tsunami," said Sylvain Charlebois, director of the Agri-Food Analytics Lab at Dalhousie University.

"The speed of this movement is something I've never seen in 20 years." The near future will bring plant-based substitutes for chicken, fish, pork. It will bring meat you can grow in your own kitchen.

Prof. Charlebois was supposed to try labgrown meat a few weeks ago at a conference in New Orleans, but its creators couldn't get a certificate from the U.S. Department of Agriculture in time.

I express slight disgust at the idea of test-tube meat, and Prof. Charlebois is surprised: "I'd eat it. Wouldn't you?" Indeed, I've eaten kangaroo and guinea pig and enough cows to fill a small ranch, so what's wrong with stem-cell steak? Like my moral equivocating over pets versus meat, it makes no sense. I'm in the wrong demographic, though. Prof. Charlebois's research indicates that young people are less queasy with the idea of lab-grown meat; being carnivores just isn't as important to them.

It is part of a new reckoning in the West (in other parts of the world, where animal protein is more powerfully correlated to status, meat consumption is rising). By 2025, Prof. Charlebois estimates, 10 million Canadians will have stopped eating meat or restricted its consumption. But will we stop eating animals entirely in the near future? The food futurist responds without hesitation: "No."

We might not stop eating animals tomorrow, but we are rethinking our relationship to them. Human supremacy is being challenged on the farm and on our plates, and in one other important realm: the courtroom. While laws exist to protect animal welfare (many of them hugely outdated), there is no recognition of animals having legal rights of their own, such as the right to be represented in court.

That's where animal advocates see an opening in the moral fabric.

The Nonhuman Rights Project, for example, issues legal challenges "to change the common law status of great apes, elephants, dolphins, and whales from mere 'things,' which lack the capacity to possess any legal right, to 'legal persons,' who possess such fundamental rights as bodily liberty and bodily integrity." The organization files habeas corpus lawsuits arguing that its "clients," such as Kiko the abused chimp and Happy the misnamed elephant, have been unjustly deprived of their liberty.

In Canada, similar lawsuits have been launched on behalf of animals. For years, a battle has been fought over Lucy, "Canada's loneliest elephant," a pachyderm who has lived at the Edmonton Valley Zoo since 1977. Lucy has foot ailments, and worse than that, she's the only elephant at the zoo, a terrible situation, her advocates say, for a mammal who would normally live in a complex social structure.

So far, efforts to move Lucy to an elephant sanctuary in a warmer climate have failed in court.

In 2011, when ZooCheck's challenge on behalf of Lucy was rejected by Alberta's Court of Appeal, Chief Justice Catherine Fraser wrote a lengthy dissent that is still hailed by animal-justice advocates. She concluded by saying, "The appellants, for the public and on behalf of Lucy, are entitled to their day in court."

But if animals are not yet granted their day in court, they have recently had their day in Parliament. After more than 20 years of trying unsuccessfully to update Canada's animal-cruelty laws, three federal statutes just passed that caused activists to rejoice. One banned bestiality and revamped animal-fighting regulations; another prohibited keeping dolphins and whales in captivity; and the last stopped the import of shark-fin products.

"This month has been a watershed moment for animals in Canada," says lawyer Camille Labchuk, who is also the director of the advocacy group Animal Justice.

"The last time Parliament passed any serious new animal protection legislation was in the 1800s."

Ms. Labchuk is also organizing Canada's first Animal Law Conference at Dalhousie University in October. Lawyers and scholars from around the world will gather to discuss issues from dangerous dogs to animal experimentation and the broader challenge of "animals, justice, and the moral community." The keynote speaker is Peter Singer, the grand poobah of animal rights, the man who warned, decades ago, that we were selling the planet for hamburgers.

What if the refusal to kill and eat animals is more than just a personal decision made in the moment? What if it's a creed, a belief system on par with religious worship? That may seem like a wacky idea now, but many of the tenets of equality that we take for granted once seemed absurd.

One Sunday morning, with my junior cat circling around my ankles - please don't tell her I said that - I call Adam Knauff at his home base in Kenora, Ont.

Mr. Knauff is a forest firefighter employed by the provincial government, and he's just returned from battling a blaze in Northern Ontario. He's also fighting for something else: For his ethical veganism to be recognized as a creed under the province's human-rights code. He and his lawyers, with the support of Animal Justice, are taking this legal fight to the Ontario Human Rights Tribunal.

Mr. Knauff describes himself as "an extremely private person," a live-and-let-live kind of guy. He's been vegan since he was 18, when he decided, "I just didn't want to kill anything. It was as simple as that." But he is also a firefighter, part of a tough and hardy community doing a dangerous job in difficult conditions, and therein lies the tension.

The core of Mr. Knauff's complaint is that he was not provided with adequate food when he was fighting fires in Williams Lake, B.C., in the summer of 2017.

He could not eat what the other firefighters were eating, and suitable vegan substitutes were not provided. He sometimes had to subsist on protein bars, which didn't provide the kind of sustenance he needed for strenuous work. He says that when he complained, he was sent home and his pay was docked. He worries that his professional reputation suffered.

"I wasn't getting enough food, or any food sometimes. When I tried to get it, I was punished and sent home," Mr. Knauff says. "Now it's really opened up this whole dialogue. Why I did have to struggle and be treated differently from everybody else, when I don't think my choices in life are bad?" As we talk, I can hear church bells beginning to peal on his end of the line. Mr.

Knauff laughs, but he's serious about his legal challenge. As he sees it, he follows his beliefs every day - more so than some people who go to religious services once a year. "I truly believe that I and all seven billion of us can live on this planet without killing, using and abusing animals for food or clothing or labour. I'm choosing to live every single day of my life with that creed."

What Mr. Knauff is attempting, at its core, is challenging the idea of human supremacy. Maybe, he thinks, someone will read his story and rethink their lunch choice that day. Maybe they'll skip the flesh.

My conversation with Mr. Knauff makes me think about lunch, and dinner, and all the lunches and dinners that have come before. The junior cat is sitting on the floor, looking at me. Her name is Athena, but we call her Theenie and Missus and Pretty Girl, and she's my favourite of all the cats I've ever had, but don't tell her that, either. Possibly she wants her head scratched, more likely she wants her bowl filled. What she wants is to live.

Associated Graphic


Obstacles to abortion: Why women still lack access
Two years ago, Canada was one of the last developed countries to make available a drug hailed as a safe alternative to surgical abortion. But it's still out of reach for many beyond the major cities, a Globe analysis has found. Carly Weeks reports
Saturday, July 13, 2019 – Print Edition, Page A10

Doctors across Canada are refusing to write prescriptions for the abortion pill, forcing many women to travel to out-of-town clinics to get a prescription, according to a Globe and Mail analysis that reveals provincial access barriers and widespread reluctance on the part of medical professionals to provide abortion care.

Mifegymiso is the name for two oral medications, mifepristone and misoprostol, that safely and effectively terminate pregnancies in 95 per cent to 98 per cent of cases. When the medication first came on the market in Canada in 2017, it was heralded by abortion-rights advocates as a safe, less invasive way to terminate a pregnancy compared to surgery. And since any family doctor or, in most provinces, nurse practitioner can prescribe the abortion pill, many believed its arrival would make abortions more accessible - fewer women would need to travel to a clinic, pay out of pocket for costs or take time off work to end a pregnancy.

But The Globe's investigation shows that in eight provinces where detailed data was available, at least 69 per cent of the 10,092 Mifegymiso prescriptions dispensed last year came from abortion clinics located mainly in large urban centres. Interviews with clinic employees, physicians, researchers and abortionrights advocates across the country suggest that many primarycare providers avoid prescribing the abortion pill.

While ethical objections to abortion are a factor for some physicians, nearly two dozen people, including the heads of 10 abortion clinics, said the most significant issues are a professional reluctance to be seen as an abortion provider and a perception that the pill is too complex to administer. Health Canada introduced the drug with a number of onerous restrictions, including a requirement that the first of five pills be swallowed in the presence of a doctor. These restrictions have since been lifted, but clinic directors, abortion providers and abortion-rights advocates said that many still believe the process to be too complicated.

Abortion-pill access is not tracked in Canada, so The Globe and Mail collected raw data from each provincial government and contacted more than 80 publicly known abortion clinics in Canada to determine how many prescriptions they wrote since Mifegymiso came on the market.

Some provinces have more severe access issues than others. In Alberta, 73 per cent of all abortion-pill prescriptions last year came from a single abortion clinic in Calgary, hundreds of kilometres from many of the province's cities and towns.

And in New Brunswick, at least 72 per cent of prescriptions came from three urban hospital-based abortion clinics, according to the data collected by The Globe. (The actual figure is likely higher, as the province's private clinic declined to provide its prescribing figures.)

In some provinces, government policy is an added barrier.

Manitoba only covers the cost of the abortion pill for women who get it from one of three abortion clinics: two in Winnipeg and one in Brandon, large cities that encompass 60 per cent of the province's population. As a result, last year, 95 per cent of all Mifegymiso prescriptions in Manitoba came from those three clinics, meaning women who live in one of the province's four dozen other population centres would have had to travel to a clinic - in many cases, hundreds of kilometres away. (Statistics Canada defines a population centre as a community with more than 1,000 residents.)

The Globe's data set is incomplete because some abortion providers refused to provide data or did not have it available. Most abortion clinics in Ontario and Quebec did not provide information. But interviews with about a dozen clinic employees and primary-care providers suggest women in those provinces also face access barriers.

Three Ontario abortion clinics that agreed to speak to The Globe said they regularly see women travelling from hundreds of kilometres away to get an abortionpill prescription after they were unable to obtain one from a primary-care provider closer to home.

In Quebec, which has the highest number of abortion clinics of any province, about 90 per cent of pregnancy terminations are still surgical and prescribing rates of Mifegymiso are low. There were 253 abortion-pill prescriptions dispensed from community pharmacies in Quebec last year, although that number does not include pills dispensed directly by abortion clinics. Still, experts say access to the abortion pill is difficult, in part because the Quebec regulatory college for doctors requires physicians to attend an in-person training course before becoming a prescriber.

With doctors across the country turning away women's requests for the pill, many abortion clinics say it is increasingly challenging to keep up with the patient load, resulting in wait lists and delays of up to three weeks in some cases.

This is a serious problem because the pill can only be prescribed in the first nine weeks of pregnancy, and research shows most women don't discover they are pregnant until around six weeks. After nine weeks, surgery becomes the only option. (Across Canada, surgery remains the most common way to end a pregnancy, representing approximately 80 per cent of the 97,000 abortions performed in 2018.)

Access barriers to abortion care also pose health risks. Research shows the greater distance a woman has to travel to get an abortion, the higher the likelihood of carrying an unwanted pregnancy to term, getting an unsafe abortion outside of the health-care system or having an abortion at a later gestational age.

Some abortion clinics are already developing workarounds, finding ways to offer the pill to women in smaller, rural and remote communities by introducing new services such as phonein prescriptions. But most agree that the medical community - including the professional colleges that oversee provincial standards - needs to do more to ensure universal access.

"It should be something we're all comfortable with prescribing," said Michelle Cohen, a family doctor in Brighton, Ont., who has publicly advocated for better abortion-pill access. "It should absolutely be part of the basic education for anyone going into the primary-care specialty."

Canada was one of the last developed countries in the world to approve Mifegymiso, which came onto the market in China and France in 1988 and in the United States in 2000.

Alberta's government has covered 100 per cent of the cost of the pill since it was first introduced, which abortion-rights advocates say should help broaden access for women throughout the province.

But The Globe's data show that more than 70 per cent of the 2,826 Mifegymiso prescriptions dispensed in Alberta last year were written at one facility in Calgary: the Kensington Clinic. (The province has two other abortion clinics - one in Edmonton that prescribes the pill in small numbers and another in Calgary that doesn't prescribe it.)

Women in other communities struggle to access Mifegymiso.

Hibo Farah, a 26-year-old University of Lethbridge student, is a real-world example of how challenging it can be to get a prescription for the abortion pill without having to travel out of town. Ms.

Farah discovered she was pregnant last November and went to her doctor seeking a prescription.

She says her doctor refused to write one, citing ethical beliefs, and suggested Ms. Farah travel to the Kensington Clinic, more than two hours away by car.

"As a patient, I felt judged and I felt unsafe," Ms. Farah said in a recent interview. "I shouldn't have had to go or be told to go two hours into Calgary to get this pill."

At the time, Ms. Farah belonged to an abortion-rights group in Lethbridge, so she reached out to her contacts to see if they knew of another provider in the area that could help. Through word of mouth, they eventually found Jillian Demontigny, a physician based in Taber, about a 30minute drive from Lethbridge.

Dr. Demontigny decided to start writing prescriptions for Mifegymiso in the fall of 2017 after she learned how difficult it is for many women in Alberta to get the drug.

"I've seen people coming from Lethbridge who have been turned down by doctors with varying levels of empathy for the patient," she said. "The patient is left with nowhere to go."

She said she typically offers abortion services after the regular clinic hours, as her colleagues don't want to be affiliated with pregnancy terminations. "Some of my colleagues feel that it's a bad reflection on our group for me to be pro-choice and actively speaking about this and doing the work," Dr. Demontigny said.

"They say it takes away from my regular clinic work, they'll see that as ammunition to get me to stop doing it."

The current situation is unlikely to change, she said, unless more doctors step up and take leadership over this issue.

"I think we, as individual prescribers, can do a better job as a group putting our patients' care needs ahead of our own," she said.

Most of those interviewed say that one of the biggest disincentives to prescribing the pill is the perception that it's an involved process that's better left to abortion clinics.

It takes skill and training to prescribe the pill. Primary-care providers must understand the risks, ensure there is a system in place for patients who may experience excessive bleeding or other serious side effects and be available for the necessary follow-up care.

But many in the abortion community say these issues are relatively easy to deal with if someone is interested in taking time to learn.

The Society for Obstetricians and Gynaecologists of Canada has an online training course on the abortion pill that offers stepby-step prescribing advice (the course used to be mandatory, but is now optional, although Health Canada recommends prescribers complete it). But as of June, only 505 family physicians out of the roughly 43,000 in Canada had completed the training.

Dr. Demontigny said prescribing the abortion pill is easier and carries fewer risks than caring for patients who are pregnant or postpartum, something that family providers regularly do.

Michael Kam, chief executive of Onyx Urgent Care in Kitchener, Ont., said there was an initial learning curve involved with prescribing, but his clinic easily made the necessary adjustments.

He started prescribing the abortion pill out of his walk-in clinic when he saw a "deficit" of prescribers in the community. The demand for the pill has been high since they started prescribing in 2017, said Cait Desilets, the clinic's director of operations.

"We have women that travel sometimes two hours to come to us," she said.

Lyndsey Butcher, executive director of the Shore Centre, a sexual-health resource centre in Kitchener that offers the abortion pill, said the prescribing rules are straightforward and could easily be done by any primary-care provider. But her clinic routinely sees women travelling from around the region, up to a few hours away, because their family doctor wouldn't prescribe it.

"It's been incredibly disappointing to see the lack of primary-care providers willing to learn about Mifegymiso and provide the prescriptions for their patients," Ms. Butcher said.

The lack of prescribing means clinics such as the Shore Centre often struggle to meet demands for service.

Because the Shore Centre faces such high demand, typical wait times for an appointment to get the abortion pill at the clinic is two weeks, but can stretch to three weeks.

Ms. Butcher said she has spoken to dozens of physicians who have referred patients to her clinic and tried to persuade them to prescribe the abortion pill themselves. In almost every case, the doctors have turned her down.

"I talk to them about the hardship and the burden of travelling into our community, in some instances from two hours away," Ms. Butcher said. "There's no physician exam. There's nothing magical that happens in our clinic that couldn't happen in any primary-care office across the province."

Ms. Butcher and other women's health advocates say in order for the situation to change, the country's medical leadership bodies should make abortion care a priority.

"There is a role to play for the medical community," she said.

"There's no reason why a primary-care provider should be reluctant to provide it to their own patient."

Some say abortion care should be part of medical school curriculum and that residency programs should include a training component to help physicians feel comfortable prescribing it. Dr. Cohen said not every doctor will go on to prescribe the pill, but since it is a common medical service, it makes sense to offer education and training.

It's unclear whether any medical organization is prepared to take leadership to encourage more doctors to prescribe the pill.

Provincial regulatory colleges are responsible for setting and maintaining physician practice standards, but many said it's not their responsibility to ensure doctors are familiar with the abortion pill or how to prescribe it.

The College of Physicians and Surgeons of Saskatchewan, for instance, declined an interview but said in an e-mail statement that the abortion pill "is a clinical decision between physicians and their patients."

The College of Family Physicians of Canada (CFPC) is responsible for creating standards for training and offers continuing medical education courses for doctors throughout their careers.

The college has offered some training courses for physicians interested in prescribing Mifegymiso.

Sally Mahood, a Regina-based abortion provider, said she regularly sees women travelling from eight to 10 hours away and that more needs to be done to improve access. Dr. Mahood co-authored a letter published in the CFPC's medical journal last year calling on the organization to incorporate abortion training in medical residency programs in Canada.

College spokeswoman Jayne Johnston declined an interview request. When asked about the reluctance of some physicians to prescribe the pill and what should be done about it, Ms.

Johnston said it "is not something that we have information about, nor is it part of the CFPC's mandate to monitor family physician prescribing trends."

Dr. Cohen said she is "especially disappointed" in the CFPC's response because their mandate includes improving education.

"The leadership on this issue is definitely lacking," she said.

When the abortion pill became available in Canada in 2017, patients were told they had to swallow the first pill in the presence of their doctor, and physicians had to register with the drug company before they could prescribe it.

Those, and a series of other restrictions, were removed months later following a public backlash.

But the head of the Society of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists of Canada (SOGC) said they added to the atmosphere of confusion and uncertainty that has contributed to the reluctance by physicians to prescribe the pill.

"It does create an aura," said Jennifer Blake, CEO of the SOGC.

"Once you've created an aura, it's really hard to undo it."

Earlier this year, more rules were relaxed - ones that abortion-rights advocates say have the potential to help expand pill access outside of abortion clinics.

Manitoba and Saskatchewan pledged to cover the cost of the pill, meaning the medication will soon be funded in every province. Health Canada also announced that women are no longer required to undergo an ultrasound before getting the pill.

This is a significant change because in many communities, wait times to get an ultrasound can stretch for weeks and in some places, there is no immediate access to an ultrasound machine.

In the meantime, some abortion clinics are finding ways to work around the lack of community-based physician prescribing to ensure women that want the abortion pill can get it in time.

In B.C., like other provinces, most of the abortion-pill prescribing is done at urban abortion clinics. In that province last year, two-thirds of the Mifegymiso prescriptions were written at three out of five abortion clinics that offer the pill (two clinics declined to release their figures).

But unlike in most provinces, women don't necessarily have to leave town to pick up a prescription from one of the clinics.

That's because the Willow Women's Clinic in Vancouver has developed a robust telemedicine service that connects patients to care providers. All of the necessary counselling and prescribing is done over a secure video conference that allows patients to remain at home and still get the medication.

"I see people in their cars and homes," said Ellen Wiebe, director of the Willow Women's Clinic.

"It works for all of us."

She said other provinces could follow suit, but the system only works if there is the will to develop such a network and if there are billing codes in place that physicians can use to charge for their time. One easy solution would be to create a universal licence for doctors in Canada, which would allow the Willow Women's Clinic to prescribe across the country.

Under the current system, doctors must get licensed in every province where they want to practice, which is a costly and time-consuming endeavour.

Another way to increase Mifegymiso access is for more nurse practitioners to start prescribing.

Claire Betker, president of the Canadian Nurses Association, said the organization supports abortion-pill prescribing, but that more work may be needed to ensure they feel comfortable prescribing.

The Athena Health Centre in St. John's has created an ad hoc system to help women avoid travel. Rolanda Ryan, the clinic's owner and manager, said she often encounters doctors that don't want to prescribe the abortion pill. So instead, she asks them to order the patient's blood work and ultrasound. The clinic's doctor takes care of the prescribing, and the clinic ships the medication to patients by mail or an interprovincial bus line. Ms. Ryan gives patients her cellphone number and acts as the 24-hour emergency line they can call in the event of excessive bleeding or another problem.

Ms. Ryan said the lack of prescribing isn't a big issue, as long as doctors do the necessary groundwork.

"There are doctors out there ... who are very supportive of women's choice," Ms. Ryan said. "They just don't personally want to prescribe it."

Despite these solutions, abortion rights advocates say what's needed is better abortion access across the country.

Sandeep Prasad, executive director of Action Canada for Sexual Health and Rights, said abortions should be viewed as any other health service, with providers trained and equipped to provide the service.

"We're talking about every primary health professional as a provider," he said. "That's what we need to be moving toward."

In Alberta, Ms. Farah hopes for the same thing. She was able to obtain the abortion pill before the cutoff of nine weeks. But if access was a challenge for her, someone with connections in the abortion-advocacy community, she wonders how much worse the situation may be for others.

"It actually makes me very angry and worried," she said. "If we become a little bit too complacent, people start to take away rights, bit by bit."

Associated Graphic

Hibo Farah, a 26-year-old University of Lethbridge student, says that when she discovered she was pregnant and sought the abortion pill, she shouldn't have been told by her doctor to seek Mifegymiso at a clinic in Calgary, two hours away from where she lives.


Jillian Demontigny started prescribing Mifegymiso in 2017 after learning how inaccessible it was for many in Alberta.


Lyndsey Butcher, executive director of a Kitchener, Ont., clinic, says her facility often sees women travelling from hours away.


Rolanda Ryan holds the two medications that compose Mifegymiso at her clinic in St. John's in March. Ms. Ryan's clinic offers a service that sends the pills by Canada Post to women in rural areas who do not have a doctor willing to perscribe the medication.


Page by page, Canadian-led team builds war-crimes case against Syrian leaders
Monday, July 22, 2019 – Print Edition, Page A1

Anwar Raslan likely thought he was safe living as a refugee in Germany - his past forgotten - until the day in February when police arrested him over the alleged role he played years earlier in the torture of prisoners by Bashar al-Assad's regime in Syria.

Should Mr. Raslan eventually be convicted, it will be due in large part to the work of a veteran Canadian war-crimes investigator and his team, who over the past seven years have smuggled hundreds of thousands of pages of evidence out of Syria and Iraq - documents that are now being used to build war-crimes cases against Mr. al-Assad and his henchmen, as well as senior figures in the Islamic State (IS).

If you haven't heard of William Wiley or the Commission for International Justice and Accountability, the non-profit organization that he established in 2012, that's because he likes it that way.

CIJA has no website, and there's no sign on the door of the office that Mr. Wiley and his team work out of. The Globe and Mail agreed not to name the European country that CIJA's head office staff are located in, out of concern that the group's work could make it a target.

But the project is well-known to Western governments, including Canada's, which collectively provide $8-million in annual funding for the group's 150 investigators, most of whom are at work on the ground in Syria and Iraq.

Although the first grant came from the British government, Ottawa has since taken the lead, providing CIJA with $3-million a year since 2015.

Mr. Wiley and his team represent a new force in international justice - one that struck a deal with anti-Assad rebels to keep the evidence from going up in smoke and being lost forever.

Dressed in a golf shirt, cargo pants and hiking shoes, with his reddish-blond hair kept short, Mr. Wiley - a veteran of the efforts to bring justice to Rwanda and the former Yugoslavia - still looks like the reservist soldier he was while he worked on his PhD in international criminal law at York University more than a quarter century ago. The CIJA headquarters is more military headquarters than legal office: While some rooms feature maps of Syria and Iraq, or graphics showing the Syrian regime's chain of command, the walls of Mr. Wiley's own office are bare. The main decoration is a collection of whisky bottles that sit on a table beside a Nespresso coffee machine.

The reason for all the cloak and dagger can be found among the piles of thick binders that Mr. Wiley keeps on the black metal bookcase behind his desk. Crimes Against Humanity Committed in Detention Facilities of the Syrian Regime is the title page of one - hundreds of pages thick - that lays out the alleged crimes committed by officials such as Mr.

Raslan. The 56-year-old Mr. Raslan is accused of running two branches of Syria's notorious General Intelligence Directorate that routinely employed torture, including extreme sexual violence, while interrogating more than 100 prisoners a day.

CIJA's files also contain what Mr. Wiley says is proof that Mr. alAssad himself had knowledge of, and approved the actions of, his subordinates. "It's pretty clear that Assad was not a figurehead.

He was in charge, and the senior guys deferred to him." That, Mr.Wiley said, makes the Syrian leader criminally responsible for the alleged war crimes and crimes against humanity carried out by his forces.

"It's the best evidence against a regime since Nuremberg," the 55-year-old said, referring to the landmark postwar trials that convicted members of the Nazi regime and became the template for international justice. Mr. Wiley, who worked as an analyst for the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia, views the evidence against Mr. alAssad as "much, much better" than what was presented in court against Slobodan Milosevic, the Serbian leader who was charged with war crimes and genocide over his role in the Balkan wars of the 1990s. Mr. Milosevic died in custody in The Hague in 2006, before a verdict was reached in his trial.

The binders are English-language distillations of more than 800,000 pages of mostly Arabiclanguage evidence that CIJA has assembled. The documents make for often appalling reading.

Among the evidence that's ready for an eventual prosecution are thousands of photos of detainees' bodies - many of them badly mutilated - that were taken by a regime photographer who later defected. One document asks what should be done with a "hospital refrigerator full of unidentified corpses that have decomposed."

Such disregard for the rules of war have helped Mr. al-Assad to the brink of victory in Syria's civil war. His forces, with Russian air support, have begun an assault on the last major rebel-held area, the province of Idlib in the northwest of the country. (U.S.-backed Kurdish forces control the east of the country, after driving IS out of its last strongholds.)

The Assad regime also has Russia's diplomatic protection. Moscow can use its veto at the United Nations Security Council to veto any attempt to set up an international tribunal. But Mr. Wiley still says CIJA's evidence will one day be used against Mr. al-Assad in court. "I don't want to be accused of wishful thinking, but I think there's a realistic chance that he will become expendable, at some point, to his backers," Mr. Wiley said between puffs on one of half a dozen Cuban cigarillos he smokes over the course of a fourhour interview. Russia, he suggests, may one day see escaping economic sanctions as more important than protecting the Syrian strongman.

Mr. Wiley says the evidence against Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi, the leader of IS, is less thorough in documentary terms, and more reliant on the testimony of victims, than the case against Mr. alAssad. But Mr. Wiley says his group has more than enough evidence to help convict the IS leader if he's ever arrested and brought to court in the West.

Mr. Wiley founded CIJA in part out of frustration with the glacial pace that international justice usually moves. His experience at Yugoslavia and Rwanda tribunals, as well as The Hague-based permanent International Criminal Court (ICC), gave Mr. Wiley a close-up look at the failings of such unwieldy multinational efforts. (Mr. Wiley also served on the defence side of the ledger as an adviser to Saddam Hussein's legal team, an experience that led to an hours-long conversation - he says it was a "monologue," with the former Iraqi dictator doing all of the talking - shortly before Mr. Hussein's conviction and execution in 2006.)

After a conversation with Stephen Rapp, who served president Barack Obama's White House as ambassador-at-large for warcrimes issues (a post the Trump administration has left unfilled), Mr. Wiley set up CIJA. The aim was to do the things that existing multilateral bodies can't or won't do - such as send investigators into an active war zone to collect evidence before it's destroyed.

"I saw it could be done faster and at a better price," Mr. Wiley explains. (The ICC has spent more than a billion dollars since its creation in 2002, with only three convictions to show for it to date.) CIJA, in Mr. Wiley's vision, isn't meant to supplant institutions such as the ICC, but to try and help them along. "We act as a bridge between nothing happening and the public sector gripping the situation. Once the public sector grips the situation, we disengage and go somewhere else that we're needed."

That's starting to happen in Syria, where the United Nations has set up its own mechanism for investigating possible war crimes committed since the conflict began in 2011. Mr. Wiley said CIJA will eventually hand its evidence over to the UN body, and move on to other cases.

Much of CIJA's team are now focused on assembling evidence implicating senior IS members in alleged war crimes and crimes against humanity.

The investigators also have their sights set on new targets, in other parts of the world, but Mr.

Wiley says it's too early to talk publicly about those efforts without jeopardizing them.

In addition to assembling a ready body of evidence for the day that war-crimes suspects are brought to justice, CIJA's work has developed a more immediate purpose that wasn't foreseen when the group started work in Syria seven years ago.

Through its war-crimes research, the group has assembled a database of Syrian regime and IS documents that Western governments can use to conduct background checks on some of the million-plus refugees and migrants who arrived in Europe since 2015.

CIJA, which also has a "tracking team" that monitors the movements of potential suspects, says it received 170 requests for assistance over the past year from Western governments, most of them asking for information about Assad regime officials or IS members believed to now be in Europe. A request to CIJA from the German government, asking for information about Mr. Raslan, preceded his arrest in February.

One of the key revelations in the evidence CIJA has assembled is a document trail, including pages bearing Mr. al-Assad's signature, showing he personally headed the Central Crisis Management Cell (CCMC), a war cabinet that was created soon after the outbreak of the first anti-government protests early in 2011, and which brought together the country's top military and intelligence officials.

Mr. Wiley says the evidence shows the CCMC directing the regime's harsh response to the early protests, which included mass arrests, torture and the use of live ammunition against unarmed crowds. Mr. al-Assad's embrace of violence helped drive the country into a civil war that has since claimed at least half a million lives, while pushing millions more to flee their homes.

Early in the war, Mr. Wiley struck a pact with the leadership of the Free Syrian Army, an antiAssad umbrella movement that took over swathes of the country in 2011 and 2012, and which briefly looked powerful enough to topple the regime.

When the FSA captured a government building, the fighters initially saw little use in the reams of government documents inside. "They would film themselves setting these places alight, dance around, and then put it on YouTube. I was having a heart attack watching all this prima facie evidence go up in flames," Mr. Wiley recalled.

He eventually persuaded the FSA leadership that the best way to get revenge on the government was to make sure it was called to account for what it had done to its citizens. An order went out granting Mr. Wiley's investigators - all of them Syrians trained by CIJA in what did and did not constitute evidence that could be used in a criminal proceeding - access to any buildings the FSA captured.

Even with the FSA onside, getting the documents out of Syria was deadly dangerous. Two CIJA investigators died in the effort - one when the FSA convoy he was travelling with was hit by regime fire; the other was captured by IS and never heard from again.

Despite the violence, CIJA's pile of evidence continued to grow. The documents - whether they were central-government decrees or records of an individual interrogation - were smuggled back to CIJA's head office, where each page was scanned and given an individual bar code. The originals were then filed away in cardboard boxes in a locked room.

Mr. al-Assad's regime was propped up by Russian and Iranian forces since early in Syria's civil war. But Mr. Wiley says none of the evidence collected by CIJA points in the direction of Moscow or Tehran. Even if it did, he says, there would be no point in building a case against Russian or Iranian officials.

"There is a political element in international justice that can't be denied," he said. "There's no reasonable prospect of Putin - or any senior Russian guy, or any Iranian for that matter - being prosecuted."

Some legal experts, while lauding the effort CIJA has put in, nonetheless wonder about the admissibility of evidence gathered with the help of armed fighters dedicated to bringing down the Syrian government.

"How do you know, in a court of law, where that evidence came from? How do you guarantee that the evidence was never tampered with? That's a big test," said Mark Kersten, a specialist in international law at the University of Toronto's Munk School of Global Affairs and Public Policy. "They were looking for evidence of ISIS crimes or regime crimes - which means they were not looking for opposition crimes."

But Mr. Wiley - pointing to his experiences in Rwanda and the former Yugoslavia - says seeking justice in a war zone almost always involves co-operating with one side in a conflict to gather evidence against the other. He acknowledges that Western governments fund CIJA because they believe the Assad regime and IS need to be held accountable for their alleged crimes. And he doesn't see anything wrong with that.

"It's not on CIJA to investigate everyone. There's nothing stopping another NGO or public authority from investigating the Syrian opposition."

Barbara Harvey, a spokeswoman for Global Affairs Canada, said the federal government's support for CIJA was intended to help ensure that evidence was available if and when the Syrian regime or IS leaders were made to face a court of justice.

"Those who have committed these egregious attacks must be held to account," Ms. Harvey said, referring in particular to the Syrian government's indiscriminate targeting of civilians and use of chemical weapons, as well as the atrocities committed by IS against Iraq's Yazidi minority.

However, in an e-mail exchange, Ms. Harvey did not reply to questions about the implications of CIJA co-operating with one side in a conflict to gather evidence against other belligerents.

The case against Mr. Raslan - and whether a German court will admit the evidence that CIJA has assembled - will be an important test of CIJA's work, as will the trials of two more junior regime figures who were arrested in Germany and France at the same time as Mr. Raslan.

A U.S. civil court has already decided to accept evidence gathered by CIJA, ruling in January that Mr. al-Assad's regime was guilty of "targeted murder" in the 2012 killing of journalist Marie Colvin, with the court ordering the Syrian government to pay Ms.

Colvin's family more than US$300-million in damages. The ruling was based partly on CIJA evidence that showed the CCMC had issued a directive calling for a "joint security-military campaign" against "those who tarnish the image of Syria in foreign media."

Other binders on Mr. Wiley's bookcase lay out the evidence of alleged war crimes and crimes against humanity committed by the Islamic State in the parts of Syria and Iraq it used to control.

Mr. Wiley says the documents establish a chain of command, and criminal responsibility, for IS mass executions and the enslavement of women and children that stretches all the way up to Mr. alBaghdadi, the self-styled "emir" of IS.

But few Western governments seem interested in repatriating citizens who are IS suspects in order to hold expensive domestic trials. That means most of the surviving IS leadership - those who weren't killed in bloody battles for Mosul and Raqqa - will likely face justice in Iraq. CIJA's donors have signalled that they wouldn't allow it to assist that process because of Iraq's frequent use of the death penalty.

The exception may be Mr. alBaghdadi, whom Mr. Wiley says the United States could be interested in extraditing, if he's captured alive, to face charges in the U.S. over crimes such as the gruesome murders of American journalists James Foley and Steven Sotloff. Although some U.S. states also allow for capital punishment, Mr. Wiley can't envision CIJA's donors, which include the U.S., barring his group from supporting such a prosecution.

Mr. Wiley alternates between speaking with the careful wording of a legal professional, and the occasionally crude bluntness of a buddy in the barracks. Born in Toronto - something he utters like a guilty plea - "home" for Mr.

Wiley means Newfoundland, where he spends time fishing and hunting each summer, and where he has a retirement home ready for the day he's finished chasing alleged war criminals.

He thought he was done with international justice after Mr.Hussein's trial (a conviction he says wouldn't have held up in a common-law jurisdiction - "the evidence was there, but it was improperly presented"). After his stint in Iraq, Mr. Wiley set up a consulting firm that offered security and human-rights training to corporations operating in potentially dangerous environments. "I was out. I was running a business and working and making far more money than I do running an NGO. But I was bored."

Then the Syrian civil war broke out, and the British government asked his company if it would give human-rights training to a group of Syrian civil-society activists. Mr. Wiley saw no point giving human-rights training to people whose country was descending into all-out war. But he and Mr. Rapp saw a way to help Syria prepare for the day after the fighting was over. Many of the humanrights activists the British government identified were trained instead to become war-crimes investigators, some of whom remain with CIJA today.

The assumption back when the effort began was that the regime would collapse and Mr. alAssad would be brought before some kind of international tribunal. That possibility seems remote now, but Mr. Wiley - who has seen the likes of Mr. Milosevic and Mr. Hussein lose the impunity they once enjoyed - remains confident that Mr. al-Assad will one day have to face the evidence that CIJA has collected. "There's no doubt in my mind that he's going to face justice. I just don't know whether it's going to take five years or 10."

Associated Graphic

Top: Syrian President Bashar al-Assad, left, has long received diplomatic support from Russian President Vladimir Putin.


Above: Members of the Free Syrian Army helped collect evidence about Mr. al-Assad and his regime during fighting against the Syrian leader's forces.


Right: Smoke rises after an air strike by Syrian forces last Thursday. The country has been mired in a civil war since 2011.


William Wiley founded the non-profit Commission for International Justice and Accountability in 2012 in part out of frustration with the slow pace of international justice.


The group has assembled a document trail, some featuring Mr. al-Assad's signature, showing that he headed a war cabinet after protests started in 2011.


A U.S. civil court has accepted evidence gathered by the Commission for International Justice and Accountability, ruling in January that Mr. al-Assad's regime was guilty of 'targeted murder' in the 2012 slaying of American journalist Marie Colvin.


'They stole the company': Frank Stronach accuses daughter Belinda of betrayal
In an exclusive interview, the patriarch of the Magna auto-parts dynasty offers his side of the conflict that has pitted generations of Stronachs against each other - and says he'll still forgive his daughter, if she says sorry first
Saturday, July 20, 2019 – Print Edition, Page A10

Frank Stronach says he feels betrayed by his daughter, Belinda, the person he groomed to take over the Stronach Group, the business empire he created from global auto-parts giant Magna International Inc.

In a three-hour interview this week, the self-made billionaire called for a truce - on his terms - even as he accused Ms. Stronach and a key adviser, Alon Ossip, a Toronto tax lawyer who became chief executive of the Stronach Group, of taking control of the family fortune, which includes world-class horse racing tracks, vast real estate holdings and a failed organic farm business.

"They stole the company. It is absolutely true," Mr.Stronach told The Globe and Mail. "I have been shut out of everything. They manipulated everything. ... She screwed me. That is the fact."

The interview with the 86-year-old industrialist was arranged by Dennis Mills, a former Liberal MP and longtime adviser to Mr. Stronach. Mr. Mills pitched the interview as an opportunity for the family patriarch to make an overture of peace to his daughter and put an end to the nasty legal battle that is tearing apart one of Canada's richest business dynasties. Mr. Stronach sat down for the interview in a wood-lined boardroom at the upscale, 7,300-acre Magna Golf Club in Aurora, Ont., north of Toronto.

But despite Mr. Mills's intentions, Mr. Stronach was not in a mood to offer an olive branch to his 53-year-old daughter. The hard-driving, Austrian-born entrepreneur maintains that the only way to repair the fractured family bonds is for Ms. Stronach to give up control of the Stronach Group.

"Yes, I will still forgive her. I will still help her. But I got to say she did wrong and I hope she apologizes for it," Mr.Stronach said as he lunched on grilled salmon and white wine with ice cubes. "Look, admit you made some mistakes. Admit that the things you did were not right. Most people, if they do something wrong, they [say], 'I am sorry,' okay. It doesn't work any other way."

Mr. Stronach is suing his daughter and Mr. Ossip for $520-million, alleging mismanagement of the family's privately held companies. She has countersued, accusing her father, the founder of Magna International and buyer of some of the biggest horse racing venues in the United States, of "improvident spending and unsound business decisions." In a statement to The Globe on Friday, Ms. Stronach said her father's allegations of mismanagement of the Stronach Group are unfounded.

"These are the same inappropriate and unfounded claims my father has been repeating for months, and the facts just don't match [these] allegations. All transactions regarding the family trusts were made with full transparency and with the full understanding of the intent and the outcome with everyone, including my father and mother, having retained independent counsel," Ms.Stronach said in a statement.

She added: "Sadly, my father has surrounded himself with people who give him bad advice. I love my father and feel sorry for him. I wish he would become more rational again."

The family feud includes Mr. Stronach's wife, Elfriede, his son, Andrew, and Andrew's daughter Selena, who have joined his legal action. Belinda Stronach's son and daughter are part of their mother's lawsuit against their grandfather.

Mr. Stronach wants the courts to remove his daughter as chair and president of the Stronach Group, allegedly because she spends lavishly on herself and because he questions her stewardship of the family's main assets, including its profitable race tracks and gambling operations.

Ms. Stronach has hit back at her father's "idiosyncratic passion projects," including a money-losing cattle ranch and a failed golf and real estate project in Florida.

Mr. Stronach says his daughter and Mr. Ossip conspired to take the company away from him after he signed over control of the family trust to Ms. Stronach in 2012, when he made a brief stab at electoral politics in Austria.

In turning over his super-trustee role to her, he gave her the ultimate authority to name or remove trustees. She added her two children and Mr. Ossip as trustees.

Mr. Stronach says he signed reappointment documents at the time that would allow him to regain control as the supertrustee of the family's companies whenever he desired. His daughter has said the agreement was never dated and was only meant as an emergency backstop to ensure the family kept control of the business while she was undergoing cancer treatment.

"I gave it up because I trusted the family, okay. When I resigned, I said I could run it again. But I didn't look for agreements. I would have done it without agreements.

My wife feels bad because my son says, 'You sold me out to my sister,'" Mr. Stronach said.

He also accuses his daughter of manipulating her mother to sign over her voting shares while he was dabbling in Austrian politics.

"Her mother did not know, and that is why Belinda got control," he said. "She tricked her mother to sign [over] some shares."

He showed The Globe what appeared to be a legal letter from his wife to himself, Belinda and Andrew in which she says she would not have signed the document if she had known her daughter would bar her father from running the Stronach Group. "I signed the document to give my daughter Belinda control of the Stronach Corporation under the impression that this was what my husband wanted," Elfriede wrote in the letter, dated March 19, 2019.

Mr. Stronach maintains that he is the wealth creator in the family and that he deserves to be respected for what he has accomplished and allowed to follow his entrepreneurial instincts.

Over the past two years, he said, he tried repeatedly to settle the dispute, even seeking out former Ontario chief justice Warren Winkler to act as mediator. But his daughter wasn't interested in mediation, he said.

"Just imagine then, she ignores her father. Her father pleaded with her, and I can send letters that I proposed, pleading with her," he said. "We tried for two years. It's too late now."

He provided The Globe with two copies he made of personal letters he sent his daughter in an effort to resolve the family feud.

"I could not dream in my wildest dreams, that we could reach a point where we do not talk to each other," he wrote in one of the letters, dated Oct. 10 of last year. "I built all those companies from scratch and it is unfortunate that you did not utilize my experience to build the Stronach companies even better."

He added: "Belinda, it is never too late. I really would like to hug you and welcome you back to the family. The future is in your hands. Call me before it is too late."

In another letter dated March 19 of this year - the same day his wife wrote about being tricked by Belinda - he urged his daughter to work with him to devise a structure for the family trust to avoid future squabbles.

"Belinda, I did not work hard so that the companies I created can be sold or closed," he wrote. "I am pleading with you to come back to the family. I would love to work together and manage together with the family."

In the interview, he complained that Ms. Stronach kicked him out of the company's offices in Aurora last month and sold the corporate jet last year. "There was no need [to sell the jet]," he said, noting he now flies commercial - something he has not had to do for decades.

"There was no need to kick me out of our building."

Mr. Stronach, who was known for having a golden touch in the automotive-parts business, has had his fair share of failed business ventures. He has lost money on restaurants, electric bikes, a glossy magazine called Vista and an energy drink named after him.

His daughter has accused him of reckless spending, including $50million on an 11-storey statue of the winged horse Pegasus defeating a dragon that he had erected on the grounds of Gulfstream Park, a thoroughbred race track in Hallandale Beach, Fla.

What hurt the most, he said, is when his daughter told him he had lost his business magic and that she would not cede control of the family trust back to him.

"Basically Belinda said, 'Well, you are not as sharp any more. You are of a certain age. You are not with it any more.' It kind of hurt," Mr. Stronach said.

He will admit to making only two mistakes.

"I made a mistake in trusting my daughter," he said. "It was wrong what she did."

The second was hiring Mr. Ossip, whom he calls "devious."

"He just manipulated her," Mr. Stronach said.

In court filings and in conversation, Ms. Stronach says Mr. Ossip, who was once a long-time adviser to her father, stepped back from an active role at the family company in 2017 at Mr. Stronach's request and has no input on corporate decisions.

Mr. Ossip said Mr. Stronach's accusations have no credibility.

"The suggestion that a strong, independent executive like Belinda Stronach can be manipulated by anyone is ludicrous. Alon has always honoured his obligations and acted in good faith to preserve and grow the Stronach family assets," Mr. Ossip's spokesman, Paul Deegan, said in a statement Friday. "The allegations are baseless and not grounded in fact or reality."

In 2001, he appointed Ms. Stronach as CEO and vicechair of Magna before she left to run for the Conservative Party leadership in 2003, eventually losing to Stephen Harper. Elected to Parliament as a Conservative in 2004, she jumped ship a year later to join Paul Martin's shortlived Liberal cabinet. The abrupt party switch led to a much-publicized breakup with her then-boyfriend, Conservative MP Peter MacKay.

When she quit politics in 2008, Mr. Stronach named his daughter executive vice-president of Magna, Canada's largest auto-parts manufacturer.

Now, he questions her ability.

"She has never managed anything. She had a bunch of investments, [and] they all went down the drain," Mr.Stronach said. "Belinda has a bad record in investing."

Ms. Stronach lost millions of dollars in 2015 when she was part of a group that established Acasta Enterprises, an acquisition company, with a number of Bay Street insiders. It flopped, and the shares went from an IPO price of $10 to 69 cents as of Thursday's close on the Toronto Stock Exchange. The money she invested in Acasta was her own, but Mr. Stronach says all her wealth came from him.

Mr. Stronach sold his majority shares in Magna in 2010 for $983-million. The following year, he sold his remaining shares for an additional $700-million in deals that were orchestrated by Mr. Ossip. The race tracks are valued at an estimated $1.2-billion.

Mr. Stronach later named Mr. Ossip CEO of the Stronach Group and gave him a 5-per-cent interest in the company. But under the deal, Mr. Stronach said, he had the right to decide the value of the 5-per-cent share.

Before he turned the family business over to Ms. Stronach in 2012, when he went off to found a new Austrian political party called Team Stronach, the industrialist said the family enterprises were valued at $2-billion.

A key issue in this bitter dispute are a couple of ventures on which Mr. Stronach spent some of that money: Adena Farms and a Florida golf course complex, which became Mr. Stronach's primary post-Magna pursuits.

Over time, he bought 100,000 acres in Ocala, Fla., which he envisioned as the perfect place to raise grass-fed and drug-free cattle for the growing organic food market.

Ms. Stronach has alleged her father lost $800-million with his investments in the agriculture businesses and golf course and she decided in November, 2016, that it was no longer possible to continue funding his schemes.

He denied the losses are anywhere on that scale.

He sunk almost $300-million into the cattle business and purchased more land north of the ranch to raise hogs in an area with plenty of acorns to feed on. He also built a private golf course and country club in Ocala, where he planned to develop luxury residences. He had a vision of a farm-to-supermarket business, one he believed would have become profitable within a few years.

"It would have lost monies for the next three or four years, and Belinda says, 'Look, if it doesn't S make monies, I want to sell it.' I said to her, 'No money would S have to be transferred from the [racing, which has the cash flow.' B [The] agriculture could stand on its own." F Like the race tracks, his agri- F culture venture was financially sound because the land was valuable, Mr. Stronach said.

"So, the two businesses I created were real estate-based. The race tracks are 80 per cent and agriculture was 80 per cent real estate," he said. "Lands don't depreciate."

Mr. Stronach is also locked in a battle with his daughter over the lucrative horse racing tracks, which he acquired over a number of years and which generate about $1-billion in annual revenue.

"You know it is all my property, and all of a sudden it is someone else's. The horses were a labour of love. And somebody else [now] makes decisions. They stole everything. That is what it is," he said.

In the interview, Mr. Stronach accused his daughter and Mr. Ossip of "gross negligence," linking recent thoroughbred fatalities at the family's Santa Anita Park track in California to poor management. He is convinced that his daughter's endgame is to sell the race tracks at a hefty profit.

"They wanted to sell the race tracks. It is gross negligence," he said.

Ms. Stronach has responded with a notice of libel from her lawyers asking her father for an "unequivocal apology and retraction" for alleging that she "deliberately, negligently or otherwise caused the horse fatalities at Santa Anita."

In her statement to The Globe Friday, Ms. Stronach said: "My father's allegations concerning Santa Anita Park are simply outrageous and not based on any factual evidence. At The Stronach Group, horse and rider safety is at the core of what we do. California racing will continue to improve with the goal of making Santa Anita Park the safest and best race track in the world. Since the new safety protocols were introduced on March 15th of this year, Santa Anita Park has had 1.86 fatalities per 1,000 starters (5 racing fatalities with 2,684 starters) which is the lowest rate since 2010."

When he was in charge of the race tracks, Mr. Stronach said, he worked to get the U.S. Congress to adopt a Horse Racing Bill of Rights that would have prevented the overmedication of horses and improved the tracks.

He said his daughter committed to some of the measures only after the recent spate of horse deaths.

What he wants from her is a written commitment that she won't sell the race tracks. Ms. Stronach recently told The Globe that she had no plans to get out of the profitable business. In an interview in June, she said: "I have looked my father in the eye, on numerous occasions, and said, 'Dad, we are not selling the race tracks.'" "But she did not make a [written] commitment - that is the point," Mr. Stronach said. "If you mean it, why don't you make a commitment? No, she doesn't make a commitment."

Throughout the interview, Mr.Mills interjected and urged Mr.

Stronach to be less critical of his daughter, pleading with him to open the door to reconciliation.

Two hours into the interview, Mr.Mills left in frustration.

Mr. Stronach said he and his wife have tried to understand why his daughter turned against him. He blames Mr. Ossip and the Acasta debacle.

"I tried to find the reason. I was so close to her. I think she has a lot of pride and she said, 'Jesus, am I going to be a loser?' So I think she said [to Ossip], 'If we control the Stronach Group, we can make it up [the losses].' So I think that is the way it came about," he said.

The last time he communicated with his daughter was in March. It was a short conversation.

The clock of life is ticking. Mr. Stronach turns 87 in September and he knows the court case could drag on for years.

If he wins, he said, his daughter would lose control of the company, but keep an equal share in the family trust along with him, his wife and son. Andrew Stronach owns a large beef farm in Ontario's Prince Edward County and has never been an active player in the family businesses.

Mr. Stronach said his shares would be distributed to the three grandchildren when he and his wife pass away.

As part of his succession plan, he wants to lease the family's racing properties to stakeholders in the thoroughbred business and hire professional managers to run Adena Farms.

"I came to the conclusion that neither my daughter has the ability to run a complex company and neither has my son," he said. "I just want to see some balance, some harmony in the family."

He acknowledged, though, that he might not be alive when the courts render a decision.

"Yes, it would be a tragedy. I would like to die in peace.

But, on the other hand, I would rather die to be right then die and know I didn't do the right thing. You can only die in peace if you know you have done the right thing."

Associated Graphic

When Belinda Stronach quit politics in 2008, her father, Frank Stronach, named her executive vice-president of Magna International, Canada's largest auto-parts manufacturer.


Austrian-born entrepreneur Frank Stronach, seen at the Magna Golf Club in Aurora, Ont., is suing his daughter Belinda, and a key adviser, Alon Ossip, for alleged mismanagement of the family's privately held companies.


Monday, July 22, 2019 – Print Edition, Page B14


A fierce and loving matriarch, a pragmatist to her core, a loyal friend, a steadfast wife and daughter, a compassionate caregiver and a life-long learner. Mary Elizabeth Jane Radey was born on July 16, 1928 in Toronto to Jack Radey and Rita Young. Jack developed a Parkinson type syndrome when Mary Jane was two and convalesced for the rest of his short life in the flat on the second floor of what is now Rebel House at Yonge and Roxborough. Her father passed when she was nine. The rest of her childhood, with her single working mom in the 30s and 40s, was formative. Her strength in those years and for the balance of her life came from a strong Catholic faith.

In 1947, as she was about to enter the nursing program at St. Joseph's Hospital, she met the love of her life - Bill Barrack. They long distance courted during her nursing training. He hosted a radio program in Niagara Falls and she worked six and a half days a week in nursing training. She graduated at the top of her class and turned down a graduate scholarship to devote herself to raising a family.

Two children followed in short order, Lynne then Mike. Eleven years later, John arrived as a joyful surprise.

Bill and Mary Jane loved intensely. They were committed to their faith and their family and shared their passion for films and long, spontaneous road trips. Tragically, at age 49 Bill succumbed to a sudden heart attack. Mary Jane was now the single mom who was forced to return to the nursing profession that she had never fully engaged in. Astutely observing that geriatrics would be the wave of the future in health care, she retrained and worked her way to University Avenue. She had a seventeen-year outstanding career as a compassionate nurse administering a broad range of care and continued following her retirement to serve as a volunteer in palliative care settings, seeing it as a privilege to be present at the end of life.

Her retirement years were among her best. She had time to spend with her six grandsons, to deepen her faith and to volunteer assisting the most vulnerable, including working to put an end to human trafficking.

She will be greatly missed by Lynne St. David and Norman Jewison, Michael and Andrea Barrack and John Barrack and Julia Schatz, together with Mike's sons, Radey, Tyler and Brendan and John's sons, Liam, Michael and Luke.

A special thanks to those that supported her - her parish family at Our Lady of Lourdes, especially the late Father Bill Addley, the numerous caregivers who assisted her at home in her later years, Dr. Claire Murphy, an outstanding family physician, several physicians at St. Michael's Hospital together with the ACE Unit, especially nurse practitioner Lee Barrett and the outstanding palliative care team - Sheila, Slav, Brigitte and Penny - you are remarkable.

Please honour her in your own way but if you feel compelled to donate, she would appreciate donations to Our Lady of Lourdes Food Bank or the hospice of your choice.

Visitation will be on Monday, July 22th from 7-9 p.m. at Morley Bedford Funeral Home, 159 Eglington Ave. W. A funeral mass will be held at Our Lady of Lourdes Church, 520 Sherbourne St. at 10:00 a.m. on Tuesday, July 23rd.

Interment Mount Hope Cemetery.

H. JOAN CUMMING (née Russell)

April 20, 1933 - July 18, 2019 Joan passed peacefully in her 87th year with her family by her side in the afternoon of July 18, 2019. She and her brother John, who passed away in April 2012, were raised in Arthur, Ontario by their parents: father, Dr. Jack (John) Russell and mother, Peg (Margaret). She was the loving mother to Allison, Andy (Hillary), Tom (Jennifer) and Suze, and "Daddo" to Ali, Owen, Holly, Sydney, Travis and AJ (Alexandra Joan).

Joan was an extraordinary person. Loved by all who knew her, friends for a lifetime or new acquaintances from just last week. She had an authenticity about her which was perceived immediately by all. Joan endured many challenges including some major health issues with a couple of her children, and later on in life struggles with her own health. She dealt with all of these with a peaceful almost superhuman inner strength coupled with a deep and abiding pragmatism. She was unwavering in her support of all of her children, even as she almost certainly had reservations from time to time about what path they had embarked upon. In the end, they all turned out fine and that is a testament to her intellect, integrity and grace in the way they were reared. She will be missed by all.

There will be a celebration of Joan's life held at Tom and Jennifer's house at 26 Butternut St., Toronto, ON M4K 1T7 on Saturday, October 5th from 1-4 p.m. All are welcome. In lieu of flowers, please consider a donation to Dying With Dignity Canada in Joan's honour.


On Thursday, July 18, 2019 at Castleview Wychwood Towers.

Beloved son of Saul and Elaine Fox, and Sonya Fox. Loving brother of Brandon Fox of British Columbia. A graveside service will be held on Tuesday, July 23, 2019 at 11:30 a.m. in the Community Section of Pardes Chaim Cemetery, 11818 Bathurst Street, Vaughan. Memorial donations may be made to the B'nai Brith Canada, 416-633-6224.


October 27, 1922 - July 17, 2019 Passed away peacefully on Wednesday, July 17, 2019 in her 96th year. Beloved wife of John Alastair Gray (1987), she will be greatly missed by her daughter Heather, son Robin and daughter-in-law Judith (née Quigg). "Gwennie" will be fondly remembered by her granddaughter Gillian (Remil Colozo) and baby son, Makaio and by her grandson Geoffrey (Thanh Tran). Sincere thanks to Lolita, Lilibeth and Maya for their wonderful care of Gwen in her final years. The family also wishes to thank Four Elms Retirement Residence for their support.

A private family service will be held at the Humphrey Funeral Home A.W. Miles Newbigging Chapel on Wednesday, July 24th.

Interment will take place at St.

Peters Cemetery, Port Talbot.

In memory of Gwen, donations may be made to the Heart and Stroke Foundation, 2300 Yonge St., Suite 1300, Toronto, ON M4P 1E4 or

Condolences may be forwarded through


Harry Levine died peacefully at Bethell Hospice, Caledon, Ontario at the age of 99 years old, on July 9, 2019.

Harry was born in Yarmouth, Nova Scotia in 1920, and grew up in Saint John, New Brunswick.

He is predeceased by his wife, Mary (McCarthy) Levine. He is survived by his brother, Edward Levine (Nora), niece, Elise Levine (David), nephews, Alan Levine (Patricia) Joel Levine (Kerri), Daniel (Sharon), Robert, and Patrick Van Tassel and several grandnieces and nephews.

Harry served in the Royal Canadian Navy from 1939 to 1945.

He served on the HMCS Gatineau on D-Day. Harry was proud of his service to Canada and loved to talk about his adventures.

Following the War, Harry worked as a shoe salesman in Saint John.

In the 1960's, Harry moved to Bramalea, Ontario and worked at the Three Little Pigs children's shoe store near Lawrence and Yonge Street in Toronto, which he eventually purchased and operated until his retirement.

Harry was a figure skater and gave performances throughout New Brunswick. He continued to skate well into his '90s, several times each week.

Harry was always a charmer, who had a great sense of humour. He will be lovingly remembered with great affection by all whose lives he touched.

His interment will take place in the Field of Honour at Cedar Hill-Greenwood Cemetery, Saint John, New Brunswick at 11:00 a.m. on July 24, 2019, with a graveside service.

In memory of Harry, donations to Bethell Hospice, Caledon, Ontario, or the Saint John Jewish Historical Museum would be greatly appreciated.


Sandy died peacefully July 19, 2019 in Cobourg after a period in the Palliative Care unit, surrounded by family, and an abundance of love.

Proud and loving mother of Rick, Scott and Craig. Devoted Nana to Duncan, Kirsten, Calum, Hayley, Rena, Gillian and Danny. Remembered with love by her sister Gail and daughters-in-law, Sue, Ellen and Laura.

The family will be celebrating her life in the MacCoubrey Funeral Home Reception Centre, 30 King Street East, Cobourg, Ontario, on Thursday, July 25th, from 7-9 p.m., with memories shared at 8 p.m. In lieu of flowers, please consider memorial donations to the Capitol Theatre Heritage Foundation, Northumberland Hills Hospital - Palliative Care Unit or PARN (Peterborough Aids Resource Network).

Condolences received at (905)372-5132


On Sunday, July 21, 2019 at Sunnybrook Hospital. Beloved husband of Lillian for 69 years.

Loving father and father- in-law of Richard and Robin Roebuck, Alyssa Roebuck and the late Stewart Roebuck. Dear brother and brother-in-law of the late Sidney and Rose Roebuck, Phyllis and the late Jerry Friedman.

Devoted grandfather of Ryan and Sarah, Samantha, Cayley, and Seth. He was greatly loved by all.

A graveside service will be held on Monday, July 22, 2019 at 1:30 p.m. in the Adath Israel Congregation Section of Pardes Shalom Cemetery, 10953 Dufferin Street, Maple. Shiva 3600 Yonge Street #830, Toronto. Memorial donations may be made to the Seymour Roebuck Memorial Fund c/o The Benjamin Foundation, 416-780-0324,


March 5, 1927 July 17, 2019 The family of Barbara Ann Stewart announce her passing at the age of 92 after a life of fun and travel.

She was predeceased by her husband Albert H. Stewart (2008).

She leaves behind her daughter Alison, granddaughter Sara (Richard) Kennedy and darling great-grandchildren Brayden and Kristianne. Also her son Peter (Karen), and adored grandchildren Cameron (Natalie), Julie and Daniel, and great-grandchildren Peter and David.

Barbara graduated first in her class in nursing at Toronto General Hospital. She was an avid reader, tennis player, and bridge player, and involved in the Voice of Women movement. Along with her husband, she was a member of the Caledon Mountain Trout Club.

Cremation has taken place, and a private family interment will take place at Mount Pleasant Cemetery at a later date. As expressions of sympathy, donations may be made to Runnymede Health Centre. Cards are available at Gilbert MacIntyre and Son Funeral Home (519821-5077) or online at www.


November 21, 1928 - July 21, 2019 We have lost a remarkable man.

Hank Rosen passed away at 90 years old having enjoyed a full and long life.

Husband of the late Ruth Rosen for 64 years. He is surrounded and survived by his children, Cheryl Rosen (Daniel Drucker), Susan Rosen Speigel (David Speigel) and Michael Rosen, his grandchildren, Aaron Drucker (Nikki), Jeremy Drucker (Amy), Mitchell Drucker (Melissa), Laura, Eli and Ethan Speigel, Dean and Jonathan Rosen, and two great-grandchildren, Ben and Miles Drucker.

Hank was born in Toronto, Ontario. He was the second child of Moshe and Dobra Rosenbaum. Hank was a well-known Toronto athlete -- a baseball star in the 40's and 50's and a great tennis player.

Hank was loved and respected by a large group of friends and family. He carried with him a kind of spark that charmed and enamoured. He was unwavering in his principles of loyalty and friendship. His memory will be cherished forever.

Funeral services will be held at Holy Blossom Synagogue, 1950 Bathurst Street, Toronto at 1:00 p.m. on Monday, July 22, 2019. Burial following at Bathurst Lawn Memorial Park, 6033 Bathurst Street, Toronto. Shiva to be held at 136 Dewbourne Aveune, Toronto, Monday, July 22nd to Thursday, July 25, 2019 from 2:00 p.m. to 4:00 p.m. and 7:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m. and on Friday, July 26, 2019 from 2:00 p.m. to 4:00 p.m. Shiva services to be held at 8:00 p.m. Monday, July 22 to Thursday, July 25, 2019.


1931 - 2019

He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest - W.H. Auden David Torrey died peacefully on July 16, 2019 in the Montreal General Hospital surrounded by his family.

David was the loving father of Heather, John (Tanya), Bruce (JoAnn), David (Kerri), grandfather of Kate Murphy (Tony), Celia, Owen, Julia and Reid, and greatgrandfather to Quinn and Bridget.

He was predeceased by his sister Barbara, brother and best friend Bill, mother of his children Maggie and his beloved daughter Diana. He is survived by his younger sister Jane.

Born in Ottawa in 1931, to New England transplants Arthur S.

Torrey and Josephine Torrey (née Leonard), the family moved to Montreal and David grew up a stone's throw from the old Forum.

His siblings formed a merry band of brothers and sisters. His education took him from Roslyn School to Vermont Academy to St. Lawrence University to the University of Western Ontario.

This most unpedantic of teachers remained a lifelong student.

David had an outstanding career as an investment banker at Pitfield McKay Ross, Dominion Securities and RBC Dominion Securities.

The hallmarks of his career were trusted advice and longstanding relationships.

Always exceptionally generous with his time and resources, he took particular pride in his decades long relationships with the MS Society of Canada and St. Lawrence University. David was one whose acts of kindness, large and small, went unnamed.

Helping others and giving back were natural reflexes that he exercised his entire life.

Discreet, elegant, charming and successful, what defined him most was his dedication to his family, the true center of his life.

He was the most dedicated son, brother, father, grandfather, great grandfather and uncle. To all that knew him he was engaged, loyal and caring. David was a man of great intellect and curiosity. About the past. About your present and future. Nothing gave him more pleasure than to sit around a dinner table with family and friends.

The family's much loved childhood home. Poole, Jeroy and Tar Islands. Angler. Lake Champlain. His bespoke but well-worn running attire. His newspapers. His cribbage board.

His eyeglasses. He was a man of constants. And he was a constant.

At hockey arenas, school plays, concerts, graduations, piano recitals and ballet performances.

No distance was too far for any event involving family.

David was a pumper of tires. Over the decades, he repaired more than his fair share of flats. He counted himself lucky. We count our blessings.

If the spirit moves you, a donation in his name can be made to the Multiple Sclerosis Society of Canada.

David's family would like to thank the capable and caring staff at the MGH, caregivers Jilma, Chris, Sushmita, Marrie May and his long-term doctors/friends Dr. Michael Churchill-Smith and Dr. Colin Chalk.

A celebration of his long and full life will be held in the early Fall.

JUDITH WAALEN "Judy" / (née Kelly)

Predeceased by her parents (Ed and Sally Kelly), Judy is survived by her husband David, her sisters Alice MacMurdo and Linda Kelly-Hassett, her nieces Melissa Ross and Erin Kelly-Hassett, and her cousins Carol TaylorChabot and Conrad Helmlinger.

She grew up on the East side of Detroit and attended Dominican High School. She kept in touch with her many friends from that time of her life often attending Dominican class reunions. Judy's university education began at Assumption University in Windsor, Ontario in large part because her father felt that it was important to have an out-of-country educational experience. She went on to complete her Master's Degree in Psychology at the University of Windsor.

Judy met her husband Dave when lecturing at the University of Saskatchewan. They married in August, 1969. Dave was working in Toronto at the Addiction Research Foundation (now CAMH) so Judy applied for a teaching job at Ryerson Polytechnic Institute (now Ryerson University) in order to join him in Toronto.

Dave returned to school at the Canadian Memorial Chiropractic College (CMCC) and after he graduated and became licensed, began practicing in Romeo, Michigan (near Detroit). At the same time, Judy began work on her Ph.D. in Sociology at Wayne State University graduating in 1982. When they returned to Toronto in 1980, they purchased an apartment known as "21 Dale" where they became involved in Board governance and Committee work.

For many years, Judy taught Psychology courses at Ryerson to students in the professional programs and interacted with a great many faculty members in these departments in various capacities. In the mid-1980, for example, the Dean of Business Bonnie Patterson asked Judy to provide some research training to interested faculty since she felt developing the intellectual capital of her faculty was a good investment. Thus, Judy became the first Research Associate at Ryerson and over the ensuing years, a number of Ryerson faculty members advanced their education and their professional positions partly due to this research training and mentoring.

In 2000, Judy took advantage of an early retirement incentive program to leave the Psychology Department and went to manage Ryerson's Centre for Quality Service Research and to join CMCC to teach research methods and statistics in their graduate residency programs. During this time with her husband David, she published articles on chiropractic education, and with other colleagues, she co-authored a number of articles for scientific and scholarly journals.

In 2005, Judy returned to Ryerson to work as a research analyst for The Chang School - Canada's largest provider of continuing education. She taught staff members to conduct, analyze, and publish their research inhouse, did competitive research, and conducted annual student satisfaction surveys until she left in 2011.

Friends may visit at Rosar-Morrison Funeral Home & Chapel, 467 Sherbourne St. (south of Wellesley) on Wednesday, July 24, 2019 from 12:30pm until the time of the funeral service in the chapel at 1pm. Private burial at Toronto Necropolis. In lieu of flowers, donations can be sent to Ryerson University, the Canadian Memorial Chiropractic College or St. Michael's Hospital.

A faded mosaic: Thunder Bay's struggle to attract and retain immigrants
This city was once a hub for newcomers from across the world, but isolation and a weak economy have made 21st-century multiculturalism a distant dream. What has to change to encourage more diversity?
Friday, July 19, 2019 – Print Edition, Page A8

THUNDER BAY -- Thunder Bay's only cricket field, located in a public park in the middle of a quiet subdivision near the teaching hospital, is slightly unorthodox.

The pitch is lumpy and made of artificial turf. The wickets are held together with duct tape. Boundaries include a basketball hoop and a suburban street with parked cars, which everyone tries to avoid denting.

Among the hazards littering the field of play are two evergreens standing to the right of the batter - "Those are defenders," one regular player jokes- and a squat white cable box to the left.

The chilly spring weather isn't ideal, either, for a sport played with a bullet-hard ball and no gloves. Defenders often have to blow on their stinging hands after a catch.

None of that deters the couple dozen players from Thunder Bay's two postsecondary schools, Lakehead University and Confederation College, on a bright, windy afternoon in May in River Terrace Park. The schools only recently began fielding teams, and they are entirely populated by international students and recent graduates from India.

Lakehead jumps out to an early lead. The park echoes with a half-dozen Indian languages and the group's lingua franca, English cricket banter. "Shotty, boy!" "Bowling, boy!" "Good running, boys!"

As Lakehead piles up runs, a player nicknamed Captain Cool lounges in the grass, waiting for his turn at bat, and extols Thunder Bay's qualities as a cricket town.

"We play good in Thunder Bay," he says. "This is our home."

For a growing number of young Indian men, Thunder Bay really is home - as awkward and imperfect a home as the cricket field, but home nonetheless. The city's foreign-student population has spiked in the past decade from less than 200 to about 2,500, roughly half of them from India.

These young men and women are bucking the trend in Thunder Bay. The isolation, small size and economic stasis of this city of about 120,000 have generally repelled immigrants over the past 20 years. Less than 10 per cent of the population is foreign-born, which is actually lower than in 2001.

The cricket players point to a brighter future. For a place that hasn't seen meaningful population growth for two generations, and is trying to make the difficult transition from an industrial economy to a white-collar one, this influx of young, skilled migrants from South Asia should be a blessing.

But Captain Cool and his friends also embody a dilemma: Many newcomers to the city aren't putting down roots.

International students, especially, tend to make a quick exit once they receive their degrees, depriving Thunder Bay of the lasting economic benefits that have allowed immigrant-rich cities to flourish across Canada.

On the day of the derby match, Shivam Patel, a 21-year-old Confederation alumnus, surveys the field and points to a handful of young men who are planning to leave in the coming months - Sathish, Rajkamal, Midhun, Parth, Harsh - many bound for jobs in Toronto, Edmonton or Vancouver.

It's a problem faced by huge swaths of rural Canada and many small cities, but Mayor Bill Mauro recognizes the existential stakes for Thunder Bay in particular, a city that was built on immigration and is now struggling to rebuild itself the same way.

"On the one hand, [the international students] are just a fantastic success story for us," he says during an interview in April. "But it's the same as it's always been ... whether there's enough economic opportunity here to keep young graduates."

Thunder Bay has not always struggled to attract immigrants. In fact, at various times, the city has been an unexpected paragon of diversity.

In 1817, when it was still a fur-trading post called Fort William, American businessman Ross Cox found the little community at the mouth of the Kaministiquia River to be downright "metropolitan." Its role as a break-of-bulk point for traders entering the beaver-rich Canadian interior drew people from around the world, Jean Morrison explains in Superior Rendezvous-Place. That year's annual meeting attracted merchants, soldiers and paddlers from as far afield as the Gold Coast of Africa, Hawaii and Bengal, who mixed freely with the Scottish, French-Canadian and Anishinaabe regulars at the fort.

When the Canadian Pacific Railway came to the twin towns of Fort William and Port Arthur in the 1880s - they officially amalgamated in 1970 to form Thunder Bay - a second wave of immigration began at the lakehead, as peasants and bush workers from Finland, Italy, Ukraine and Poland flooded in. By the early 1960s, residents with British ancestry made up less than half of the local population, according to an essay by historian A. Ernest Epp.

This demographic revolution didn't happen seamlessly. Although most of the new migrants were white, many faced bitter xenophobia. Finns and Italians made up a large share of the city's often restive working class and local authorities routinely rounded up foreignborn activists for deportation - or worse. In April, 1930, two Finnish labour organizers in the nearby bush camps were found dead in a shallow creek, widely suspected of being murdered.

The stigma faced by immigrants of colour was even more overt. Postwar Thunder Bay featured an odd local tradition in which a white man named Hector Ede would dress in blackface and read children's letters to Santa over the radio as a character called "George the Porter" - an homage the black Pullman porters who passed through this railway town are unlikely to have appreciated.

Still, by midcentury, the city's immigrants had made Thunder Bay their own as saunas, panzerottis and pierogies became integral parts of the local culture. Mr. Mauro said his Italian mother might have faced discrimination - she "could have told you stories" - but the mayor's generation forged a kind of white-skinned mosaic - if not the United Nations, then perhaps the European Union. "Thunder Bay was a multicultural community long before Toronto," he said. "We all grew up with significant ethnic diversity and we never thought twice about it."

That legacy could help the city as it tries to attract and retain a new generation of immigrants. Right now, Thunder Bay is overwhelmingly European (82 per cent) and Indigenous (13 per cent) in origin, but that could be on the verge of changing.

In June, the federal Ministry of Immigration chose Thunder Bay to be part of a new program that aims to funnel economic migrants to rural and Northern communities that need labour and are willing to help settle newcomers. (A similar program rolled out for Atlantic Canada in 2017 is seen as a success.)

The city's government supports the project, but some residents have been hostile to the idea. When Thunder Bay's involvement was announced, a popular Facebook group lit up with racist invective. One user, who used a profile picture of Cameroonian basketball player and Toronto Raptors hero Pascal Siakam, said he was worried about giving "all these jobs to immigrants."

Bigotry is an unpleasant fact of life for some newcomers to Thunder Bay. The city has a long-standing racial divide between white and Indigenous residents, but the prevalence of black and brown faces is a relatively new phenomenon around town, and that can lead to unpleasant attention.

Police Chief Sylvie Hauth has made a point of mentioning that the gang members driving Thunder Bay's current crime wave are predominantly black, to the point that it is common to hear ordinary people say "coloured" gangs from Toronto are causing havoc on the city's streets.

Newcomers have different ways of coping with the burden of looking different. A young man from a small Caribbean island, who asked not to be identified, said one bonus of the prevailing fear of black people is that no one has dared to mug him - a common enough problem in the city.

There can also be more straightforward advantages to being part of a small cultural community in Thunder Bay. Niseen Darwish and Zaher Toubaji are Syrian refugees who own Damascus Donair, a cozy hole-in-the-wall Middle Eastern restaurant in a gentrifying part of town.

Business is good, says their daughter Hadeel - who speaks the best English in the family - since there's so little competition from other shawarma places.

The federal Liberal Party has also lavished attention on the Toubaji family; they are rare local symbols of one of this government's major initiatives, the private sponsorship of Syrian refugees. Ms. Darwish considers MP Patty Hajdu a "friend" and has pictures of the MP for Thunder Bay-Superior North hanging above the grill in her restaurant. The couple has even met Prime Minister Justin Trudeau.

Meanwhile, the city's lack of growth - Thunder Bay has roughly the same population it boasted in 1970 - allows for a pace of life that some immigrants actually quite like. While Hadeel, a 22-year-old Confederation student, says she doesn't like the city because "there's nothing to do here," other newcomers say the lack of traffic and the quiet streets remind them pleasantly of home.

Dharak Parekh, a Confederation graduate in electronics engineering, is from the Indian state of Gujarat, where his parents are shopkeepers. Gujaratis are low-key people who mostly abstain from alcohol (the state is dry) and, above all, like to eat, Mr. Parekh says with a laugh. Coming from such a sleepy place makes him appreciate Thunder Bay and recoil from the bustle of Toronto.

He hasn't yet come to terms with a few odd local customs, such as serving rice with a fork rather than a spoon. ("I find this annoying," he says during a dinner at Masala Grille, eyeing the fork in his hand as if he has been asked to eat with a lawn mower.)

But for now, he's happy here with a new job as an IT technician at a tax and auditing firm, and that nice, quiet pace of life. "I'm not desperate to leave Thunder Bay," he says.

It may be a slightly tepid endorsement, but it's more than some of his friends could claim. Mr. Parekh used to live with five other Indian students in a big house in the city's south end, but now he's the only one left, with too much space and too much rent after the others moved to Alberta or Southern Ontario. The latest to go - a slight, shy Confederation grad named Manthan - used to repair slot machines at the Thunder Bay casino, but got a higher-paying job doing the same thing at a much bigger casino in Windsor.

"That's the problem - you graduate and then you leave," Mr. Parekh says. "I think that's why Thunder Bay is not developing as much as it could."

During an earlier dinner, across town at the city's other Indian restaurant, he seemed more upbeat. At that point, Manthan was still living with him. The two would stream endless hours of cricket on their laptops and play the video game Counter-Strike together.

But in the intervening six weeks, his group of friends has thinned out even further, and he seems to have come to the realization that not all Canadian cities are created equal.

"In India, people always think when you go to the West, it's like dreamland," he says. "Now that I've been here, I know it's not always like that. What's the expression? 'The grass is always greener.' " He was speaking figuratively, of course. But it's also literally true that one hardship of living in Thunder Bay, especially for immigrants from the global south, is the vanishingly short period in which the grass is actually green.

For many young Indian men, the city's long winters mean a short cricket season. In fact, the desire for better cricket facilities is a surprisingly common reason for Indian graduates to decamp for Toronto.

"It's 50-50," Shivam Patel says. "Either someone will go for a job or for cricket."

(A spokesperson for the mayor did not respond to questions about whether the city has plans to improve local cricket facilities.)

The Commonwealth's favourite sport truly is an obsession for Mr. Patel and his friends, but 50-50 might be skewing the ratio a little. The truth is, nothing draws graduates away from Thunder Bay like jobs. While the city has made some progress in developing a white-collar economy - the mayor boasts of the roughly 50 good jobs provided by the hospital's angioplasty centre - it can't come close to competing with Toronto or Vancouver.

"There are a handful of cities in Canada that are growing, and there are hundreds that are shrinking," the mayor laments. "I think it's only going to get more difficult.

Artificial intelligence is just around the corner. Where are the jobs of the future going to come from? Places like Thunder Bay and Red Deer and Moose Jaw and Kapuskasing and Leamington and Cornwall - how are they going to maintain, and keep their young families and their young people?" The economic problems of small Canadian cities are particularly acute here. The decline of forestry and shipping, once among the city's principal industries, has been a harsh blow. There used to be four pulp and paper mills in Thunder Bay, but just one remains. Of the 29 grain elevators that once lined the waterfront, only seven still function.

Nothing has filled that void. Good economic news, such as the founding of medical and law schools at Lakehead in the past 15 years, has been offset by declines elsewhere. The number of people employed in Thunder Bay is roughly the same as it was in 2001 - even as the rest of the country has seen job gains of almost 30 per cent. No Canadian city has a worse job-creation record in that period. The expected layoffs of 550 people from the city's Bombardier plant is the most recent example of the bitter trend.

Today, the city's pitch for itself is more about lifestyle than economic strength, reflected in the municipal slogan: "Superior by Nature." Norm Gale, the city manager, boasts that Thunder Bay has the most affordable housing in Ontario, a beautiful lakefront setting and, more dubiously, the planet's best-tasting tap water.

"Look out there," he says in an interview. "Sleeping Giant [Peninsula]. Blue sky.

Best water in the world. Have you tried our water?" So far, the pitch isn't working. Anto Stany personifies the problem as well as anyone. The 21-year-old, one of the players in the spring cricket match at River Terrace Park, is from the southern Indian state of Kerala. He studies recreational therapy at Confederation, learning to develop activities for elderly people in care homes, and he'll be good at it: He looks like the urgrandson, winsome and boyish and doeeyed.

For now, he works at a Robin's Donuts in Hogarth Riverview Manor, a local longterm care home that has been penalized by the provincial government for the emotional abuse and neglect of residents, including allowing one person's bedding and clothing to become "completely saturated" with urine.

"I've seen so many people with handicaps," he says.

"There is no one to give love to them."

Still, there are parts of his job that he likes. For a rural Indian, the pay is excellent: He makes $1,000 every other week, about twice what his father earns farming rubber and the tropical fruit rambutan back home in Kerala.

He also mostly likes the company of the seniors he meets at Hogarth. "Everybody loves watching ice hockey - it's so fun to see," he says. "If you look in their face, they look so happy. Everybody talks about Toronto Maple Leafs, Toronto Maple Leafs."

But there are also aspects of life in Thunder Bay that make him uncomfortable. He has struggled to connect with non-Indians ("I don't have even one Canadian friend. It's so hard to make friends with them," he says) and he doesn't really understand the seniors asking why there are suddenly so many Indian people in Thunder Bay. "They sometimes joke that 'there are more Indians here than we,' " he says with a stiff smile.

He doesn't graduate until 2021, but he's already planning his exit. In June, he went to explore Toronto - he has a brother in neighbouring Mississauga - and he's also thought about Vancouver. He wants to be somewhere with more opportunities in the health sector.

As he discusses his plans in the shade of a spruce tree, well back from the wicket, he delivers a verdict that seems to speak for many of the young men joyfully playing an imported game, on a makeshift field, in a city they will soon leave behind.

"Thunder Bay is good," he says. "But not to live."

With a report from Matt Lundy

Associated Graphic

Dharak Parekh, a graduate from Thunder Bay's Confederation College, bats during a cricket practice. 'I'm not desperate to leave Thunder Bay,' says Mr. Parekh, who has a new job at a local tax and auditing firm. Mr. Parekh is an exception to a growing trend, however, as many graduates leave for larger cities.


On the Kaministiquia River, a decommissioned Riverside Grain elevator stands as a reminder of more prosperous times in Thunder Bay. Of the 29 grain elevators that once lined the waterfront, only seven still function today.

Left: At Damascus Donair, a bustling business in a gentrifying part of town, co-owner Zaher Toubaji lifts a friend's daughter up onto the counter. Right: People talk outside of a Finnish book store in town. For generations, immigrated Finns and Italians made up most of the city's working class.

Home is where the heart is. But it's also where housing solutions lie
The data are clear: Renting out rooms, including ones vacated by children, can help address the housing crisis. But even the most logical mind can be conquered by human emotion
Saturday, July 13, 2019 – Print Edition, Page O1

Chief executive of the Keesmaat Group, working with corporate and political leaders to advance change in cities around the world. She is the former chief planner of Toronto.

Last fall, my husband, Tom, and I dropped our daughter Alexandra off at her new dorm at Western University, and as she negotiated the arrangement of her books, coffee maker and laundry hamper with her roommate, making her bed and nervously plumping her pillows, we stood, large and awkward in the tiny room, unsure of whether it was time to leave or if we should linger a little longer. I surveyed the cool greys of the cinder block as she began madly taping photos to the wall to ease the sterility, and it hit me: She doesn't live with us anymore.

And when we came home, like so many other parents at this stage of life, I became acutely aware of the quiet, empty bedroom down the hall. Her door, as always, was left ajar. I peeked in and the light caught the jumble of rowing, running and ski-racing medals dangling from her bedroom mirror, a little testament that she did live, and lived large, here. A memento of childhood - a scuffed pair of toddler's shoes - sat neatly on her book shelf beside a photo of a gaggle of girls trying hard to look grown-up at prom, anticipation filling their youthful faces. But her bed was rumpled from the previous night's rest - and maybe for the first time I was glad to see it left unmade; I knew she was here.

But now she's not. It was deeply unsettling, these remnants of her life, held in abeyance, waiting for her return.

Until these sad moments, there wasn't really a square inch that we didn't use in what we called our "forever home" when we bought it 13 years ago. Our main floor was a perpetual cacophony of neighbours popping by, kids pounding out their homework and dinner being pulled together on the fly. Our basement was a triple threat: laundry, playroom and office combined. We didn't really have a place for our bikes, so house guests would sometimes have to weave around them just to get through the front hall.

We liked it that way. Both Tom and I had been raised in the suburbs, where there was space to spare, but we had moved into the heart of the city to be near transit and to have the option of living with just one car. We had grown up with the long commute and we were prepared to do anything to try and avoid it. We had visions of our kids walking and taking transit to school, and we knew a different kind of home than what we grew up with would be a part of that package deal.

Our daughter had left home with strict instructions to leave her room exactly as it was. She would be back, she said, first for summers to work in the city, and then for grad school; it was still her room, she insisted. Her little brother, of course, almost immediately descended and created a Fortnite haven for his 13-year-old friends.

Secretly, though, I was relieved that the space was being used. It took the edge off knowing that we had an empty bedroom, despite the fact I knew full well that empty rooms such as hers could offer real relief to a major issue I touched almost every day in my work: the housing crisis in our region.

According to a report by the Canadian Centre for Economic Analysis, there are five million empty bedrooms just waiting to be filled in the Greater Toronto and Hamilton Area today; more than two million of them are in Toronto alone. In a city that often feels like it's bursting at the seams, that's a lot of empty living space.

Eighty-five per cent of Canadians over the age of 65 in Canada, meanwhile, are moving less frequently and remain in a house that's too big for them, and while we've lauded the idea of aging in one place, doing so can mean an undue burden of a home for those least able to maintain it, both financially and otherwise. If these unused bedrooms could be put to use, through policy that encourages and rewards renting out existing rooms - or, taking that logic further, adding more rooms to existing homes, or turning one house into multiple homes - we could add a significant amount of affordable living space to the region, at a relatively modest cost.

We frequently lament the lack of affordable housing in our cities, and yet rooms in existing homes are an underutilized opportunity hidden in plain sight.

Even if only a fraction of the millions of empty bedrooms across the country were introduced into the market and made available as a viable housing opportunity, it would far exceed the paltry amounts of new affordable housing that municipalities have been able to deliver. And providing rooms to rent helps in two ways: It makes housing more affordable for people living alone with rooms to spare, as it does for those looking for a place to call home.

Overhousing is, in part, driven by the immense market demand for detached housing in cities, and the capacity of the wealthy to both protect this housing and gentrify existing stock. But it's also partly driven by what is probably the most compelling argument against this data- and trend-driven logic: emotion.

These vacated rooms and these family homes are suffused with stories and sentiment - how could we think about renting these out to strangers?

I know this feeling keenly, because the data I look at in my professional life collide painfully with my home life, where I miss my daughter every day, and the emotional weight of that emotion is convincing, hard facts or not.

So the only antidote might require another argument from the heart in favour of this housing solution - and for this, I look to the story of my grandparents, Alexandra's great-grandparents, who share a story similar to so many Canadians across the country in moving here to find a better life for their families, and whose willingness to share a home allowed them, and others, to live out the Canadian dream.

My grandparents moved here from the Netherlands in the early 1950s and they, like other immigrants in those times, longed to own their own home. But they were not wealthy people.

The Second World War, in which my grandfather fought as a resistance fighter, was less than a decade behind them and it had devastated them economically.

At one point, they sold the family silver just to buy food to survive. They came here with nothing but a dream and little kids in tow. Still, they were able to work hard, save for a down payment and buy a home. They were among the many, however, who couldn't afford the mortgage payment on their own. So they did what they found sensible: They took on boarders to help pay the bills.

Households were bigger back then, and more flexible. People lived with more people, and less space. There were just more than three million households in Canada at the time, and of those, fewer than 10 per cent consisted of only one person, while just more than 30 per cent consisted of five people or more; the rest consisted of a roughly equal share of two, three or four people. People were having more children, yes, but these numbers were so high because it was not uncommon to have multiple homes within a house: multigenerational households, households that included extended family members or households that included boarders.

Today, this is almost completely reversed. There are now just more than 14 million households in Canada, and while the proportion of two-person households has grown over the past century, from around 20 per cent to 34 per cent today, and the number of three- and four-person households has stayed relatively consistent at around 15 per cent each, the number of oneperson households has more than tripled, to 28 per cent; the number of five-person households has tumbled to around 8 per cent. The number of one-person households has been higher in Canada than the number of five-person households since at least 1981. And while programs such as Toronto HomeShare, which matches older adults with spare rooms with renters who can help around the house, offer a partial solution, they don't tackle the reality and the growing trend: Nearly one in three Canadians live alone.

When families such as that of my grandparents sought to fill gaps in their budgets with boarders - a practical approach borne of necessity to take advantage of their biggest asset - it happened to also create a significant stock of affordable housing for people who otherwise couldn't afford (or didn't want) a place all to themselves.

There are additional social benefits, too, as researchers find that solo living, exacerbated by trends around high-rise housing, can breed social isolation and threaten quality of life in cities - with some doctors arguing that loneliness, especially among seniors, has become a burgeoning public-health crisis. One of our first tenants in the first home that Tom and I bought had grown up just down the street, with her grandparents on one floor, her family on another, and an aunt and uncle and two kids on a third, an arrangement that effectively provided eager and cost-free childcare. And to this day, my 98-year-old grandmother has a long list of pen pals around the world - boarders, who, as they passed through, became dear friends.

So what's changed, to make boarding so much less appetizing over the decades? By and large, it's our expectations around what we need. A postwar mentality that more stuff, more buying and therefore more suburban sprawl to house it all meant a healthier economy dug deeply into the collective psyche.

Growing wealth among middleclass families allowed for luxuries such as increased quiet and privacy to catalyze into baseline asks when buying a new home.

Despite the Small Is Beautiful movement of the 1970s, which was intrinsically linked to the rise of environmental awareness and a recognition that we are overconsuming the resources of the planet, we live with the contradiction today of knowing that the average size of a detached house in Canada is roughly twice as big as in the 1970s, with our household sizes considerably smaller.

A more palatable option than boarding or room rental, for those who can afford it, might be splitting existing houses into duplexes, triplexes and beyond, offering more privacy to all involved while still unlocking housing space for renters in an effective, relatively simple way.

And yet debates around "secondary suites" in existing housing often focus on the suggestion that renters in some way compromise the character of a neighbourhood, or that less space is inherently a bad thing. Battles over housing policy have come to reflect that attitude. In a recent Toronto City Council debate, councillors went so far as to draft and approve a motion restricting entrances to secondary suites from being visible from the street - as if having renters is shameful and ought to be hidden from view.

Meanwhile, population is growing and declining across Toronto and other cities like it.

While the overall population in Toronto continues to steadily increase, huge swaths of it have seen population declines, sometimes significant ones. According to Canadian Centre for Economic Analysis CEO Paul Smetanin, 52 per cent of Toronto's land mass has seen a decline in population of about 201,000 people over the past 18 years, while other parts have grown by 492,000. Said another way: While Toronto is the fastest-growing city in North America based on population growth, most of the land area in the city is actually experiencing population decline. Just as the Vancouver region and Toronto are both spiky and flat in their physiognomies, with tall and super-tall towers surrounded by an unrelenting sprawl of low-rise housing, our density is spiky and flat when charted out, too: Some parts of the city are absorbing significant amounts of growth, while others are bleeding density.

Concentrated hypergrowth comes with pressures on local infrastructure such as water mains, parks, schools and roads. The areas of the city that are losing density, meanwhile, become home to infrastructure that sits stagnant. Emptying schools and flailing bus services become hard to justify, since there's simply not enough demand for them. A contradiction emerges that makes infrastructure delivery inherently inefficient: The highgrowth parts of the city, defined by an unending stream of towers, suffer a shortage of the infrastructure that is necessary to ensure livable communities, while elsewhere, infrastructure is underutilized and, in the case of schools, even disposed. Without a policy intervention of some kind, this trend will continue, as will the traffic congestion and imbalanced service levels that accompany it.

This is part of the story of downtown Hamilton. Despite years of claims about a civic renaissance, reinvestment in downtown Hamilton has actually caused population there to crater. That's because detached housing in the core that once served as duplexes and triplexes - housing multiple households - has been converted into "singles," resulting in overall population loss. This kind of gentle or hidden density offered a muchneeded kind of affordable housing, and its loss is significant, requiring new approaches and strategies for housing people who are displaced.

That highlights a generational shift in the meaning of shrinking populations in a particular area: Where once it signalled a neigh-

bourhood in decline, it's now a problem of concentrated wealth, in which the wealthiest few live in greater and more desirable space, while others struggle to access any housing at all.

This is often referred to, by urban-density advocates, as "missing middle housing." But while this type of housing is needed - for seniors, singles who don't want to live in a condo in the sky, and families interested in renting or owning in walkable neighbourhoods that already have an excellent mix of services, shops, parks and schools - it's not missing. It already exists, in houses we need to be willing to share.

Ironically, while we praise ourselves for living in a sharing economy powered by Silicon Valley, five million bedrooms sit empty, practically begging to help solve a systemic need.

But here's the catch: While cohousing programs have found some success, they do not exist at a meaningful scale. Airbnb and other tech titans like it, meanwhile, only facilitate short-term rentals, which actually remove bedrooms and even entire homes from the rental market and exacerbate the housing affordability crisis in our cities. McGill University researchers estimate that more than 31,000 homes across Canada were rented out in the shortterm so often that they were likely removed from long-term rental supply.

Airbnb's origins in the sharing economy have long become warped by profit margins. But it doesn't need to continue to be.

By encouraging longer-term rentals and focusing on users in need of housing rather than hotel rooms, the company could be a tool for good, facilitating access to the millions of empty bedrooms across Canada, generating access to more affordable housing options for millions of people and restoring population in neighbourhoods where it has declined. Yes, the cost of housing is through the roof. Yes, we need more supply. But we also have a solution that is entirely within reach: existing bedrooms in existing homes in existing neighbourhoods that currently sit empty.

Which brings me back to the hole in our home - the hole in our family's heart, really. While summer has temporarily filled it, we're still musing about what our home might look like once Alexandra leaves for good, and her brother joins her. We started thinking about our original vision for our lives - how, after a couple of years living in my inlaws' basement to save for a down payment on a mortgage for the home we bought before this one, we had bought a place where we were able to rent out the main floor and the basement, and live upstairs, an arrangement not that dissimilar from my grandparents, a generation before. Other than some construction, nothing is stopping us from doing the same thing with our forever home - other than the expectation of our neighbours and some city policy, which, with political will, could easily be changed with the stroke of a pen.

Granted, this is a bit more radical; where we were at one point just musing about renting out a single room, we've started rethinking need altogether - not around stuff, but around fit. And if our children wanted to start their lives, where would be a better place to start than here, where they can enjoy support, space, help with child care, a neighbourhood they love, and their intimate knowledge of every overworked square inch?

What better way for our children to live out the best principles of our practice, get a start on their own Canadian dream and help Tom and I achieve a better housing fit for our needs? Finally, we felt: logic and emotion were working together toward the same goal.

So I put it to my daughter: Would she want to turn the house into a duplex, and raise her family here one day?

"Probably not," she responded. "Too tiny. Can you even do that - build another kitchen? No, I'm not interested."

Rethinking housing, and what people's needs really are, will require us to reconsider how we define home. Even in this house.

Associated Graphic


As Chinese loans fuel booming economy, Djibouti risks falling into Beijing's 'debt trap'
Wednesday, July 17, 2019 – Print Edition, Page A1

Red-and-gold Chinese banners hang outside the headquarters of Djibouti's freetrade zone, adding a splash of colour to the dusty desert gateway of this hugely ambitious project, the biggest of its kind in Africa.

Inside the building, Chinese businessman Robin Li stands over a scale model of the freetrade zone, telling a Ghanaian delegation that the Chinese investors will control just 40 per cent of the project. "We leave the money behind," says Mr. Li, the vice-president of China Merchants Port. "No return!"

Everyone laughs uproariously, and then a local official tries to clarify the profits that could flow to the Chinese state-owned companies. "They don't take big money," he assures the Ghana delegation. In fact, nobody quite knows what benefits Beijing will extract from Djibouti's free-trade zone - a Chinese-financed project that could cost US$3.5-billion over the next 10 years, covering a vast 48 square kilometres. But money is only one of the commodities in these transactions. Political influence and commercial power are the implicit commodities in China's financial drive.

Countries across Africa and Asia are wrestling with the same dilemma as Djibouti: How to accept Chinese money without accepting Chinese control.

Beijing's loans are accelerating the construction of the ports and railways that poorer countries desperately need. But the price could be steep: rising debts, a potential weakening of sovereignty and a possible loss of key assets if they default on their loans.

Djibouti is strategically located at the crossroads of Africa and the Middle East, on a narrow strait that controls access to the Red Sea and the Suez Canal. It has become a crucial hub in China's Belt and Road Initiative (BRI): a multitrillion-dollar plan to build modern infrastructure to connect at least 68 countries to Chinese trade routes.

John Bolton, national-security adviser to U.S.

President Donald Trump, has alleged that the BRI is a predatory Chinese strategy, deliberately deploying "bribes, opaque agreements and the strategic use of debt" to hold African countries "captive to Beijing's wishes." The Trump administration has even produced YouTube videos attacking the initiative and urging countries to seek U.S. investment instead. "Don't get caught in the debt trap," the videos warn in ominous tones.

China has denied the debt-trap accusation, insisting that the loans benefit both sides. Some analysts say the allegation of predatory behaviour is exaggerated, since China has often ended up cancelling the debts of poorer countries, and a majority of the debt in most African countries is still held by non-Chinese lenders.

Djibouti, a tiny country of fewer than a million people on the Red Sea, is a prime example of the risks. It has enjoyed a booming economy in recent years, fuelled by huge Chinese loans and investment in ports, railways, warehouses, industrial parks and even a secretive military base. But critics have warned that the country is falling into a Chinese "debt trap," in which the loans could overwhelm its economic independence.

The International Monetary Fund recently estimated that Djibouti's public and publicly guaranteed debt has climbed to 104 per cent of its GDP - and the vast majority of this external debt is owed to Beijing. The Chinese loans have "resulted in debt distress, which poses significant risks," the IMF said.

A separate study by the Center for Global Development, a Washington-based think tank, estimated that China has provided nearly US$1.4billion for Djibouti's major projects, leading to a sharp increase in the country's external debt.

Djibouti is one of eight countries worldwide where the rising debt from BRI projects is "of particular concern" because of the heightened risk of debt distress, the study concluded.

Djibouti's Finance Minister, Ilyas Moussa Dawaleh, says the Chinese loans are crucial for preventing an eruption of protest among Djibouti's poor and unemployed. "If we let the youths stay unemployed, tomorrow they will create instability, and some devil will come and make use of their frustration," he told The Globe and Mail in an interview. "We thank the Chinese for our infrastructure development, and we want our other partners to help us - not just tell us about the Chinese debt trap. Maybe they think they are attacking China, but they are disrespecting Africans. We are mature enough to know exactly what we are doing for our country."

Beijing has poured money into Djibouti in recent years. It gave a US$250-million loan for Djibouti's free-trade zone. It provided about US$500-million in financing for the Djibouti portion of a new 756-km railway line between Djibouti and Ethiopia. And it lent a further US$400-million for a new container port in Djibouti.

In addition to the loans, Chinese state-owned companies have made equity investments in the Djibouti projects and have won management contracts in the ports and railway.

GATEWAY TO THE WORLD, TETHER TO CHINA At the Doraleh Container Terminal, an ultramodern port on the edge of the capital, Djibouti cancelled a Dubai company's contract to run the port, nationalized the terminal and then has reportedly allowed China Merchants to help operate it. (The government denies that China Merchants is the official operator of the port.

The Dubai company has launched legal proceedings to challenge the takeover.)

In exchange for its loans and investments, China has gained crucial influence over the shipping lanes that flow past Djibouti to the Suez Canal - the same lanes that provide oil supplies for Chinese importers and vital routes to Europe for Chinese exporters. And if Djibouti is unable to repay the loans, China could end up with a bigger stake of the infrastructure.

Djibouti insists it is retaining a majority stake in each project. But when China finances the projects and holds a significant chunk of the equity, along with short-term contracts to manage and operate the railway and some of the ports, the Chinese influence can be massive.

"China is adept at converting developmentminded investment dollars into geopolitical power and influence," said a recent report by the Australian Centre on China in the World, based at the Australian National University.

"Djibouti's future is now more tied to China than to any other partner," it said.

Across the African continent, China has provided about US$130-billion in loans over the past two decades, and it promises a further US$60-billion over the next several years as its BRI strategy gains momentum.

But the exact terms of these loans are routinely kept secret. Africans often don't know the repayment terms or the potential loss of collateral, including infrastructure or future resource revenue, if the loans aren't repaid. Many of the benefits flow to China, since almost 90 per cent of BRI contractors are Chinese companies, which often hire Chinese workers rather than local workers.

"Countries rich in natural resources, like Angola, Zambia and the Republic of Congo, or with strategically important infrastructure, like ports or railways such as Kenya, are most vulnerable to the risk of losing control over important assets in negotiations with Chinese creditors," said a report by Moody's credit agency late last year.

Chinese loans to African countries have soared to more than US$10-billion annually in recent years, compared with less than US$1-billion in 2001. This is contributing to a growing crisis in Africa, where most countries are heavily indebted and some are unable to service those debts.

In Kenya, for example, the Chinese share of the national debt has been escalating rapidly. In total, Kenya owes more than US$5-billion to China today, a fivefold increase in just five years.

China persuaded the government of Kenya to build a costly new 485-km railway between Nairobi and the port city of Mombasa for about US$4-billion, rather than repairing an existing line for about a quarter of the cost. The project became one of the most expensive rail projects in Africa.

After opening in 2017, the railway lost US$100-million in its first year of operation, carrying far less freight than expected. The economic benefits to Kenya were limited, since Chinese contractors did most of the construction work. And the project left Kenya saddled with US$3.2-billion in debt to China. Kenyan media have reported that China could seize Kenyan assets, including the port of Mombasa, if the loan is not repaid. They also reported that the loan agreement requires any disputes to be arbitrated in China.

By 2019, the railway was continuing to lose money on each of its passenger and cargo trips, while Kenya's loan repayments to China were sharply increasing. The government insisted that the loans weren't harmful. "China is not seeking to colonize us, but they understand us and our point of need," President Uhuru Kenyatta told local journalists.

The Kenyan railway - like the similar Chinese-funded railway between Djibouti and Ethiopia - has been a publicity bonanza for Beijing, creating highly visible Chinese branding on the trains.

The Kenyan railway is operated by a Chinese company, and Chinese workers have taken many of the top jobs as conductors, engineers, managers and drivers. In each carriage, a Chinese flag is displayed. The stations are filled with Chinese signs and pamphlets, and the Mombasa station even features a bronze statue of a Chinese hero, the explorer Zheng He, who led a maritime expedition to East Africa in the 15th century.

In Djibouti, too, the new train terminal is filled with Chinese signs and banners, and most of the conductors are Chinese. Even the clocks on the wall are from China.

Chinese rail companies were hired to manage the US$4.5-billion Djibouti-Ethiopia electric railway for six years after its completion in 2017.

"Of course, if the investment is coming mainly from China, we will see sometimes Chinese signs and communications," says Mr. Dawaleh, the Finance Minister. "We need to bring global talent."

Others are more critical. "How can Djiboutians see this railway as their own if everything they see is Chinese?" asks Abdirahman Mohamed Ahmed, an economic and environmental consultant in Djibouti.

"China is doing the same as what we criticized the former colonialists for doing," he told The Globe. "China should be more sensitive.

They should be different from other empires."

Ethiopia and Djibouti have both struggled with their heavy debts to Chinese financiers for the railway, and both have sought to renegotiate their loans. Late last year, China allowed Ethiopia to extend the loan repayment period from 10 years to 30.

The concerns over the railway loans are part of a growing international anxiety about China's BRI strategy. Countries such as Sierra Leone, Pakistan and Malaysia have delayed or cancelled Chinese projects. Others, such as the Maldives, have sought to renegotiate or reduce their Chinese loans.

Many observers, including Africans, were alarmed by Sri Lanka's loss of a Chinese-built port, Hambantota, after the South Asian country was unable to repay more than US$1-billion in debt to Chinese banks. Sri Lanka was obliged to hand over the port to China on a 99-year lease.

Djibouti officials, however, insist they aren't at risk of suffering a similar fate. "We are always the majority shareholder," said Aboubaker Omar Hadi, chairman of Djibouti's ports and free-trade authority, who had made the comment about China not taking "big money."

"The mistakes in Sri Lanka were made by the Chinese contractors, pushing for the contract and short-cutting the process to get the Chinese bank loan and leaving the debts behind," he told The Globe.

"It was giving a bad name to China. The Chinese government was unhappy, so it disciplined those contractors. They've stopped these contractors from promising everything."

IN CHINA'S DEBT At a summit of BRI member countries in Beijing in April, the IMF's managing director, Christine Lagarde, warned that China's BRI policies must be fixed.

"History has taught us that, if not managed carefully, infrastructure investments can lead to a problematic increase in debt," she said. "The Belt and Road [Initiative] should only go where it is needed [and] where it is sustainable, in all aspects."

Chinese officials at the BRI summit tried to ease the fears of debt-trap loans by promising to ensure that the "debt sustainability" of the borrowing countries is always taken into account.

But concerns about Chinese loans persist. In South Africa, there has been fierce debate over a US$2.4-billion loan by the China Development Bank to the state-owned electricity monopoly, Eskom, which has been desperate for loans to stave off the need for more cuts to the country's power supply. The opposition Democratic Alliance party has argued that the loan "could very quickly result in a debt trap where repayments cannot be met and the Chinese start to take ownership of South Africa like they have done in Sri Lanka."

Those concerns deepened this year, when the first tranche of the Chinese loan was unexpectedly delayed for reasons that weren't fully explained, forcing Eskom to scramble for fresh sources of money.

While analysts worry about the loss of sovereignty or the loss of key assets, there are other concerns, too. In some countries, such as Djibouti, the massive flow of Chinese loans is helping to prop up authoritarian regimes. The financing is ultimately a greater benefit for autocratic rulers than for ordinary people.

"Nobody consulted Parliament on these Chinese loans," said Zakaria Abdillahi, one of the few independent human-rights lawyers in Djibouti. "The government made these decisions unilaterally. The Chinese debt is very opaque, and there's a risk to the sovereignty of Djibouti.

The loan conditions are dictated by China."

Djibouti has been under the firm control of one family for the past four decades. Ismail Omar Guelleh has been President since 1999, and his supporters have amended the constitution to allow him to extend his rule. He was hand-picked by his uncle, Hassan Gouled Aptidon, who had ruled the country since its independence in 1977.

The boom in Chinese loans and investment has allowed Djibouti to become more repressive than it was in the past, Mr. Abdillahi said.

The loans and investment are providing revenue to an autocratic government, helping it to prolong its rule and stifle any push for democratic reform.

As a lawyer, Mr. Abdillahi has tried dozens of times to defend journalists or union leaders or political activists who are arrested for protesting against the government - but the police refuse to let him meet the detainees. "When they see me coming, they just shut the doors," he told The Globe.

When he is invited to international events, the police at Djibouti's airport routinely prevent him from departing. Nor do they allow him to register his human-rights organization, prohibiting the organization from having a bank account or a membership list. "Everything is forbidden or controlled," he said.

At the same time, the Chinese loans don't offer much help for the majority of the population in impoverished countries. Despite years of high GDP growth in Djibouti, more than 70 per cent of its population is living on less than US$5.50 a day, and half of families have no access to basic sanitation facilities, according to World Bank data.

"A lot of money is coming in, but you don't see any trickle down," said Mr. Ahmed, the consultant. "People feel excluded."

Aden Ali, a 40-year-old labourer, has been hauling sacks of cement and sugar in Djibouti's ports and docks for the past 16 years. His arms and fingers are covered with scars and bumps from cuts and broken bones, caused by accidents in his work. He lives with his wife and three children in a shabby two-room house with a leaking roof in Balbala, a sprawling slum on the outskirts of Djibouti City where children play barefoot in dusty streets with rubble and scrap metal around them.

Mr. Ali recently began working overnight shifts at one of Djibouti's new Chinese-built ports. "It's impressive, but we don't get anything from it," he says. "Nothing has really changed for us. Our life is still in black and white."

The new port has allowed him to work more days in a month, increasing his income by perhaps US$50 or US$100 a month, but that's barely enough to keep up with the soaring cost of living, he said.

"The Chinese don't help us to survive," Mr.Ali said. "The work has become harder. The conditions are bad. If we drop something, they yell at us. Only God knows how much pain we feel."

Associated Graphic

Far left: Holding the Chinese and Djiboutian flags, people gather on July 4 before the launch of a 1,000-unit housing project. The venture is supported by the state-backed China Merchants, which also reportedly helps operate the Doraleh Container Terminal, left, and will partly control the forthcoming free-trade zone, below.


Far left: China took control of the Hambantota port it built in Sri Lanka on a 99-year lease when the South Asian country couldn't repay its debts to Chinese banks.


Left: Chinese train workers look out for passengers during the inaugural run of a new railway linking Djibouti to Addis Ababa in October, 2016.


Above: Djibouti President Ismail Omar Guelleh greets Chinese President Xi Jinping during a 2018 meeting in Beijing. Independent human-rights lawyer Zakaria Abdillahi says Chinese loans and investment have helped Djibouti to become more repressive than it was in the past.


Thursday, July 18, 2019


A map with a Wednesday news feature on Djibouti incorrectly labelled the Mediterranean Sea as the Dead Sea.

Award-winning psychological thriller Milkman is no doubt a masterpiece, but it's an exhausting book to read, Ian Brown writes. Readers shouldn't be afraid, though - it's yet another work that is elevated by the art of the spoken word
Saturday, July 13, 2019 – Print Edition, Page R8

The best thing about Milkman, Anna Burns's Man Booker Prize-winning novel, is that it's a superbly detailed moment-by-moment chronicle of an 18-year-old's inner thoughts as she navigates the treacherous complications of life in Belfast during the deadly Troubles of the late 1970s.

The worst thing about Milkman, Anna Burns's Man Booker Prize-winning novel, is that it's a superbly detailed moment-bymoment chronicle of an 18-yearold's inner thoughts that is 352 pages long. Demanding literary novels told from a single interior point of view are all the rage these days (thank you, Rachel Cusk).

Milkman's interior tunnel is long and narrow. It does not conform to standard paragraph form. There are no comforting blocks of dialogue, only conversations remembered within the mental monologue of the girl narrator, who is unnamed. No one in the book has a name, in fact, but is referred to as Somebody McSomebody or Tablets Girl or Maybe-Boyfriend or Eldest Sister, reflecting the paranoia of Belfast's factionalized residents, who fear the consequences (death at the hands of roving paramilitary squads) of naming names and thus being branded informers.

These secrets in turn make everyone suspicious of (and gossip about) any behaviour that doesn't conform to local customs.

In other words, Milkman is a dead-on portrait of the claustrophobia of an adolescent mind within the even more oppressive claustrophobia of a totalitarian state.

It's a brilliant book. It's also exhausting to read. Describing a closed society requires dense, closed writing, and on the page, Milkman can be as impenetrable as Kevlar. Passages of great beauty alternate with wads of glue. Thirty pages was the most I could manage at a sitting, but even five could render me unconscious.

The good news? The audiobook's a breeze! A deft narration by 64-year-old Northern Irish actor Brid Brennan transforms Burns's writing into a spoken yarn.

When Brennan says a word such as "round," her lemonrinsed Belfast accent puckers it into at least four separate syllables.

You can feel the hard bite of Northern Ireland in every sentence, and the city's psychological pace in the flurry of her diction: People here need to get all their words out before it's too late.

The high-minded difficulty of Milkman's written text evaporates, leaving only a funny, intelligent voice behind.

How does that happen? And why is it happening so often these days? Audiobook sales shot up more than 37 per cent last year (the third year in a row), driven by downloading and ever more artful vocal staging. (Physical book sales were up a puny 5 per cent and e-books fell.) Nearly 50,000 new audiobooks are released every year in North America alone.

Sloggish masterpieces now enjoy robust afterlives as ripping digital yarns. There are already classics of the genre and go-to narrator/readers. The Word of Promise audio Bible (New King James Version) features sound effects, an interactive score, Marisa Tomei as Mary Magdalene and Jason Alexander (George on Seinfeld) as a nebbishy Joseph.

It's 98 hours long, costs $61.33 and is like listening to your own conscience as it wanders through the Teletubby version of Galilee. I recommend it.

The soon-to-be released talkie version of Karl Ove Knausgaard's six-volume My Struggle is even longer, at 133 hours.

Abridged readings, common 20 years ago, no longer exist; skilled single narrators who voice every word of every character in a story (as is the case in Milkman) now compete with full troupes of actors reading individual parts.

Do not misunderstand, daring reader: I'm not suggesting books can be replaced by audiobooks. I often like to bang my head against a difficult but rewarding slab of text.

For instance, I motored through Michel Foucault's Madness and Civilization, a book that ought to come with a helmet and an insurance policy. But life is short. Maybe reading doesn't have to be that much agony. Because here's the really wild thing: Even in the formal parlour of highbrow literature, still one of the stuffiest rooms in contemporary culture, listening to a novel is now as acceptable as having read the monster.

Milkman is a psychological masterpiece, no one's denying that.

The narrator, a watchful young woman, commits the cardinal sin of being different in a culture that has forbidden difference.

She has a single eccentric habit: She reads books while she walks.

This is deemed aberrant, therefore suspicious, thus the subject of gossip, which brings her into the sights of the Milkman, an older, high-ranking paramilitary.

The Milkman wants the young female narrator as his lover and begins to stalk and isolate and coerce her. He insinuates that her boyfriend, the aforementioned Maybe-Boyfriend, has committed a sin punishable by car bomb.

Maybe-Boyfriend's crime? He collects car parts, and owns a supercharger hood that bears a decal of a British flag.

In Belfast during the Troubles, you could be ratted out for

drinking the wrong lager or supporting the wrong football team or liking James Bond. If you did watch James Bond, "you didn't make a point of saying so; also you kept the volume very, very low."

Milkman is a novel about competing moralities and all of them are mendacious.

Burns's depiction of the way Belfast's bullied burghers think is sharp and tight and often funny. But it's work. Losing the thread in Milkman left me again and again in a deep, dark wood, afraid I would never be found again: I kept tracking back, to ferret out where I had drifted off course. But when the story is read in Brennan's lilting voice, the narration carries you forward on a wave.

You may not know how long it has been since you fell off the surfboard, but you're still swimming.

Neurological research suggests there are reasons for this.

Reading symbols on a page engages the crowded and ultra detailed visual cortex, which produces very specific (and sometimes overwhelming) word associations. Listening to a text, on the other hand, leaves fewer details stuck in one's memory, but produces a readier grasp of the passage's deeper meaning.

Listening is our evolutionary default mode. Shakespeare is easier to understand onstage than he is on the page.

That ease is one reason booklistening has a less-than-serious reputation compared with upwardly mobile, middle-class book reading. Thomas Edison dictated Mary Had a Little Lamb onto a tinfoil cylinder as early as 1877, but it wasn't until the 1930s that the first audiobook records were produced, specifically for blind readers. (The first seems to have been a recording of Joseph Conrad's Typhoon, although the Gospel of St. John - in which Jesus cures a blind man - wasn't far behind.) When Matthew Rubery, a professor of modern literature at London's Queen Mary University, started work on The Untold Story of the Talking Book, published in 2016, colleagues turned up their noses and refused to write letters of reference. He traces their disdain to the 1920s, to the rise of modernism in university English departments - "the notion that literature should be difficult." The result, Rubery explained recently, is that "audiobooks are the Rodney Dangerfields of literature.

They don't get no respect."

Meanwhile, he claims, "the audiobook is the only form of reading that has consistently increased in the past decade."

Dumbing down didn't do it; driving did, along with commuting and the widespread use of smartphones starting in 2010.

"I don't think there is any single kind of reading," Rubery added. Each method has its pleasures. Reading Milkman, you understand the book from the point of view of the writer - which Nabokov said was the deepest way to understand fiction. When you listen to a book - say, Nabokov's Lolita, narrated by Jeremy Irons, already a classic in audiobookland - you understand it from the point of view of the characters. Ian Pearson, who read 80 novels a year as Peter Gzowski's books producer on the CBC Radio show Morningside and now ingests about 40 audiobooks per annum, still recalls listening to Sabbath's Theatre, Philip Roth's filth-strewn account of a sex-obsessed 64-year-old.

"You're walking quietly around town, looking like an ordinary old man and meanwhile, thanks to this great narration of this compelling story in your head, you just feel like the biggest pervert in the world." The secret thrill of doing one thing with your mind while appearing to do something else entirely with your body is part of the new charm of audiobooks. You feel like you're wearing a cloak of invisibility. Listening to a book turns out to be as private as reading one.

I called Pearson because he's one of the most widely read people I know. He developed his audiobook habit three years ago because he owns two energetic dogs and has to walk them for an hour or two every day. Before he took up listening to novels, his fiction intake had declined dramatically. His eyes were getting weaker, limiting the time he could read.

Then there was the distraction factor.

"When I'm reading at home, I'm so distracted by the internet or by my phone, music, TV. But when I'm walking and listening, I have no other distraction. Audiobooks enforce that attention span. So audiobooks have completely revived my enjoyment of fiction."

He loved audio Milkman. "It's one of the best ones I've read," he said.

"I mean, listened to. The narrator is so perfect for that writer's voice. What might be somewhat difficult stream-of-consciousness on the page becomes natural and accessible when it's spoken aloud."

She also performs the male voices in the book in such a way that Pearson knew they were males - a talent the audiobook narrator of, say, Michael Redhill's excellent novel Bellevue Square doesn't share.

"Even though the narrator is a woman, there're a lot of men in that story," Pearson said. "And she couldn't do them convincingly."

A couple of years ago, - the Amazon-owned company that produces more than 90 per cent of North America's audiobooks - had a sale, and Mr. Pearson picked up a shelfload of classics. (He's also a fan of the Toronto Public Library's free audiobook borrowing app.) It took him three months to listen to all 12 volumes of Anthony Powell's Dance to the Music of Time. "That was a book I'd started a couple of times and never got engaged in. I owned the whole set. And it's one of those things that just stares you down. But when you're listening, it's not as intimidating."

That's the first commandment of the audiobook kingdom: If you have always wanted to read a classic, but could never engage, try listening to it instead. It doesn't always work: Fact-filled non-fiction can be a dry listen (especially if it's verveless, stylistically), and some novels don't translate well to audio. Olga Tokarczuk's Flights, a novel about a woman who travels incessantly, is too aphoristic to work in the ear.

But it's a sharply funny read.

The old view, the traditional, serious, High Lit view, was that reading one's writing aloud was cheating; it encouraged the addition of emotional inflection where possibly insufficient inflection existed, "making what I've written seem for the moment better than it is," as Nicholson Baker once put it. (He nevertheless narrates the audiobook of one of his own later novels, Traveling Sprinkler, to good effect.)

But that point of view is now so old-fashioned, so starkly predigital and non-commercial, that it ought to have its own diorama in a museum. Here's the new, alternative approach: If an audiobook gets you to ingest War and Peace or Elena Ferrante's Neapolitan quartet and surrender to points of view other than your own, so much the better.

The choice of narrator can make or ruin an audiobook. Sometimes, an author is an even more compelling reader than she is a writer - Tanya Tagaq's performance of her memoir Split Tooth is riveting - and sometimes she is not (Anakana Schofield reading Bina). Canadian audiobooks are increasingly ambitious: Wayne Johnston's First Snow, Last Light features four readers, including David Ferry, Mary Lewis and Gordon Pinsent.

Classic narrations already exist in the audio genre. Martin Jarvis, performing P.G. Wodehouse (Eddie Izzard also does a brilliant set of Jeeves tales, but they are on CD, and hard to find); Jim Dale, the literal wizard who narrates all the Harry Potter novels; Tom Stechschulte, whose rasp of a voice reading Cormac McCarthy's Blood Meridian and The Road makes you think this is the final task he is going to shoulder before he takes the last steps of his life: He will read this book and then he will be gone, will be no more. Julia Whelan (Gone Girl, Otessa Moshfegh's My Year of Rest and Relaxation, many others) has more or less copyrighted the voice of the Witty Ironic Female Observer.

One of Pearson's favourite narrators is Juliet Stevenson reading Middlemarch. "She could do any voice, male or female, low class or high, rustic or city.

And she didn't get all Masterpiece Theatre, class-in-England about it, either."

The book that kicked off the most recent boom in extra-ambitious audiobooks was George Saunders's Lincoln in the Bardo, the Man Booker Prize winner, originally written as a play, about Abraham Lincoln's long, strange mourning of the death of his beloved 10-year-old son, Willie.

The book has 166 characters, and the audiobook has that many speaking parts. Some people hate reading the book and love listening to the recording, others vice versa; some do both at once, book on lap and earphones in.

Kelly Gildea directed and produced Lincoln in the Bardo for Penguin Random House after Saunders phoned her and said he couldn't handle reading the entire work himself, as he had his past collections of stories.

(He's a really good reader.) Gildea, who studied film and directing at college, admits she was at first "a little panicky" about the project. "How the hell am I going to do this?" Her usual approach is to find a perfect narrator, "because a narrator can save something or absolutely tank it. It's acting, but it's also storytelling. The job is truly finding people who have both skills." But Bardo needed 166 narrators.

The result was "a broad spectrum of voices" - including celebrities such as Lena Dunham and David Sedaris - "which I think is the point of the book," Gildea says.

She needed five months to record 71/2 hours of acceptable tape: Every voice was recorded separately, and "the edit was just a beast unto itself."

Her goal in any audiobook is to produce a new version of an existing work, one that has its own intrinsic value, that brings a new kind of pleasure to a writer's fans.

"I hope that's what Bardo is.

The fact that there are so many actors in the book who are famous today makes it a document."

Her next project is an all-cast recording of Charlotte's Web, in which Meryl Streep reads the narrative and a roster of as-yetundisclosed actors read the voices of the characters. Purists will object. But try to imagine how many copies that will sell.

That may be the most radical development of the recent audiobook surge.

Listening isn't reading, but it's increasingly as good as reading, and sometimes better, and it's way more satisfying than watching the movie. "I believe if you listen to the audio," Gildea says, gently, "you have experienced the book. You don't have to use the verb 'read.' But you experienced the book."

As the heroine of Milkman comes to understand, the longer someone accepts her life in a totalitarian culture, the more likely she is to become totalitarian herself, one whose resigned motto is, as Burns puts it: "What's the point? There's no use in having any point."

What's required to break the totalitarian grip of incessant judgment, and of the conformity it breeds, is someone daring enough to stop separating the world into black or white, right or wrong, Catholic or Protestant, ours or theirs, afraid or not afraid, literary or non-literary, read or heard. When that happens, Burns says, a new motto emerges: "Attempts and repeated attempts, that's the way to do it."

Break the tradition and listen to the book you always meant to read.

We are caught in an endless cycle of mindless consumerism and throwing things away. But there is a better way, argues Benjamin Leszcz. Making do is about taming the reflex to discard, replace or upgrade; it's about using things well, until they are used up
Saturday, July 13, 2019 – Print Edition, Page O1

Benjamin Leszcz is a partner at Whitman Emorson, a design studio in Toronto. He worked previously as a magazine writer and editor.

Several years ago, while living in London, my wife met Prince Charles at an event associated with the Prince's Foundation, where she worked. She returned with two observations: First, the Prince of Wales used two fingers - index and middle - when he pointed. Second, Charles's suit had visible signs of mending. A Google search fails to substantiate the double-barrelled gesture, but the Prince's penchant for patching has been well documented. Last year, the journalist Marion Hume discovered a cardboard box containing more than 30 years of off-cuts and leftover materials from the Prince's suits, tucked away in a corner at his Savile Row tailor, Anderson & Sheppard. "I have always believed in trying to keep as many of my clothes and shoes going for as long as possible ... through patches and repairs," he told Ms. Hume. "In this way, I tend to be in fashion once every 25 years."

As it happens, double-breasted suits are rather on-trend. But more notable is Charles' sartorial philosophy, which could not be timelier.

The Prince comes from a tradition of admirable frugality - the Queen reuses gift-wrap - but his inclination to repair rather than replace, to wear his clothes until they wear out, is an apt antidote to our increasingly disposable times. Most modern consumers are not nearly so resourceful: The average Canadian buys 70 new pieces of clothing each year, about 60 of which ultimately wind up in a landfill. (Thrift stores only sell one in four pieces of donated clothing.) According to a British study, the average article of women's clothing is worn seven times before it's discarded.

Our bloated culture of consumption extends far beyond clothing.

Each year, Canadian adults spend about $9,000 for consumer packaged goods - about twice as much as 25 years ago. We replace our smartphones every 25 months. We swap out TVs like toothbrushes. We browse for Instant Pots, pet-hair-removal gloves and spa bath pillows when we're at dinner, when we're driving and when we're drunk.

Shopping isn't just convenient; it's inescapable. The shiny and new is seldom more than a click and a day away.

Unsurprisingly, we are drowning in stuff. Despite the average Canadian home doubling in size over the past generation - and family size shrinking - the self-storage industry is booming, with nearly 3,000 jam-packed facilities nationwide. And that's just the stuff we keep: Landfills are overflowing. China has stopped taking much of our recycling. Africa is refusing our used clothing. And the Great Pacific Garbage Patch is one-and-a-half times the size of Ontario - and growing.

Worse yet, we are spending money we don't have: The average Canadian has about $30,000 of non-mortgage debt. Ralph Waldo Emerson put it best: "Things are in the saddle, And ride mankind." We are increasingly desperate for a way out. For many, salvation has come via Marie Kondo, author of The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up. Ms. Kondo's KonMari method centres on a now-famous question: Does this thing I own spark joy for me? If not, it is to be discarded. Others have found emancipation via figures such as Leo Babauta, Dave Bruno and Tammy Strobel, avowed minimalists who own 50, 100 and 72 things, respectively.

It is easy to understand the appeal of these alternative ideologies of consumerism, both of which reflect the same fundamental truth: All this stuff isn't making us happy. Minimalism is simple but extreme; KonMari has broader appeal, promising a more fulfilling relationship with things, once we've purged ourselves of the non-joy-producing inventory. But KonMari asks both far too much of our things, and not nearly enough. When Prince Charles opens his closet, surely he does not ask if his fine doublebreasted suit sparks joy. Instead, he asks: "Does this fine doublebreasted suit fulfill my need for today, which is to wear a fine double-breasted suit while pointing at my subjects with two fingers?" It is a profoundly simple question, the spirit of which has been lost entirely today. In asking this question, Charles affirms his position as an unlikely champion for the forgotten virtue of making do.

Making do is a deeply pragmatic philosophy. It means asking of our things the only question we should ever ask of them: "Can you fulfill your intended use for me?" The answer - if we can be honest, and resist a moment of discomfort, inconvenience or boredom - is, extraordinarily often, yes. Making do is about taming the reflex to discard, replace or upgrade; it's about using things well, and using them until they are used up. Taken literally, it simply means making something perform - making it do what it ought to do.

If Marie Kondo delights in discarding, making do is about agonizing over it, admitting that we probably should not have bought that thing in the first place. Instead of thanking our outgoing goods for their meagre service, per Ms. Kondo, making do means admonishing ourselves for being so thoughtless in the first place.

Ditching something costs us, ecologically and cosmically; it should sting. And it should teach us to think more carefully about the real value of things.

As Juliet Schor writes in Plenitude: The New Economics of True Wealth, "We don't need to be less materialistic, as the standard formulation would have it, but more so." By becoming more materialistic, in this deeper sense, we can radically reorient our relationship with things. In this way, we can not only mitigate the high cost of thoughtless consumption, saving us money and the planet harm, but also, we might just wind up a whole lot happier.

Making do, in times of scarcity, is straightforward: If our weekly sugar ration is 200 grams, then we get by. In the context of abundance, it's complicated. How do we set limits when more, or new, is easily within reach?

The challenge, of course, is that making do is at odds with human nature. As products of evolution, we are predisposed to seek novelty, variety and excess; now, we hunt for bargains, not mastodons. Even Adam Smith, the forefather of homo economicus - that perfectly rational, utilityseeking consumer of classical economics - wrote in The Theory of Moral Sentiments in 1759 that "frivolous objects ... [are] often the secret motive of the most serious and important pursuits."

In other words, to be frivolous is to be human. To aspire to pure pragmatism - to own only necessities - is misguided. "The fundamental question of what is essential and what is not has been a moving target, at least since the 15th century," says Frank Trentmann, author of Empire of Things: How We Became a World of Consumers. "Every generation complains that the lower orders are suddenly wanting things that their parents or grandparents didn't have." Making do accommodates for this kind of hedonic adaptation; it allows for wideranging materialism, provided it is thoughtful, critical and honest.

For me, making do is an aspiration; I often fall short. I succeeded, however, with my previous television, an off-brand, earlygeneration flatscreen. Friends mocked me, but in an era in which we happily watch threeinch screens, I deemed my 12year-old Olevia adequate. (My company recently replaced its boardroom TV; I took the cast-off home, and gave the Olevia to a friend.) It was a small but meaningful victory, especially for household appliances, which tend to visit our homes briefly en route to the landfill.

As a parent, in an era in which toy companies have stretched commercials to 22-minute-long episodes, temptation is everywhere. Still, I'm a hardcore proponent of the cardboard-box theory of toys (the box - and later, the unboxing - trumps the contents). I virtually never buy toys.

When my kids ask, I say, "We don't really buy stuff like that."

(My eldest is 5; wish me luck.)

My wife rejected my pitch for our kids to wear potato sacks until the age of 12, presumably because most potato sacks are paper nowadays. Still, we opt for hand-me-downs or second-hand where possible. And we supplement with fast fashion, seeking clothes that last, at least, until they cease to fit anyone in our home.

For grown-ups, however, our relationship with clothing is perhaps the most unhinged. The novelist Ann Patchett, in her terrific New York Times column about giving up shopping for a year, recounts interviewing Tom Hanks before a large audience: "Previously, I would have believed that such an occasion demanded a new dress and lost two days of my life looking for one. In fact, Tom Hanks had never seen any of my dresses, nor had the people in the audience. I went to my closet, picked out something weather appropriate and stuck it in my suitcase. Done."

By disavowing shopping, Ms.

Patchett embraced the spirit of making do. Had she snagged that dress on a nail that evening, she could have made do on an even higher level. Getting the most out of things often requires investment, and the economics of repair can be challenging: It may be cheaper to buy a new sweater, made in Bangladesh, than to pay a Canadian tailor to fix an old one. Ideally, we'd mend it ourselves - a basic repertoire of DIY repair skills is wonderful way to make do - but either way, there's deep value in reviving the thing.

Never mind that a mended garment is perfectly functional; it's often improved, imbued with a hint of effortless imperfection.

Worn clothing can be a marker of status in its own right, as it is for The Bonfire of the Vanities' Sherman McCoy. Tom Wolfe describes the Master of the Universe's "worn but formidable rubberized British riding mac ... after the fashion of the Boston Cracked Shoe look." (The look references a historical style, among New England patricians, to wear wellcared-for but dramatically aged shoes.) To certain elites, then, making do is familiar as a style if not an ethos. The Official Preppy Handbook advises, "Never replace anything until you have exhausted all possibility of repair, restoration or rehabilitation. No matter what it is, they don't make it as well as they used to." The key to a making-do revolution, of course, would be for the style to sweep the country. "I've always thought, there may come a point where the way to distinguish yourself and signal status is precisely by getting away from this increasing acceleration of consumption," Mr. Trentmann says. "To stand out because you drive an old car."

Until that day comes, getting mileage from our things should at least engender a sense of pride, and of mastery. This is a more difficult proposition with electronics, appliances and cars, for which technology has largely rendered repairs of any kind impossible.

Still, making do means making an effort to preserve or repair, and spending more than simple economics might justify.

The corollary here is that making do means avoiding in the first place products that aren't worth repairing. The problem of durability preoccupies Dieter Rams, the designer of Braun's most iconic mid-century products. Mr.

Ram's mantra is "less, but better," and in the recent documentary about his career, he rails against "thoughtless design and thoughtless consumption." For Mr. Rams, it is incumbent on designers to make products that endure. (It's a cruel irony that Apple, whose product design owes so much to Mr. Rams, has become a paragon of built-in obsolescence.)

Byron and Dexter Peart, who made their names as fashion-accessory designers, are following Mr. Rams with Goodee, an online marketplace of ethically produced housewares. Goodee products "are meant to be used everyday and passed down for generations," the twin brothers say.

"For products to be essential, they must be designed with rigour and built to last, both from a standpoint of quality manufacturing, as well as a timeless aesthetic."

Many fashion brands lure customers with the promise of enduring essentials, from the luxury house Bottega Veneta (former creative director, Tomas Maier: "I want to own one suit") to the women's wear line Cuyana ("Welcome to fewer, better things").

Luxury watches do it, too: "You never actually own a Patek Philippe. You merely look after it for the next generation." (Though my $50 Timex keeps on ticking, too.) Of course, for people with the means, places such as Anderson & Shepard, or the shoemaker Church's, perform miraculous repairs as a matter of course. Roche Bobois and Stickley make furniture that retains its value - if it doesn't appreciate. Making do can mean embracing luxury, transforming our conception of heirlooms from relics of the past to ambitions for the future. But it also means patronizing more accessible brands such as LL Bean, Filson, Barbour, Patagonia, Arc'teryx and the North Face, all of which repair their goods, and some of which buy back, refurbish and resell worn garments.

Even more accessible is Uniqlo, whose unadorned designs eschew trends (and whose $30 oxford-cloth dress shirts are my uniform of choice). In The Atlantic this year, Gillian B. White wrote, "in an era of disposable fashion, a Uniqlo garment, made from hearty materials and cut in a timeless style, can feel like an investment piece." It's an overstatement - my shirts, at least, depreciate steadily - but it underscores the role of design in reshaping consumption.

Another key to making do is scratching our acquisitive itch in creative ways. Thanks to my kids, I have become reacquainted with the Toronto Public Library, where I can indulge my impulse to acquire books I think I'll read. (Typically by the third renewal, my deluded literary ambitions dissipate.) Following Rent the Runway, scores of clothing-rental services are launching, from mass brands such as Express to local startups such as STMNT, which was founded by a pair of Western University grads. Even IKEA is launching a rental program in 30 countries.

Purchases, such as tattoos, are permanent decisions based on temporary feelings; renting, or borrowing, is often a better response.

As we become increasingly dismayed by our limitless consumption, positive alternatives abound. But too often, alternative modes of consumption simply become additional modes of consumption. In pursuit of fewer, better, we sometimes end up with more, more. Of course, Mr. Rams is correct: Disposability is a design problem. But more than that, it is a psychology problem.

Making do has a societal scope, but it is a profoundly personal project.

In the final pages of The LifeChanging Magic of Tidying Up, Ms.Kondo writes, "I can think of no greater happiness in life than to be surrounded only by the things I love." It is a powerful statement, entirely on-brand for Ms. Kondo.

It's also a bleak reflection of how distracted our stuff makes us from the things that actually make us happy: a sense of belonging, of community, of purpose. Time with family and friends. Great books. Long meals.

We know all this, and yet: We are living amidst an unprecedented epidemic of loneliness, experiencing friendships through Instagram; consuming culture through Netflix; and walking alone through our neighbourhoods, AirPods in place, our faces illuminated by Amazon's frictionless mobile shopping experience. We are isolated and unmoored. And with nothing to tell us who we are, we shop and shop and shop, filling our carts when we really just want to fill our lives.

Laurie Santos, who created Yale University's most popular course, Psychology and the Good Life, often says, "Our intuitions about what to do to be happy are wrong." This simple truth is at the heart of making do, which emphatically reminds us that our things will never make us happy.

Our things are a healthy, normal, inevitable part of life, but in the end, they are just things. By asking of them only what they can give us - not love, or joy, or a sense of purpose or connection - we are far more likely to get it.

That doesn't guarantee happiness, but it clears the path, highlighting an essential, unmissable truth: The stuff of life isn't stuff at all.

Associated Graphic



Tuesday, July 16, 2019

When art becomes a hashtag, do museums lose their meaning?
Instagram-friendly installations are catering to the desires of young people to share something beautiful. But taking selfies leaves less time to contemplate, appreciate and be challenged by what we see
Saturday, July 20, 2019 – Print Edition, Page O1

LONDON -- Senior curator at the Hayward Gallery in London

Around a decade ago, while abroad, I remember attending my first socialmedia-specific viewing for an art exhibition. It was held in the evening, there was a DJ, sushi and cocktails - this was not a normal press viewing. The museum definitely had "young and hip" in its event brief. What was fascinating was that, unlike normal art critics, who dutifully carry around branded media folders and small notebooks, listen politely to speeches and generally stay within their own private thoughts (lest another journalist steal their critical take on a show), these influencers were actually very social with each other. They helped to set up and pose for each other's photos. They shared tips on lighting, angles and which lenses to use. They brought props. And they weren't actually that interested in the sushi - or the art, for that matter.

Nowadays, 10 years later, I've been having multiple cases of déjà vu. People I see at the start of my visit to an exhibition, posing in front of artworks to have their pictures taken, seem to be appearing later the same day, still in the galleries, still posing, sometimes in front of the same artworks, but wearing entirely different clothing. This behaviour is increasingly common, I am reliably informed by gallery docents: These guests pack a few sets of clothes, change in the bathrooms and then spend hours trying to take the perfect snap for Instagram. They're not media influencers; they're just digital natives out to take some good photos to post on their feeds.

As a curator, I find these related observations curious, if a little disturbing. These two different types of gallery-goers are clearly interested in creating something that relates to the art on display, but is not about the art per se.

They're after high-impact images that will circulate well and attract likes and followers.

The recent spate of so-called museums sprouting up around the world, such as the Museum of Ice Cream, Toronto's Eye Candy and Museum of Illusion, the Color Factory, Egg House, Candytopia, Dream Machine and Happy Place are also reflections of this shift.

These high-energy attractions are filled with themed decor, luminescent colours and interactive props, and have been seemingly designed to facilitate the perfect Instagram photo-op. As the social-media network has grown in popularity, the ways in which it connects people to art and visual culture have also become more diverse: as a travel gateway, living archive, metric for success, marketing platform and even an aspirational addiction.

More than other social networks, Instagram suits the field of art. Its retro-styled square format and creative filters befit the image-centric artworld, and its long text fields have informative potential - like descriptive captions - and also scope for the opinions, anecdotes and musings of the user. I'd even suggest that emojis are a part of this visual appeal, being a kind of pictorial language on their own. With more than a billion users, Instagram's reach is both wide and pervasive.

In the early days of social media, museums feared that allowing unrestricted photography of their collections would mean that people would view artworks on screens from the comfort of their own homes, causing footfall to plummet. Those fears turned out to be largely unfounded and, to the contrary, just as people flock to see what others are looking at, they also do what others do. What now comprises an "audience engagement" strategy can actually increase attendance.

Museum collections and temporary exhibitions no longer have photography restrictions, and hashtag signage is usually prominently placed, allowing all of the shared content to be monitored and summarized in graphs and infographics. Most institutional Instagram channels are run by marketing or communications staff who analyze these statistics, and in turn aim to improve them by convening the aforementioned social-media gatherings, as well as extending invitations to influencers to attend, respond to or collaborate on projects. This self-perpetuating economy of sharing then leads to a competitiveness across organizations in the endless pursuit of more likes.

Large amounts of personal or inferred data about users enables Instagram to provide highly targeted advertising, and museums, like everyone else, take full advantage of this service.

For cash-strapped public organizations, social-media marketing is actually a more cost-effective way to reach intended audiences than more traditional advertising formats such as newspaper or poster campaigns.

Advertising revenue is of course the other half of the sharing economy, and is highly profitable for Instagram and its parent company, Facebook.

A recent article showed that music-streaming services that pay artists per play are actually causing a change in the structure of pop music, as musicians and producers optimize tracks to achieve high play counts. Songs are becoming shorter and intros are disappearing in favour of punchy chorus lead-ins to engage listeners before they swipe on to the next track. In the same way these streaming services are actually changing the type of content produced, the phenomenon is also happening in the visual sphere, with a new kind of experiential visitor attraction growing up around Instagram. These destinations, such as @museumoficecream or @wearehappyplace, go into interior-design overdrive, bringing together immersive, hypercolour themed rooms for the sole purpose of being 'grammed.

Inside these 21st-century playgrounds for image-conscious adults, one does not find rides or games, but instead a series of environments and installations that serve as scenes and backgrounds for photos. The Museum of Ice Cream, which opened in New York in 2016 (and is now in San Francisco) is generally attributed as being the first of these venues, and featured giant popsicles, a banana room and a sprinkle pool, mostly co-ordinated in shades of pink. Since then, dozens of instamuseums have opened around the world - permanent, pop-up and travelling. In Toronto, HideSeek's installations are meant to "to make you feel like a kid again," while Eye Candy lets you take aspirational photos in a room set up to look like a private jet. Insta-museums are set for maximum optical stimulation with interactive elements: Pirouette inside an oversized snow globe, get dizzy in a mirror maze or dive into a poolsized ball pit.

While there's plenty of fun to be had, there's also a certain amount of anxiety induced by trying to look like you're having as much fun as everyone else on the venue's Instagram channel. What these often self-labelled museums lack is a sense of autonomous thought and critical-mindedness. To be fair, they don't propose to be galleries of contemporary art, nor aim to replace "traditional" museum and gallery spaces.

The experience that insta-museums offer is perhaps actually not such a new idea; not unlike a prop-filled turn-of-the-century portrait studio, they provide imaginative and surreal backdrops for staged photographs. Instead of wearing formal attire and pretending to board a steamer to cross the Atlantic, people today stick their heads through a giant pizza-slice cutout that stands in a landscape of toppings and mozzarella. These attractions are also there to make money - a number of pop-up experiences are themed according to a sponsoring brand's identity and are heavily badged with company logos and hashtags. Theirs is an act of consumptive reification rather than one of enquiry - of entertainment and not art. Recently, I was bowled over to discover that one venue in New York charges US$40 admission - substantially more than the much-maligned entrance fee of the Museum of Modern Art.

The combination of late capitalism and a culture of aspiration has led to the privileging of experience, what business entrepreneurs B. Joseph Pine II and James Gilmore called "the Experience Economy."

As they saw it, this consumerfocused epoch evolved out of the service economy, with successful businesses borrowing from theatre to stage and perform their products in order to generate an emotional response in the consumer. Mr. Pine and Mr. Gilmore published their book The Experience Economy back in 1999 - the iPhone hadn't been invented yet, and social media was still in its infancy.

Twenty years on, much of what they proposed or foreshadowed is fully in evidence on Instagram: from acrobatic yoga poses (#yogaeverydamnday) to humblebrag beach vacations (#sorrynotsorry) to gratuitous shots of wellpresented entrées (#foodporn).

If the Experience Economy relies on theatricality, then with each post a user performs a glimpse of their online persona, sending #FOMO waves of jealousy rippling through the ether.

In the art world, Instagram has become the social-media platform of choice for artists, curators and collectors because its strengths as a digital network reinforce and extend the conversations across global networks. Like the internet in general and all social-media platforms, it connects people, but it also does so visually.

You can see art from remote places and keep track of different exhibitions, biennials and fairs that either are too great in number or involve too big a jet-setting carbon footprint to attend. You can gain insight into an artist's practice or their production and, as the platform is relatively mature, you can search an incredibly vast image and video archive using hashtags. Instagram also maintains a relatively democratic ethos, allowing anyone with a smartphone to join and participate, giving individual artists and curators voices alongside the institutions of art.

But as a curatorial research tool, Instagram is also hampered by its nature as a social network.

Content is rapid-fire and - once you've double-tapped "like" on a particular image - is also pretty much disposable. Just as you wouldn't use Google Images to research an exhibition, Instagram tends to attract a certain type of user-generated content based on likes, hashtags and followers.

Most of the time, posts are images which look spectacular or ridiculous or humorous, even more so with photo filters (including bunny ears). It's hard to find a moment of concentration among the infinite scroll of visual hyperbole.

Unlike Pinterest, the social network popular for grouping images onto virtual mood boards and sharing them, Instagram is geared toward the incessant production of new content, rather than how content can be productively organized and made relevant.

Worse still, in 2016, the year Instagram overtook Twitter in popularity, it introduced an algorithm for "personalizing" content for users. Instead of displaying images in the reverse chronological order of their posting: "the order of photos and videos in your feed will be based on the likelihood you'll be interested in the content, your relationship with the person posting and the timeliness of the post." If content bias wasn't already inherent in the social network, this change formalized an echo chamber - posts by the people one follows are not treated equally. Instagram is curating our feeds. Thus, the potential for making new discoveries is increasingly minimal. If I'm looking for emerging artists and unique artworks - precisely what my friends, peers and social circle are not looking at - my filter bubble basically excludes any chance of serendipitous discovery.

But isn't there a whole generation of artists making Instagram art? It's true that numerous artists have a social-media presence and some may have even found influencer levels of success by obtaining large numbers of followers.

However, most artists aren't interested in making their actual artwork (as opposed to images of it) contingent on a digital platform owned by a private multinational corporation, never mind the conservational considerations of maintaining the 2019 hardware and software to run it. Only five years have passed since the term "postinternet art" was coined and it has already fallen out of use, even though the ideas behind it - art made about the effect of the internet - are increasingly relevant, if normalized. Amalia Ulman (@amaliaulman) is probably the best-known artist to have made artwork on Instagram that has also become a photographic success in the physical gallery. But as a kind of behavioural readymade that replicates a widespread behaviour on the app, her voyeuristic selfies emulate the kind of fictive malaise of aspirational posting. Forget postinternet - it seems we're still stuck in postmodernism.

While some people say we live in an age of screens, I actually think the age we live in has less to do with surfaces. Screens on their own are just black glass, just an interface; it's the relationships and experiences they facilitate that matter. Art is about how we relate to each other and the world around us; if social media is the 2010s version of these relationships, then of course it has a place in and around art. Artists have always been concerned with the viewer's experience of the artwork, and they are of course the first viewers of their work. How a visiting public experiences artworks and what they choose to interact with (and take photos of) might be beyond the artists' control. The question for museum curatorial and programming teams is how to successfully balance artistic integrity with popularity, how to lead rather than follow.

In an age of increasing inattention, what the museum offers is a space of solace. This is sometimes a space for contemplation and appreciation, but can also be a space for social change. What I love about experiencing art is its potential for challenging how we think about the world; it's not necessarily something that you (double-tap) like. You also can't experience this while you're picking which filter to use or trying to fix the auto-correct of an artist's name as hashtag. On average, a museum or gallery visitor spends a shockingly quick 15 to 30 seconds looking at an artwork, while an Instagram post surely scrolls past in less than a second. I think that alongside our most immersive and experiential exhibitions, museums should also offer a device-free day - to encourage people to look closer and with sustained attention, even if for a few more seconds.

Associated Graphic

The Museum of Ice Cream, which opened in New York in 2016, features giant popsicles, a banana room and a sprinkle pool.


Happy Place in Toronto is just one of the many venues - some permanent, others temporary or travelling - that bring together immersive, hypercolour themed rooms that appeal to users of Instagram and other social media platforms.


Since Neil Armstrong's 'one small step for man' in 1969, humans have trod on only a small part of the lunar surface. Now, the moon is attracting a new generation of space explorers and entrepreneurs
Friday, July 12, 2019 – Print Edition, Page A8

Next month, Christy Caudill, a doctoral student at the University of Western Ontario, will be playing the part of a robot as she picks her way across a rock-strewn terrain of hardened and broken lava. She and her team will carry a set of scientific instruments built to examine the geology of another world. At the same time, in a mission control room in London, Ont., other colleagues will study the images and data streaming in from those instruments, as though they are receiving them from the Schrodinger basin, a 320 kilometre wide impact crater on the far side of the moon that has attracted the attention of planetary scientists because of its intriguing volcanic features.

For two weeks, both sides of the exercise will be immersed in a simulation called CanMoon, designed to test procedures for operating a Canadian-built lunar rover. Only after a 10 hour shift each day will Ms. Caudill and her colleagues allow themselves to remember that they are on Lanzarote, one of the Canary Islands, which features some of the same rock types as the rover's potential landing site.

"It's all about gaining insight into how people think when they're seeing through the rover's eyes and to really discern what's going on as they try to meet their mission goals," said Ms. Caudill, a veteran of several previous simulations. "As far as I'm concerned, we won't be on Lanzarote, we'll be on the moon."

That sense of actuality reflects the moon's recent return to prominence as a destination for space explorers, almost 50 years after Neil Armstrong and Edwin (Buzz) Aldrin stepped and hopped across its surface.

For Ms. Caudill, who has participated in real-life robotic missions to Mars, there is a certain wistfulness in this. As a scientist, Mars is undeniably her destination of choice, she said. But human missions to Mars remain a distant goal fraught with unsolved challenges, including what to do about the heavy doses of radiation astronauts will be exposed to during a long interplanetary flight.

The moon has the advantage of being Earth's celestial companion. While it is still a thousand times farther than the International Space Station (ISS), it presents more manageable risks for humans and a genuine business case for entrepreneurs looking for a stake in the next phase of space exploration.

Already this year there is a sense of acceleration toward the moon. In January, China became the first country to place an unmanned lander on the moon's far side, another step toward its own manned mission. In June, India launched its first lunar lander. And in April, SpaceIL, an Israeli non-profit, narrowly missed becoming the first privately funded organization to successfully place a spacecraft on the moon's surface. All of this suggests that after years of uncertainty about where deep-space exploration is heading, the extraterrestrial compass needle is swinging back toward Earth's nearest neighbour. And unlike what happened after the Apollo program ended, the politics, economics and technology of space are lining up for something more permanent.

"The way in which it continues to be discussed is that we're not going to go back to visit, we're going to stay this time," said Mike Greenley, president of MDA, which built and supports the Canadarm 2 aboard the ISS.

MDA is now part of Coloradobased Maxar Technologies, the company recently tapped by NASA to supply the first component of a smaller orbiting space station called the Lunar Gateway.

In February, Canada became the first country to commit to the Gateway as an international partner. MDA is a leading contender to build Canada's contribution: a more autonomous, artificial-intelligence-guided version of the arm that currently appears on the back of the $5 bill.

But while the Gateway - like the ISS before it - is expected to grow gradually through international agreements between national space agencies, the real catalysts in the new push toward the moon are the increasing ranks of private companies looking to do it for themselves. "As the Earth's economic sphere grows, people are realizing the moon is an asset," said Christian Sallaberger, president and chief executive of Canadensys Aerospace, a space-technology company based in Bolton, Ont., that has seen moon-related projects taking up a growing share of its business.

LESSONS LEARNED Poets and engineers alike have reflected on the enduring allure of the moon. Once a metaphor for the unattainable, it became an ever-present focus in the early days of space flight, as the United States and the Soviet Union vied to be the first to land humans on the lunar surface. So intense was the race that it's hard to imagine how the first chapter of space exploration would have unfolded had fate not provided Earthlings with such a visible and tantalizing prize.

As the U.S. Apollo program wound down after six manned landings from 1969 to 1972, NASA moved on to the space shuttle and then the ISS. The new theatre of operation was low Earth orbit, and the new paradigm was all about making space routine accessible to many more individuals from many more countries, including Canada. Over the years, this second chapter of space history had its share of tragedies and setbacks. Yet, its outcomes have included almost two decades of continuous human presence in orbit, along with some key lessons about how the next chapter is likely to unfold.

The first lesson is about the importance of robots. This comes courtesy of the Canadarm 2, which has become indispensable to operations on the ISS. When the arm was still on the drawing board in the 1990s, some were skeptical that it would be of much use after the station was complete. Now, it seems to be used for almost everything, including catching visiting spacecraft. According to MDA, the past three-month period has been among the busiest in the Canadarm's history.

"We've learned a lot of things operating a robot on the station for the past 18 years," said Gilles Leclerc, director-general of space exploration for the Canadian Space Agency.

Canada's track record with the arm has set the stage for its contribution to the Lunar Gateway.

But the second lesson to come from the space-station era, the expanding role of the private sector as an accelerator of space exploration, is having an even

larger impact. The trend began in 2006, when NASA, already looking to decommission its fleet of space shuttles after two disastrous accidents, began inviting industry players to take over the job of ferrying supplies to the ISS.

This opened the door to a new cadre of space service companies, including Elon Musk's SpaceX.

Using the same blueprint, NASA recently awarded contracts to three companies to carry scientific payloads to the moon in the next two years. One of them, Pittsburgh-based Astrobotic Technology, has also inked an agreement with Canadensys to send some of the Ontario company's gear to the lunar surface. The developments are a further sign that the envelope of commercial activity in space is expanding and that entrepreneurs are getting serious about developing their lunar strategies.

DOUBLE VISIONS Canada's decision to join the Lunar Gateway project came after months of lobbying from the industry as well as from NASA chief administrator Jim Bridenstine. Yet, within weeks of Prime Minister Justin Trudeau announcing the commitment, the White House appeared to upend the entire plan by declaring that it wanted American astronauts walking on the lunar surface again by 2024 - the final year of what would be U.S. President Donald Trump's second term.

The announcement caught even NASA by surprise and it raised questions in Canada about whether the Gateway had effectively been sidelined by politics.

Last month, NASA unveiled a retooled moon program to follow through on the Trump directive.

Symbolically dubbed "Artemis" - the twin sister of Apollo in Greek mythology - the plan explicitly includes landing the first woman on the moon as part of its inaugural crew. The news immediately attracted more attention than the Gateway, which is designed to operate for long stretches without any human presence.

Despite this split objective, Mr.

Leclerc said the message from NASA is that Canada's contribution to the Gateway is still needed by its originally planned 2025 delivery date - and sooner if possible. One reason is that it still requires a significant amount of energy to fly straight to the lunar surface and back. In such a mission scenario, even the fuel for the return trip has to be brought down to the landing site and lifted back up again. Apollo missions got around this by sending a combined lander and an orbiter to the moon. For Artemis, the plan includes docking with the Gateway as the transfer point for astronauts en route to a lunar landing.

There are serious questions about whether NASA can make the 2024 deadline for its U.S.-only lunar landing. For one thing, the lander itself has not yet been designed and tested. And it is easy to imagine how budget battles with Congress or a change in administration could delay the plan.

The Gateway also has its detractors, but proponents say that if the overarching goal of the lunar program is establishing a long-term presence beyond low Earth orbit, then an orbiting platform that can serve as a test bed for deep-space missions is the way to go. That perception is reinforced by expectations that Europe, Japan and Russia will join the United States and Canada as partners in the Gateway, which would make the project harder to kill.

"History has shown that international collaboration fosters a more persistent activity," MDA's Mr. Greenley said.

WHEELS ON THE GROUND At the same time, businesses that are looking to the moon as an economic opportunity are not waiting for the Gateway to be built and are not thinking only of lunar orbit. For example, next month, Canadensys will begin road-testing a wheel designed for a lunar rover. The test involves hours of rolling the wheel on a turntable covered with simulated lunar soil. Similar projects are under way by aerospace companies looking to develop moonready hardware, including cameras, sensors and drills.

To boost Canada's presence in the expanding moon market and its technological spinoffs, this year's federal budget included a $150-million injection dubbed the Lunar Exploration Accelerator Program (LEAP). In the first stage of the program, Mr. Leclerc said that as of last month, the space agency had received more than a hundred pitches from various companies and collaborations, of which a smaller number will be invited to submit formal proposals.

Scientists, too, are anticipating new opportunities for lunar exploration. While the moon is not Mars, it is full of mysteries that have lingered since the Apollo era. Over the years, researchers have developed long lists of possible landing sites they would like to explore - with both robotic and manned spacecraft. The missions would combine two research goals: studying the moon's long-preserved geologic record for clues to the deep history of Earth and the rest of the solar system; and sussing out resources that could be valuable to an expanding lunar community, including ice near the moon's poles and gases such as hydrogen and oxygen, which could be trapped in minerals and used for energy and life support.

This is why next month's CanMoon simulation in Lanzarote, run jointly by Western and the University of Winnipeg, was designed with a specific mission opportunity in mind. That mission, known as Heracles, would be a combined European, Japanese and Canadian effort to put a small lander with a rover on the moon in the coming decade, once the Gateway is in place.

For Cassandra Marion, a PhD student at Western who is managing the simulation, the exercise is not just about developing technologies and procedures, but above all about producing a cohort of Canadian-trained scientists who are qualified to run lunar missions.

Whether those missions are done in partnership with other countries or as private ventures, she said, "we'll have people to donate to the cause." Join science reporter Ivan Semeniuk and a panel of experts for a live discussion about Canada's future on the moon, this coming Monday at 7 p.m. (ET) at The Globe and Mail Centre in Toronto (free for subscribers). Register at

Associated Graphic

Top: This lander model will be part of a joint European, Japanese and Canadian robotic mission, Heracles, going to the moon in the next decade.


Tuesday, July 16, 2019


A Friday news feature on the moon landing incorrectly said India's first lunar lander was launched in June.

Monday, July 15, 2019 – Print Edition, Page B15


Passed away at 81 years of age in Guelph, ON, on July 12, 2019.

Beloved husband of 57 years of Carol and cherished dad and father-in-law of Lesley and David Chernos, John and Heather, and Paul and Kristen. Adored grandpa of Naomi, Mattie, Betsy, Alex, Charlotte, Kaleigh and Emily.

Jack was born in Elora as a much loved son of Jean and Reg and brother to Joanne Harris.

A University of Toronto, McMaster and California (Berkeley) graduate, Jack was a dedicated teacher and enthusiastic coach for many years at Centennial C.V.I.

In memory of Jack please build a basement fort with your children, paddle and portage a canoe, perfect your loon and moose call, run up Mole Hill, sing joyfully and walk on a beach. Laugh heartily with new and old friends, cook and relish a wonderful meal and follow with keen interest your grandchildren's lives. Most importantly, look at your wife with the same light in your eyes as the day you met her and tell your family and friends you love them.

The family is grateful for all the support received from staff of ParaMed, Bayshore, Arbour Trails, Guelph General Hospital and Hospice Wellington. A family memorial service will be held at a later date.


Peacefully on Friday, July 12,2019 surrounded by family. Karyn Kalef. Caring daughter of Shirley and Marvin Latchman and Daughter-in-law Shirley Sobel and Cheryl Kalef and the late Harvey Kalef. Beloved wife of Randy.

Loving mother and mother-in-law of Shael and Jennifer Kalef, Ryan and Jessica Kalef, Jared Kalef, and Laura Kalef and Daniel Kornblum.

Dear sister of Linda Stein and Eric Mack, and Wendy Teperman and Bobby Grossman. Devoted grandmother of Logan, Alyssa, Noah, and Makenna Kalef. At Benjamin's Park Memorial Chapel, 2401 Steeles Avenue West (3 lights west of Dufferin) for service on Monday, July 15, 2019 at 2:30 p.m. Interment at Beth Tzedec Memorial Park.Memorial donations may be made to The Karyn Kalef Memorial Fund c/o The Benjamin Foundation, 416-780-0324.


July 20, 1934 July 10, 2019 Dad left life's dance floor with gentle grace, smiling goodbye to all who had accompanied him. We will fondly remember his Lancaster shuffle. Dad hoped growing old would take longer, but his dance with cancer over the past six years caused the music to stop. Life for Dad was not about accomplishments (although there were many), his life was about celebrating cherished moments with family and friends. He was always there for those that needed him and was a business mentor to many. His life-long passion for waterfowl hunting and fishing began on the St. Lawrence River in Lancaster. Sharing these activities with family and friends, along with crib and tall tales, continued right up to the end. Dad gave back more than he took by raising money for wetland preservation through Ducks Unlimited for 35 years. He felt his greatest blessings were his four children, Heather (Ed), Lori, Jody, and David (Sylvia).

Dad thanked us for being who we are and gave us unlimited love, respect, inspiration, values, and guidance. He was Bapa to Megan, Riley, Bronte, Taylor, Graydon and Jude, all of whom he adored.

Also important to Dad were his stepdaughter Trish, her husband Greg, and his niece Shelley MacPherson of Ottawa. Dad loved spending hours restoring antiques, bringing them back to their original beauty and sharing them with all. He will be remembered by his many friends for his hard work, his kindness, wonderful sense of humour and stories, which endeared him to anybody he met.

He never heard a pun that he could not expand upon. He was an avid skier and part of the community at Caledon Ski Club and played tennis until the end. Dad is survived by his lovely wife, soulmate, and best friend Johanna and by his first wife of 40 years who he also loved very much, Jean, wonderful mother of Heather, Lori, Jody, and David. At Dad's request there will be no funeral service but rather a Celebration of Life at a date to be determined.

Details will be available on w w w. fo r r e s t a n d t a y l o r . c o m If the measure of a good life is that it is lived for others, then Dad lived a wonderful life. We are better people for knowing him.

Memorial donations to Southlake Regional Health Centre Foundation: Regional Cancer Programs or Delta Waterfowl would be appreciatedbythefamily. Memorial condolences may be made at


G. Lorne McMorran died on Saturday, July 13, 2019 at the age of 88 years old with his family by his side. He leaves behind his wife Barbara, his two daughters, Deborah (& partner Jim), Valerie (& husband Bruno) and his two grandchildren, Sarah and David.

Brother of four surviving siblings, Marilyn, Alvin, Carol and Gloria, Lorne will be fondly remembered by his family and friends as loving husband and father as well as forty prideful years as a practicing dentist and Professor of Dentistry at U. of T.

The family will receive friends at the Humphrey Funeral Home A.W. Miles - Newbigging Chapel, 1403 Bayview Avenue (south of Davisville Avenue) from 5:00 8:00 p.m. on Wednesday, July 17th. Condolences may be forwarded through:


1934 - 2019

It is with great sadness the family of Paul Palmer announces his passing on Thursday, July 11, 2019. Paul died peacefully in his home at Amica Bayview Gardens, with family and his beloved dog Pandy, with him.

Paul was born in Barrie, Ontario to Goldie (née Grey) Palmer and Hartley Ramsay Palmer. Paul is lovingly remembered by his sons Tony (Donna) and Ian Palmer, daughter Heather Palmer, step sons Rob and Bill (Kim) Leak and his grandchildren Emily, Will, Mac, Hayley and Charlie.

He always said he felt lucky to have fallen in love twice, first to Mary (nee Breckenridge) Palmer (1936-1989) and then to Catherine (nee Dauphinee) Leak.

Paul went to Barrie District Collegiate Institute and was among the first group of students to graduate the Bachelor of Commerce program at University of McMaster in 1955. Upon graduation he joined Clarkson, Gordon & Co in Toronto and in 1959 he graduated from the Ontario Institute of Chartered Accountants. In 1962 he left Clarkson, Gordon to hold senior executive positions at York Steel Construction, Kilmer Van Nostrand Co. Limited, Denison Mines and a collection of wholly and partly owned subsidiary companies.

In 1976, he joined Norcen Energy Resources, moved to Calgary, Alberta in 1985 and retired as Chief Financial Officer in 1995.

Paul was a mathematical whiz who was honoured as a fellow twice: Fellow of the Certified Professional Accountants (FCPA) and Fellow of the Chartered Accountants (FCA). He also shared his accounting and business skills as Chairman of the Canadian Accounting Standards Board, being a major force in revising and re-writing the modern standards that exist today. After retirement Paul sat on several Boards.

Paul was passionate about golf.

He started young, and while he played all over the world, he most enjoyed his courses and golf friends in Florida, Toronto, Calgary and Muskoka. However, he always had the greater good in his heart, and was instrumental in the conversion of a golf course to Earl Bales Park, which is the largest public park in North York, actively enjoyed by families yearround.

Above all else, Paul was a family man. He loved unconditionally and was fiercely proud of his children, in particular the manner in which they love and support each other. All who knew Paul would comment on his quick witted, often subtle, somewhat zany sense of humour and tendency towards practical jokes. The stories are plentiful as laughter was the medicine for everything, even at the end of life.

Paul was supported by a wonderful care team from Amica Bayview Gardens, Living Assistance Services, VHA Home Healthcare, Randi Lazarus Companion Care and Dr. Nunes Vaz. Special mention goes to Titzia and her team who supported the ability for Pandy to continue to live with Paul. Thank you to all.

A Celebration of Remembrance (aka story sharing and belly laughing) will be held at 11:00 a.m. on Tuesday, July 23, 2019 at Humphrey Funeral Home A.W. Miles - Newbigging Chapel, 1403 Bayview Avenue (south of Davisville). A private family internment will immediately follow at Mount Pleasant Cemetery.

In lieu of flowers, if desired, a donation can be made to a charity of your choice. Condolences may be forwarded through


Lorraine passed away peacefully on July 9, 2019 at Leaside Retirement Home, at the age of 88. Predeceased by her husband, Christopher B. Paterson, and her sisters Dorothy (Sydney) Gordon Buck and Gert (Irving) Neamtan. Dear stepmother to Susan (Martin), Douglas (Donna), and Claire (Cameron) Reed. Nana to Kristin, Alex, Kelsey, Reed, and Corby. Aunt to Paula (Larry) Goldenberg, Stuart (Louise) Gordon, Karen (Howard) Gordon, Donna (Charles) Gordon Zuckerman, Susan Gordon, Janet (Rod) O'Reilly, Judith (Rick) Neamtan, and Nancy (Victor) Neamtan. Great-aunt to 10 nieces and nephews.

Lorraine received a B.A. from University College in 1952, and an LL.B. from Osgoode Hall Law School in 1959. She was called to the Ontario Bar in 1959, and became a partner at McMillan, Binch and then Kingsmill, Jennings.

She was appointed Queen's Counsel 1973, and was awarded the Jubilee Medal in 1977. She was appointed a judge of the Ontario District Court, served on the General Division of the Ontario Court of Justice and, after her judicial career, as a member of the federal Pension Appeals Board.

Lorraine's professional and personal accomplishments were remarkable.

She was a trailblazer in the legal profession, and the first woman to be elected President of the Ontario Bar Association. She held many volunteer positions, including the Ontario College of Art and the Board of Trade of Metropolitan Toronto, and was a member of the Women's Law Association of Ontario, the Medico-Legal Society of Toronto, the Empire Club of Canada, the Royal Canadian Yacht Club, and the Toronto Golf Club, among others.

Lorraine had many interests, such as skiing, piano, languages, and horseback riding. She arranged picnic trips to the theatre in Stratford and Niagara-onthe-Lake. She loved music, taking her grandchildren to "The Nutcracker," and providing them with dance and violin lessons. Lorraine accepted her increasing frailties with grace and dignity, keeping her good humour right to the end. The family will hold a private cremation. Friends and family are invited to a reception at the Rosedale Golf Club on July 25, 2019 from 4-6 pm. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made in Lorraine's name to Parkinson Canada.


Peacefully at Sunnybrook Hospital on July 13, 2019, surrounded by loving family. Caring husband of the late Ethna Ann Plashkes and the late Yaffa Fremes. Loving and devoted father of Ron and Dan, daughters-in-law Elizabeth and Julie. Dedicated and adoring grandfather to Simon, Tova and Grant, Jonathan, Sandy, Jackie, and Natasha. Great-grandfather to Ephraim. He will be very deeply missed and fondly remembered by his friends and colleagues in Toronto and San Diego. Robbie's parenting, mentorship, and legacy will survive many generations. At Benjamin's Park Memorial Chapel, 2401 Steeles Avenue West (3 lights west of Dufferin) for service on Tuesday, July 16,2019 at 10:00 a.m.

Interment in the Community section of Pardes Shalom Cemetery. Shiva at 10 Old York Mills Road, Toronto. Memorial donations may be made to the Plashkes Family Endowement Fund c/o North York General Hospital, 416-756-6944.


On Friday, July 12, 2019 at Sunnybrook Hospital.

Beloved husband of Pearl.

Loving father and father-inlaw of Avie and Aida Seetner, Mita and Andy Hoffer, Carolyn and Dennis Kalish, Jenine Seetner. Devoted grandfather of Michelle and Guy, Jordan and Ashley, Elliot, Darryl, Ronnie, Eva and Yitzi, and Julie, and great-grandfather of Ethan, Emunah, Eliana, and J.J. Dear brother of the late Sam Seetner. At Benjamin's Park Memorial Chapel, 2401 Steeles Avenue West (3 lights west of Dufferin) for service on Monday, July 15,2019 at 11:30 a.m. Interment at Beth Tzedec Memorial Park. Shiva at 72 Sawley Drive, Toronto.

Memorial donations may be made to Magen David Adom, (416) 780-0034.

Watching the Hong Kong protests from afar, Kevin Chong reflects on how the demonstrations are exposing tensions between Canadians of Chinese descent
Saturday, July 13, 2019 – Print Edition, Page O3

Kevin Chong is the author of six books, most recently The Plague, and a dual citizen of Canada and Hong Kong.

Watching the recent student-led protests in Hong Kong, I thought about my dad. Although he emigrated to Canada in 1977, and was Canadian enough to play host to Grey Cup parties and drink Tim Hortons, a piece of his heart remained in the former British colony that shaped his identity.

Returning to his Facebook profile, which I've kept hidden since he passed away five years ago, I see his political views described as "anti-commy" - anti-Communist. I was a teenager on June 4, 1989, when students campaigning for democracy were violently subdued by Chinese military forces in Beijing. My father tried getting me to attend an event in support of the students. I don't recall the reason I gave for declining - at 13, hanging out with my dad felt equally as awkward as going to a candlelit vigil - but I remember his reaction. "I guess you see yourself as Canadian," he said with resignation.

This week in Hong Kong, protesters have achieved their goal of scuttling a contentious extradition bill in its legislature, which detractors consider a Trojan horse that exposes Hong Kongers to Beijing's party-controlled legal system. (Hong Kong is currently insulated from the China's more onerous restrictions on civil rights through a "One Country, Two Systems" policy that runs until 2047 but which nevertheless feels threatened by efforts like the extradition bill.) On Tuesday, Hong Kong leader Carrie Lam declared the bill "dead" - although Ms. Lam's ambiguous wording in Cantonese, and the relentlessness of the Chinese Communist Party, mean no end to the struggle.

I have little doubt Dad would be cheering on the protesters.

But not all Chinese Canadians are pleased. And I'm curious about what he'd make of the diversity of opinions about these protests among the nearly 1.8 million Canadians of Chinese descent - the largest non-white population in the country - and how these fractures expose generational and subethnic tensions that are complicated by our experiences in the East and West.

For many of us, butting out, claiming we don't have a role in the issue, might be considered an honourable attitude - if our support weren't being courted. In June, Hong Kong activists raised more than a million dollars to post newspaper ads seeking international support for their movement. Christopher Chien, a Hong Kong-born Canadian and academic, no longer feels unwelcome weighing in on issues relating to his city of birth. "It's interesting that there's more of this transpacific solidarity," he notes.

"Local Hong Kong people want to make these ties. And Hong Kong diaspora are feeling more welcome."

Meanwhile, the Hong Kong government has also found (or perhaps sought) support overseas. Ads were placed in both Vancouver Chinese-language dailies that criticized the protesters as "radicals" threatening Hong Kong's prosperity. Signed by more than 200 Chinese-Canadian groups in Vancouver, the notice was paid for by Chinese Benevolent Association of Vancouver (CBA).

I default to taking the side of my cousins who marched in Hong Kong. Stories of relatives tortured by Communist soldiers make up our family folklore. Indeed, immigrants from Hong Kong, especially those who came in the 1990s before the 1997 handover of the city to China, form the majority of the support for local pro-protester groups.

Those with deeper ties to mainland China, either newer immigrants or those who arrived during the Cultural Revolution, are seemingly more likely to back the Beijing-controlled Hong Kong government.

"As Hong Kongers, our values are different from those of mainland China," observes Mabel Tung, the chair of the Vancouver Society in Support of Democratic Movement. "We already had freedom when we were born. We were no different from Canadians. Unlike the people from mainland China."

This distancing from mainland Chinese evokes tensions in Vancouver, where the most recent wave of Chinese immigration has been blamed for unaffordable real estate and money laundering, and has created a sense of disenfranchisement among other populations - including Chinese from earlier waves of migration.

Ms. Tung suggests that mistrust of the Chinese Communist Party motivates many Hong Kong Canadians in her group, which recently organized two events that, in total, united nearly 3,000 democracy supporters in Vancouver.

At one of these pro-democracy events in Vancouver, with its programming entirely in Cantonese, Leo Yu began to wonder how a younger, broader group of Asian diaspora members could support the students and their democratic aims. A conversation among friends resulted in an open letter, written with three peers and published in the Toronto Star under the byline Asian Diaspora for Hong Kong.

The letter invokes their identities as Asian "settlers" in Canada and further denounces China's "human-rights abuses," including the detainment of more than a million Muslims. "The Baby Boomer generation of Chinese Canadians needs to realize that young people see global issues through an intersectional lens," explains Mr. Yu, whose parents were raised in Hong Kong.

For Hubert Yiu, the Hong Kong-born president of the Chinese Benevolent Association, the freedom and democracy extolled by Asian Diaspora for Hong Kong are Western concepts that can't be superimposed on a Chinese issue. In the top floor of an old Chinatown walk-up hang centuryold portraits of the six founders of his organization, which since 1906 has advocated for voting rights and appealed racist immigration laws. The group currently organizes Chinatown community events such as the annual spring festival.

"We cannot use Western political systems in China," Mr. Yiu says. Among the supporters of the Hong Kong government, economic prosperity and stability are key arguments, with the city already negatively affected by the U.S.-China trade war.

Social media further inflames disagreements, confirming biases. A friend opposed to the protests sent me a Facebook-sourced clip of a protester throwing "acid bombs" at the police. Conversely, activists warn of China's ability to create reality through their iron grip of the Chinese media.

After watching a video clip of a Hong Kong police officer attacked by "10 or 15" protesters, Mr. Yiu felt compelled to issue a statement. The CBA statement urges Chinese Canadians to come together "based on the idea of blood being thicker than water" to "[oppose] any separatist attempts by extremist groups."

While Mr. Yiu says that his group receives no funding from Chinese government groups, Eleanor Yuen, a member of prodemocracy group Vancouver Hong Kong Forum Society, suggests that the clan associations and freemason groups that signed the letter have "very intense links to China."

Ms. Yuen is a retired librarian at UBC's Asian Library who emigrated from Hong Kong in 1990.

While she and Mr. Yiu share a birth city, their identification with Hong Kong differs drastically. The CBA president sees himself as a Chinese-Canadian and Hong Kong as a part of China.

When asked about her identity, Ms. Yuen describes herself as a "Canadian first and foremost," but continues to label herself as a "Hong Kong-Canadian. My formative years were in Hong Kong but my values are very Canadian.

And I think it's very typical of people who came around my time."

The notion of Hong Kong identity originates from around the time of the 1997 handover. A 2014 poll of 810 Hong Kong Chinese saw those who identified as "Hong Kongers" nearly triple the number of respondents who described themselves as "Chinese."

This past summer, I've seen Hong Kong patriotism play out in the social media of my extended family. A younger cousin posted a series of images that illustrated the differences between Hong Kongers and mainlanders. One image shows a man bowing in front of a Chinese Communist official. Under it a caption that reads: "Chinese love to be enslaved and manipulated by the Chinese Communist Party." By contrast, the image of the communist official standing next to a figure raising their middle finger bears a caption suggesting that Hong Kongers are a threat to the Hong Kong government and the Chinese Communist Party.

"The rush to be starkly xenophobic and nativist - that feels part of the youth culture [in Hong Kong]," observes Christopher Chien, whose doctoral thesis at the University of Southern California concerns Hong Kong's Cold War relationship with the United States.

While Mr. Chien is supportive of the protest movement as a whole, he's troubled by the "scattershot" way in which student protesters solicited the support from Donald Trump for outside intervention and what he sees as a "middle-class Han" - the predominant Chinese ethnic group - "movement." He uses the example of the Vietnamese refugee crisis in the 1980s - when refugees were detained in prison camps until they could be repatriated - as an example of how abuse of ethnic minorities has been overlooked.

"I've seen stories about the 'police state' - people's bags being searched," Mr. Chien adds.

"Ethnic minorities, queers, poor people have been stopped and asked for ID for decades. Many Hong Kong people are only aligned against the police now because they are being included in the brutality."

In contrast to Mr. Yiu's critique of the protesters, Mr. Chien's take on the protests is informed by principles of social justice. Like Mr. Chien, a Canadian-born friend of mine living in Hong Kong says that this activism fails to address more urgent issues: That Hong Kong is a place of great inequality, and that people should push for higher minimum wage, public housing, and residency for migrant workers.

My friend is also wary of the naiveté of protesters, many of them born after the handover, who nostalgically invoke Hong Kong's past by waving the Union Jack under the mistaken belief that colonial rule was more democratic.

As a Hong Kong-born Canadian, navigating issues of affordability and inequality in Vancouver, I can't escape viewing this situation with my Western lens. But after some thought, I think, is that really wrong? I know enough about Hong Kong to realize that a dual perspective, in a city with 300,000 residents who hold Canadian passports, is not unusual.

"Immigration is not just a migration of people," Eleanor Yuen says, "it's a migration of ideas.

When people choose to immigrate to Canada, their mentality has been changed because of their Canadian experience."

In my daily life, I like to think that my own emotional reserve stems in part from my cultural heritage. I resist complaining in order to to preserve group harmony. When I suggest that Confucian attitudes might result in pro-government support, Fenella Sung, a member of the pro-democracy group Canadian Friends of Hong Kong, tells me how "in Chinese culture, you respect those in authority; even if you think they're wrong, you don't challenge them."

The trouble with respecting authority is that "it sucks you into a black hole so you don't dare to express your own opinion."

Adds Ms. Sung: "I would say that's one great challenge for people like myself. In terms of fundamental issues, I feel I have to stick up for myself and those who don't have a voice. And that's the Canadian side of me."

In sticking up for themselves, then, are Hong Kongers expressing a less traditionally Chinese way of being?

Looking at my father's Facebook profile picture, taken from a trip we took to Hong Kong and Shanghai in 2009, I recall how he engaged his identity during that visit. China was a place to practise his Mandarin and visit historical sites that he knew from classical literature. But Hong Kong was about personal history. Riding the train in Kowloon, he pointed out the old Lutheran school where he taught English.

In a red taxi, we passed the bank that he once managed.

It was my first trip to my city of birth as an adult. I'd left for Canada before I'd turned 2 and, dragged from place to place by my parents as a teenager, Hong Kong had felt like an endless shopping mall. Through my father's eyes, I saw in the skyscrapers and neon a place of memory, a place with stories - a place that lived in my blood.

Associated Graphic

Anti-extradition-bill protesters march to West Kowloon Express Rail Link Station in Hong Kong's tourism district on July 7.


Tuesday, July 16, 2019

Tuesday, July 16, 2019 – Print Edition, Page B15


November 20, 1929 July 14, 2019 Died peacefully at Humber River Hospital in his 90th year.

Beloved husband of 65 years to Mary (Pezzack). Dear father to John (Patricia), Karen (Christopher), Nancy (Christian) and Janet (Luis).

Proud of his grandchildren, Matthew, Stephanie, Laura, Tyler, Sarah, Lyndsey, Katie, Shawn and Ryan.

Great-grandfather of Emily, Dylan, Natalie, Stephen and Cameron.

Grandfather-in-law of Jessica, David M., David O., Logan, Sean, and Justin. Lovingly remembered by the Pezzack in-laws.

Norm lived a full life. He played his final golf game one day before entering the hospital. Norm was a student and teacher at University of Toronto Schools. He was School Captain in 1948 and taught from 1968 until his retirement in 1991.

He had a passion for sports, jigsaw puzzles, food (ice cream) and travel that he joyfully shared with his family.

He will be deeply missed by all whose lives he touched.

In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to St. Matthew the Apostle Anglican Church: Special Project Capital Campaign, Doctors Without Borders or Covenant House.

Visitation to be held on Thursday, July 18, 2019 from 4:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m. at R. S. Kane Funeral Home, 6150 Yonge Street, Toronto.

Funeral Service to be held on Saturday, July 20, 2019, at 11:00 a.m. at St. Matthew the Apostle Anglican Church, 80 George Henry Boulevard, Toronto.

Condolences may be left at www.

R.S. Kane 416-221-1159

ABBYANN DAY LYNCH C.M., O.Ont., L.M.S., Ph.D., LL.D (Hon.), D.S.L. (Hon.)

1928 - 2019 Our hearts are heavy knowing that Abby, who was mother, grandmother and great grandmother to her extended Toronto family, and sister, aunt and great aunt to her large U.S. family, passed from this life on July 14, 2019, acquiescing gracefully and bravely to Alzheimer's disease.

A pioneering woman with a brilliant mind and gentle soul, Abby believed in setting a high bar, working hard, sharing her thoughts by being a prolific writer and academic, and making a difference, especially in the lives of vulnerable children and the elderly. As a philosopher, she fearlessly blazed many trails.

Born in Hackensack, New Jersey, and a graduate of Manhattanville College, her first journey was north to Canada, moving from New York to Toronto to pursue a Licentiate in Medieval Studies at the Pontifical Institute (University of Toronto, St. Michael's College).

In Toronto, she became one of Canada's leading experts in biomedical ethics, standing up in particular to protect the rights of children. Towards the end of her career path, she was President of Associated Medical Services and consultant on biomedical issues to various hospitals, health organizations and regulatory bodies. For all these contributions, she was honoured to receive the Order of Canada.

More than anything, Abby loved her husband, Lawrence E. Lynch, who predeceased her in 2001. After saying their vows in St. Patrick's Cathedral, New York City, in 1953, their family grew quickly and today includes their beloved children, their spouses, grandchildren and great-grandchildren: Lisa (Andrew, Domenica, Sophia, Luke; Jeffrey); Mimi and her husband Stephen (Katherine, James, Madison, Jack; Mark, Nadia, Nathan, Evelyn); Edward and his wife Rose (Mike, David, Kerri); Paul and his wife Sheila (Abigael, Isabel); Martha; Chris and his wife Anna (Alexander, Emilia).

There wasn't a mystery book Abby hadn't read, an ice cream cone she let sit for too long, a piano score she hadn't memorized, or a challenge she didn't stare down, sometimes with outsized idealism. She loved Canada, and over the years she balanced her fondness for her adopted country with pride in her native country. Born into a long line of Republicans, she became a staunch Democrat, strongly supporting the election of President John F. Kennedy, and fully committed more recently to the politics of President Barack Obama. She kept her family grounded in its roots, traveling with them extensively and sharing her love of New England, the sea and the shore, most summers spent in Cape Hatteras, North Carolina. Looking at the world through her eyes was to see wonder, hope, gratitude and always a dream to leave the world a better place. Hearing it from her perspective as a gifted concert pianist was to sit in the second balcony, eyes glued to the keyboard, listening to music by her favourite composers, Schubert, Chopin, and Beethoven.

The family wishes to thank Abby's personal support workers, Eloisa, Marichelle and Jeanette, and the many PSWs at Cedarhurst Dementia Care Centre, for their love and attentiveness to Abby during the past three years. A Mass of Christian Burial will be held at Our Lady of Lourdes church on Thursday, July 18, 2019, at 1:30 p.m. Visitation is on Wednesday, July 17 from 5-9 pm at the Rosar-Morrison Funeral Home, 467 Sherbourne Street, Toronto. The family welcomes friends to stop by Our Lady of Lourdes parish hall after the funeral Mass for refreshments. A celebration of life will be held at a later date. In lieu of flowers, kindly consider a donation in Abby's name to Alzheimer Society of Toronto (

May Abby rest in peace, in the loving embrace of her maker, in the hope of life eternal.


1934 - 2019

It is with great sadness the family of Paul Palmer announces his passing on Thursday, July 11, 2019. Paul died peacefully in his home at Amica Bayview Gardens, with family and his beloved dog Pandy, with him.

Paul was born in Barrie, Ontario to Goldie (née Grey) Palmer and Hartley Ramsay Palmer. Paul is lovingly remembered by his sons Tony (Donna) and Ian Palmer, daughter Heather Palmer, step sons Rob and Bill (Kim) Leak and his grandchildren Emily, Will, Mac, Hayley and Charlie.

He always said he felt lucky to have fallen in love twice, first to Mary (nee Breckenridge) Palmer (1936-1989) and then to Catherine (nee Dauphinee) Leak.

Paul went to Barrie District Collegiate Institute and was among the first group of students to graduate the Bachelor of Commerce program at University of McMaster in 1955. Upon graduation he joined Clarkson, Gordon & Co in Toronto and in 1959 he graduated from the Ontario Institute of Chartered Accountants. In 1962 he left Clarkson, Gordon to hold senior executive positions at York Steel Construction, Kilmer Van Nostrand Co. Limited, Denison Mines and a collection of wholly and partly owned subsidiary companies.

In 1976, he joined Norcen Energy Resources, moved to Calgary, Alberta in 1985 and retired as Chief Financial Officer in 1995.

Paul was a mathematical whiz who was honoured as a fellow twice: Fellow of the Certified Professional Accountants (FCPA) and Fellow of the Chartered Accountants (FCA). He also shared his accounting and business skills as Chairman of the Canadian Accounting Standards Board, being a major force in revising and re-writing the modern standards that exist today. After retirement Paul sat on several Boards.

Paul was passionate about golf.

He started young, and while he played all over the world, he most enjoyed his courses and golf friends in Florida, Toronto, Calgary and Muskoka. However, he always had the greater good in his heart, and was instrumental in the conversion of a golf course to Earl Bales Park, which is the largest public park in North York, actively enjoyed by families yearround.

Above all else, Paul was a family man. He loved unconditionally and was fiercely proud of his children, in particular the manner in which they love and support each other. All who knew Paul would comment on his quick witted, often subtle, somewhat zany sense of humour and tendency towards practical jokes. The stories are plentiful as laughter was the medicine for everything, even at the end of life.

Paul was supported by a wonderful care team from Amica Bayview Gardens, Living Assistance Services, VHA Home Healthcare, Randi Lazarus Companion Care and Dr. Nunes Vaz. Special mention goes to Titzia and her team who supported the ability for Pandy to continue to live with Paul. Thank you to all.

A Celebration of Remembrance (aka story sharing and belly laughing) will be held at 11:00 a.m. on Tuesday, July 23, 2019 at Humphrey Funeral Home A.W. Miles - Newbigging Chapel, 1403 Bayview Avenue (south of Davisville). A private family internment will immediately follow at Mount Pleasant Cemetery.

In lieu of flowers, if desired, a donation can be made to a charity of your choice. Condolences may be forwarded through


March 20, 1926 - July 14, 2019 Born in Toronto, adored only son of Charles and Eva (Crummer) Wynne. JB leaves behind his soulmate of 73 years, wife of 67 years, Patricia (O'Day); his four daughters, Kathleen (Jane), Evie Honeyman, Ann (Peter) and Marie Hodgson (Doug); his grandchildren, Amy, Chris, Jessie, Maggie, Katy, Charlotte, Tim, Lizzie, Isaac and Myles; and three great-grandchildren, Livie, Claire and Hugh, beloved by each and every one.

John grew up in North Toronto attending John Ross Robertson Public School, Crescent School, and graduating from St. Andrew's College School just as WWII ended. He studied Medicine at University of Toronto and began as a family physician in 1952 where he practiced for 40 years.

JB loved life. He was an athlete-boxing, hockey and cricket as a teenager; hockey, golf, curling, tennis, running, walking into the final days of his life. He was a piano player and a photographer. He loved Dave Brubeck, Myles Davis, Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald. He was a reader. He loved W.O.Mitchell, Dylan Thomas and Henning Mankell. In the early years he joined the Lions Club and started a 'sock hop' for local kids and in the 60's he supported Pat's volunteer work with youth. He got elected to the board of the Ontario Medical Association to work to keep the connection between doctors and their patients in the early days of Medicare. He cared deeply about politics, was a lifelong Liberal and was actively distressed by the rise of right wing populism.

But of all the things he loved in his life, there were two that surpassed the rest. The first was Pat. He loved his Bahamian girl completely. The second was cutting through the morning mist on Lake Opeongo in his canoe. The tackle box and the fish were an excuse.

JB's family is very grateful to all the nurses and doctors on the stroke floor at Mackenzie Health and to the palliative team. Thank you all for your fine care.

If you would like to make a donation in JB's name, he would love you to support the Friends of Algonquin Park or the Mackenzie Health Foundation.

We will hold a service in JB's memory in September.

Arrangements entrusted to Marshall Funeral Home, Richmond Hill, ON.


1941 - 2019

With deep sadness we announce the death of Peter Welsh. He died suddenly at home in Cuernavaca, Mexico, July 10, 2019 at 1:20 a.m. after a fierce battle with cancer. His wife, Judy, and sister, Anne, were at his side. Visitation was held that afternoon in Cuernavaca allowing close friends and neighbours to pay respects and say adios.

A memorial will be held in Canada at a later date. He is survived by Judy, soulmate and beloved wife of 53 years, daughter Laura (Mike), grandchildren Mia and Andrew, son Michael (Jane); sisters Anne (Peter), Cathy (Gord), Patti (John), brother John, (Jim predeceased); sisters-in law Mary (Dick predeceased), Pam (Mike), and Susan (Ao) and many nieces, nephews and cousins.


January 11, 1951 - July 16, 2007

May the winds of love blow softly, And whisper so you'll hear, We shall love and miss you always, And wish that you were here.

Love, all your family


Medal of Bravery 1957 - 1998

MARILYN CHAN 1955 - 1998 Sadly missed and lovingly remembered by family and friends

Wednesday, July 17, 2019 – Print Edition, Page B14


Lida Alexanian, age 86, of Dundas Ontario passed quietly at St.

Joseph's Hospital in Hamilton on Monday July 15, 2019 after a brief, noble battle with cancer.

Lida (née Bostanjian) was born in Istanbul, Turkey in 1932. In a storybook encounter she was introduced to future husband Aram Alexanian, by his father Aris, who was acquainted with her family. Aram and Aris - the founder of the Alexanian family carpet business - were passing through Istanbul en route to the Middle East to buy oriental rugs. The couple bonded and Lida moved to Canada in 1953 and married Aram shortly thereafter. They settled in Ottawa for many years, raising their three children: Alene, Richard and Allan. Eventually the family moved to Dundas, Ontario - much to the disappointment of their Ottawa friends.

Lida and Aram were very social in the Hamilton area and were pillars of the Armenian community through St. Mary Armenian Church in Hamilton. After Aram died in 1988, Lida expanded that legacy and served as treasurer, fundraiser, and event organizer.

She was an energetic host of family gatherings and became the matriarch of the Alexanian clan.

Her ever evolving New Year's Eve parties at her welcoming home were an annual ritual.

Lida's many interests shaped the beautiful fabric of her life. With a love of the piano since her youth she took it up again with a passion at age 66 and cultivated a likeminded circle of musical friends.

She supported music, theater and arts organizations in Hamilton and Toronto. Lida always had tickets to something. She was an amazing cook, and her version of Armenian classics like dolma, borek, choreg, and baklava were legend. Lida loved to travel, she was an avid gardener, and an incredible swimmer. Well into her 80's she could manage a kilometer swim at the lake. She was adventurous and unpredictable. She was a martini aficionado, cat lover, sun worshipper, card player, backgammon pro, gracious host and stylish dresser.

Lida was overjoyed with the arrival of grandchildren, and her time spent with them was treasured.

Noah, Mara and Ara from Alene and husband John Farr, and Nevan and Kira from Allan and wife Wendy. She also maintained a closeness to her nieces and nephews: on the Alexanian side the children of Albert and Nancy, and the late Armen and Jane and the children of her late sister Nadia, and Fred Sirotek.

Her strength of character - her generosity and compassion - her great beauty and resilience - and her spirit of forgiveness - defined her. Her parting wishes were for everyone to get along.

Special thanks to the team at St.

Joseph's Hospital in Hamilton for their outstanding care through a difficult time.

In lieu of flowers please donate to St. Mary Armenian Church - 8 Mayhurst Ave, Hamilton, ON, L8K 3M8, or your charity of choice.

The family will receive friends at the JB Marlatt Funeral Home, 615 Main St. E, Hamilton: on Friday, July 19th from 2 to 4 p.m. and 6 to 8:30 p.m. with prayers to follow.

A private funeral will be held at St.

Mary Armenian Church.


November 20, 1929 July 14, 2019 Died peacefully at Humber River Hospital in his 90th year.

Beloved husband of 65 years to Mary (Pezzack). Dear father to John (Patricia), Karen (Christopher), Nancy (Christian) and Janet (Luis).

Proud of his grandchildren, Matthew, Stephanie, Laura, Tyler, Sarah, Lyndsey, Katie, Shawn and Ryan.

Great-grandfather of Emily, Dylan, Natalie, Stephen and Cameron.

Grandfather-in-law of Jessica, David M., David O., Logan, Sean, and Justin. Lovingly remembered by the Pezzack in-laws.

Norm lived a full life. He played his final golf game one day before entering the hospital. Norm was a student and teacher at University of Toronto Schools. He was School Captain in 1948 and taught from 1968 until his retirement in 1991.

He had a passion for sports, jigsaw puzzles, food (ice cream) and travel that he joyfully shared with his family.

He will be deeply missed by all whose lives he touched.

In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to St. Matthew the Apostle Anglican Church: Special Project Capital Campaign, Doctors Without Borders or Covenant House.

Visitation to be held on Thursday, July 18, 2019 from 4:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m. at R. S. Kane Funeral Home, 6150 Yonge Street, Toronto.

Funeral Service to be held on Saturday, July 20, 2019, at 11:00 a.m. at St. Matthew the Apostle Anglican Church, 80 George Henry Boulevard, Toronto.

Condolences may be left at www.

R.S. Kane 416-221-1159


On Monday, July 15, 2019 at her home. Beloved wife of Sherman.

Loving mother and mother-in-law of Laura Hans and Mitch Steinman, and Loren Altman and the late Samantha Hans. Lovingly remembered by Jennifer Appleby. Dear sister and sister-inlaw of Betty and Irv Nitkin of B.C.

Devoted grandmother of Jake, Ben, Dylan, Emily, Erin, and Jordan.

At Benjamin's Park Memorial Chapel, 2401 Steeles Avenue West (3 lights west of Dufferin) for service on Thursday, July 18, 2019 at 11:30 a.m. Interment Beth Tzedec Memorial Park. Shiva 17 Wembley Road. Memorial donations may be made to the Princess Margaret Cancer Foundation, 416-946-6560 or to Temmy Latner Centre for Palliative Care, 1-877-565-8555.

ABBYANN DAY LYNCH C.M., O.Ont., L.M.S., Ph.D., LL.D (Hon.), D.S.L. (Hon.)

1928 - 2019 Our hearts are heavy knowing that Abby, who was mother, grandmother and great grandmother to her extended Toronto family, and sister, aunt and great aunt to her large U.S. family, passed from this life on July 14, 2019, acquiescing gracefully and bravely to Alzheimer's disease.

A pioneering woman with a brilliant mind and gentle soul, Abby believed in setting a high bar, working hard, sharing her thoughts by being a prolific writer and academic, and making a difference, especially in the lives of vulnerable children and the elderly. As a philosopher, she fearlessly blazed many trails.

Born in Hackensack, New Jersey, and a graduate of Manhattanville College, her first journey was north to Canada, moving from New York to Toronto to pursue a Licentiate in Medieval Studies at the Pontifical Institute (University of Toronto, St. Michael's College).

In Toronto, she became one of Canada's leading experts in biomedical ethics, standing up in particular to protect the rights of children. Towards the end of her career path, she was President of Associated Medical Services and consultant on biomedical issues to various hospitals, health organizations and regulatory bodies. For all these contributions, she was honoured to receive the Order of Canada.

More than anything, Abby loved her husband, Lawrence E. Lynch, who predeceased her in 2001. After saying their vows in St. Patrick's Cathedral, New York City, in 1953, their family grew quickly and today includes their beloved children, their spouses, grandchildren and great-grandchildren: Lisa (Andrew, Domenica, Sophia, Luke; Jeffrey); Mimi and her husband Stephen (Katherine, James, Madison, Jack; Mark, Nadia, Nathan, Evelyn); Edward and his wife Rose (Mike, David, Kerri); Paul and his wife Sheila (Abigael, Isabel); Martha; Chris and his wife Anna (Alexander, Emilia).

There wasn't a mystery book Abby hadn't read, an ice cream cone she let sit for too long, a piano score she hadn't memorized, or a challenge she didn't stare down, sometimes with outsized idealism. She loved Canada, and over the years she balanced her fondness for her adopted country with pride in her native country. Born into a long line of Republicans, she became a staunch Democrat, strongly supporting the election of President John F. Kennedy, and fully committed more recently to the politics of President Barack Obama. She kept her family grounded in its roots, traveling with them extensively and sharing her love of New England, the sea and the shore, most summers spent in Cape Hatteras, North Carolina. Looking at the world through her eyes was to see wonder, hope, gratitude and always a dream to leave the world a better place. Hearing it from her perspective as a gifted concert pianist was to sit in the second balcony, eyes glued to the keyboard, listening to music by her favourite composers, Schubert, Chopin, and Beethoven.

The family wishes to thank Abby's personal support workers, Eloisa, Marichelle and Jeanette, and the many PSWs at Cedarhurst Dementia Care Centre, for their love and attentiveness to Abby during the past three years. A Mass of Christian Burial will be held at Our Lady of Lourdes church on Thursday, July 18, 2019, at 1:30 p.m. Visitation is on Wednesday, July 17 from 5-9 pm at the Rosar-Morrison Funeral Home, 467 Sherbourne Street, Toronto. The family welcomes friends to stop by Our Lady of Lourdes parish hall after the funeral Mass for refreshments. A celebration of life will be held at a later date. In lieu of flowers, kindly consider a donation in Abby's name to Alzheimer Society of Toronto (

May Abby rest in peace, in the loving embrace of her maker, in the hope of life eternal.


"Wally" April 16, 1929 July 9, 2019 Wally passed away suddenly while on a camping adventure in the beautiful BC wilderness. He was 90 years young.

Wally was predeceased by his loving wife of 54 years, Patricia (Paddy) Mackay, and is survived by his children, Elizabeth Armer (Douglas), Robert (Marilyn), Brian (Christene), Fiona (Bob Lloyd), Ellen (Stuart Cole) and James (Max), and his grandchildren, Ceilidh, Aaron, Shaun, Madeline, Jennifer, Tara, Evan, Alden, Calum, Claire, Heather and Molly.

Wally was born in Kempsey, Australia, and immigrated to Canada to work as a Chemical Engineer in Northern BC where he met and married Paddy, the love of his life. Wally's career took him from his home in West Vancouver to every continent on earth.

Wally's boundless energy and unmatched zest for life was the stuff of legend - always on the go, always learning, charming everyone he met with his warmth, humour and a never-ending trove of stories. He modeled faith, kindness, generosity, fun and adventure and filled our lives with joy. He was a loving father, a dear friend and an ever-present mentor and role model. He will be dearly missed.

The funeral Mass for Wally will be at 1 p.m. on July 19, 2019 at St. Anthony's Catholic Church at 2347 Inglewood Avenue, West Vancouver. Prayers will be held at 8:30 p.m. on July 18, 2019. In lieu of flowers, contributions to the Canadian Cancer Society in Wally Mackay's name would be gratefully appreciated.

Gaps in science leave Canada unprepared for a changing relationship with wildfires
The country is spending more than ever to combat blazes, but our precautions are inconsistent and out-of-date, with many borrowed from the U.S. and mostly untested here. As climate change makes fires bigger and costlier, scientists say the dearth of knowledge is a danger we can no longer ignore
Thursday, July 18, 2019 – Print Edition, Page A8

Thousands of homes and vast swaths of forest were consumed by the Horse River Fire that ripped through Fort McMurray in 2016. But if the scale of the destruction was shocking, the fire's extreme intensity and the speed with which it overwhelmed the Northern Alberta city illustrated a stark risk that experts had worried about for years.

Some of the tens of millions of dollars Alberta spent on wildfire prevention that year helped fund efforts to thin trees around the city, plant less-combustible hardwoods and clear brush from homes, according to a postincident report.

Such precautions are in use across Canada, yet they are based primarily on technical guidelines developed in the United States; few have been validated by scientists to gauge how effective they are in northern, boreal forests.

"What that means is that people really don't know, because it hasn't been done," said Brian Stocks, a wildfire-science specialist and one of several investigators hired to assess the Fort McMurray blaze for the Alberta government.

That knowledge gap is just one of a growing number of blind spots that scientists say jeopardize millions of people and billions of dollars of infrastructure as more intense and frequent wildfires chew through larger tracts of Canada's forests each year.

Canada has never spent more to combat wildfires, yet efforts to understand and adapt to the fast-evolving hazards have faltered, hampered by the attrition of key researchers and acute funding constraints.

As a result, the country lacks a comprehensive framework for assessing risks. There is no national system that maps where cities, towns and infrastructure are in relation to vegetation, what the fuel loads are and what sort of fire behaviour they may generate.

To be sure, large wildfires serve a natural role in helping to regenerate forest ecosystems.

But a combination of climate change, pest infestations, urban development and decades of fire suppression has increased the threat and cost of extreme events, especially in droughtprone Western Canada, researchers say.

This spring's fires in Alberta burned an area almost twice the size of Prince Edward Island, forced thousands from their homes and led to severe air-quality warnings that affected millions of people in Edmonton and Calgary.

Similarly, British Columbia is bracing for a long, dry summer after consecutive years of recordshattering fires that scientists say were exacerbated by climate change.

Costs to suppress fires have jumped roughly $120-million a decade since the 1970s and now approach $1-billion or more every year, posing a major challenge for cash-strapped governments at all levels. But the primary tool used by provincial wildfire agencies and crews to predict and respond to daily threats, the Canadian Forest Fire Danger Rating System, has not been updated in several decades.

That means it does not account for multiyear droughts or the spread of the mountain pine beetle, an infestation fuelled by rising temperatures that has transformed vast stretches of B.C. and Alberta into a tinderbox.

"The way that fire is playing out in our landscape has changed, and it's changed in the last decade," said Lori Daniels, who studies wildfires at the University of British Columbia. "And we really, really need the fundamental science and the applied tools updated so that we can keep up with this problem, so that we can literally adapt as the climate is changing around us.

It's really essential."

Guidelines designed to keep communities safe are a case in point, although they are far from unique. Known as FireSmart, they are based on U.S. National Fire Protection Association standards that are "untested in northern (boreal forest) conditions," according to documents published by the non-profit that administers the program in Canada. The recommendations are designed to slow or contain, rather than stop, a fire at the surface before it climbs to the treetops, where it's almost impossible to corral. In practice, stands of black spruce could be thinned or replaced with leafy aspen, or a fire break could be carved into the forest. While better than doing nothing, researchers say, there's no telling how effective such measures will be.

"It's not tied to science," said Mr. Stocks, who studied fire behaviour for 35 years with the Canadian Forest Service (CFS).

"That's basic work that hasn't been done."

In Fort McMurray, investigators found that "vegetation management" in some cases reduced the spread of flames, but was mostly overwhelmed by the fire's extreme intensity. About 2,600 homes were razed and 80,000 people evacuated in what became Canada's costliest natural disaster, with insured damages hitting $3.8-billion.

The devastating fire occurred about a decade after the Canadian Council of Forest Ministers agreed to develop a national strategy for combating wildfires, including a pledge to bolster applied research. That commitment was renewed in 2016, but a federal report last year said critical questions remain unanswered. More research is needed to understand links between intensifying fires and Canada's commitments under the Paris climate accord, for example. Enhanced smoke modelling could inform public-health decisions and emergency planning.

"Canada's capacity to address these current and emerging challenges is inadequate," said the report, a 10-year research outlook published by Natural Resources Canada and titled Blueprint for Wildland Fire Science in Canada. "The national capacity for research must increase to ensure that Canada is prepared for a more complex relationship with wildland fire."

Despite those concerns, researchers say money remains scarce, delaying badly needed upgrades to key information systems. "You have to scrounge around," said Mike Wotton, a CFS researcher and adjunct professor who is leading an effort to update the danger-rating system.

"What could get done in a year takes five years of just waiting for the right combination of resources and time."

The federal government has committed $6-billion to science and innovation, including $1.2billion for granting councils and research institutes and $140-million for universities.

Conservative Party Leader Andrew Scheer has pledged to bolster wildfire detection, but offered no new funding in his environment platform.

Most research today is conducted by a dwindling number of academics and by scientists within the CFS, which operates five research centres across the country.

The federal agency employs about 30 scientists, but direct investment in fire has steadily declined since the seventies to about $3.8-million a year, according to Michael Norton, directorgeneral with the CFS Northern Forestry Centre in Edmonton.

The bulk of that pays for salaries, he said in an interview.

By comparison, the U.S. Forest Service devoted about US$22million to wildland fire and fuels research in 2018 and is on track to spend the same this year, a spokesperson said. About US$300-million of its overall budget is allocated to research.

In Canada, Mr. Norton said, there are no accepted or consistently applied methodologies for quantifying fire risks, and spatial data on fuels remains spotty - a major deficit given the total area burned each year has more than doubled since the seventies. "In some areas it's good, and in other areas it's almost non-existent," he said.

The Natural Sciences and Engineering Research Council (NSERC) last year awarded about $4.6-million in purported discovery grants for fire research. That's about double the levels from a decade ago, but still a fraction of the $600-million total handed out by NSERC.

"You have to remember that we're covering all the natural sciences and engineering disciplines," said Marc Fortin, NSERC's chief operating officer and vice-president of research partnerships, in an interview.

"We really rely on the researchers themselves to put forward proposals," he added.

Several scientists said NSERC lacks expertise in fire and too often assesses grant applications through a narrow economic lens.

In June, 2017, UBC's Prof. Daniels and her colleagues wanted to understand and quantify how suppression, climate change and other human interactions with the forest were leading to more intense fires in B.C. But their grant application was rejected.

"One of the responses was there was no economic benefit to the rest of Canada to study this problem in British Columbia," she said.

B.C. would ultimately spend $568-million that year to combat 1,500 fires that forced more than 65,000 people from their homes.

"It's a long process to try to get funding and to try to get buyin for doing the kind of research that you think is important," said Jen Beverly, an assistant professor of wildland fire at the University of Alberta.

One project for which Prof.

Beverly is seeking continued funding involves outfitting fire crews with mobile cameras to rapidly assess fuel loads in northwestern Alberta.

"We don't have models to really tell us what fire's going to do in a thin stand versus a more dense stand," she said.

Mr. Fortin would not discuss specific proposals, but insisted that applications are evaluated against a broad set of criteria. He said a new grant system will make it easier for researchers without industry partners to access funds.

Scientists say the need is pressing.

Studies show fires are starting earlier in the year and burning hotter in tinder-dry forests that are increasingly primed for extreme events.

In some areas, fires are so intense and frequent that researchers are now studying a phenomenon called regeneration failure, which sees fewer trees growing back.

Yet, there remain gaps in understanding the potential impact of such changes on everything from wildlife to timber harvests and carbon sequestration in forests - and on cities such as Fort McMurray, as they push ever deeper into the Canadian wilderness.

"They might have a beautiful community with 80,000 people in it, but it's still surrounded by black spruce forest, which is born to burn," Mr. Stocks said.

Associated Graphic

Above left: The 2018 Snowy Mountain fire is seen from Cawston, B.C. An infestation of mountain pine beetles, driven by rising temperatures, is among the factors that have made vast regions of B.C. and Alberta more vulnerable to fire.


Above: Lori Daniels, who studies wildfires at the University of British Columbia, works at a prescribed fire site in Vaseux Lake, B.C.


Left: Prime Minister Justin Trudeau and Fort McMurray Fire Chief Darby Allen, centre right, examine the remains of a burnt-out car during Mr. Trudeau's visit to Fort McMurray in May, 2016.



The Liberals' election playbook: Paint the Conservatives as intolerant
Such campaigns have proved effective in the past, although the effort is hit-or-miss. Will similar accusations work against Andrew Scheer in this election?
Saturday, July 20, 2019 – Print Edition, Page O9

Writer-at-large at The Globe and Mail. His latest book is Empty Planet: The Shock of Global Population Decline, co-authored with Darrell Bricker.

Andrew Scheer appears to lead one of the most moderate conservative parties in the world. The Liberals would have you believe it's a ruse.

Thirteen weeks out from the next federal election, the Liberals and Conservatives seem to be running neck-and-neck, with some polls giving the Tories the edge, and others the Grits.

For Mr. Scheer, who is a new and relatively unknown leader of a political party that was decisively beaten in the last election, this is a pretty good place to be. Liberal Leader Justin Trudeau could be the first prime minister since R.B. Bennett in the 1930s to be defeated after a single term of majority government.

But the Liberals are a long way from giving up. Along with touting their policy successes - new trade deals, a strong economy, the carbon tax to fight global warming - and initiatives to come, the Grits and their allies are accusing the Tories of being anti-immigrant, anti-women and anti-gay.

"The Conservative leader refused to denounce white supremacists in this House," Mr. Trudeau accused in the Commons, earlier this year, after Mr. Scheer attended a rally where nativist protesters were present.

The Prime Minister asked when the Leader of the Official Opposition will "finally denounce white supremacists by name." Mr. Scheer said he was unaware the protesters were present, and called Mr.

Trudeau's barb "disgusting."

Engage Canada, a left-wing advocacy group dedicated to defeating the Conservatives, states on its Facebook page that "Andrew Scheer has shown us time and time again that he's too weak to stand up to extremism in his caucus or in the conservative movement."

When Unplanned, an anti-abortion film, opened in Canadian cinemas earlier this month, Liberal chief of staff Katie Telford tweeted: "This is happening, at least in part, thanks to the support received by federal Conservative politicians."

And when Mr. Scheer said he would take a wait-and-see approach before deciding whether to support Liberal legislation that would criminalize conversion therapy, Liberal MP Randy Boissonnault called the response "a dodge," telling The Globe, "I don't think he's supportive of LGBTQ people at all."

Brian Lee Crowley, managing director of the Macdonald-Laurier Institute, an Ottawa-based think tank, says that Liberal efforts to demonize Conservatives as intolerant are a fixture of the Canadian landscape. "It's part of our politics," he observed in an interview.

Such campaigns have proved effective in the past, although the effort is hit-andmiss. Liberal charges of a Tory hidden agenda helped defeat Stephen Harper's Conservatives in the 2004 election, but proved ineffective in 2006.

Will similar accusations work against Andrew Scheer in this election?

"The Liberals absolutely will accuse the Conservatives of being too extreme," said Randy Besco, a political scientist at University of Toronto. "Whether voters believe it depends on whether Conservatives provide evidence that that's the case."

Some political analysts believe Canada has become dangerously polarized along lines of class, age and geography. According to this theory, economic and cultural insecurity drives less-educated, less affluent, rural and older Canadians to oppose immigration, multiculturalism and measures to fight climate change. They're inclined toward the Conservatives, and are increasingly attracted to authoritarian, populist leaders and ideas.

Younger, better-educated, urban progressives who embrace diversity, globalization and the fight against climate change gravitate toward the Liberals, New Democrats and Greens.

Ekos pollster Frank Graves and Michael Valpy, a senior fellow at the University of Toronto's Munk School of Global Affairs and Public Policy, believe the upcoming federal election campaign will be a "class war," as they wrote recently in the Toronto Star, between enlightened progressives and "less educated Canadians who have had troubles making their way in the new economy and who tend to have social conservative views."

This seems hard to square with the positions of the two governing parties on the issues.

Both Conservatives and Liberals agree that global warming is a major threat and carbon emission levels must come down.

The Liberals prefer a carbon tax; the Tories would regulate emitters. Only in Canada could such nuance be called polarization.

Voters list health care as a major concern. Neither the Liberals nor the Conservatives advocate a private option to ease the strain on publicly provided services.

The Liberals are expected to propose a national pharmacare strategy. The Conservatives are talking about a more limited program for people, such as the self-employed, who don't have access to corporate plans.

The Conservatives accuse the Liberals of mishandling the situation at the Quebec border, where thousands of asylum seekers have streamed across each year.

The Liberals, in turn, accuse the Conservatives of intolerance toward refugees. But both parties support retaining high levels of immigration over all.

Both parties support free and open trade. Mr. Scheer would continue the Liberal push to win a temporary seat on the United Nations Security Council for Canada. Hostile Chinese actions have nudged the Liberals toward the Conservatives' skeptical and wary approach in dealing with the world's second largest economy.

This is a far cry from the vicious, sometimes violent schism between Democrats and Republicans in the United States, or between Leavers and Remainers in Britain. The Conservative Party of Canada is far more moderate and centrist than the conservative parties of either country, or those in much of Europe, where the right is often led by xenophobic autocrats.

And Maxime Bernier's new People's Party, which does take a more aggressively negative approach to multiculturalism and environmentalism, polls in the low single digits.

"Is Canada becoming more polarized?

Yes, it is," acknowledged Shachi Kurl, executive director of the Angus Reid Institute, which conducts polling and other research. But, she added, "It's not like we have this massive crevice in this country with people on either side of it. That's not happening.

"Are we a little bit further down the football field?

Sure. But it's a football field, not a canyon."

That said, there are elements within the Conservative coalition that reject multiculturalism and high levels of immigration, that oppose abortion and protecting the rights of sexual minorities. If the Liberals succeed in implanting in voters' minds that Andrew Scheer is in thrall to this faction of the party, then the election will be a referendum on the Conservative Leader, and the Liberals will win.

However, Prof. Besco says voters are very attuned to "source credibility," and one politician slagging another politician is not seen as the most reliable source.

Unless the Conservatives succumb to the social conservative wing of the party, as they did with the "barbaric cultural practices hotline" in the last campaign.

"Then the accusation becomes a lot more credible," Prof. Besco said.

Preventing "bozo eruptions" from socially conservative MPs, for example, will be one of Mr. Scheer's most important tasks in the weeks ahead. Such eruptions plagued Stephen Harper in the early years of his leadership.

Mr. Crowley suspects the affable Mr.Scheer will be a particularly difficult candidate to demonize. "The idea that this is a man who wants to go back to the distant past of back-alley abortions and white-only immigration is laughable," he said.

If Mr. Scheer can shake off Liberal efforts to brand him as intolerant, and make the election about alleged Liberal incompetence (China, the India trip, never-ending deficits) and corruption (the SNC-Lavalin affair, the Mark Norman affair et al.), then the Tories could prevail.

To that end, Mr. Scheer has been careful to insist that a Conservative government would take no action on abortion, and in a June speech, he said: "I find the notion that one's race, religion, gender or sexual orientation would make anyone in any way superior or inferior to anyone else absolutely repugnant. And if there's anyone who disagrees with that, there's the door.

You are not welcome here."

Given Mr. Trudeau's current unpopularity - many polls show that voters are unsatisfied with his performance - Mr.Scheer's task as leader is to keep the social conservatives - some of whom are in his caucus - quiet, while reassuring the larger public "that he is a safe pair of hands," said Bob Plamondon, who has chronicled the history of conservatism in several books.

Mr. Scheer does, however, face one other challenge in trying to tamp down accusations of populist intolerance: Ontario Premier Doug Ford.

While Mr. Ford strongly supports immigration, and was supported in turn by immigrant voters in last year's election, he is otherwise a classic populist - declaring he's for "the little guy" and railing against elites even as he slashes government services.

Those cuts, and one patronage-appointment scandal after another, have rendered Mr. Ford unpopular. Declining fortunes for the Ontario Progressive Conservatives may be contributing to rising Liberal fortunes in Ontario in some polls.

How badly could the Ford effect damage the Conservatives? Ms. Kurl says that his presence in the federal campaign, however vicarious, could galvanize Liberal supporters in the province.

The Conservative Party of Canada has enjoyed the rock-solid support of one-inthree voters since it was forged from the union of the Progressive Conservative and Canadian Alliance parties before the 2004 election campaign. The CPC is also flush with cash, often raising more money in a financial quarter than all other parties combined. If Mr. Scheer has made no strongly positive impression, he has made no strongly negative one, either.

But the party struggles to find the three or four percentage points of additional support needed to secure a minority government, or six for a majority. If the Liberal base is weaker than its Conservative counterpart, the party has much more room to grow.

This election will be like so many others. The Liberals will try to consolidate progressive support. The NDP under Jagmeet Singh will resist them. In this vote, the Greens under Elizabeth May might also be a factor.

Meanwhile, the Conservatives will try to win back middle-class suburban voters who abandoned them for Justin Trudeau in 2015, but who are now having second thoughts.

In that struggle, whenever the opportunity arises, the Liberals will portray the Conservatives as intolerant. How intolerant? That will depend on how much the Tories mess up, and how much trouble the Grits are in.

Associated Graphic


Whether it's to distract from deeper problems or to promote nationalism - or provincialism, in Alberta's case - scare tactics around NGOs and foreign funding are well-worn political tools
Saturday, July 13, 2019 – Print Edition, Page O9

Author of The Devil's Curve: A Journey into Power and Profit at the Amazon's Edge and The Oil Man and the Sea: Navigating the Northern Gateway

Until he e-mailed me a couple of weeks ago, asking if I knew of any NGOs that could help him out, I hadn't heard from Joel Shimpukat in almost a decade.

A lot had changed since the last time I saw him, deep in Peru's northern Amazon, where he was hiding from a federal arrest warrant. He'd helped organize a protest against a Vancouver-based mining company that was looking for gold in the sacred headwaters upstream from his Awajun nation; that protest, in turn, was part of an Amazon-wide Indigenous uprising against the freetrade agreements that Peru's then-president had just negotiated with Canada and the United States - negotiations to which no Indigenous representatives were invited.

The Awajun mobilization was one of the largest and most sustained in Peru's history. For two months, around 3,000 men and women blockaded a critical highway linking the rain forest to the outside world. On June 5, 2009, Peru's president, Alan Garcia, lost patience and sent the army to clear them out. But the predawn raid went horribly wrong. The soldiers panicked and opened fire, killing three protesters and shooting almost 100 more, most of them in the back as they tried to run away. Others fought and killed 25 soldiers, which led Mr.

Garcia to call the botched operation a "genocide against the police." Mr. Shimpukat wasn't accused of killing anyone, but his role in organizing the blockade was enough to get him charged with sedition. And so he fled back to his home in the jungle, where he knew the army wouldn't follow.

The debacle scandalized the country, but Mr. Garcia refused to back down. "We watched this disaster come on little by little," he said in a public address. "It was brought on by the desperate appetites of those hungry for power, inspired by foreign interests that want to slow the velocity of our development." Peruvians, he declared, ought to ask themselves: "Who does it suit for Peru not to use its gas, not to find more oil, to be unable to better exploit its minerals?" In a thinly veiled jab at Peru's regional rivals, Bolivia and Venezuela, he concluded: "International communists."

In saying so, Mr. Garcia joined a rich international tradition of leaders beseeching their people to beware of foreign money and ideas.

"We must act as Zimbabweans, think as Zimbabweans, be masters of our own destiny," Robert Mugabe said back in 2008, after he'd expropriated the country's white-owned farms to give to his generals. The policy bankrupted his country, led to the world's highest level of hyperinflation since Germany's Weimar Republic and caused the exodus of three million Zimbabweans. When NGOs and church groups did what they could to stanch the humanitarian disaster, Mr. Mugabe shut them down, too. "What are we expected to do," he said when they complained, "and how are we expected to judge you when you act behind our backs and go and report outside?" The international community was indeed pressing him for reforms, but Mr.

Mugabe - a master of invoking the country's colonial history - wouldn't have it. "We know their tactics," he said of meddlers such as Britain's leaders. "They will find people in our midst, those who can be easily bought, those who offer themselves for sale."

In Myanmar, back when Aung San Suu Kyi was still under house arrest in her dilapidated lakefront mansion, an American tourist swam uninvited to her house. She let him in so as to kick him out the front door, which doubled her trouble. "It is no doubt that Daw Aung San Suu Kyi has committed a cover-up of the truth by her failure to report an illegal immigrant to the authorities," the country's deputy defence minister said. "Thus there was no option but to open legal proceedings in accordance with the law." Miraculously, she beat the charges and was soon running for Myanmar's equivalent of prime minister. Believe it or not, her greatest liability in the campaign was the suspicion she was too fond of Myanmar's Muslim minority, who are perceived as outsiders. The military's commander-in-chief, running against her, played this up, along with the fact that she'd married a British academic and hired several foreign advisers. "The leader of the country," he warned voters, "should be one who ... is able to righteously and systematically take care of your own race and religion; and is not associated with, or under the influence of, foreigners, foreign countries or foreign agencies."

More recently, Chinese leaders and the newspapers they control have responded to the historic protests in Hong Kong by asking who's really behind them. "It's a pity that some Hong Kong people and organizations have been used as pawns," one of the city's officials said. "It is very noteworthy that some international forces have significantly strengthened their interaction with the Hong Kong opposition in recent months," agreed another editorial.

It isn't just tyrants who speak this way. None other than George Washington himself once said: "Against the insidious wiles of foreign influence ... the jealousy of a free people ought to be constantly awake, since history and experience prove that foreign influence is one of the most baneful foes of republican government."

Washington did speak from experience, having relied on French military assistance to win the revolution. And who can deny the success, or at least the influence, of the United States' interventions in other countries ever since? Against that kind of record, the hi jinks described in the Mueller Report come off as bushleague, at best.

Speaking of which, let's not forget the law that Russian President Vladimir Putin passed in 2012 forcing any NGO with a penny of foreign funding to label itself a "foreign agent," which is just as synonymous with "traitorous spy" in Russian as it is in English. "Any form of pressure on Russia, our allies and partners, is unacceptable," Mr. Putin said.

Speaking a bit more directly, the deputy head of Russia's Security Council lambasted "the destructive activities of various non-governmental organizations, especially the foreign ones, that never stop their attempts to destabilize the situation in our country."

The same year that Mr. Putin signed his law on foreign agents, Canada's own natural resources minister, Joe Oliver, wrote his famous open letter warning of "environmental and other radical groups" who "use funding from foreign special interest groups to undermine Canada's national economic interest." The radicals weren't afraid to "take a quintessential American approach: sue everyone and anyone to delay the project even further."

I used to think this kind of talk was a sign of nationalism. But Jason Kenney has enlightened me otherwise: it turns out it can be a sign of provincialism, too. Last week, he launched his inquiry into the "foreign-funded special interests" that he claims have perpetuated, through environmental groups, a "political propaganda campaign to defame our energy industry and to landlock our industry."

It's also true that we radical foreign-funded environmentalists are just as quick to denounce foreign funds and influence as Mr. Kenney. We have noticed, for example, that the oil and gas industry is 42.9-per-cent foreignowned, according to 2016 Statistics Canada data, and that foreign investment in the sector comes to more than $100-billion. That's a touch more than climate activists are pulling in. Against those odds, it's no wonder the movement's success in blocking pipelines is driving Mr. Kenney to distraction.

Distraction, after all, is the name of the game. For some rulers, it's corruption that they want to prevent the public from noticing. For others, it's human-rights abuses. For the "Un-Albertan Activities Committee," as energy journalist Markham Hislop called it, it's the fact that an economic boom is winding sharply down, while a much darker age of ecological collapse has just begun - and no one has a plan for this new reality. Rather than come up with one, Mr. Kenney has discovered "a premeditated, internationally planned and financed operation to put Alberta out of business."

Albertans should at least be aware of the global trend they're joining. A recent Amnesty International report found that crackdowns on civil-society groups are rising all over the world. More than 50 countries have put such laws in place in recent years. They aren't backwaters, either. In India, the world's largest democracy and among the most exposed countries on Earth to climate risk, 20,000 NGOs have been stripped of the right to receive foreign funding since 2014, a great many of them environmental; a leaked Intelligence Bureau report accused Greenpeace and others of "serving as tools for the interests of Western governments," and being part of a "growth-retarding campaign." In Brazil, where 57 environmental activists were killed in 2017 alone, President Jair Bolsonaro has promised to "supervise, co-ordinate, monitor and accompany" the country's NGOs, and "put a final stop to all forms of activism." And in the United States, at least 17 states have recently proposed bills to limit environmental protests.

This long history does, as the saying goes, veer from tragedy to farce, but it's never far from slipping back to the former. In Peru, allegations eventually came out that the former president, Mr.

Garcia, had been taking bribes from the infamous Brazilian construction company Odebrecht all along. When police finally showed up at his house to arrest him three months ago, he shot himself in the head.

But my old friend Joel Shimpukat had the charges against him lifted long before that. He's now the mayor of a small town in the jungle. The region is resourcerich but cash-poor; Joel has some ideas about how to generate employment without destroying the rain forest, but the kind of investment he needs is hard to come by in Peru. If only there were a foreign-funded NGO that could help.

Associated Graphic

Alberta Premier Jason Kenney, seen on Wednesday, has tapped into a global trend of scare tactics concerning NGOs and foreign funding.


In Newfoundland and Labrador's opioid crisis, a flying doctor lifts rural residents' hopes of recovery
For many patients in far-flung towns, Todd Young is the only option to get treatment fast - but getting to them takes determination, effort and a pair of wings
Monday, July 15, 2019 – Print Edition, Page A8

It is an hour or so before midnight when Dr. Todd Young's truck peels onto the unlit strip of asphalt paved into a remote section of woods.

His pilot and plane are already waiting.

This night's flight was planned for tomorrow, but warnings of early-morning fog have set off an urgent race to get Dr. Young up into the sky - and back down more than 500 kilometres south in Marystown - to ensure he can see the dozens of addictions patients registered to see him.

Prescription pads, specimen containers and patient files are hurriedly loaded into the Piper's snug fuselage by the scant light of a half moon. Seatbelts click. Laughter over the mention of checking the dark airstrip for moose (although it is not actually a joke) ends when the 50-year-old plane's twin-engines roar to life. The Piper picks up speed as it scuttles down the runway and pushes skyward, advancing one of the most ambitious rural medical efforts under way to provide opioid replacement therapy along the country's easterly margin.

Dr. Young, a physician based in Springdale, the rural town of 3,000 where he was born and where his father is still the local barber, has his own plane and is flown into eight (and counting) small Newfoundland and Labrador towns each month to provide treatment for opioid addiction. In most of those places, he is the only doctor willing to prescribe opioid-replacement medication - methadone or Suboxone - and he often has to convince pharmacists to dispense the medication.

In all but one of the towns he flies to, he is the only doctor who offers rapid access to treatment, meaning a patient asking for help is usually seen within five days (elsewhere in the province, patients wait an average of one month, although in rural areas, if there is a doctor who offers opioidaddiction treatment, waits are often much longer).

Newfoundland has struggled in recent years to counter a growing opioid epidemic that, as in other provinces, has ensnared people from all walks of life. Even Liberal Premier Dwight Ball has spoken publicly about his own daughter's struggle with addiction. The province was recently slammed for having the country's highest opioid prescription rate per capita - and the country's only increasing rate of opioid prescriptions - in a report published last year by the Canadian Institute for Health Information.

Apparent opioid-related deaths in the province have decreased, from 33 in 2017 to just 10 in 2018, according to provincial statistics. But addiction-treatment advocates fear those low numbers belie the full extent of the local opioid problem. Approximately 2,700 Newfoundlanders were prescribed methadone or Suboxone in 2018, according to provincial statistics.

The number of doctors willing to prescribe the medication nearly doubled between 2017, when there were just 54 prescribers, and 2018, which had 98.

Still, accessing that treatment remains a challenge. That is particularly acute outside the three urban centres - St. John's, Cornerbrook and Gander - that have what the province calls "Opioid Dependence Treatment hubs."

"This is not a popular form of medicine in Newfoundland," said Dr. Young, who said many physicians "look at addictions patients as problem patients." Thus, it is not uncommon for him to show up to work to find a patient who has hitchhiked hundreds of kilometres to beg for treatment, or another waiting in her truck before office hours begin, trembling with the onset of withdrawal and the determination to get help.

"Every nook and cranny is affected by addiction," Dr. Young said. "People are suffering in the smallest of towns."

Marystown is one of them. A Burin Peninsula hub with a population of 5,300, the town's shipbuilding heyday is long over; hard times have befallen many and the spread of opioid addiction has deepened the desperation. Until Dr. Young set up his monthly clinic there last year, the closest opioid-addiction treatment option was in St. John's, a six-hour journey with the return.

Getting there and back while trying to battle addiction, maintain a job, care for a family and pay the cost of travel was, for many, nonsensical.

On the early June day that Dr. Young is in town, close to 50 patients file in to see him. The earliest are Kim Boland and Steven Stacey, a young couple whose fiveyear-old son, Steven Jr., tags along.

"If it weren't for methadone, I don't know where I would be to," said Mr. Stacey, an autobody mechanic with a thick Bayman accent. "We were the worst of the worst. We was bad drug addicts for five solid years," he said, glancing at Ms. Boland, who nodded.

Steven Jr. was removed from his parents' custody when he was eight months old, an act that Ms. Boland painfully recalls being grateful for. In the throes of her addiction, she could only concentrate on how to get her daily fix. "I wished somebody would come and take him - we never thought we'd get clean. We were going to put the kid in foster care," she said, adding: "We weren't there for his first birthday."

The pair served jail terms for stealing and petty theft.

Dr. Young, though, has helped them turn their lives around. He has Ms. Boland and Mr. Stacey on methadone. They have their son back and are planning for a summer full of family activities.

Next, Emma Foote talks in her appointment about weaning off methadone. She started on the treatment five years after moving to Ontario to get treatment. Then, she was told she would have to wait nine months for methadone in Newfoundland.

"I was like, 'I'll probably be dead in nine months'," she recalled. "I was so desperate. I felt near dead."

Ms. Foote recently moved home to Marystown, but only because she could continue treatment with Dr. Young.

He currently manages about 600 patients that range in age from 15 to 94. That list grows daily because of a never-say-no policy Dr. Young adopted at the insistence of his best friend, Craig Wiseman. A former intensive-care nurse, Mr. Wiseman works with Dr. Young as a "recovery coach." That job involves sharing with patients his own struggle with opioid addiction, which began more than two decades ago.

Bored in a St. John's hotel room after a patient transfer, Mr. Wiseman injected morphine. The addiction was instant.

"I was a nurse on top of my game, two little babies at home, everything to live for. I didn't really fit what most people would consider the stereotype," he recalled ruefully. "But there's no set mould or pattern of people. What I did was I experimented and I got caught."

Mr. Wiseman got help after abandoning plans to commit suicide while hunting in the woods; he reached out for support from Dr. Young, who he met in nursing school (Dr. Young was a nurse before he became a doctor).

Years later, it was Dr. Young's turn to ask his friend for help. In 2015, in a deep depression, the doctor was battling alcoholism, a broken marriage and a licence suspension from the provincial College of Physicians and Surgeons for having inappropriate relationships with two patients.

"Things just spiralled down," Dr. Young said. "What happened to me can happen to anybody given the right set of circumstances."

Out of that dark period, in which Dr.Young himself struggled to get doctors to agree to treat him, came a new commitment to helping vulnerable patients who have few options - and few willing doctors - to turn to.

He and Mr. Wiseman agreed to team up to treat opioid addictions, a problem Mr.Wiseman fears is far greater than government statistics reflect.

"The optics are not accurate. We only hear tell of the diagnosed overdoses, but no one would have thought of me, if they had come into the woods and found my body, as an opioid addict," Mr. Wiseman said. "But it would have been related to opioid use. The sickness is even bigger than it looks."

Dr. Young hopes that his willingness to treat it will eventually entice other physicians.

"My goal with all these clinics everywhere ... is for people to have their own physicians take care of them," he said.

"I'm not special in my knowledge base.

Every family doctor is quite capable of managing addiction," he said.

What sets him apart, perhaps, is his social conscience and his approach to addiction ("It is just another chronic disease," he said).

"For me, the most socially responsible thing I could do is focus on mental health and addictions," he said, adding: "The easy thing would have been to stay in my office in Springdale and work nine-tofive."

Tackling the rural opioid epidemic doesn't strictly require a personal plane, although having the Piper has cut down on long highway commutes.

"It makes it a bit of an adventure," Dr.Young said, grinning.

Associated Graphic

Todd Young, centre, and Craig Wiseman, right, carry charts and luggage off a small airstrip after landing in Clarenville, N.L., for their second clinic of the day.

Kim Boland, below, holds her son, Steven Stacey Jr., as she and Steven Sr. meet with Dr. Young in Marystown, N.L. 'If it wasn't for methadone, I don't know where I'd be to,' Mr. Stacey says.

Dr. Young stands on the wharf in front of his grandparents' home in Springdale, N.L., the rural town of 3,000 where he was born and still practises.

Mr. Wiseman, left, and Dr. Young prepare for takeoff on a small airstrip outside Marystown. The two both helped each other during tumultuous periods in their lives before teaming up to treat opioid addictions.

Dr. Young has his own plane and is flown into a number of Newfoundland and Labrador towns each month to see about 600 patients. That list grows daily because of a never-say-no policy.

Tuesday, July 16, 2019

Canadian maker of military vehicles for Sudan operates beyond reach of Ottawa's rules
Tuesday, July 16, 2019 – Print Edition, Page A1

KHARTOUM OTTAWA -- On the streets of Khartoum, the tan-coloured military vehicles are easy to spot: armoured personnel carriers, built by a Canadian-owned company, deployed in key locations around the city in support of the regime that seized power in a military coup this year.

The machines, with machine guns mounted on top, do not have any external markings. But experts have helped The Globe and Mail identify them as Cougar armoured vehicles, manufactured by Streit Group, a company owned by Canadian businessman Guerman Goutorov.

The vehicles are part of a growing debate in Sudan: the role of foreign companies, including Canadian manufacturers, in providing support for the latest military regime and, before it, the authoritarian government that ruled Sudan for 30 years. The massacre of pro-democracy protesters by Sudan's security agencies in June has made the issue even more urgent, critics say.

Linked to this is a separate debate: What can countries such as Canada do to regulate its companies when they provide militaryrelated assistance to repressive regimes, especially those subject to sanctions? New Canadian regulations to crack down on arms brokering are being introduced this year, but it remains unclear if they will make any real difference on the ground.

The federal government has called for democracy in Sudan, demanded a transition to civilian rule and criticized the military regime for its violence against protesters.

But a Sudanese pro-democracy leader, Amjad Farid, says he detects a whiff of hypocrisy in official pronouncements from Canada and other Western governments. As long as their private businesses are providing valuable support for Sudan's military regime, their government statements are mere rhetoric, he says.

Two Canadian-owned companies - Streit and lobbying firm Dickens & Madson - have had a high-profile role in Sudan this year. The lobbyist has provided strategic and diplomatic advice to the military rulers, promising to help obtain funds and equipment for their armed forces, while Streit is the manufacturer of a number of the armoured vehicles the regime has used to maintain its grip on power.

For the pro-democracy protesters, this foreign business partnership with Sudan's military regime has fuelled their mistrust of Western governments and their cynicism about the official statements of support.

"The international community has more than one face," said Mr.Farid, spokesman for the Sudanese Professionals Association, one of the main organizers of the mass street protests that have persisted in Sudan since last December.

"They're not sincere when they say that they oppose tyranny," he told The Globe in an interview earlier this month in Khartoum.

He questioned the military regime's decision to spend US$6million on a contract with the Canadian lobbying company.

Canada has federal regulations in place to enforce United Nations sanctions against Sudan, including an arms embargo that prohibits the sale of most types of "military and paramilitary equipment." But there are ways for Canadian companies to avoid the impact of those rules, analysts say.

Last week, the federal government asked the RCMP to investigate Dickens & Madson for possible violations of the sanctions on Sudan. The company's president, Ari Ben-Menashe, has denied any.

Streit, meanwhile, could run afoul of new federal regulations on Canadian "arms brokers" who sell weapons to countries under sanctions. But it is unclear if those regulations would halt the export of Streit vehicles to Sudan, experts say. The company's chairman and owner, Mr. Goutorov, is a Canadian citizen. But because his factory was located in the United Arab Emirates, rather than in Canada, he is beyond the reach of existing rules.

The Globe reported in 2016 that the RCMP was investigating Streit for possible violations of Canadian sanctions regulations on Sudan, but there is no indication any action was taken.

A related Streit company, Streit Manufacturing, has a presence in Canada. Mr. Goutorov is registered as its president and treasurer in Ontario government records and the company manufactures armoured vehicles at a facility in Midland, Ont.

Toronto trade lawyer Cyndee Todgham Cherniak, an expert in export controls, said her understanding is that the 2016 review was closed because the Streit vehicles are being manufactured overseas in the UAE and Canadian authorities couldn't find evidence that any parts originated in Canada. "It's possible to avoid Canadian law if you have a foreign subsidiary do the work," she said.

Three years ago, The Globe reported that Streit had sold 30 Typhoon armoured trucks to Sudan's security agencies. Some of the vehicles, manufactured at Streit's UAE factory, ended up in the Darfur region, where Sudan's military and paramilitary forces have committed atrocities that have led to war-crimes charges at the International Criminal Court.

A report in 2016 by a UN panel of experts concluded that the import of the Streit vehicles was a violation of the UN arms embargo on Sudan. While the manufacturer sold the vehicles to a local broker, it "almost certainly" knew that broker was not the "end user" and that the broker was making false claims about the destination of the vehicles, the report concluded.

Streit did not answer many of the UN panel's questions about the Typhoon vehicle deal, nor did it respond to questions from The Globe about its Cougar vehicles in Khartoum. In the past, when asked about a similar deal in South Sudan, it has argued that the vehicles are not military equipment because they are not exported with weaponry attached to them.

Independent researchers, including Amnesty International experts, have verified that several military vehicles photographed by The Globe in Khartoum this month are Cougar armoured personnel carriers, manufactured by Streit Group.

Alex Neve, secretary-general of the Canadian branch of Amnesty International, called for an "urgent investigation" of Streit's role in Sudan.

The presence of Streit vehicles in Sudan's military forces this year, three years after criticism of its earlier deals, "would seem to indicate that regard for human rights and international law does not figure prominently in the company's business decisions," Mr. Neve told The Globe.

He said it was "particularly troubling" to learn that Sudan's security forces are using Streit vehicles at a time when they have been employing violence and military weaponry to repress the pro-democracy demonstrations.

Even if the Streit vehicles were manufactured outside Canada, any involvement by Canadian citizens in the company "raises serious questions about violations of sanctions," Mr. Neve said.

Starting Sept. 1, Canadians in the arms-brokering business will be subject to licensing requirements. Brokers are defined as those who arrange or negotiate a transaction for moving arms between two foreign countries. Canadians in this business are required to apply for a permit to make these deals, but Ottawa would not grant one where the goods in question could undermine peace and security or be used to commit serious violations of humanitarian or human-rights law.

Ms. Todgham Cherniak, the Toronto lawyer, said Canada has enacted these new rules to comply with the UN's Arms Trade Treaty, but their arrival doesn't necessarily mean Mr. Goutorov will find himself charged with breaking Canadian law.

"Someone in this position and Streit knows they're under the microscope - would look at the Canadian rules very carefully and see if there is any way to get around the rules," she said. "If you can structure your affairs to avoid the application of the law, that's still legal." Arms-trade watchers believe Streit sells its vehicles to middlemen - local companies in the Middle East that then resell them to African buyers. In this case, Streit wouldn't technically be the broker. "If it can't be shown he arranged a sale, than he did not engage in brokering," Ms. Todgham Cherniak said.

A Canadian source with knowledge of Canada's arms-control monitoring, however, said the government is going to look at the full cycle of an arms transaction - to determine the ultimate end user - rather than just the initial consignee of a controlled good.

The source was granted anonymity by The Globe because they were not authorized to speak publicly on the matter.

The source said that in challenging cases it may be necessary for various government departments and authorities to work together to find a solution that could include going after offenders in court.

Ms. Todgham Cherniak said one solution for the Canadian government in difficult cases would be to team up with a jurisdiction that has more funding and authority to investigate overseas, such as the United States. In Canada, she said, "we don't have sufficient resources allocated to export controls and economic sanctions."

Associated Graphic

Soldiers with Sudan's Rapid Support Forces patrol Khartoum last month. The militia evolved in part out of the Janjaweed forces formed in the 2000s to suppress the Darfur insurgency.


Above: Demonstrators flood the streets of Khartoum on June 30 in a rally against ruling generals. For some pro-democracy protesters, foreign business partnerships with Sudan's military regime have fuelled mistrust of Western governments.


Experts identify this armoured vehicle, deployed in Khartoum by Sudan's ruling military regime, as being manufactured by Streit Group, a company owned by Canadian businessman Guerman Goutorov.


Left: Crowds gather again for a rally in Khartoum on Saturday to mourn the dozens of demonstrators killed in a raid on a protest camp in the capital early last month.

Above: A man at the rally raises a picture of a fellow protester killed in the crackdown. More than 100 pro-democracy protesters were massacred by Sudan's security agencies in June.


The terrible beauty of the Tain
In the weekly series The Enthusiast, The Globe and Mail's writers offer a window into their own private cultural lives: what they're watching, reading, seeing and listening to. This week, John Doyle revisits an Irish epic
Saturday, July 20, 2019 – Print Edition, Page R2

When I was young and foolish, I got lost in a labyrinthine story about the stealing of a cow and all the repercussions and ripples emanating from that. These ripples involve much fighting, poetry, sex, armies marauding through the night, unrequited love and the emergence of a godlike warrior whose death comes while upright, lashed to a stone, his enemies waiting until a raven lands on him.

The story is the Tain Bo Cuailnge (The Cattle Raid of Cooley) and it is the bedrock of Irishlanguage mythology. It's a great, epic tale and it is central to Irish culture. It is also maddening in its meandering, cockeyed in its ceaseless naming of places and worship of physical strength and astute in its insights into greed and false heroism. When Game of Thrones arrived a few years ago, I was not one of those people instantly smitten with it. It seemed a pastiche, inauthentic. I knew a more uproarious and thrilling tale. Game of Thrones has nothing on the Tain Bo Cuailnge.

The epic tale, part of the Ulster Cycle of stories, exists in fragments and is based on three ancient manuscripts from the 11th to the 14th centuries. It is partly in prose and then erupts into acres of elated and elaborate poetry celebrating nature and feats of war. It is Ireland's rough equivalent of Virgil's The Aeneid.

It begins, if there is a true beginning, with pillow talk after canoodling. Maeve, queen of the province of Connacht, is sparring idly in bed with her husband, Aillil. Now, Maeve is both a sexual goddess and the boss, voracious in her appetite and a forceful leader. She married Aillil because he's easygoing and not given to jealousy. She needs that in a fella.

They begin to count up all their possessions. It turns out, to Maeve's ire, that her husband has something she doesn't: a white bull named Finnbhennach. Outraged, she tells her messenger MacRoth to get a gang of her soldiers together and find a bull more powerful than Aillil's.

They do. They travel to the land of the Ulster cattle baron, one Daire mac Fiachna. He has a famous bull, the Donn Cuailnge, the Brown Bull of Cooley. He agrees to loan it to Maeve for a year so it can sire a successor.

Thing go awry when Maeve's men get drunk and boast that they could have simply taken the bull. A furious Daire declares the deal is off.

Lets pause here. How did I get lost in all this? Well, when I was a lad, in 1969 there appeared a new translation of the Tain by poet Thomas Kinsella. The publishers went all out and commissioned Irish artist Louis le Brocquy to illustrate it. The result is stunning: Kinsella's muscular language, which rescues the story from an earlier version that offered it as cute fairy-tale myth, is enhanced by le Brocquy's simple, beautiful but macabre drawings of events in a primitive, prehistoric world.

The artist himself said it: "It is as shadows thrown by the text that they derive their substance." It was the most important book published in Ireland in a generation, an imaginative reshaping of a cultural touchstone into a fiercely contemporary context. Even as a kid I knew that. Kinsella's dynamic description of Cuchulainn's travails is, in part, this: "The first warp-spasm seized Cuchulainn, and made him into a monstrous thing, hideous and shapeless, unheard of. His shanks and his joints, every knuckle and angle and organ from head to foot, shook like a tree in the flood or a reed in the stream."

So, in the story, Queen Maeve is now even more furious and organizes an army of supporters to overrun Ulster and abduct the bull. Here, the Cattle Raid of Cooley is truly under way. The men of Ulster are regrettably under a curse put upon them by the goddess Macha. She has inflicted the pain of childbirth on these men because they abused a pregnant woman - there is a lot of female rage in the Tain - and it will last for months. The only fella who is immune and can fight the invading Connacht army is the young, godlike Cuchulainn. They call him the Hound of Ulster.

Now Cuchulainn is introduced in a series of passages that are rhapsodic in their description of his physical strength. He is bigger, better, bolder and more fierce than any man alive. But courteous, too, and likes to play by the rules. In any case, he begins to fight back and does things like kill a hundred soldiers a day, no bother on him.

Eventually, he agrees to fight Connacht one enemy at a time, and these individual fights go on and on. Maeve, meanwhile, has to use all her skills to persuade her best fighters to meet Cuchulainn alone. She offers them sex with her daughters as part of the package.

Day after day, Cuchulainn defeats each opponent until he meets Ferdia, his friend and foster brother. The battle is long and brutal and for Ferdia it ends in death. Cuchulainn weeps that it has all come to this, this mad war. The upshot is that the Brown Bull of Cooley is taken to Maeve's land and fortress. But upon meeting the white bull, Finnbhennach, the two begin to fight. Their battle rages over miles and miles, until both die.

The origin of all this war, sacrifice and savagery is negated; after all that, both bulls - the catalysts for all the carnage - are dead.

Another pause here. In mid-1970s Ireland, when I was a bit older and given to appreciating rock music, the Irish band Horslips released a sort-of concept album, The Tain. To describe Horslips as "Celtic rock" would be inaccurate. They were Irish rocker-artists giving traditional music a kick in the posterior.

They were huge, this band, and their cultural influence is still discussed in academia today.

With The Tain, they distilled the entire elaborate epic into short stories, some of which are asides in the main epic. MacRoth is in love with Maeve, they've been lovers, and he is stuck in melancholy jealousy of Cuchulainn's brawn. "I travel Ireland in a day/You just nod, I'm on my way/I've golden wings upon my feet/I seldom touch the ground/ The only thing I'm not/Is faster than the Hound." With one piece, Dearg Doom (Red Destroyer), they encapsulate Cuchulainn's fury and might, amping up an ancient tune, O'Neill's March, into a searing rock guitar riff. The music was used for Ireland's theme song at the 1990 World Cup and is still heard in the dance halls of Ireland to this day. The album cover, with its fist in chain mail, is considered iconic, a small masterpiece of representation.

Since then, by the way, a new translation of The Tain by poet Ciaran Carson was published by Penguin in 2007. It's peculiar but piquant how an ancient myth can have so may ripples and repercussions and enter into a country's bloodstream, decade after decade, again and again.

Back in the story, with the two bulls killing each other, there ends officially the Cattle Raid of Cooley, with its moral about the futility of fighting over possessions. But Cuchulainn's story isn't over. In his many fights, he killed a man with a pregnant wife who had the power of sorcery. She gave birth to sextuplets - three boys and three girls - all gifted with strange powers. They set out for revenge on the Hound of Ulster. Through trickery, sorcery and flattery they persuade the great warrior into a fight.

They strip him of his strength with necromancy. (There's a side story about the goddess Morrigan refusing to protect him too, because he had rejected her advances.) In the end he dies, having lashed himself to that stone so he will not fall before his enemies, while onlookers wait until the bird sits on his shoulder, telling them he is finally dead.

A bronze cast, The Death of Cuchulainn, by Oliver Sheppard, has stood inside the General Post Office in central Dublin since the 1930s. The GPO was the site of the Easter Rising against British rule in 1916, which eventually led to an independent Ireland. Millions have seen it, passed by it: a warrior in death, refusing to fall.

Its presence is an act of continuity with the ancient, brutal past chronicled in the Ulster Cycle of stories, of which the Tain Bo Cuailnge is central.

The bronze cast is less a commemoration than an acknowledgement that a country's, a culture's narrative is there, in one long labyrinthine story that starts with the stealing of a cow.

And what we learn from it, as I did, is the terrible waste that tribal conflicts bring, no matter the beauty of their telling.

Notes: The Tain: Ulster rises from its pangs is used with the permission of The Estate of Louis le Brocquy. Website: The cover of The Tain is used with the permission of Horslips.

Website: The music of The Tain by Horslips can be found on Spotify.

Associated Graphic

A statue by Oliver Sheppard depicts the Cuchulainn, the mythological Irish figure who features in the Ulster Cycle, of which the Tain Bo Cuailnge is part.


The story of Tain Bo Cuailnge remains an integral part of Irish culture that inspires literature, art and music to this day.

A house where 'pretty' is the operative word
Owner Ellen Schraa has spent years restoring her Toronto Victorian home
Friday, July 19, 2019 – Print Edition, Page H6

TORONTO -- 38 Sorauren Ave.


Asking Price: $2,995,000 Taxes: $7,128 (2019) Lot Size: 20 by 156 feet Agents: Nancy Lee Jobin, Sotheby's International Realty

THE BACK STORY "She has a style. This is not staged," Sotheby's sales representative Nancy Lee Jobin says about her most recent listing, a claim that would be hard to credit were it not for the lived-in feel of the otherwise utterly unique home.

"Everything is French provincial - from A to Z - there's just nowhere that you see anything modern."

For the homeowner, Ellen Schraa, her overriding design ethos is simple: Is it pretty? And her affection for the colourful and ornate furniture pieces calls all the way back to her childhood.

"I remember being a little girl and having specific pieces of furniture. My family wasn't very well off, so we typically had pieces given to us," she recalls. "I must have been in Kindergarten or Grade 1, having one or two French provincial pieces and I loved decorating my room. I would push my furniture around the room so I had a different view every so often, and I would be so excited to go to bed that night because my view for falling asleep would be different."

When she purchased the house at 38 Sorauren Ave. seven years ago, it was a run-down rooming house with major structural issues on the rear addition.

The renovation was a near total gut-job, a project that took three years. It transformed a two-storey house with a boarded-up attic and turned it into a three-storey Victorian gem with hand-curated finds in every room.

Restoring the house to its Victorian grandeur took some doing.

Ms. Schraa had to find a place that would do custom baseboards to evoke the period. She had some chandelier medallions on site (painted over many times across the decades) but needed to find more; new doors had to be purchased and new vintage doorknobs found. (Luckily, she found a batch of crystal knobs from a Rosedale teardown that all matched). Behind existing drywall were the original archways between rooms, but an incomplete set of corbels (the ornate "corner" pieces where the arc touches the wall), so some had to be custom carved. She found a gasfireplace specialist who would do a mantle that looked like one piece of carved stone.

"I'm not a designer ... but what I find is you have to decorate to the space," Ms. Schraa says. "During construction, I would just take a bucket, and I would sit on it, in the middle of a room and look around and try to envision what I thought I should do."

THE HOUSE TODAY The conviction to be different starts outside: The house is painted black with purple undertones - it's unlike anything else on the street (it used to be a dusty pink brick) and Ms. Schraa came to it after cycling through more vibrant colours on the virtual painting app on Benjamin Moore's website. Years later, she found the black cobble stones that feature in the front-yard landscaping.

The front door opens into a house that's painted entirely white: white hardwood floors, white walls and ceilings. There's animal print throws on the floor, French provincial furniture and a vintage chandelier in every room.

There are absolutely no builderfavourite pot-lights anywhere.

From the small foyer, there is a sitting room/dining space on the left and directly ahead is a hallway to the kitchen, basement stairs (basement is low, dry and clean but mainly for storage and utilities) and narrow Victorian staircase leading upstairs. In the front room there is a pale pink sectional in the bay windows, a decorative fireplace, 10-inch baseboards and 12-inch (original) crown moulding. The details are intricate, the finishes all in white, the art on the walls minimal the animal print leaps out.

Walking past a cute powder room, you arrive at the kitchen and family room at the rear of the house. The Fisher and Paykel fridge is white, the Bertazonni range is stainless steel and the faucet has a brushed nickel-looking finish, but the rest is white (including the quartz top of the counters and island) and glass.

The wall opposite the stove and fridge is entirely upper and lower storage with more counter space.

The small living room is Ms.

Schraa's favourite hangout spot; a red French Provincial couch, a sandy stone mantle on a gas fireplace with TV mounted above, and a wall of windows with walkout to the backyard, too.

The house is a little more than 60 feet deep, and on a 156-foot long lot, there's lots left over for a large manicured backyard (and a two-car garage off the rear laneway). Dominating this space is an enormous, ornate, wrought-iron gazebo that looks like it has been there as long as the house has, but was actually a recent addition (it was Ms. Schraa's 50th birthday present to herself).

Back inside and up to the second floor is where the house fits most of its four bedrooms (although currently the front room is an office). There's a laundry room here at the top of the stairs, which you can walk through to a four-piece bathroom. The rear bedroom is 12 by 10 feet, but has a huge closet in the short hallway between it and the main hall.

The second bedroom, smaller than the rear one by just a few inches, has a long closet too, but the front room/study (15 by 16 feet) with its bay window has none.

Each room is white; each room has the perfect collection of charming antiques, colours and prints.

Some of the furniture Ms.

Schraa had before moving in, but more was found scouring local antique stores. "I stole all my family's antique pieces - one of the cabinets in my study came over from the Netherlands, one of the dressers in the second floor bathroom came from mom's father's farm," she says.

There are a couple of wallmounted flower-like metal light fixtures - more vintage finds - that were intended for overhead use but work well as sconces. All of these fixtures fit with Ms.

Schraa's style, and she's happy to include them in the sale ... but if future owners are planning to remove them, she would be willing to take them back rather than lose them to a dump somewhere.

The fourth floor master suite didn't exist before Ms. Schraa moved in. She discovered that behind the attic walls there were high ceilings and lots of space. It didn't take much for the contractors to turn this level in to a master suite. The bedroom faces the backyard (complete with Juliette balcony) and is 26 by 13 feet, with half the space occupied by a closet and dressing area.

Ms. Schraa is an accountant by training, an expert in health policy and a professor in the School of Health Policy and Management at York University. She expresses her style in her house, and her dress (literally). "I tend to dress in vintage and colours; I like wearing a lot of red and leopard," she said. Her closets are a panoply of colours and textures, and an inspiring collection of red pumps and knee-high boots.

A door in the dressing area takes you to the massive fourpiece ensuite with standalone clawfoot tub, more chandeliers, and a strange little hallway to the front attic window; there's nothing in there other than light, a rare piece of undecorated space in the house.

THE NEIGHBOURHOOD Ms. Schraa wants to stay in the area, but she wants a smaller house (and she's hoping to purchase a country house, too). She loves customizing her space (in the next house, fewer chandeliers and more sconces) but she's ready for the next challenge.

The agent, Ms. Jobin, admits the pricing for the house is aggressive. "Everybody says 'Oh, there's never been a house that's been sold in this neighbourhood at this price.' That's because there's never been a house like this in this neighbourhood. What this neighbourhood does love is a Victorian house that has respected the heritage of the building, and she's done that impeccably in every regard."

Which neighbourhood is that exactly? On maps, it's in a spot claimed by both the Roncesvalles Village and Parkdale. Ms. Schraa gravitates to the shops north on Roncy, but her house is geographically much closer to Queen West and true Parkdale. She has pillows embroidered to cover both bases: one says "I [heart] Parkdale," the other, "I [heart] Roncy."

"This neighbourhood is definitely changing," says Ms. Jobin, and that includes the buyers interested in it. "People from North Toronto want to live in kind of a more urban setting where they can walk out. I'm talking downsizers here, that are moving from Rosedale, Yonge and Eglinton, moving downtown and moving here to be able to just walk."

The question is whether they will bring their Rosedale price expectations with their walking shoes.

Associated Graphic

A three-year renovation transformed a run-down Toronto rooming house into a three-storey gem with hand-curated finds in every room.


Can poetry be effectively translated?
As two recent Griffin Prize winners illustrate, translating language is an act of transmogrification
Special to The Globe and Mail
Saturday, July 20, 2019 – Print Edition, Page R10

Our default assumption about translation is that something is always lost in it. And if that's true for a novel, or an essay, how much more so for poetry, which relies, more than any other literary form, on the nuances, syntax and idiosyncrasies of the language in which it's written. (The phrase "lost in translation" was in fact made famous by James Merrill's poem of the same name.) In Fugitive Pieces, Anne Michaels's character Bialek compared reading a poem in translation to "kissing a woman through a veil." Some question whether poetry should be translated at all.

In his remarks at the Griffin Prize readings in June, prize founder Scott Griffin noted that when the prize first began, in 2001, he and the founding trustees were advised not to include works in translation. Yet how do you call yourself an international prize when you're only considering poems written in English? Griffin ignored the advice and went one further.

Not only would works in translation be considered, the translator would take the lion's share of the prize's substantial spoils. Korean poet Kim Hyesoon's win last month for her book Autobiography of Death thus entitles her to 40 per cent of the $65,000 prize money; her translator, Don Mee Choi, receives 60 per cent. That approach treats translation not as an attempt to "fail better," but as an act of transmogrification: the translated poem retains the original's shell (a poet might say carapace), but essentially becomes another poem.

Still, Choi and Kim's win marks just the third time in the international Griffin's 18year history that a work in translation has won it. Paul Celan and his translators, Nikolai Popov and Heather McHugh, won in the prize's first year. In 2013, Palestinian poet Ghassan Zaqtan won with translator Fady Joudah. This year's two nominated translations were written in languages never previously represented at the Griffin.

In the case of Luljeta Lleshanaku's Negative Space, that's hardly surprising. Lleshanaku writes in Albanian, which, despite being among the oldest languages, is spoken by only about 7.5 million people worldwide. If you're an Albanian poet, that makes for a limited audience, and an even more limited pool of potential translators. Lleshanaku was thus fortunate to strike gold in 41-year-old Ani Gjika, a poet herself, whose translation of Negative Space has been nominated for two prestigious American translation awards in addition to the Griffin. The book draws from two collections published in Albania in 2012 and 2015, and took Gjika more than four years to translate.

Translators generally translate into their mother tongue. That's technically not the case with Gjika, who grew up in Albania, but having exclusively written her own poetry in English, she now sees it as her native language.

Language and translation have been constants in her life. When she was a child in Albania, her grandmother translated daily to her from the Greek Bible (Bibles were banned in the country at the time).

In high school, Gjika majored in Russian, and, like many Albanians, picked up Italian from watching TV. Her mother is also a poet, her father a professor of Albanian literature and linguistics. When the family moved to the United States in 1999, when Gjika was 18, she served as their translator for the first few years. She delighted in translating poems by Emily Dickinson and Rumi for her mother, and for a group of Albanian writers in a writing workshop.

And yet it was only 2009, when she enrolled in an MFA program in poetry at Boston University, that she began to consider translation as a career. She's since translated poems, short stories and essays by a dozen Albanian writers and teaches the craft at Framingham State University in Massachusetts.

Albanian is a notoriously difficult language - considered an isolate within the Indo-European language family, it shares little with the languages of neighbouring countries. To an English ear, it sounds a bit like a record played backward. It has a smaller vocabulary than English, though Gjika sees this as an advantage for translation in that it gives her greater choice when rendering images and phrases.

Lleshanaku is one of Albania's best-known poets - certainly the most prominent to be translated into English - and has been the recipient of several national awards. Before she was Lleshanaku's translator, Gjika was a fan.

She first read the poet's work in 2009, in English, and was so taken with its cinematic qualities and emotional resonance that she wrote to Lleshanaku to ask permission to translate a few of her poems for a graduate-school project, one of which ended up winning the Robert Fitzgerald Translation Prize.

Negative Space is inspired by Lleshanaku's experience growing up under family house arrest during Enver Hoxha's autocratic communist rule, though the poems never mention this explicitly. Gjika describes the book as akin to "entering the darkroom of a photographer who is at once skilled but also willing to allow you to learn her skill." Lleshanaku speaks enough English to discuss translations as they progress, and sometimes makes adjustments accordingly. In the case of one poem, Menelaus's Return, Gjika was having trouble making the ending work, so Lleshanaku decided to change it altogether.

Says Gjika of the process, "When I translate Luljeta Lleshanaku, I'm acutely aware that I am not just translating poetry from my mother tongue, but someone's unique form of ars poetica." Like Gjika, Don Mee Choi - who was born in 1962 in Seoul - migrated to the United States in her late teens, and is also a poet; though unlike Gjika, she came alone, to study visual arts in California.

When Choi was 10, her father leveraged his work as a war photographer for ABC News to help the family escape South Korea's military dictatorship. They initially went to Hong Kong, from which Choi's father covered the Vietnam War in its entirety (his footage appears in the 1978 film The Deer Hunter). Choi's parents and two siblings eventually settled in Australia, Choi in Seattle, with her husband, though she's currently in Berlin on a one-year DAAD artist's fellowship.

Choi first realized the impact translation could have after reading a book by Hwang Sun-Won, a well-known Korean writer, in English. It moved her enough that she drove hundreds of miles to a Korean bookstore in Los Angeles to seek out untranslated versions of Hwang's other work.

Choi originally intended to translate fiction, but changed her mind after coming across three female Korean poets - Ch'oe Sung-ja, Yi Yon-ju and Kim Hyesoon - whose fiercely feminist work, written during the politically oppressive 1980s, she found electrifying. Born in the 1950s, the three are part of the so-called hangul generation, hangul being the writing system originally developed for women and commoners in the 15th century that was officially adopted in 1919, during Japan's occupation of Korea (when Koreans were forced to use Japanese), as a means of nationalist resistance.

Korean women have composed poetry for millennia, but it was mostly transmitted orally owing to their marginal status in a highly patriarchal society. In the 1930s, yoryu, or "women's poetry," was expected to be gentle, passive and sentimental. Kim's experimental poetry - which often draws on war, violence, bodies and the grotesque ("Today, Mommy cooks panfried hair / Yesterday, mommy cooked braised thighs / Tomorrow, Mommy will cook sweet and sour fingers") - is, needless to say, about as far from yoryu as you can get.

The South Korean poetry scene has long been male-dominated, but it hasn't been immune to the winds of the #MeToo movement. Choi says it has affected the community so profoundly that Korean literary journals now publish women almost exclusively.

It was while translating an anthology of Ch'oe, Yi and Kim's work that Choi began to view translating as a means of connecting with her birth culture, and as an act of decolonization. "Translation is not just about translating language, stories, poems, but it is also about generating counter-memory, counter-knowledge of one's (gender/class/race/nation) location, dislocation, history," she wrote in an e-mail.

"Translation is a huge part of my poetics - it is what shapes the language of my poetry."

Choi has translated six of Kim's books to date. Asked whether their relationship is that of colleagues or friends, Choi says, "Korean culture is such that it wouldn't be proper for me to say that I see Kim Hyesoon as a friend. I think of Kim Hyesoon as a poet I deeply admire. I think she is the most remarkable poet to come after [early 20th-century avant-garde writer] Yi Sang."

Reflecting further, she offers an alternate paradigm: "I'm a comet that orbits a blazing star called Kim Hyesoon."

Associated Graphic

Korean poet Kim Hyesoon, top left, and Albania's Luljeta Lleshanaku, bottom left, have won Griffin Prizes for their respective collections, but the prize also rewards their translators - Don Mee Choi, top right, and Ani Gjika, bottom right - as a nod to the intrinsic role they play in bringing the text from one language to another.

Bombardier raises questions about 'commercial viability' of Thunder Bay plant
Thursday, July 11, 2019 – Print Edition, Page A8

Bombardier Inc. is raising concerns about the "commercial viability" of its Thunder Bay railcar plant should it not secure new work, even as the Ontario and federal governments took turns blaming each other for impending job losses at the facility.

Bombardier said the 550 jobs, or half the plant's work force, would be lost beginning in November as contracts with its two biggest customers - Ontario's Metrolinx and the Toronto Transit Commission - come to an end this year.

Bombardier said in a statement Wednesday that it "remain[ed] hopeful that we can secure new work to ensure the [plant's] commercial viability."

News of the cuts led to suggestions that a proposed 36-car order from Metrolinx for its GO Transit system could help show Bombardier the plant should be kept alive. But the deal is not complete, with Bombardier asking for a sizable price increase, according to two sources from Metrolinx.

And the province's desire to take delivery of the cars gradually makes it a drop in the bucket effectively too little, too late, says the union that represents workers at the plant.

"We're building those cars at a rate of one car every two working days," Dominic Pasqualino, the head of the Unifor union at Bombardier's Thunder Bay plant, said Wednesday. "The idea of 36 more GO trains at the rate we're working now is 72 working days.

That's not going to carry us. We need a bigger order. We need an order 10 times that amount," he said.

Premier Doug Ford seemed to characterize the 36-car Metrolinx order as a done deal. "As soon as I found out there might be a layoff, we put our money where our mouth is," he told reporters at a briefing in Saskatoon, where he's attending a conference of provincial and territorial premiers. "We put $130-million, immediately, into this plant. We have the potential to keep this plant going for years."

Ontario's Economic Development and Job Creation Minister Vic Fedeli said Wednesday that there's more money on the horizon: The province is on the verge of a $28.5-billion transit plan, he said, and he urged the federal government to commit its share - up to 40 per cent - before the October general election.

"We're committed to this $28.5-billion in transit, we're committed to [what] we're negotiating right now to the additional GO Transit cars, and we're saying to Bombardier, continue with these discussions with Metrolinx and continue to work to a viable solution to protect those jobs in Thunder Bay," Mr. Fedeli said in an interview.

Yet the ordering of "rolling stock," or railcars, for a new transit project is typically timed so they are delivered relatively close to its opening, not years in advance, and not before the money is approved.

Federal Employment Minister Patty Hajdu, who also represents the riding of Thunder Bay-Superior North, said Ontario still needs to submit an application and details for its $28.5-billion transit plan in order to secure federal funding. "If you don't get the process started, then nothing happens. And in fact, that's what we're seeing right now. So we see chaos, confusion and paralyzation."

"The idea that they would be able to continue to produce cars without an order is ludicrous," she added. "And anybody in business would understand that there's no ability for a company to just on spec produce vehicles or any kinds of product without understanding who and where their customer is."

The Metrolinx and TTC contracts have been fraught with problems - including missed deadlines, late deliveries and defective products. In December, 2017, Metrolinx cut in half a $770million deal with Bombardier, reducing the number of vehicles to 76 from 182, and brought in Bombardier competitor Alstom SA as a supplier. The next year, the majority of the streetcars delivered to the TTC were sent back to the plant for repairs.

Bombardier said in a statement Wednesday that it has been in talks with Metrolinx over the past three weeks about the possibility of making those 36 cars, but no contract has been signed. "We appreciate the provincial government support and look forward to a successful outcome in the very near future," Bombardier said.

Sources within Metrolinx, granted anonymity by The Globe and Mail because they were not authorized to speak publicly about the talks, said that Bombardier was seeking a 35-per-cent premium over previous pricing for the vehicles.

Metrolinx CEO Phil Verster, who would not comment on the negotiations, including how each vehicle might be priced, said the agency was looking to pay a fair cost. "We are doing everything possible to encourage Bombardier to do the work at a reasonable market price," he said in a phone interview Wednesday.

Bombardier spokesman Eric Prud'Homme said the company would not discuss contract negotiations in a public sphere, but said the 35-per-cent figure was not true. He also said the additional vehicles would have "more content" than the ones previously ordered.

Mr. Prud'Homme said that in general, changes in the exchange rate over time can cause changes in pricing, and the economics of a smaller order would naturally yield a higher price than a larger one. "When you have an order, at the end of it, there are two options: continuity, where you keep the plant open and can add more vehicles, or discontinuity, which means your supply chains are shut down and you need to start over again. There's a question of volume: If you're talking about an order of 1,000 cars, versus 100, or 36, anybody should understand that because there are fixed costs, the cost will not be the same."

"Right now, we are in discontinuity," he said. "We've had those conversations with the government since last fall, so this is a flag that's been raised a long time ago."

Meanwhile, Bombardier owes the TTC 38 more streetcars from the 204-vehicle order scheduled to wrap up at year-end. TTC spokesman Stuart Green said that the agency had put a request for information out to the market late in 2017 to see what companies could supply 60 to 100 new streetcars. The responses included one from Bombardier.

He said that it was too early to know when the agency would make a formal purchase recommendation to its governance board. Mr. Green acknowledged that Bombardier's production and reliability issues have caused problems for the TTC and its riders. But he also said that has to be weighed against the fact that the company appears likely to meet its ultimate deadline, and that it may be more efficient to continue an existing contract rather than sign one with a new supplier.

Bombardier said it has spent more than $20-million to double its delivery rate to the TTC and it is "fully committed" to fulfill the 204-car order by the end of the year. "The Thunder Bay Plant has increased its performance significantly since 2016, and the vehicles they are producing are safe, comfortable and reliable."

As for the potential Metrolinx order, Mr. Pasqualino of Unifor says the province wants to take delivery of the 36 cars much more slowly than the current pace of production. "They don't want a car every two days, they want this to stretch out for three years. If you've got 36 cars and three years to do it, you're talking a car a month." Barbara Mottram, spokesperson for Transportation Minister Caroline Mulroney, declined to comment on the timetable, saying the contract is still being negotiated.

Bombardier also said U.S. "Buy American" rules on local content for infrastructure - the threshold is now 65 per cent and is increasing to 70 per cent - are a factor in the layoffs. "A company like Bombardier has no choice but to have an American manufacturing footprint and supply chain.

Therefore, we cannot fully leverage our Canadian manufacturing footprint and expertise."

Canada's premiers used their annual meeting in Saskatoon on Wednesday to call on Prime Minister Justin Trudeau to lobby the United States for changes to Buy American rules.

"We are very concerned about the trade barriers with the United States. We had a concrete example yesterday with the layoffs at Bombardier," Quebec Premier François Legault told reporters, speaking in French. He said companies like Bombardier are finding it easier to relocate factories to the U.S. to satisfy Buy American provisions.

With reports from Justin Giovannetti

Associated Graphic

News of Bombardier's job cuts has led to suggestions that a proposed 36-car order from Metrolinx for its GO Transit system could help show Bombardier that its Thunder Bay railcar plant, above, should be kept alive - but the deal is not complete.


Bombardier says 550 jobs, or half the work force at its Thunder Bay railcar plant, will be cut starting in November as contracts with its two biggest customers - Ontario's Metrolinx and the Toronto Transit Commission - come to an end this year. Both contracts have been fraught with problems, including missed deadlines, late deliveries and defective products.


Designing for fun: How to make a better playground
Why are playgrounds so boring? And how do we fix them? Alex Bozikovic speaks to landscape architects and play specialists who are tackling the problem with both art and nature
Saturday, July 20, 2019 – Print Edition, Page R6

The two brothers climbed a rope ladder onto the ship.

For a few minutes, they were happy on this playground: A game of tag started up, and there was chasing and laughter.

But soon things slowed down.

The older boy looked bored. He climbed to the highest point on the ship, hauled himself up onto the keel - where nobody was meant to play - looked out to the air beyond, and jumped.

The brothers were my sons, the scene was my local park, but anywhere in North America the theme would be the same: Most playgrounds are not designed to be very much fun. Over the past 30 years, public and school playgrounds have been replaced with places that are safe, lawyer-approved and dull. They aren't places that will facilitate creative thinking or independent play.

At the same time, screens are taking over children's lives and educators talk about "naturedeficit disorder." As journalist Richard Louv put it, "just as children need good nutrition and adequate sleep," they also need contact with nature.

Landscape architects, play specialists and parks departments have two solutions in play. One is the invention of better playgrounds that stimulate creative play; the other, the concept of less structured "nature play." The latter will occupy a large portion of a new park now being designed on Toronto's waterfront, which could set an important example for public space for children and adults.

What does it take to make a good playground? For one prominent firm in the field, Danish playground designers Monstrum, it requires narrative and a sense of danger.

First, storytelling. Their projects include brightly coloured sculptural elements, such as a giant whale or worm "that can serve as an icon of the park: 'Let's meet at the giant herons!' " creative director Ole Barslund Nielsen explains.

Trained as an artist, Barslund Nielsen and his partner Christian Jensen want their work "also to stimulate the imagination of children," Barslund Nielsen says.

"They can easily turn a ship into a spaceship."

The pair founded their firm 15 years ago in response to what they saw happening on Danish playgrounds. Many were being demolished and replaced, Barslund Nielsen says. In these new playgrounds, "the focus was safety," he adds, "and that turned out to be boring."

This parallels what was happening in Canada and even more so in the litigious United States - the latest step in a century-long progression of ideas about play.

In the crowded cities of the early 20th century, playgrounds became a tool in childhood development and of keeping children out of trouble. The standard toolkit was the "four S's" of sandbox, slide, swing, seesaw.

But after 1945, as design critic Alexandra Lange recounts in her history The Design of Childhood, "a focus on controlling and improving the lives of children, and rebuilding cities, led to an explosion of new forms of outdoor play."

One of these was the "junk playground." This idea was pioneered by the Danish landscape architect Carl Theodor Sorenson in the 1940s, an acre of loosely organized space where children could build their own world with wood, bricks and tools.

The child advocate Marjory Gill Allen brought the idea to Britain in 1945 with a long article in the glossy magazine Picture Post.

A typical playground "is a place of utter boredom," she said. "It is little wonder that they prefer the dumps of rough wood, and piles of bricks and rubbish of the bombed sites." This unlikely insight took hold in post-Blitz London, and in Western and Northern Europe.

And in Canada: In the 1970s, the nascent Harbourfront project on Toronto's waterfront had its own adventure playground, which lasted about a decade.

Like others, it fell victim to a culture of caution and litigation.

In 1978, a Chicago toddler suffered severe head injuries on a city playground; years later, his family won more than US$9-million in damages. By the early 1980s, cities and schools - and their insurance companies - were moving away from play structures that were high or had moving parts. They bought play structures as components from catalogues, all vetted by engineers to avoid injury at all costs. It took 20 years for that culture of safety to reach its peak.

And there have been costs.

Play is an essential part of children's psychological development and so is risk. Learning to assess risk and to get back up when we fall is part of growing up. "Kids have to take chances, to constantly experience risks, if they are going to adapt to the world around them," scholar Susan G. Solomon wrote in her book The Science of Play.

Adapting to the world around us also means simply being in natural settings. Another movement, known as "nature play," encourages this - what used to be known as playing outside.

"We're talking about outdoor, self-directed play in contact with nature," says Cam Collyer, executive lead at the environmental charity Evergreen. "There have been a number of influences pushing against that: more working parents, an idea about childhood as a competition," and the rise of screen time.

Evergreen has been working to address all this; it works with schools on "schoolyard-greening" projects and has advocated for unstructured play in parks as well. At Evergreen Brickworks, the public site that they manage in Toronto, kids get to muck around with water and sand, and shift around big logs and hunks of lumber to build their own structures. There are adults on hand, but the play is loose and intense.

It's a rarity. "So much of the pendulum has swung toward indoor play and programmed play, that outdoor play is less familiar for kids. And for parents, there can be a lot of anxiety about letting their kids play independently."

Similar insights are shaping two parks within the Lower Don Lands Flood Protection project, a $1.2-billion effort that will remake part of Toronto's Port Lands, a few kilometres from the centre of the city's downtown.

(Evergreen is not currently involved.)

The public agency Waterfront Toronto is now planning two major parks with significant play components: Promontory Park, which will have a large playground, and River Valley Park North, which will include a large natural play area.

At Promontory Park, overlooking the city's skyline, the agency is looking to build a "destination playground," says Pina Mallozzi, vice-president of design for Waterfront Toronto.

While the details are not yet designed, she compares it to the large playground at Chicago's Maggie Daley Park, which includes a suspension bridge, an ocean-themed water play area and an "Enchanted Forest." (The Toronto agency will be hiring a play specialist to work on this project.)

Both the Chicago and Toronto parks are designed by the prominent landscape architects Michael Van Valkenburgh Associates (MVVA). The firm recently completed another major park that has similar ambitions: Gathering Place in Tulsa, Okla., which features two great herons by Monstrum.

"In previous playgrounds we've designed, there is always some kind of natural theme," says Scott Streeb, a senior associate at MVVA.

At River Valley Park North, the designers are taking advantage of the context: a massive project that will restore the Don River with wide expanses of marsh and swamp.

"It's unprecedented to reshape a river mouth and provide access to real nature in the heart of the city," Streeb says. "In this park in Toronto, we're going to make that the centre of the play experience." That could mean a set of islands in the river, linked by bridges, which connect to inland play areas mixed with pathways and groves of trees. All this would sit alongside protected water channels where you can borrow a canoe or kayak and say hello up close to turtles, kingfishers and actual live herons.

The River Valley Park will be unusual in this respect and in its scale. But the essential ideas are widely transferable: that play should involve some degree of autonomy for children, that the presence of flora and fauna is important and that the experience should be good for everyone.

"We are very interested in creating areas that are not age-segregated," Streeb says. "Everyone should be able to have fun. Even adults."

Which makes me think of my older son's experience, being thwarted by a ship meant for smaller kids. What would engage him? A river to canoe on, a copse of trees to hide in, or maybe a giant bird to catch, befriend, or ride through the sky.

Follow me on Twitter @alexbozikovic

Associated Graphic

For Danish playground designers Monstrum, a good playground requires narrative and a sense of danger. Their projects include bright sculptural elements, such as this giant pipefish at the Chelsea Waterside playground in New York.

Prominent landscape architects Michael Van Valkenburgh Associates recently completed the Gathering Place park in Tulsa, Okla. Among its features are two prominent great heron sculptures, far left, by Monstrum.


River Valley Park North is one of two major parks with significant play components that Waterfront Toronto is planning. The proposal for the park is based on a few essential ideas, including that play should involve a degree of autonomy for children.


Two Pages vie for stages in Stratford and N.Y.
Canadian singer-songwriter Steven and son Ben channel their passion for musical theatre with near-simultaneous projects on two sides of the border
Saturday, July 13, 2019 – Print Edition, Page R3

Since he went solo from the Barenaked Ladies a decade ago, Steven Page has also been working behind-the-scenes on a secret passion - composing songs for a number of musicaltheatre projects for Broadway and the Stratford Festival But the 49-year-old singersongwriter is about to be beaten to a full Page stage production by a nose - by his son.

Ben Page, a 20-year-old Sheridan College student in musictheatre performance, has written the songs for a show called Leaving Eden, having its world premiere at the New York Musical Festival this week.

Steven's much-anticipated first musical, Here's What It Takes, meanwhile, won't open until at least the 2020 season at Stratford.

It is not a huge surprise for Page senior, however, that the middle of his three sons has scored first with a score for a musical. The former BNL front man used to do what he calls "that dad thing" where, driving his boys around, he'd musically educate them with an iPod connected to the car stereo, putting on something by Stephen Sondheim from Company or Merrily We Roll Along - but the student quickly became the teacher.

"You know, I was guiding my kids the right way," Steven recalls.

"And, all of a sudden, Ben laps me with a Wikipedia-like knowledge of contemporary musical theatre and Golden Age musical theatre."

Music had been a part of life in the Page household from birth for the boys - their mother, Carolyn Ricketts, Steven's ex-wife, is a musician, too - but here was the way for Ben to distinguish himself in his teens. "There was always music, but when I found, you know, my cast albums that I love, they were mine," he says, listing William Finn's Falsettos as his favourite.

The Pages spoke to The Globe and Mail about their shared love of musicals on a conference call - the father in Calgary, where he had performed a Canada Day concert, and the son in New York, where he was working on lastminute rewrites. ("Love you, Ben"; "Love you, too.") Leaving Eden is the long-in-development project of a Canadian lyricist and book writer named Jenny Waxman. ("Book" is jargon for the script in a musical, for those of you who haven't attended Sondheim school in a car with your dad.)

It retells the myth of Lilith, said to have been Adam's first wife in the Garden of Eden, alongside a story about a modern couple with infertility issues. It's a conundrum of creation, tackled from two angles.

Ben first got involved with Leaving Eden last summer, cast in the role of "ancient Adam" for a workshop in Hamilton, shortly after a previous composer left the show (Ada Westfall is still credited with "additional music").

One Adam song was still only lyrics - and Ben was supposed to simply speak them. Instead, he went home after rehearsal and composed a setting for the words - a bit of bravado that so impressed Waxman, she brought him on to write the rest of the score.

Now, Leaving Eden is being performed at a festival attended by major Broadway producers, where musicals such as Next to Normal and [title of show] first garnered buzz.

The New York Musical Festival, it could also be noted, is a place where a couple hundred musicals that were never heard of again made their debuts, too.

The stakes are higher for Page senior's forthcoming debut as composer/lyricist at Stratford: Here's What It Takes will be the (some would say well-overdue) first original musical to open there in Antoni Cimolino's tenure as artistic director. Donna Feore, director of many hit revivals at Stratford, is attached and the book is by Siminovitch Prize-winning playwright Daniel MacIvor.

It will show whether Stratford can play a meaningful role in the renaissance of Canadian musical theatre exemplified by Come From Away - or if Canada's largest not-for-profit theatre will continue to sit in the wings and watch.

While the Stratford Festival can't confirm when Here's What It Takes is being mounted, Page says it is in the mix for next season, which will officially be announced in August. He has his "fingers crossed."

The musical's plot follows two friends through the rise of their band in the eighties to its eventual break-up. "It may sound familiar, but it's not," says Page, who has already released versions of many of its songs on his 2016 and 2018 albums, Heal Thyself Pt. 1: Instinct and Discipline: Heal Thyself, Pt. II. "It's definitely not the story of my old band, but I certainly drew on my experience."

What the two Page shows have in common, Steven points out, is the question: What is the cost of creation?

There are some composing dynasties in musical theatre - for instance, Richard Rodgers, of Rodgers and Hammerstein fame, was the father of Mary Rodgers, composer of Once Upon a Mattress, who was the mother of Adam Guettel, composer of The Light in the Piazza. A father and son having their first musicals premiere within a year of one another would be unheard of, however.

Both Pages trace their interest in the form back to their early teens. Steven was in a Scarborough community-theatre production of Oliver! in Grade 8 - and remembers it as the moment he came out of his shell and the beginning of his love of singing. He, of course, took that love in a different direction for a few decades, feeling that musical theatre struggled to channel the pop or rock sound he liked.

Ben was likewise bitten by the Broadway bug in middle school, performing in Into the Woods, but it was only after following friends to an extracurricular theatre program that he became a fullfledged musical nerd. Soon he was competing to track down the best new off-Broadway show and having in-depth debates over Company cast recordings.

Says his father, hearing this, nostalgically: "That's exactly how I was at that age, but with punk and indie rock and finding obscure 45s and flexi discs."

Although his true musical-theatre debut will come second to his son's, Steven has been building a solid theatrical résumé for a while now. He first composed music for a 2005 production of As You Like It directed by Cimolino, and, since, has collaborated on several other Stratford productions with the lyricist William Shakespeare (and one with Ben Jonson).

Page père has had dalliances with Broadway producers, too. At one point, he was approached to write songs for a musical of the 1982 movie, Diner (Sheryl Crow ended up attached). In 2011, he worked on another show with some "New York people" that eventually "ran out of money"; he says he has to be vague about it.

"It's much more fun to just work on my own stuff," he says.

Steven also seems to be having fun supporting his son's nascent career. Just as Victor Page, a drummer and Steven's dad, founded the indie label Page Publications in the eighties to distribute Barenaked Ladies' early cassette tapes, Steven has been helping spread the word about Leaving Eden.

Father and son have collaborated on a couple of music videos for the show. For the song Universe, they sneaked into a Sheridan College studio after hours to shoot, while the song Three Weeks got a more straightforward video of the two performing in Ben's student apartment. "It's been three weeks since I've gotten out of bed / gotten off the couch / put a comb to my head," Steven croons as Ben strums guitar behind him, both wearing bigframed glasses and checkered shirts. (If the lyrics make you think of classic Page-sung BNL tracks One Week and Brian Wilson, it's only coincidence; the words are by Waxman.)

Ben can't wait to bring Leaving Eden back to Canada - and is mostly bullish on the renewed energy surrounding musical theatre in this country these days.

But he still thinks it's sadly the case that "Canadian musicals don't happen in Canada until they go to the States first." Spending four weeks in New York working on his festival show, he's realized that the resources south of the border are at a "totally different level."

This, like sneaking into studios at night and teen debates over albums, flashes Steven Page back to his youth. "Canadian musical theatre hasn't had its Tragically Hip or Arkells yet," he says. "The ones who can actually make a living and gain popular acceptance at home alone without having to make it somewhere else first."

Associated Graphic

Ben Page, left, has written the songs for a show called Leaving Eden, set to have its world premiere at the New York Musical Festival this week. Meanwhile, father Steven, right, has been building a solid theatrical résumé for a while now, and is hard at work on Here's What It Takes - which could open as soon as next year at Stratford.

Housing affordability wrapped in a rail line
Revival of interurban line will help create more sustainable cities, advocates say
Friday, July 19, 2019 – Print Edition, Page H2

VANCOUVER -- Metro Vancouver has as much of a traffic crisis as it has an affordable housing crisis, with thousands of cars backed up on major arterial roads between Vancouver and Abbotsford every day.

But TransLink, the transportation authority for Metro Vancouver, doesn't believe that reviving passenger service on the old interurban rail line is the solution. Interurban passenger service was routine more than 100 years ago throughout North America, including a route from Vancouver to Chilliwack. Most jurisdictions sold off the lines once the car came along, but the interurban land in Metro Vancouver remains publicly owned, which has triggered proposals to revive it. A story in last week's Globe and Mail explored that idea.

But TransLink cites the legal difficulty in negotiating with private companies that currently use the track for freight. They say the interurban does not support a more immediate plan to provide better transit to the region's second downtown of Surrey Centre.

As well, it would be pricey to refurbish the line and because of its many stops, it would be too slow an option for commuters. Studies have been done over the years, which did not favour the idea, TransLink says, including a consultant's south of Fraser area transit report in 2007, a provincial government report on Fraser Valley transit in 2010, and a TransLink assessment in 2012 as part of a Surrey rapid transit study.

TransLink says it will revisit the issue of interurban service as one of several options as part of its new regional transportation strategy, called Transport 2050.

"The lack of connections to population centres and the slowerthan-bus travel time are more compelling reasons why the idea has not been recommended for consideration for either rapid transit or inter-regional rail options," TransLink's spokesperson said in an e-mail.

Housing affordability and better transit are inextricably linked.

To that end, citizen activist groups have been arguing for the benefits of restoring passenger service on the old line that runs from Surrey through the Fraser Valley. The rail line is currently used for freight, but it is owned by BC Hydro, a Crown corporation whose private predecessor, BC Electric Railway, built the line in 1910. The line was built to link farming communities with the city, serving more than a dozen tiny communities and helping grow the Fraser Valley. It got decommissioned when cars and buses ruled the day, but now that congestion is making the region unlivable, proponents want to bring the old way of train travel back.

Some say it's a better option than the costly SkyTrain proposal to link Surrey to Langley. There are residents in those cities who vehemently oppose the idea of an interurban service over the faster SkyTrain.

Daryl Dela Cruz, a 23-year-old student, formed a citizens' group in support of SkyTrain instead of an interurban train from Surrey to Langley. His group mounted a petition that has about 6,000 signatures and they campaigned during the civic election to make it a central issue.

"We're saying, 'Hey, your [interurban] line theory might not be a bad idea, perhaps more study could be done - but it's not a replacement for the SkyTrain,' " Mr. Dela Cruz says.

Others say the interurban is more inclusive of the entire Valley, which is quickly expanding and it shouldn't be disregarded because of SkyTrain. They argue that the interurban goes through Langley Centre, as well as areas that the SkyTrain would miss, including North Delta, South Newton, Cloverdale and Abbotsford.

TransLink says that while those areas are important, its mandate is to prioritize urban centres identified in the Metro Vancouver Regional Growth Strategy. The interurban does not go through Surrey Centre and it takes a winding route to Langley Centre, TransLink says.

"We have been tasked with delivering fast, frequent and reliable rapid transit between urban centres - the interurban project does not achieve that goal."

The pro-interurban groups say that the number of stops could easily be adjusted, and because it has its own path, the service wouldn't be affected by car traffic.

It would therefore be faster than driving in gridlock.

TransLink responds: "The interurban is not completely separated. There are many crossings at road intersections. As per the facts in the agreement with BC Hydro, there would definitely be conflicts with freight operations.

Passenger trains would be slowed by car and freight traffic, if not completely separated."

BC Hydro owns the land and two private freight companies own the track that sits on the land. Those companies are CP Rail and Southern Railway, which owns the vast majority of the track. Hydro has a long-standing agreement with CP Rail that allows negotiation of the track for passenger service. There is also a clause that permits CP to double track the line at its own cost. BC Hydro spokesman Geoff Hastings says it does not have such arrangements with Southern Railway, which would require negotiations.

Mr. Hastings says that BC Hydro and the private railways would have to reach an agreement before TransLink could enter into separate commercial negotiations with the companies on acquiring passenger service rights.

"Entering into these agreements also requires the co-operation and consent of CP and Southern Railway, as passenger service would have to be scheduled around freight movement."

John Vissers is a recently retired owner of a construction company that built multifamily housing. He has lived in Abbotsford for 30 years and sits on the city's development advisory committee. On a good day, Abbotsford is a little more than a one-hour drive from Vancouver.

His city might not be as dense as Surrey, but what policy-makers are missing, he says, is that Abbotsford is expected to expand to about 200,000 people - and nobody is preparing for that. He was involved in the development of an official community plan to add density and create urban areas as opposed to sprawl, but that can only be accomplished with better transit. Mr. Vissers says Abbotsford households are so car dependent that they often own three or four cars.

He supports the revival of the interurban as an expedient way to develop affordable housing and a walkable city.

"Why aren't we doing this?

What's holding us back and why are the policy-makers not interested?" he asks. "That's the thing that mystifies me. We own the land and we did it 100 years ago, why can't we do it now? I think they are using a 20th-century model for their thinking."

The needs of the entire Valley should be considered, he says. He is not opposed to residents in Surrey and Langley who want SkyTrain.

"I see us as complementing SkyTrain and saying, 'Here is another tool in the toolbox, another way of adding to the capacity for public transportation.' We are looking at how we can move people regionally and at an affordable price. We don't want to wait another 20 years, and why should we?" Developers will embrace the interurban system because the line goes through downtown Abbotsford, he says. City council recently agreed that a proposal for a 600-unit downtown housing project should go to public hearing. If built, it would significantly densify the downtown core. His city is expected to grow by 40,000 in the next 20 years alone, and yet there is no significant plan for transit.

He says the people of Abbotsford, Mission and Chilliwack can't wait for another 20 years.

"We are transitioning from a sprawl city to a livable, walkable, sustainable city," he says. "We've developed an official community plan to absorb that increase, without growing our footprint, which is pretty exciting.

"But what we haven't done is find any other regional transportation than that freeway. We know it's a big mistake, but we haven't really developed a plan to address that."

Developer Michael Geller, who builds low- to mid-density projects, also embraces the interurban idea. He says the interurban would encourage development around the stations and revitalize communities. He argues that commuters would rather get work done while sitting in a train than sitting idle in a car.

"When they brought these train lines in in the old days, that's what dictated where development went," he says. "With trams and trains, you can have more stops than when you have a SkyTrain. And so you begin to get the development that happened 80 years ago.

"Housing development and transportation, they go together, and I think it's just a matter of time before we do have a tram service or train service or some hybrid back out to Chilliwack ... because you have housing choices out there you don't have in Vancouver or north Vancouver, and it will help with affordability."

Associated Graphic

John Vissers, a member of Abbotsford's development advisory committee, says he supports both the proposed SkyTrain Surrey-Langley link and the interurban rail plan.


A level playing field
Meant to be a source of fun, playgrounds can alienate children with disabilities. Matthew Hague reports on the innovations in accessible playground design that enable play for all
Special to The Globe and Mail
Saturday, July 13, 2019 – Print Edition, Page P8

Until Hannah Houghton started Grade 3 in September, 2017, she had never romped on the playground of her school, McGirr Elementary in Nanaimo, B.C. In fact, she had never been on any of the 20-plus jungle gyms and adventure parks in her hometown.

Houghton had friends to pal around with and, similar to most kids her age, enjoyed being outside. What stopped her, however, was that none of the playgrounds in her vicinity were wheelchair accessible. As a baby, she was diagnosed with spinal muscular atrophy type 2. It left her without the ability to walk across the shifty gravel that separated her from her classmates.

"Starting in kindergarten, I used to see my daughter sitting on top of the hill overlooking the playground at school, with no one around except her adult supervisor," Hannah's mom, Mabel Houghton, says. "She would simply be watching her friends play. So I made a promise to her. I said: 'You are going to get on that playground.' " There's no reason Hannah shouldn't have been with her friends sooner, especially these days. According to Easter Seals, more than 5.3 million Canadians, almost 16 per cent of the population, have some form of disability. Among that number, almost 200,000 are school-aged children such as Hannah. Many more are parents. That's a large number of people who either can't take in the simple pleasure of a park, or supervise their own kids at a park, unless the space is properly designed to accommodate them. Which they should be.

These days, novel designs are making it much easier for people of all abilities to enjoy recreational spaces that until recently were restrictive. That often means wheelchair accessibility, but also goes well beyond it. New materials and thoughtful equipment are also removing barriers for those with vision impairments, hearing deficiencies, social anxieties, autism and sensory development delays.

The benefits of such innovations are potentially huge. According to a study by education journal Physical & Health Canada, children with disabilities are almost four times less likely to get exercise outside of school than other children. In addition, more than half of young ones with disabilities have few to no close friends. Both issues are in part owing to difficulties accessing the venues - parks, camps, gyms, schools - where socialization and physical activity often take place.

Imagine the isolation that's inevitable if all a child can do is watch their peers have fun.

Inclusive play spaces are an invitation to belong. Plus, even for the fully able, they add surprising, often beautiful new components to scamper over. Quite literally, everyone has more fun.

One of the biggest challenges for accessible play is the ground surface. Although some wheelchairs can manoeuvre over a bed of wood chips, which are American Disabilities Act (ADA) compliant, sand, gravel and other uneven, unstable materials tend to be hazardous. For the design of Mississauga's Jaycee Park, which was named by Today's Parent magazine as one of Canada's best accessible playgrounds, Torontobased Earthscape Playgrounds used a poured-in-place rubber surface. Not only is it more vibrant than little grey stones - at Jaycee, it's done in a swirling composition of green, blue and orange - it creates surreal, Dr. Seuss-like mounds and has a springy, plush quality that's a joy to bounce around on.

Toronto-based designer Adam Bienenstock, founder of Bienenstock Natural Playgrounds, doesn't specialize in wheelchair accessibility. He often employs large, reclaimed tree stumps - about 400 years old, many that fell over naturally, all still covered in their rough and weathered bark - that are meant to encourage kids to climb all over. "The average child these days spends 48 minutes per day outside versus 7.5 hours on screen," Bienenstock says. "I'm trying to provide playgrounds that give them experiences they aren't otherwise getting."

But subtly layered within most of the structures are elements that broaden inclusiveness. The textures of the designs - the gnarly bark versus smoother wood surfaces - help those with underdeveloped sensory systems better engage their sense of touch, depth perception and hand-eye co-ordination. One park, called Pasquinel's Landing Park in Denver, offsets a communal play area with a more secluded enclosure for quiet alone time - something that can be necessary for those with autism spectrum disorder.

"These environments not only help kids engage their environments," Bienenstock says, "they also help some kids relax."

Which isn't to suggest that a playground can't be both wheelchair accessible and sensitive to the many needs kids might have. Currently across Canada, a series of remarkably inclusive playgrounds are being built by Jumpstart, a charity run by Canadian Tire with the mandate to improve recreational opportunities for kids of all backgrounds. Their plan is to spend $50-million and install at least one universally enjoyable playground in every Canadian province and territory by 2022.

One of their most recent structures is in Toronto's $1.2-million Earl Bales Park. The structure, which opened in spring 2019, overflows with thoughtful details to ensure that no one is left out. Braille signage helps the visually impaired. Tall back rests and chest harnesses on the swings help those who lack upper-body strength feel comfortable. There's a more secluded area for kids who want alone time (replete with oversized xylophones where they can practise their music skills). And although there are plenty of ramps, the ramps are extra-wide and gently sloped, meaning people in wheelchairs can climb to the top, side-by-side, where platforms with special benches allow them to transfer themselves out of their chairs and onto slides (there are benches at the bottom of the slides as well to transfer safely off).

Even the slides themselves are thoughtful. "They are made of rollers," says Marco Di Buono, associate vice-president of programs and operations for Jumpstart. "It's a feature that most people wouldn't think of. But they are intentionally designed not to create static electricity, which would otherwise interfere with a child's hearing device."

According to Kelly Arbour, a kinesiology professor at the University of Toronto who is working with Jumpstart to study the success of the playgrounds so far and make recommendations for future improvements, such thoughtful details can be hugely impactful. "So far in our early findings, we've heard from families that say they no longer need to divide and conquer," she says. "They can finally take all their kids to one place, not separate their kids based on ability."

"This creates a value opportunity where siblings can have unstructured play together," adds Ron Buliung, a geography professor at the University of Toronto, Mississauga. "We often forget about the siblings who might want to play with their brother or sister on a playground, but can't."

Importantly, then, such playgrounds also have to be engaging for able-bodied children as well as a variety of ages. To wit, playground critic Dana Wheatley, along with her three young kids, rates adventure parks for her website, the Calgary Playground Review ( Recently, she took her family to Jumpstart's new Calgary outpost.

"It's fantastic on every level," she says. "None of my kids, who range in age from four to 10, wanted to leave."

Jumpstart is ultimately what helped Hannah Houghton get onto her playground at McGirr Elementary in Nanaimo, B.C. The school was one of the charity's first test locations; they got involved after Mabel sent an e-mail to Jumpstart vice-president Marco Di Buono, trying to find a way to pay for a more inclusive play structure and fulfill the promise that she made to her daughter.

McGirr now has a fully accessible playground, one with a colourful rubber surface, a quiet corner for kids who want alone time and accessible swings with heavy-duty harnesses.

In addition to Hannah, children come from all over Vancouver Island to enjoy the space. It's also become popular with parents who have accessibility requirements, allowing many of them to interact directly with their kids on a playground for the first time.

One of the most popular elements is an accessible merrygo-round, which is wide enough for a wheelchair to roll on.

Hannah particularly loves twirling around, and her mom loves watching her have fun. "Seeing Hannah on the merrygo-round, screaming with the other kids - it's amazing," Mabel says. "It's just so great to see her be a part of the group with all the other kids."

Associated Graphic

Bienenstock Natural Playgrounds uses the textures of natural materials, such as rough bark on trees, to help those with underdeveloped sensory systems engage with its play sets, top and above, while Jaycee Park in Mississauga, designed by Earthscape Playgrounds, employs a colourful rubber surface instead of gravel to make the grounds accessible to those who use mobility devices.


Under the Toronto producer, a record-breaking homegrown musical was pushed out of the Royal Alexandra Theatre to make room for an ill-fated run of its Tony-winning rival. But the man behind those moves remains upbeat
Saturday, July 20, 2019 – Print Edition, Page R1

David Mirvish has made a pair of costly musical mistakes that are now coming to a head for the Toronto theatre producer.

In short, he vastly overestimated the commercial appeal of Dear Evan Hansen - and significantly underestimated the same for homegrown hit Come From Away.

Dear Evan Hansen, which won the Tony Award for best musical over Come From Away in 2017, will close at the Royal Alexandra Theatre this week after a money-losing, 41/2-month run - the shortest for a "sit-down" Mirvish production this century.

(A "sit-down" is industry jargon for an open-ended run of a commercial show, normally one that originated on Broadway or in the West End.)

Sales for the original U.S. musical about teen suicide and social media were disappointing enough that Mirvish had to shorten the show's run. At one point it was on sale into September, and he had hoped it would extend into 2020.

Meanwhile, Come From Away, which Mirvish booted out of the Royal Alex earlier this year and shipped across town to the Elgin Theatre (owned and operated by the Ontario Heritage Trust), will return to its old home on King Street West in December to continue its record-breaking run for a homegrown musical in Canada.

The reason that musical about the "plane people" who were diverted to Newfoundland after 9/11 had to be diverted to the Elgin in the first place is that, before it reopened in Toronto in February, 2018, (following a short pre-Broadway stop in the city), Mirvish had already promised New York producer Stacey Mindich the Royal Alex for Dear Evan Hansen.

No Mirvish production had run more than a year in Toronto in a decade, so it seemed a safe bet that Come From Away would close by March, 2019. But it turned out to be a bad one - and Mirvish isn't shy about how much it cost: $1-million to move Torontonians Irene Sankoff and David Hein's hit initially, plus another $600,000 to reconfigure the Elgin and now another $1-million to move the show back.

As for Dear Evan Hansen's curtailed Toronto run, the producer said he'll "just about break even" on the Canadian-cast production, which cost about $7.5-million to get on its feet.

Despite all this, Mirvish presents as upbeat over all. Having a show run much longer than you expected is not, after all, actually a problem: Come From Away is, in fact, on track to be Mirvish's longest-running show since Mamma Mia! closed in 2005.

"We didn't make the brightest financial decision, but I think artistically we did do the right thing," said Mirvish, who still loves Dear Evan Hansen and notes that 200,000 people will have seen the musical written by Steven Levenson with music by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul (otherwise best known for the film The Greatest Showman) in Toronto by the time it closes. "We proved that the Elgin could be a good home for Come From Away ... and we've also proven that we keep our word: We promised this building to Dear Evan Hansen and we gave it to them."

Maintaining Toronto's reputation as a welcoming place for sit-downs is a top priority for Mirvish. He's not in the business of creating hits from scratch.

Theories abound as to why Dear Evan Hansen did not become a hit in Toronto the way it continues to be in New York. Is the show somehow better on Broadway, even though the creative team is the same in both cities? Is there something about the story that appeals more to Americans than Canadians? Was the marketing too mysterious?

All we know for sure is that while Dear Evan Hansen had the sizable advance (about $11-million) and the positive reviews (save for an outright pan in the National Post) to kick-start a profitable run in Toronto, it was unable to keep the sales momentum going.

In other words, word of mouth - still the most important marketing tool in theatre - was not strong enough.

Early audiences may have liked it, but apparently not sufficiently to urge friends and family to go.

While I had heard that audiences weren't exiting the show in Toronto as excitedly as they do in New York, there's data to show this clearly.

After each performance, Mirvish e-mails ticket buyers and asks them to rate the show they just saw out of five. Dear Evan Hansen got an average 4.4 rating, according to numbers posted on the producer's website.

That may seem quite high, but think of this more as an Uber rating than the star rating of a furrow-browed critic. By contrast, Come From Away has a 4.9 rating, while The Lion King, back in Toronto on tour for the umpteenth time, has a 4.8.

Said Mirvish: "Shows that run a long time are up around 4.7 or 4.8."

In New York, the website Show-Score - a kind of Yelp for Broadway - allows audiences to rate shows out of 100, and there you'll find Dear Evan Hansen and Come From Away are tied with a 92 score. (The Lion King scores 91.)

Why do audiences in New York rate Dear Evan Hansen higher than Toronto ones do?

Mirvish, quoting Shakespeare in Love, said: "It's a mystery."

Having seen both original casts, I'm not inclined to think one was significantly superior. And to the theory that Toronto doesn't have a commercial-sized audience for a sophisticated musical on serious themes, I think that overestimates the sophistication and seriousness of Dear Evan Hansen and ignores the fact that shows such as Billy Elliot, which is set against a long and bitter miners' strike, and even the terrorism-themed Come From Away have succeeded here.

When I saw Dear Evan Hansen in New York after reading the rave Broadway reviews ("one of the most remarkable shows in musical theatre history"), I was initially turned off by its sympathetic presentation of a teenage fabulist who gets attention by making up stories in the wake of a classmate's death. I felt the character who actually takes his own life was given short shrift.

On second viewing, I knew what to expect and found myself less bothered by this - and saw the show as an imperfect but ambitious piece of young-adult drama trying not to judge or punish its teenage anti-hero too much.

Expectations always play a role in how a show is received; perhaps they were just too high in Toronto. Dear Evan Hansen built a fan base off-Broadway in New York before transferring to Broadway; here it came in as the show that beat Come From Away at the Tonys.

There certainly were some producing boo-boos, too. Dear Evan Hansen's New York team should have accepted or suggested to take the Princess of Wales Theatre instead of bumping Canada's most successful musical ever out of the Royal Alex.

The overarching narrative then would have been about former rivals becoming friendly neighbours, and Come From Away's sellout crowds would have seen a giant Dear Evan Hansen ad down the street upon exiting.

It also seems like an unforced error to have allowed the touring production of Dear Evan Hansen to play Buffalo, a crossborder city not far from Toronto, in May and announce 2020 dates for Rochester, N.Y.

The angsty questions about Toronto as a commercial theatre industry that followed the early closings of Mirvish productions of The Producers and Hairspray in 2004 seem generally absent this time around, however.

It's Dear Evan Hansen's producers planning to open the show in the West End in November who should feel a little bit of angst.

Because, for better or for worse, Toronto's commercial tastes are closer to London's than any American city. Mirvish hosted long-running productions of Dirty Dancing and We Will Rock You, shows that never dared to try to crack Broadway. And the last Mirvish musical to fail in Toronto, much more expensively, was The Lord of the Rings, which went on to do the same in London. It will certainly be interesting to see what happens next overseas.

Associated Graphic

While Dear Evan Hansen, top, will have the shortest run for a 'sit-down' Mirvish production this century, Come From Away, above, is on track to be the theatre company's longest-running show in more than a decade.

Come From Away, above, is set to return to its original Toronto home, the Royal Alexandra Theatre, in December, a few months after Dear Evan Hansen wraps up its curtailed, 41/2-month run.


New CEO ready to push Kawartha Dairy expansion while staying true to family-run roots
Special to The Globe and Mail
Monday, July 22, 2019 – Print Edition, Page B1

Brian Kerr was just 11 years old when he rode his bike down to Ontario cottage country's legendary ice cream company Kawartha Dairy Ltd. in Bobcaygeon to ask for a job.

Monty Crowe, part of the family that still owns 100 per cent of the dairy producer, wholesaler and retailer, hired the hometown boy on the spot and assigned him the task of scooping ice into bags for fishermen's coolers - a side business.

After a 27-year absence, much of it spent working for a giant U.S. food company, Mr. Kerr, now 46, is back working at Kawartha Dairy. But this time, he is the chief executive and general manager.

He has begun the task of steering the 150-employee company through a new phase in its 82-year history.

With the market for its products "pretty much saturated" in cottage country, he hopes to preside over expansion of its own retail outlets as well as its distribution to other stores into more urban areas, while ensuring Kawartha Dairy stays true to its smalltown family-run roots.

During Mr. Kerr's first stint working at Kawartha Dairy, he graduated to loading and driving delivery trucks, staying with the company part time until he was 19.

"They gave me responsibility and treated me with respect," he says. "I loved that."

Monty Crowe - one of the secondgeneration owners - had become a bit of a mentor.

When Mr. Kerr suggested he might stay on at Kawartha Dairy to avoid taking on university debt, Monty (now deceased) steered him toward getting an education.

"I didn't get a chance to go to school and I always regretted it," he told Mr.


"Go get your degree." If you ever want to come back and work for us, you call me."

Last September, Mr. Kerr finally returned to the fold after a "lucky meeting" on the streets of Bobcaygeon with Mike Crowe, Monty's son, and director of operations for Kawartha Dairy.

Mr. Kerr, an accountant by training, had just parted ways with the Kraft Heinz Canada's Toronto office after a 20-year career culminating in a job as chief marketing officer for Canada.

With Kawartha's general manager due to retire, the Crowe family invited Mr.

Kerr to come back to run the company.

Ten months into the job, Mr. Kerr, who lives in Newmarket but has also recently purchased a place on Sturgeon Lake in Bobcaygeon, has been putting in long hours ramping up for Kawartha's crucial summer season.

"There is some anxiousness," he says, "but it's a good feeling - similar to the one I get before I do a triathlon. I'm anxious, but ready to get it done."

Earlier this year, he presided over the opening of a new 54,000foot distribution centre (planned and begun before he rejoined the company), now "full of ice cream ready to be served." He has also been on a hiring blitz for permanent and seasonal summer employees to work in the facility, as well as Kawartha Dairy's 10 retail stores.

Last September, Mr. Kerr finally returned to the fold after a "lucky meeting" on the streets of Bobcaygeon with Mike Crowe, Monty's son, and director of operations for Kawartha Dairy.

Mr. Kerr, an accountant by training, had just parted ways with the Kraft Heinz Canada's Toronto office after a 20-year career culminating in a job as chief marketing officer for Canada. With Kawartha's general manager due to retire, the Crowe family invited Mr. Kerr to come back to run the company.

Ten months into the job, Mr.

Kerr, who lives in Newmarket but has also recently purchased a place on Sturgeon Lake in Bobcaygeon, has been putting in long hours ramping up for Kawartha's crucial summer season.

"There is some anxiousness," he says, "but it's a good feeling - similar to the one I get before I do a triathlon. I'm anxious, but ready to get it done."

Earlier this year, he presided over the opening of a new 54,000foot distribution centre (planned and begun before he rejoined the company), now "full of ice cream ready to be served." He has also been on a hiring blitz for permanent and seasonal summer employees to work in the facility, as well as Kawartha Dairy's 10 retail stores.

Although Mr. Kerr has roots in Bobcaygeon and first-hand knowledge of how Kawartha Dairy operates, he is still not a Crowe and seven Crowes still work at the dairy. At least some of the family see that as an advantage.

"I felt we would really benefit from some outside experience and leadership," Mike Crowe says.

"It's sometimes hard to take direction from your brother or your cousin or your uncle or your nephew. It helps to have a non-family member at the top."

Kawartha Dairy's president (and Mike's uncle), Jeff Crowe, agrees wholeheartedly. Mr. Kerr is in the tricky position of "answering to the owners and yet sometimes telling them to do things they're not used to doing," he says. But "he worked with some of the family members that are now in management as a kid. It's really a very good fit."

Jim Kilpatrick, leader of Deloitte Canada's food and consumer products industry practice in Canada, says there is an element of risk for Kawartha Dairy in moving beyond its traditional stomping ground. The company has thus far managed to capitalize on its rural roots in cottage country.

"They're seen as a local business. I think many cottagers try to support that," he says. "And the experience of getting an ice cream cone in cottage country helps build loyalty to their brand."

But, Mr. Kilpatrick says, "there's no shortage of competition in large established markets for these products." In a health-focused world, even those who indulge in a Kawartha Dairy cone at the cottage "may not necessarily replicate that experience in the city," he says. In addition, because it is small and independent, Kawartha Dairy will be less able to control its costs through economies of scale than big dairy processors.

Mr. Kerr points out two new stores have already opened in Barrie and Newmarket - urban centres on the fringes of the Greater Toronto Area. Both met with quick success. In fact, the Newmarket store sold twice as much ice cream as expected.

"I think urban expansion makes sense," he says. "And we'd be silly to not look at Toronto. It's the biggest market in Canada."

Mr. Kerr is confident Kawartha Dairy's ice cream can compete with other premium (and often more expensive) brands, such as Haagen-Dazs and Ben & Jerry's. It is still made the same way it always has been, "with fresh milk received daily from local farms," he says.

In the decades since Jack and Ila Crowe founded the dairy in 1937, it has grown almost entirely by word of mouth. It has never advertised on television, and yet it now operates 10 company-owned retail dairy bars. Hundreds of independent ice cream stands at cottage country resorts, stores and camps also carry Kawartha Dairy's products, along with eight grocery chains in Ontario, including Costco, Longo's and Metro.

"We've doubled our sales and the number of employees over the last 10 years," Mr. Kerr says. Although he wouldn't reveal revenue, he says that in addition to the company's 150 full-time employees, it has hundreds more to staff its dairy bars in the busy summer season. "This family has been in business for 82 years because they've always put quality first," he says.

In the future - as in the past - Kawartha Dairy's approach to growth will be "steady and cautious," Mr. Kerr adds. He has no intention of spearheading a national expansion - at least for now.

The benefit of working for a family-owned operation is "you're not chasing the latest quarter," he says. "It feels great to be bringing my learnings back to a family-owned and -operated business, where long-term decisions take precedence."

Associated Graphic

Above: Kawartha Dairy president Jeff Crowe, right, says CEO Brian Kerr, left, is in the tricky position of 'answering to the owners and yet sometimes telling them to do things they're not used to doing.' Below: Mr. Kerr, seen in Kawartha's new distribution centre near Bobcaygeon, has been putting in long hours in preparation for the crucial summer season. Bottom: A staff member scoops ice cream at a retail store inside Kawartha Dairy's headquarters in Bobcaygeon, Ont. The company is known for its roots in cottage country.


What happened in Las Vegas stays in the CFL lore
A badly botched version of O Canada 25 years ago caused international fallout and led indirectly to the singer's marriage
Saturday, July 20, 2019 – Print Edition, Page S8

It has brought Dennis Casey Park plenty of fame and notoriety and even led to him meeting his wife.

Tuesday marked the 25th anniversary of Park botching O Canada before the Las Vegas Posse's first CFL home game on July 16, 1994. Park definitely remembers his infamous performance, but wasn't aware this was the silver jubilee of his rendition - which was sang to the tune of O Christmas Tree - until approached by The Las Vegas Review-Journal, which published a story about it Monday.

"I had no idea because I'm ageless," Park said during a telephone interview from Shanghai.

"Yes, I screwed it up in the beginning, but it wasn't a focal point in my life.

"I went back and made it right and I can't thank everyone in Canada enough and tell them how much I appreciated their support. After I did it, I needed their support because it was a big deal to go back up there and make it right. I tell people the story, I've never hidden from it."

The expansion Posse opened its first - and only - CFL season with a 32-26 road win over the Sacramento Gold Miners and was scheduled to play its home opener eight days later against the Saskatchewan Roughriders.

Moments before the opening kickoff, Park - who performed at the 1988 Seoul Olympics - took to centre field with superstar Dionne Warwick to perform the Canadian and American anthems in 40-degree conditions before just 12,213 spectators at 31,000-seat Sam Boyd Stadium.

Las Vegas won the game 32-22 en route to a 5-13 finish that year.

But the result was completely overshadowed by Park, a performer and producer in Asia who said he'd been approached by the Posse just the day before.

"I'd just returned the day before from Japan where I'd been performing for a few months," Park said. "I got a call initially to sing the anthem and assumed it was The Star Spangled Banner.

"I was very tired ... and ended up saying yes. They called back a few hours later and I realized it was O Canada and I said, 'You know guys, I'm not familiar with [O Canada]. I've heard it a lot but never sung it.' "They said, 'Oh, well, you agreed and we put it out in the press that you and Dionne Warwick [would perform national anthems at the game]. Can you do it? Can you do it? Will you do it, please?' " Undeterred, Park received a tape of the music and the words and got down to work.

"I had it down fairly well or I wouldn't have gone out there," he said.

But moments before Park was to perform, he saw the on-field director signal there was no music. Park knew immediately he was in trouble.

"I needed the music to follow me up," he said. "If the music had played, I would've been fine.

"So I started to sing and the first note came out and then I got an echo right in my ear. I've sung in stadiums all over and it [the echo] hit me and I got off and I was hoping to get back on. It's not a long anthem and I was like, 'Should I stop and apologize,' and by the time I decided something the song was almost over. So I went through it and that was that." Park, who splits his time between Shanghai and Las Vegas these days, also knew his rendition was nowhere near correct.

"Of course I knew," he said. "I knew that very second and was trying to figure out what to do.

The big deal was the music and secondly was where I was singing. The echo came right back at me and knocked me off and because I didn't have the music to guide me through I couldn't get back on."

Predictably, Park's performance caused a furor on both sides of the border.

The CFL was deluged with faxes and phone calls from irate Canadians and the office of prime minister Jean Chrétien sent a letter to the Posse. Owner Nick Mileti responded with a written apology.

Even U.S. vice-president Al Gore chimed in.

During a visit to Ottawa, Gore told reporters, "I was certainly glad to see that the U.S. football players reacted so strongly and better than the singer."

Quarterback Anthony Calvillo, who began his Hall of Fame CFL career with Las Vegas, said he learned of the controversy after the game. As a U.S.-based franchise, the Posse had no Canadians, but the roster did include established league veterans such as linebacker Greg Battle, defensive lineman Jeff Cummins and running back Jon Volpe.

"I didn't know at the time he was making a huge mistake," said Calvillo, pro football's career passing leader (79,816 yards) who's about to enter his first season as a Montreal Carabins assistant head coach in the university ranks. "I was just focusing on getting ready to play.

"After the game, I realized what had happened. During the following week, we had a lot of questions regarding the song. It was quite embarrassing for the Las Vegas Posse."

Less than two weeks later, Park earned a shot at redemption. On July 28, he performed O Canada perfectly in Hamilton prior to a Tiger-Cats game against Ottawa.

Other flawless performances across the country followed.

"I was happy I was able to correct it," Park said. "But it's not a marker in my life.

"I've actually had many good experiences after that happened."

Such as meeting the woman who would become his wife.

"About three years later, I was in Shanghai for meetings to produce and direct a documentary," he said. "I was with a friend and she asked me if she could take me to dinner, and I said yes.

"So they sat us with another couple that we didn't know. The guy kept staring at me, but each time I looked at him he diverted his eyes.

"Finally I looked at him and he said, 'Excuse me, may I ask you a question?' I said, 'Yes.' He said, 'Are you anthem man?' I said, 'Get out of here. This is my first time in Shanghai, you're Chinese, how do you know this?' He never saw O Christmas Tree, he saw the good one [in Hamilton]. He said, 'My father works in Toronto and you were on all the TV shows, you're very famous.' I said, 'Yes, I am.' " The next day, Park said he called the man about seeing more of Shanghai with him and his female companion. After failing to reach the man, Park contacted the woman, who revealed they weren't together and she agreed to go out.

Park and Heng Xu became a couple in 2011 and were married 41/2 years ago.

"I would have never met her unless I screwed up O Canada," he said. "But there are more stories."

Such as being approached by five Canadians in a taxi one night in Shanghai. Shortly after entering the vehicle to give the driver directions to a club, Park faced the question yet again: "Are you anthem man?" "They were all sailors on a Canadian ship docked nearby," he said. "They invited me on to the ship, I was there for like 16 hours.

"I sang O Canada, they raised the flag, I had dinner with the captain. I took pictures and people called their relatives and I talked to them. A lot of stuff with O Canada has happened in China, it's very strange."

So, too, was being called over by another group of Canadians at an outdoor bar near Park's Shanghai home.

"They also knew me from O Canada, " he said. "They were calling their relatives back home and I was talking to their mother, their sister and uncle.

"I've had a lot of fun with the whole thing. Like I said, it hasn't been a focal point of my life but there's been some very interesting vignettes that have happened off and on. Canadians have been very nice to me and very supportive. I can never say how much I appreciate them."

Associated Graphic

Dennis Casey Park met his wife Heng Xu indirectly because he botched the singing of O Canada at the first Las Vegas CFL game. With little time to prepare, no musical accompaniment and battling a bad echo, he improvised and sang the anthem to the tune of O Christmas Tree.


Anti-abortion film a disgusting piece of propaganda
In a climate in which the rights of women are being actively rolled back, Unplanned feels particularly weaponized
Friday, July 12, 2019 – Print Edition, Page A12

Unplanned CLASSIFICATION: 14A; 106 MINUTES Written and directed by Chuck Konzelman and Cary Solomon Starring Ashley Bratcher, Brooks Ryan and Robia Scott NO STARS

Unplanned opens with one truth and one lie, both unintentional.

In a sunny voice-over, the film's hero, the American antiabortion activist Abby Johnson, informs the audience that "my story is not a neat and tidy one. In fact, it's probably going to make you squirm a bit."

The first half of that narration requires a correction. Johnson's real-life story, adapted here from her own memoirs, is presented in a remarkably neat and tidy fashion. Simply put, the anti-abortion activist is right, and everyone who thinks otherwise is wrong and responsible for the "dehumanization" of the modern world.

But I'll give Johnson a point for the squirming: Unplanned will make you writhe in agony over how such an ugly, malicious and potentially dangerous piece of religious and political propaganda could have made its way into this world.

If Unplanned were merely preaching to the converted - as is the case of its U.S. distributor Pure Flix's other "faith and family" titles - then it would only be a bothersome nuisance. Just another treacly, prayer-driven affair like Do You Believe?, In the Blink of an Eye and the God's Not Dead series - cheap, relatively harmless pseudo-movies that rarely escape the evangelical market. But Unplanned is designed to go further than that. The writing and directing team of Chuck Konzelman and Cary Solomon use their slickly produced and handsomely shot film to spread outright lies that could endanger the health of women.

In a climate in which the rights of women are being actively rolled back - where the U.S. VicePresident can be confident enough in this newly enabled hostility that he can tweet his support for an anti-abortion film - this movie feels particularly weaponized. In multiple U.S.

states, governments are pushing to restrict access to abortion and succeeding. Sometimes, as in Alabama, even pregnancies that are the result of incest or rape cannot be legally terminated. With Unplanned, these laws are glorified through the undeniable power of the cinematic medium, lending a romance to the anti-abortion movement that the law alone cannot provide. And like all bad movies, Konzelman and Solomon's work strips away nuance and complication in favour of something that feels like a moral triumph, when in fact it denies the countless lives ruined and even ended by these retrograde laws.

The film opens with Johnson (a wooden Ashley Bratcher, familiar to the faith-forward film circuit for her roles in War Room and 90 Minutes in Heaven) enjoying her career as a Planned Parenthood director in Texas. Her sunny days are filled with feminism-first energy and little patience for the protesters gathered outside her clinic. Until, that is, the moment she helps participate in an on-site abortion for woman who's 13 weeks pregnant. It's during this procedure, shot like a horror film, where Johnson not only watches in terror as a doctor makes a "Beam me up, Scotty!"

joke while his patient cries in pain, but becomes transfixed by an ultrasound display showing a fetus fighting for its life.

Never mind that the Texas Monthly has questioned whether this abortion, which Johnson cites as a perspective-flipping moment, even took place. Just know that the scene, as dramatized, is a fiction. According to the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists, fetuses are unable to perceive pain, let alone perform such purposeful resistance movements, until at least 24 weeks' gestation.

Yet Konzelman and Solomon have their on-screen fetus fight off the doctor's cannula like the doomed victim of Jason Voorhees.

Planned Parenthood, meanwhile, is brazenly sketched as a greedy for-profit behemoth whose bottom line relies on selling abortions, with one villainous character hissing to Johnson that "abortion is what pays for your salary, abortion is what pays for all of it!" Yet the organization, which has decried Unplanned's "many falsehoods and distortions," is in fact a non-profit whose abortion services account for just 3.4 per cent of its mostly free sexual- and reproductivehealth treatments, according to its 2017-18 annual report.

When Unplanned isn't making PP's doctors look like ghoulish supervillains, it's busy making abortion itself akin to Grand Guignol-esque torture-porn, with zonked teenage girls (almost every patient here is a young, innocent, white teen or co-ed) covered in copious amounts of blood. It's either that, or they're going into shock thanks to the clinic's incompetence. In reality, a first-trimester abortion is one of the safest medical procedures in the United States, with major complications occurring less than 0.5 per cent of the time.

The naked hostility toward women's bodies goes on and on - with a bonus anti-Semitic dogwhistle to George Soros obsessives - but Unplanned is not only a crass right-wing manifesto. It is also a potentially dangerous call to extremism.

At one point in the film, Johnson learns of the 2009 murder of Kansas abortion-provider George Tiller. This would be a prime opportunity for the filmmakers to disavow such violence, but Unplanned merely shrugs. Johnson, at this point in the story still on the wrong side of morality, gets a quick line where she's aghast that someone could shoot a man in the head "at church!" but barely anyone else says a peep.

Later on, Johnson befriends a kindly, clean-cut anti-abortion protester who casually likens Planned Parenthood's activities to slavery and the Holocaust. At another, Johnson, now fully converted to the anti-abortion cause, is tempted to assault a former Planned Parenthood colleague.

"Is it wrong if I want to go over there and punch her in the face?" she asks her husband, who replies: "Yes, it's wrong. That's my job."

Who, the filmmakers seem to be asking throughout Unplanned, would dare sit on their hands knowing what hell was raging inside Planned Parenthood's doors?

The film never explicitly asks its audience to meet violence with violence, but it doesn't exactly instruct the righteous to forgo such tactics, either. Consider the title card placed at the end of the film: "Your life matters. If you're a woman or a man who wants to talk with someone about your abortion, your pregnancy, or taking action to support life ... text HOPE to 73075."

Whose life, then, doesn't matter? And though Unplanned never asks this, I will: What action might some of the film's more intellectually susceptible audiences be inspired to take?

Which leads to the question of whether exhibitors should be playing host to such a work.

Cineplex, which will screen Unplanned in 14 theatres across the country starting on Friday, has defended its programming decision, passing the buck to provincial film-review boards and the whims of the market.

"It is up to each of us to decide whether or not we want to see it," Ellis Jacob, chief executive of Canada's largest exhibitor, said in a statement this week.

"In Canada, we have that option and I think it is an important thing to remember."

On the one hand, audiences should be able to freely access Unplanned, if only to witness how confidently polished this type of evangelical cinema has become - and to discover what kinds of films are being applauded by those with the power to change the law.

Anti-abortion rhetoric values the life of the fetus over the right of a woman to decide what to make of her life, of her body.

Those who want to deny women abortions may genuinely believe a murder is taking place, or they may just be driven to control women's bodies.

Either way, the issue is deeply complicated - far more so than Unplanned would ever deign to admit.

Fundamentally, though, this movie suggests, through fictionalization and manipulation, that cruelty lies behind the act of abortion, rather than a deep respect for the uncomfortable choices women sometimes have to make.

Would Cineplex, or Landmark or the handful of independent theatres playing host to Unplanned this weekend, program a film that specifically mounts a campaign to roll back the rights of one race, or ethnicity, or sexuality? Women's rights, it appears, are cheaper and easier to ignore. Give it to Unplanned for revealing one undeniable truth.

Unplanned opens July 12.

Associated Graphic

Ashley Bratcher, right, stars in Unplanned, a movie based on the experiences of American anti-abortion activist Abby Johnson. The film paints Planned Parenthood as a greedy for-profit behemoth and abortion procedures as little more than torture porn.

An unhappy state of affairs
In Hungary, writes David Szalay, there is a struggle between Western liberal values and a creeping authoritarianism that appeals to a country still deeply rooted in a Soviet past
Saturday, July 20, 2019 – Print Edition, Page O4

David Szalay's latest novel is Turbulence.

For the past few years, I have found myself in the position of having to apologize for the place where I live. Hungary does not have a great reputation these days. Repeated landslide victories for Prime Minister Viktor Orban's Fidesz government have invited the outside world to view the country as, in Hillary Clinton's memorable words about Donald Trump supporters, little more than "a basket of deplorables." Stories that reinforce this image of Hungary and its people are the ones that tend to make it into the international media, and when I travel outside the country people ask me, wide-eyed, "what it's like" to live there, as if I had decided to take up residence in Pyongyang.

Budapest does not feel like the capital of a dictatorship. That this point needs making at all is a reflection of the unhappy state of affairs in which Hungary finds itself, but nevertheless, the point needs to be made. Flat whiteand pale-ale-drinking hipsters with neatly trimmed beards and full-sleeve tattoos sell vinyls in front of fashionably dilapidated drinking places. Cyclists with big square Wolt and NetPincer backpacks - the home-grown equivalents of Uber Eats and Foodora - weave through the traffic. New shopping malls go up, full of German, British and French chain stores.

Asian noodle bars and vegan restaurants proliferate. Posters on the Metro advertise Jewish cultural festivals, visiting orchestras, the latest American superhero films. Hybrid cars are plugged into the charging points popping up all over the city. The place does not feel out of the European mainstream. Its grand crumbling buildings, neglected for much of the 20th century, are being renovated in significant numbers - there seems to be a construction crane on every street these days. And almost as common is to find sidewalks closed to accommodate the shooting of a film: Hungary has quietly assembled the second largest film industry in the European Union, and Budapest has acquired in Europe a similar role to the one Toronto once held in North America - as a film set, it stands in for any city on the continent. The country is undergoing an economic boom. Wages are rising by double-digit percentages every year. Wizzair, the Budapestbased budget airline - now the third largest in Europe - sees its traffic increase by even heftier annual amounts.

It takes young Hungarians to new lives in other parts of the EU - something their parents and grandparents could only dream about - and brings in stag and hen parties from those places, often already drunk before they even get off the plane. The airport is being enlarged to accommodate a rapidly growing volume of long-haul traffic. The unemployment rate is at a record low.

It is hardly surprising that, in such circumstances, an incumbent government gets re-elected with a thumping majority, as Mr. Orban's Fidesz party was last year. In my opinion, the strong economy was the single most important factor in that result. But there's more to it than that, of course. For months before the election, the country was carpet-bombed by anti-immigration propaganda via TV and radio stations controlled by the government or by pliant cronies of the Prime Minister. In a place with virtually no immigrants, immigration was often cited by people as their main concern. (Ironically enough, when the greatest challenge currently facing the country is actually emigration and demographic decline.) So that undoubtedly played a part in Fidesz's victory, too - the decisive part, if you read the international news media.

More fundamentally, though, and especially outside the capital, Hungary remains a socially conservative place, and the governing party is very much in tune with that. It's easy to forget that half a century of diverging social history, from the end of the Second World War to 1990, left the societies on either side of the old Iron Curtain in very different places. Crucially, what we now think of as liberalism in the "West" was created during those very decades - a transformation of social attitudes that did not happen in the former communist states. The experience of decolonization, immigration and multiculturalism that characterized and deeply affected most Western European states during that period would be one example of this process, and was entirely absent in the East. Another example would be what we might loosely call the "Sixties," and profound changes in attitudes toward sex, sexuality and gender, identity and individualism - again, the former Communist countries simply didn't have that experience in anything like the same way.

Instead, they had the imposition of Soviet communism.

When that ended, in 1989, the future trajectory of those societies seemed to be toward the West, not only politically and economically but also socially and culturally. It is Mr. Orban's political project to change that trajectory, specifically in those latter two areas. He is quite open about this. He clearly and openly says that he does not want Hungary to "go down that road." So it would be a mistake to think that Mr.

Orban is only interested in power for its own sake, that his creeping authoritarianism doesn't have a specific ideological agenda. Instead of looking to where the West is now as a destination, he looks to where his own country was before communism was imposed on it.

Christianity is key here. Put simply, it comes down to a struggle between what we might call - and what Mr. Orban does call - liberal values and Christian values. It's hard, of course, to define precisely what these are, but it's easy to see that Mr. Orban wants Hungary to reject the former and embrace the latter.

EBBOL NEM KERUNK - "we don't want any of that" - was a slogan on Fidesz flyers during this year's European Parliament elections. Whatever the specific issues addressed by any individual flyer, the thing being rejected in every case was the liberal values supposedly embodied by "Brussels." By the same token, the demonization of George Soros isn't just because Mr. Orban needs an enemy, it isn't simply opportunistic, let alone straightforwardly anti-Semitic - it's because Mr. Soros is in fact an ideological opponent, a man whose own project of the past 30 years has been to make Eastern Europe more like Western Europe. To foster that process was the role he envisaged for the Central European University when he founded it in 1991 - which is precisely why Mr. Orban's government was so determined to force it out of the country. The anti-Soros campaign, unpleasant and puerile as it is, thus reflects an actual conflict about the fundamental values of a society, a conflict in which the momentum would currently appear to be on Mr. Orban's side: As he himself has pointed out, rather than Hungary becoming more like Western Europe, Western Europe these days seems to be becoming more like Hungary. (And not only Western Europe: Steve Bannon has described Mr. Orban as "Trump before Trump.") In any case, both sides in this battle of values increasingly regard it as a conflict that's too important to lose - and therein lies a genuine threat to democracy.

Nevertheless, it's premature, in my opinion, to describe Mr. Orban as an autocrat. He knows as well as anyone that the day public opinion turns against him, he's finished. That's why Fidesz is run, exhaustingly, in permanent campaign mode. Like all successful political parties, it's a complex coalition of interests created by particular historical circumstances - it is supported by pious old ladies still incensed by the militant atheism of the communists, by BMW-driving businessmen happy with the economic stability and low corporate taxes of the Fidesz era, by young families who have benefited from subsidized mortgages, by much of the Roma community who have seen government largesse and who are on the whole socially conservative, and by many of the low-paid citizens who have seen the minimum wage nearly double over the past nine years.

Like all successful political parties, Fidesz has a deep understanding of its electoral base and what they will and won't swallow. And like all successful political parties, it is monstrously cynical and ruthless in its public messaging. It's an ugly beast, and there's currently no other political force in Hungary capable of challenging it. But one day, there will be.

Associated Graphic

Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orban gestures in front of the House of Terror during the celebrations of the 62nd anniversary of the Hungarian Uprising of 1956, in Budapest, Hungary, October 23, 2018.


In Mexico, asylum seekers to U.S. left in limbo
The country is struggling to accommodate thousands of returned migrants but its biggest challenge may be that most remain desperate to escape back across the border
Friday, July 12, 2019 – Print Edition, Page A1

CIUDAD JUAREZ, MEXICO -- Marlene Diez Padron slipped into a drainage ditch separating Mexico from the Texas border nearly two months ago, believing she was reaching the end of a perilous journey from Cuba and the start of a new life with her daughter in Miami.

Instead, after three days in a U.S. detention centre, Ms. Diez Padron was sent back to the Mexican border community of Ciudad Juarez with a sixmonth work visa and a growing uncertainty about whether she will ever make it to the United States.

Ms. Diez Padron is among more than 17,000 migrants who crossed the U.S. border to claim asylum only to be told they had to return to Mexico to await their court proceedings, driven largely by an agreement signed between the two countries.

Mexican officials rushed to sign onto the arrangement after President Donald Trump threatened to slap tariffs on exports unless the country quickly stemmed the flow of migrants to the border. The influx this year has reached its highest in more than a decade.

Asylum seekers crossing the border has been a major political and humanitarian issue in the U.S.

for years, with no clear resolution. The Trump administration has been particularly aggressive in implementing harsh measures, such as separating families, mass detention and now requiring migrants to wait in Mexico.

But the measures have done little to deter thousands from making the long and dangerous journey north.

The surge of asylum seekers travelling through Mexico to the U.S. border has strained relations between the two countries and forced the Mexican government to send thousands of soldiers to its northern and southern borders. In addition, it has had to dramatically expand its fledgling asylum system. With Mr. Trump planning mass deportations starting as early as this weekend, that could mean the potential for thousands more people flowing back across the border into Mexico.

Returned migrants, meanwhile, say they feel stuck in limbo. Mexico has been welcoming, "but we have no business being here," Ms. Diez Padron says. "We have family in the U.S. We have a life that we want to build. We're stuck here and we don't understand why."

Mr. Trump has cheered the agreement, known as the Migrant Protection Protocol and often referred to as Remain in Mexico, as a major success. Apprehensions at the U.S. border fell almost 30 per cent last month, although they remain near historic highs.

Mexico has also sought to frame the agreement as a win for President Andres Manuel Lopez Obrador's six-month-old government.

Officials argue that migrants represent an economic opportunity for the country.

They also contend that treating asylum seekers humanely will help build international support for its proposed development plan for Central America. "This has elevated Mexico's position on an international level," said Juan Carlos Loera, the elected representative for Juarez who belongs to Mr. Lopez Obrador's National Regeneration Movement. "It's a demonstration of the diplomatic talent of the Mexican government."

The Remain in Mexico agreement has long-term implications for the country.

Many migrants can expect to stay in Mexico for months, if not years. Officials in Juarez say some migrants have returned with U.S. court dates as late as October, 2020.

In Juarez, which has received more than 8,600 returned asylum seekers - the most of any border city - government leaders announced plans this week to speed processing of work permits, social-security numbers and bank accounts for migrants.

Local businesses say they hope migrants can fill thousands of job vacancies, many of them in maquiladoras - exportoriented factories that line the border. "If they're able to work, many of them are going to be willing to stay here and wait their turn," said Enrique Valenzuela, director of a state-run migrant-assistance centre in Juarez. He added that if many ultimately choose to settle permanently in Mexico, it could be a turning point in the migrant crisis.

Analysts and religious leaders, however, warn that the country's immigration system remains ill-equipped to handle the influx of asylum seekers. They worry that Mr.

Lopez Obrador's government acceded too quickly to U.S. demands without negotiating any financial assistance to support migrants waiting in the country. In addition, they accuse the Trump administration of abandoning the U.S. commitment to international treaties that protect the right of those fleeing persecution to claim asylum when they reach the United States.

"It sets the precedent that Mexico will do what the U.S. will ask for without really demanding much in return," said Jesus Pena Munoz, a researcher in Juarez with the Northern Border College, a Mexican research institute specializing in border and migration.

Despite agreeing to accept thousands of U.S. asylum seekers, the Mexican federal government cut transfers this year to state governments for migration and border programs, Mr. Valenzuela says.

And criminal gangs are taking advantage of the influx. Church leaders say migrants are frequent targets of exploitation, kidnappings and rapes by gangs. Many asylum seekers released at the Mexican border turn down offers of rides to local shelters, saying they are waiting to be picked up by family members. Then they call their polleros - human smugglers - to arrange to be taken back across the U.S. border.

The problem is so rampant, some shelters now require migrants to hand over their cellphones to prevent them from contacting smugglers.

"The migrants are like a river full of big juicy fish and all the fishermen are getting together to make a profit," says Sister Maria Guadalupe Velasco, whose Catholic church is among a network of faith groups who travel twice daily to the border to greet returned migrants.

Migrants themselves say they have struggled to find work and to afford the soaring costs of hotels or makeshift accommodation in the city.

Since being returned to Juarez, Ms. Diez Padron has started passing out flyers for a restaurant in the city centre. She earns 150 pesos ($10.30) a day, barely enough to cover her rent.

So far, public sentiment in Juarez has been positive toward migrants, Dr. Pena Munoz says. Whether that remains the case will depend largely on how successful the Mexican government is at integrating migrants into society. That will require overhauling the country's immigration system - historically designed to help Mexican nationals deported from the U.S.

"As soon as people start looking at migrants as a negative thing, all the doors will shut," he says. "We've seen it in Europe what happens when people's opinion of migrants turns negative."

But the biggest challenge to Mexico's plans to integrate returned asylum seekers may be that most migrants remain desperate to get to the United States.

Local officials in Juarez don't have estimates of how many returnees may have already crossed back into the U.S. illegally, but suggest that it's a high percentage.

Pollsters in Mexico say that nearly 90 per cent of migrants surveyed tell them they have no intention of staying in the country. The strong drive to get to the U.S.

is likely to undermine Mr.Trump's push to demand both Mexico and Guatemala become safe third countries for asylum seekers, Dr. Pena Munoz said.

Rather than deterring migrants from claiming asylum in the U.S., many say the long waits to cross and the Mexican National Guard soldiers stationed along the border, are instead pushing migrants toward more risky illegal crossings through deserts and swift-flowing rivers.

Ms. Diez Padron says the prospect of her first court appearance, set in El Paso, Tex., next month, has motivated her to keep waiting in Mexico for now. But she is less certain of how she will feel after that. Last weekend, she learned she will likely be returned to Juarez to await future hearings.

"Even though I'm staying in one place now, I feel like I'm still in the middle of the journey," she said. "This isn't the place I want to be."

With reports from Luis Miranda

Associated Graphic

Since being returned to Juarez, Marlene Diez Padron now passes out flyers for a restaurant to earn 150 pesos ($10.30) a day, barely enough to cover her rent.


Cuban native Marlene Diez Padron attempted to enter the U.S. from Mexico, but was caught and sent to Ciudad Juarez, where she has stayed for nearly two months. She hands out flyers for a restaurant now, earning $10.30 a day.


Push is on to rebuild Vancouver-Chilliwack line
In the face of a Lower Mainland real estate boom, a new campaign is under way to resurrect a long-dormant intercity link in B.C.'s Fraser Valley
Friday, July 12, 2019 – Print Edition, Page H2

VANCOUVER -- Imagine a modern regional tram that could get people out of their cars and connect communities between Surrey and Chilliwack, similar to the passenger lines that have long existed in European cities.

The line already exists. It's the old interurban track that was built by the British Columbia Electric Railway (BCER) and completed on Oct. 3, 1910, when thenpremier Sir Richard McBride drove the last spike. The Lower Mainland was undergoing a real estate boom at the time, and construction of the interurban rail line and streetcars opened up major new opportunities. The cars were bigger than streetcars, and ran from Vancouver to Chilliwack.

But regional trams and city streetcars couldn't compete with cars and buses, and the last interurban passenger service on the line was discontinued in 1958.

Now, with another major boom under way, and the search on for affordable housing in walkable urban communities, there is a campaign afoot to bring it back to the Fraser Valley.

"It's getting worse by the day - the traffic is almost impossible, and the big difficulty is, if you keep widening a freeway and build more overpasses, a freeway simply creates more sprawl and more need for transit," says Bill Vander Zalm, the former premier whose government ensured that the ownership of the interurban line would stay as publicly owned land. Mr. Vander Zalm is one of the spokespeople helping to launch the South Fraser Community Rail campaign.

"With proper transit, if you look at where SkyTrain was built ... wherever there is a station, there is a hub of housing. It happens at stations. So if we take the Fraser Valley community rail to Chilliwack, we are going to get development hubs, more affordable housing - it will prevent sprawl, keep the green space and agricultural land. It's all a good thing."

As a kid, Mr. Vander Zalm lived in Bradner, a small community near Abbotsford along the old interurban line, and he would ride the tram to Langley. Passenger rail service was integral to the region's growth, and the interurban was a massive undertaking at the time.

In his 1948 history of the BCER, Lighted Journey, author Cecil Maiden wrote: "The conception was a bold one, yet if a line could be driven to Chilliwack, 64 miles up the Valley, it might prove an inestimable boon to the growing farm communities then moving in substantial numbers into the district."

Mr. Vander Zalm says that after many of the interurban rail lines around North America were decommissioned in the latter half of the 20th century, displaced by an expanding highway system, it was routine for jurisdictions to sell off the land. But when the B.C.

government sold off BC Hydro's freight rail division to an American company in the 1980s, it retained ownership of the land.

"We wouldn't allow the sale of the track," he said. "We would allow the sale of the freight rights, and we had a provision that if ever we needed the track for transit, for moving people, they'd have to give it up immediately, and make sure it was in good shape, etc." "We saw it coming - this is 30 odd years ago - and it took a long time for it to materialize, but I think the time has come.

"I think we were the only ones in the whole of North America that kept a train track for moving people."

With increasing home prices, the Fraser Valley has grown far beyond a farming region, as people "drive until they qualify" for home ownership. Highway 1, which connects the valley communities, is overwhelmed with daily gridlock. According to the 2016 Census, 11 per cent of workers, or 130,405 people, commute for more than an hour a day in Metro Vancouver.

The return of an existing rail line - one that's in good shape and already owned by the province - for passenger service has been an idea kicked around by various groups for a couple of decades - but relatively few people are even aware the line exists. The newly formed South Fraser Community Rail Society has put forward a proposal to resurrect the old line as a means to better connect the Fraser Valley and promote growth in the region in a way that's more livable. A new interurban transit line would create hubs around which density could grow, and walkable communities could link up with other transit services.

Former Langley mayor Rick Green, who is spearheading the proposal, says the group is selffunded and apolitical. It includes retired politicians and community activists, and supporters such as Mr. Vander Zalm and the University of British Columbia's Patrick Condon, who is professor of architecture and landscape architecture.

Mr. Green got interested in 2006 and mobilized significant interest, but then in 2011, he failed in his re-election bid and the proposal lost momentum. He and a few other advocates decided to take another run at it, particularly with talk of extending SkyTrain into Surrey. For a meeting with The Globe and Mail, Mr. Green arrived with massive binders of documentation, including a B.C. government news release from 1988, which states that the sale of BC Hydro's freight division "does not include land under or either side of the rail bed nor does it include air rights above Hydro's rail corridor. These have been retained in order to accommodate future rail passenger, real estate or other developments along former B.C.

Electric Railway routings in the Lower Mainland." The fact that it remained within the public domain all these years is huge, he says.

"It's amazing how many people weren't aware of it, and as we have over the last couple of decades talked to people at various candidate celebrations, and everything else, you put up your maps, and 99 per cent of people who look at it say, 'why aren't we doing it?' " Mr. Green says.

"The explosion in the population, the exponential growth out to the valley, is far greater than we anticipated, and why did that happen? Growth of property values. Everybody wants a home they can afford," he adds.

Over the next few weeks, the group is officially launching their campaign and spreading the message that the interurban rail will serve the bulk of the population south of the Fraser, as well as key job centres along Scott Road, Newton, Cloverdale, Langley and beyond. Mr. Green is armed with data, such as the estimation that it would cost $200-million a kilometre to build a SkyTrain line from Surrey Centre to Langley City, as opposed to the $12.5-million a kilometre they say it would cost to reactivate the interurban line from Scott Road to Chilliwack.

He says the interurban project would connect 16 existing communities, 14 postsecondary schools, the Abbotsford International Airport, several industrial parks and bring students closer to several postsecondary campuses.

There are almost 1.2 million people living in the Fraser Valley region. It is growing faster than Vancouver, UBC's Prof. Condon says, and traffic will only worsen as people seek affordable housing. His students did analysis and found areas where they could easily fit half a million housing units, he says. Modern passenger rail cars that run on hydrogen, as used in Europe, would offer a pollution-free alternative to the automobile, he says.

"I think it's an almost immediate solution to a critical problem," Prof. Condon says. "If we can establish this now, it will help to organize the future land uses around transit as opposed to the automobile.

"Most of the lands that the interurban goes through are previous industrial areas, and I would call them almost derelict now, not being used to maximum capacity - and they are perfect candidates for high intensity, mixed-use, walkable areas with housing and jobs within a 10-minute reach of the interurban line."

His theory on why the idea hasn't been taken more seriously is a "Vancouver-centric" view of transit and land use. But times have changed, and it's not all about Vancouver any more, he says.

"Over 70 per cent of the car trips that originate south of the Fraser River stay south. So the idea that everybody is crossing the river to get to jobs is no longer true."

Associated Graphic

A 1923 map shows the route of the interurban train line between Vancouver and Chilliwack. The line was operated until 1958 by the British Columbia Electric Railway.


Thursday, July 18, 2019 – Print Edition, Page B15


With broken hearts, we announce the passing our dear Dad, on Tuesday, July 16, 2019. He lived his life to the fullest and never saw an obstacle that he couldn't master. Known for his charm, quick wit and mastery of the written word, he will be be deeply missed by his family and many friends. He leaves his sons, Jacob and William and daughter, Charlotte, brother David and cat Kali. At Benjamin's Park Memorial Chapel, 2401 Steeles Avenue West (3 lights west of Dufferin) for service on Thursday, July 18, 2019 at 10:00 a.m. Interment to follow at South Line Union Cemetery in Badjeros, Ontario at 1:30 p.m.

Shiva 290 Westmoreland Avenue, Toronto. Memorial donations may be made to the Bridgepoint Sinai Health Foundation, 416-4618252.


R.N. Western 1952 Peacefully, after a long struggle with COPD, and just a week short of her 90th birthday. (Darn!) Marg was a great believer in Community Service: Meals on Wheels, Vietnamese Boat People, I.O.D.E., A.C.W. etc. She was a sweet and giving soul. Beloved wife of Harry (D. 2007), Mother of James (Marie Louise) and Stephen.

Grandmother to Alexandra and Aunt to Paula Frost, Karl Greene and David Doritty.

Memorial Service will be held at St. Mark's Anglican Church, 5 First Ave., Orangeville on Saturday, July 21, 2019 at 11:00 a.m. with visitation staring at 10:00 a.m. with reception following. Interment at Forest Lawn Cemetery. Donations to St. Mark's Anglican Church would be appreciated.

Condolences may be offered to the family at

ABBYANN DAY LYNCH C.M., O.Ont., L.M.S., Ph.D., LL.D (Hon.), D.S.L. (Hon.)

1928 - 2019 Our hearts are heavy knowing that Abby, who was mother, grandmother and great grandmother to her extended Toronto family, and sister, aunt and great aunt to her large U.S. family, passed from this life on July 14, 2019, acquiescing gracefully and bravely to Alzheimer's disease.

A pioneering woman with a brilliant mind and gentle soul, Abby believed in setting a high bar, working hard, sharing her thoughts by being a prolific writer and academic, and making a difference, especially in the lives of vulnerable children and the elderly. As a philosopher, she fearlessly blazed many trails.

Born in Hackensack, New Jersey, and a graduate of Manhattanville College, her first journey was north to Canada, moving from New York to Toronto to pursue a Licentiate in Medieval Studies at the Pontifical Institute (University of Toronto, St. Michael's College).

In Toronto, she became one of Canada's leading experts in biomedical ethics, standing up in particular to protect the rights of children. Towards the end of her career path, she was President of Associated Medical Services and consultant on biomedical issues to various hospitals, health organizations and regulatory bodies. For all these contributions, she was honoured to receive the Order of Canada.

More than anything, Abby loved her husband, Lawrence E. Lynch, who predeceased her in 2001. After saying their vows in St. Patrick's Cathedral, New York City, in 1953, their family grew quickly and today includes their beloved children, their spouses, grandchildren and great-grandchildren: Lisa (Andrew, Domenica, Sophia, Luke; Jeffrey); Mimi and her husband Stephen (Katherine, James, Madison, Jack; Mark, Nadia, Nathan, Evelyn); Edward and his wife Rose (Mike, David, Kerri); Paul and his wife Sheila (Abigael, Isabel); Martha; Chris and his wife Anna (Alexander, Emilia).

There wasn't a mystery book Abby hadn't read, an ice cream cone she let sit for too long, a piano score she hadn't memorized, or a challenge she didn't stare down, sometimes with outsized idealism. She loved Canada, and over the years she balanced her fondness for her adopted country with pride in her native country. Born into a long line of Republicans, she became a staunch Democrat, strongly supporting the election of President John F. Kennedy, and fully committed more recently to the politics of President Barack Obama. She kept her family grounded in its roots, traveling with them extensively and sharing her love of New England, the sea and the shore, most summers spent in Cape Hatteras, North Carolina. Looking at the world through her eyes was to see wonder, hope, gratitude and always a dream to leave the world a better place. Hearing it from her perspective as a gifted concert pianist was to sit in the second balcony, eyes glued to the keyboard, listening to music by her favourite composers, Schubert, Chopin, and Beethoven.

The family wishes to thank Abby's personal support workers, Eloisa, Marichelle and Jeanette, and the many PSWs at Cedarhurst Dementia Care Centre, for their love and attentiveness to Abby during the past three years. A Mass of Christian Burial will be held at Our Lady of Lourdes church on Thursday, July 18, 2019, at 1:30 p.m. Visitation is on Wednesday, July 17 from 5-9 pm at the Rosar-Morrison Funeral Home, 467 Sherbourne Street, Toronto. The family welcomes friends to stop by Our Lady of Lourdes parish hall after the funeral Mass for refreshments. A celebration of life will be held at a later date. In lieu of flowers, kindly consider a donation in Abby's name to Alzheimer Society of Toronto (

May Abby rest in peace, in the loving embrace of her maker, in the hope of life eternal.


June 26, 1929 - July 6, 2019

With family by his side, John Angus MacNeil passed away peacefully in South Lyon, Michigan. John Angus was born in New Waterford, Nova Scotia to Anna Mae and John Alexander MacNeil. He attended Saint Francis Xavier University (B.Sc. '53) where he was a standout athlete, including captain of the X-Men rugby team '51-52. While at St F.X., he met his wife, fellow B.Sc.

student, Viberta Marie MacLean, from Port Hawkesbury, NS. They enjoyed 63 years of marriage and raised four children while residing in Oakville, ON, Holden, MA and Brighton, MI.

He is survived by Viberta and their four children: William (Pamela) of Byron Bay, Australia, John (Diana) of Toronto, ON, Mary Patricia Harding (Blair) of Brighton, MI. and Peter (Kerry) of Brighton, MI.; by seven grandchildren: John Michael (Berkeley CA.), James Angus (Sydney, Australia), Laura (Toronto, ON), Catherine and Carolyn Harding (Brighton), and Riley and James (Brighton); by his sister Theresa of Halifax NS, brother Robert of Barrie, ON, sister Agnes of Alliston, ON, brother Michael of Burlington, ON; and by many MacNeil, Laffin, Birmingham and MacLean nephews and nieces. His sisters, Anne and Bernadette, and his brother, Charles, predeceased him.

Though a patriotic (naturalised) American, John Angus was always proud of his Cape Breton roots and Scottish heritage. After working his way through university in the coal mines of New Waterford, John Angus entered the pharmaceutical industry and enjoyed great success throughout his career and, finally, as President of Vortech Pharmaceuticals Limited of Dearborn, MI, a company he co-founded with Viberta. A devout parishioner of St.

Patrick Catholic Church, a longtime member of Oak Pointe Country Club and a staunch supporter of the Republican Party, John Angus was happiest when entertaining friends and family with his wife, 'Bert', at their home, 'Braigh Mohr', outside Brighton, MI. He will be greatly missed by his family, Vortech employees, classmates, neighbours, business colleagues and many friends.

A Funeral Mass and a memorial service will be held at a later date.


July 17, 1924 - July 16, 2019

Holocaust survivor, born in Lodz, Poland. Died peacefully at Baycrest. Beloved wife of the late Saul Morowicz. Dear mother and mother-in-law of Hanna and Karol Goldman, and Jolanta Morowicz.

Cherished baba of Jessica and Bram Rothman, Natalie Goldman and Allan Eisen, and Pauline Girouard and Doug Leech, proud and loving great-grandmother of Oliver, Miles and Henry Rothman and Theo and Arlo Eisen. Eva's family is very grateful to the Apotex 7th Floor North staff and her devoted companions Leda and her friends. Special thanks to Dr. Rosen and Ocia Henry. A graveside service will be held on Thursday, July 18, 2019 at 12:00 noon in the Community Section of Pardes Shalom Cemetery, 10953 Dufferin Street, Maple.

Memorial donations may be made to the Friends of Simon Wiesenthal Center/Holocaust, 416-864-9735 or The Baycrest Foundation, 416-785-2875.

'Don't abandon them': Families urge Ottawa to bring home Canadians trapped in Syria
Since the Islamic State's fall, Canada has been under pressure to repatriate citizens who went to the Middle East to join the terror group
Saturday, July 20, 2019 – Print Edition, Page A12

OTTAWA -- Family members of Canadians trapped in Syrian camps after the crumbling of the Islamic State are urging the federal government to bring them home, saying it is not fair to leave them overseas.

There are 33 Canadians stuck in northeastern Syria, including 18 children and nine women, according to Amarnath Amarasingam, an assistant professor at Queen's University who researches extremism.

The federal government has come under pressure to repatriate Canadians who travelled to Syria to join the Islamic State - some of whom had children while they were there - as other countries bring home their citizens with one-time links to the terrorist group.

In June, 12 French and two Dutch orphans of Islamic State fighters were repatriated from Syria, a French diplomatic source told Reuters. More recently, Australian Prime Minister Scott Morrison said his government rescued the children and grandchildren of two dead Islamic State fighters from a Syrian camp. Belgium also brought back six children of Islamic State members.

The parents of two of the trapped Canadians spoke to The Globe and Mail about the conditions their daughter and son are facing and their fight to bring them home. They say they believe there is little political will to do so before the fall federal election.

The government is grappling with how to handle the return of Canadians who have travelled to Syria, including their prosecution for any crimes committed overseas and eventual reintegration into Canadian society. Public Safety Minister Ralph Goodale has acknowledged that it is hard to find evidence from a foreign war zone that will stick in a Canadian courtroom, adding that Canada's allies face the same challenge.

If the government does not have enough evidence to charge a Canadian returning from Syria, it may consider surveilling them - a costly and time-consuming effort for security agencies - to ensure they do not engage in terrorist or radicalization activities at home.

In the meantime, Global Affairs Canada has maintained that Syria is too dangerous to send officials to offer consular assistance.

Prof. Amarasingam, who has been to one of the camps, said the Kurdish forces who ran that camp prevented anyone from leaving, effectively making it a prison.

He said some Western women are particularly vulnerable and have been harassed for speaking critically of the Islamic State. He said they are often living on their own, trying to take care of infants while having little access to food or medicine.

"There are some rumours that some of the tents of Western women have been torched as a way of keeping people in check," he said.

The Alberta mother of a young woman who left Canada to travel overseas in 2015 with her Canadian husband said her daughter told her she was travelling to the Middle East, but did not mention going to Syria.

The Globe is not revealing the mother's identity because she fears for her own safety at home and for her daughter's safety in the camp.

The mother said her daughter later emerged in Syria's al-Hawl camp after being separated from her husband, who has been detained by local authorities. It is unclear if he has been formally charged.

The mother does not know what her son-in-law did before he was detained in Syria, and later said she does not know where he or her daughter emerged from before they were separated.

She said she has rarely heard from her daughter over the past four years. She said the young woman has never mentioned the Islamic State and that she does not know how she ended up in Syria, adding that she was "taken and moulded" before her departure.

She got a call in the spring from her daughter, who told her she was in a "bad situation."

"I actually heard her voice from al-Hawl and it buckled my knees," she said as she wept over the phone. She said her daughter was crying and told her she was down to 100 pounds, that her bones protruded from her chest and that large and painful varicose veins were emerging from her legs.

The mother said she understands there will likely be little movement on the file until after the federal election, but she said her daughter might not be able to wait that long.

"My daughter's being held on foreign soil about half-dead and who knows if she's going to make it to the fall election," she said.

She said her daughter has asked why the government has not sent anybody to talk to her, adding that she doesn't accept the government's excuse that it's too dangerous to visit the camp, as journalists have been there.

"I'm so sick of Canada, of the 'Let them rot there.' They don't know my daughter. They don't know her intentions. That kid had pure intentions when she left here. ... Bring her back and let her answer for them, don't abandon them." John Letts and his wife, Sally Lane, are also desperate to get their 23-year-old son, Jack Letts, out of a Kurdish-run jail in northern Syria. The couple live in Oxford, England, but John has dual Canadian and British citizenship, which he passed on to Jack.

Mr. Letts said his family feels let down by Canada, especially in light of Prime Minister Justin Trudeau's assertion that "a Canadian is a Canadian is a Canadian."

Mr. Trudeau made the comment in 2015 during an election debate about revoking citizenship for convicted terrorists.

"The Trudeau government's been very good at presenting itself as a great Liberal Party that will stand up for Canadian values," Mr. Letts said. "But I don't think a Canadian is a Canadian is a Canadian any more."

He has met with Global Affairs Canada to discuss his son's case, but says they have not been helpful.

Stefano Maron, a spokesman with Global Affairs Canada, said the government is "engaged in these cases and is providing assistance - to the limited extent possible."

The Letts family has gone to great lengths to bring Jack home and has paid a high price for those efforts. They were recently found guilty of one charge of funding terrorism in Britain for sending Jack money to help him escape from Syria.

Last month, the couple was sentenced to 15 months in prison, but the judge suspended the sentence for a year, saying they had lost sight of reality while trying to help their son.

Jack converted to Islam as a teenager and travelled to the Middle East in 2014 to learn Arabic. He ended up in Syria and, according to his father, married an Iraqi woman, with whom he had a child. Mr. Letts said his son told him he went to Syria to help other Muslims affected by the conflict.

His parents last communicated with him via text message in May, 2017.

In an interview with the BBC last year, Jack admitted to joining the Islamic State. Mr. Letts said his son appeared "stunned" during the interview and expressed concern that he had been threatened into making a false confession.

Mr. Letts said that while he loves Jack, he would condemn him if he did something wrong - but he insisted he is innocent.

"He's got questions to answer.

He should be arrested, detained - I have no problems with that. I want him to have a fair trial, but I don't want him to rot to death in a cell."

With reports from the Associated Press and Reuters

Associated Graphic

John Letts and his wife, Sally Lane, are desperate to get their 23-year-old son, Jack Letts, seen below, left, out of a Kurdish-run jail in northern Syria. Although the couple live in Oxford, England, John and Jack have dual Canadian and British citizenship. Jack converted to Islam as a teenager and went to the Middle East in 2014 to learn Arabic. Mr. Letts and Ms. Lane last communicated with him via text message in May, 2017.


Above right: Displaced Syrian women and children are seen at al-Hol camp for internally displaced people in northeastern Syria in February. Left: Islamic State fighters and their families surrender in the Syrian village of Baghouz in March. Global Affairs Canada maintains that Syria is too dangerous to send officials to offer consular assistance to trapped Canadians.


Where are you from?
To be a Canadian is to accept that the story has more than one thread, more than one character, more than one point of view
Saturday, July 13, 2019 – Print Edition, Page O7

Award-winning author based in Victoria. Her most recent novel is Washington Black.

Back in 2006, I went to live for a year at an artist colony on the outskirts of Stuttgart, Germany, a city nearly obliterated during the Second World War. I remember the blue thread of the Neckar River running along it in the fine bright air, so that from our residence overlooking the city, we could almost imagine only wilderness lay below.

It was the year Germany played host to the FIFA World Cup. Among the young artists who had arrived from all over the world, an excitement had taken hold. We were eager to be a part of things, to take in as much as we could of this moment.

There was among the German artists, especially, a kind of mild shock at their countrymen's outpouring of emotion for their nation.

For the first time since before the war - which is to say, since before their lifetimes - it had become socially acceptable to hang the national flag from windows, to fly it from cars, to drape it over shoulders in the streets. Visual symbols of patriotism were something I took for granted in Canada, so that I was surprised when, walking the Stuttgart town centre with a friend, I heard her draw a sharp breath at the sight of a child turning a tiny plastic flag in his fingers. For her, it was truly a new era.

I remember so much about those days. How a group of us would spend hours in the beer gardens dotting the city to watch on massive screens matches taking place in all parts of the country. How lightly the sun fell, cupping our foreheads in a warmth that was like the touch of a human palm. How, sometimes, the air in the gardens would reek sharply of shredded grass. And how one evening, during a match between Germany and France, the weather suddenly turned black and churning and vicious, slinging thick braids of water into our faces, so that we opened our mouths.

There was so much beauty in those hours. I recall us all walking home after that rainy match and hearing a damp susurration from beyond the path. My friend, Eugen, parted the long grasses to discover an enormous frog. We passed the frog from hand to hand, and I remember so vividly the feel of it in my careful fist - a pulsing damp shudder, like a living heart. The wonder that came over me then was like a physical shock - I felt as if anything could happen in that moment, as if the world were made of the strange and the unexpected, that it was a place of great openness and possibility.

Then, as we continued on, something happened that drew me up short. We had all been complaining about the French soccer team, but Eugen began to mock them viciously, beginning with their names. His biggest complaint was the fact that so many of them were brown or black men, children no doubt of immigrants who'd settled in France from its former colonies. "How were any of those people actually French?" he said, and then he met my eye: "And you, Esi, how are you Canadian?" It had been a question that had defined my life, although I would not then have expressed it so. For years I had travelled in search of the place I would feel most at home - indeed, my time in Germany was part of that search - but it was slowly dawning on me that the answer had been clear from the moment I first left home, that I had been stubbornly refusing to look at it.

What became so clear to me with Eugen's question was how much I had taken a certain kind of multiculturalism for granted, and how much, until those years of travel, I'd come to surround myself with people who also took that plurality for granted. I had always believed that there were many different pathways to citizenship and fealty and belonging beyond the single one suggested by him, which was, of course, blood. In a country in which the population of black people has never exceeded 3.5 per cent (and in British Columbia, where I've lived for 20 years, it is less than 1 per cent), the idea of my being able to claim anything like true Canadian-ness was, to him, ridiculous.

My parents were Ghanaian immigrants who'd met, not in Canada, but in San Francisco, as students; a mutual friend was hosting a party to watch the moon landing on his black and white television. Six months later they were married, and my brother was born a year after that. They settled eventually in Alberta, first in Edmonton, where my sister was born, then in Calgary, where I was born. They often used to joke that they stopped moving to avoid having more children.

Migration is rarely a clean narrative. Alongside the joys, stories of migration often contain the loss of treasured things, and also the gaining of things not wanted. At the centre of these stories is often risk. And indeed, when I think of my mother's case, what I'm struck by is how much she had to risk to gain an education. She was a young woman in an African society where women did much of the work and held little of the power, and as her secondary school years were coming to an end, she was left floundering at the starkness of her choices. She chafed at the expectation that she would keep her father's house until she found a husband.

She wanted to become a nurse. In order to do so, though, she would have to leave home. And what amazes me is that she managed to do it.

I sometimes ask myself what might have happened if she had never made the choice to leave. If my father had also stayed and by some whim of chance they'd met and married in Ghana? Her nearfate as an uneducated mother and wife could well have been my own fate, too. The life given to me is lived in the shadow of that other possible life. I marvel even now at the strange combination of circumstances that had to come about for me to be here.

To be a Canadian is to accept that the story has more than one thread, more than one character, more than one point of view. It has become a near cliché to say it, but it's true: We are a nation of many narratives and histories, and it is in the attempts to harmonize our various stories that our culture lives.

These negotiations can sometimes be fraught, but they are ours. Within my own family, there is a multitude of stories: one of my sisters-in-law immigrated to Edmonton from Hong Kong when she was eight years old, while the other is from the Coast Salish tribes of Vancouver Island, whose people have lived on the land for generations. My brother-in-law is French-Canadian. My husband's aunt, who was born and raised in Guyana, has commented that when we sit down to holiday dinners we look like a UN summit. I think, though, that the variety that strikes her as an international feature is actually a very national one. And it is in our struggle to forever negotiate and align these stories that our identity is made and shaped and reshaped. The failure to come to a consensus on a single narrative - the hesitation and uncertainty about having one dominant story - is what the culture has become.

What do we see as features of our future stories, going forward? What is it we can be? The image returns to me of that rainy walk home in Stuttgart, the feel of that tiny life in my hands - how unexpected and full of wonder that moment was, how much it made the world feel boundless and without limits, as if the miraculous lay within reach. That feeling is what we need to harness, it is what I want my children to feel. The sense that nothing is closed to anyone, not because of race or gender or religious belief, that everything is open and full of startling possibility, regardless of who we are.

Associated Graphic


As demand shifts to the SUV, even high-end features are unlikely to save this one-time family staple
Special to The Globe and Mail
Friday, July 12, 2019 – Print Edition, Page D1

Minivans are so not in. Sales steadily slide, even as quality and versatility reach a high watermark. The minivan is the great family vehicle that no one seems to want any more - left at the car-lot altar, as buyers storm en masse to SUVs and SUV-like crossovers.

Consider, for example, Fiat Chrysler's frustrating attempts to sell the Pacifica, even going so far as to revive the Voyager nameplate for the cheaper versions of the 2020 minivan. (That name was last seen in their minivans in 2003.) Polished and accomplished, the Pacifica is what the minivan drivers should want when they outgrow the more basic Grand Caravan. In its full-dressed Limited configuration, the Pacifica oozes comfort, refinement and capability. Yet, as with the other major brands, few Canadians are buying the Pacifica.

FCA Canada reports that sales were down 18 per cent in June, 2019, with year-to-year sales sliding from 731 in June of last year to 599 for the same month this year. Just 2,216 of the vans were sold in the first half of 2019. That's 49 per cent fewer than the 4,340 sold in the same time period in 2018.

Sales are so slow that the company announced it would end the third shift at the Windsor minivan assembly plant on Sept. 30, eliminating 1,500 jobs.

Similar problems are plaguing other minivan brands. Honda's Odyssey saw a 33-per-cent drop in sales in the first quarter of 2019. The only silver lining is that minivan sales are not dropping as fast as sedan sales.

Michigan-based auto analyst firm IHS Automotive, a subsidiary of IHS Markit in London, predicts that the market share of minivans will drop to just 2.2 per cent by 2024 from the 2.8 per cent this year, as automakers invest heavily in adding features and model choices to SUVs and crossovers. Combined, SUVs and crossovers comprise 48 per cent of the market, according to IHS Automotive.

"The move to crossovers is permanent," IHS analyst Tom Libby says.

IHS Automotive defines SUVs as heavier vehicles built on frames, such as the Ford Explorer, Chevrolet Suburban and Nissan Titan. Crossovers look similar, but are lighter vehicles with the carlike unibody construction, such as the Toyota RAV4, Chevy Blazer and Honda CRV.

Ford, General Motors, Hyundai, Nissan and Mazda have all dropped minivans because of poor sales. Only Fiat Chrysler, Honda, Kia and Toyota still sell minivans in North America.

Minivans are not necessarily cheap these days.

The top-of-the-line 2019 Pacifica I drove listed at nearly $64,000. It comes well equipped with a premium Harman/Kardon sound system, 20-inch black aluminum wheels, trailer towing package, integrated vacuum, Uconnect entertainment group with a 25-centimetre screen and all kinds of safety tech features, such as lane-departure warning and active braking. Blind-spot warning system with rear cross-traffic assist is standard, but forward automatic emergency braking is optional.

The second-row entertainment system features two independent screens mounted to the backs of the front seats, and it has a power liftgate, side doors and the so-called stow-and-go seat system that makes the second- and third-row seats disappear into the floor. In the Limited, the back row can be stashed with the push of a button.

Fiat Chrysler has announced a 35th anniversary edition (for the minivan, not Pacifica) for 2020. It features an embroidered logo on the front floor mats. The Red S appearance package has also been added, offering red Nappa leather seats with gray contrast stitching, unique silver door and gauge accents, gloss-black exterior accents and 20-inch wheels.

Yet, for all its refinement, even the high-end Pacifica can't make market inroads. Libby says consumers favour SUVs and crossovers for several reasons. The vehicles have a higher seating position, which many drivers prefer for improved visibility.

They have versatility and flexibility, and they almost universally offer all-wheel drive. (In minivans, only the Toyota Sienna has an AWD option.) Reading the shift away from sedans and minivans, automakers are "fuelling the fire" by investing heavily in adding models and features to crossovers and SUVs, according to Libby.

The range of models now available on the market are, he says, "what cars used to be."

At GM, Chevrolet alone has six sport-utility vehicles and crossovers, but hasn't made a minivan in 10 years.

To deal with the fuel-economy challenge - long a knock against SUVs - automakers offer crossovers in every size, with engines as small as three cylinders, or four cylinders with cylinder deactivation and stop/start technology. "That fuel-economy argument doesn't hold much water any more," Libby points out.

Nor can the once-derogatory "soccer mom" image be blamed for minivans' failing fortunes.

Such notoriety would almost be considered a blessing. "There really isn't an image any more," Libby says. "To be frank, it's almost non-existent."

Minivans have long been seen as the most family-friendly vehicles and the newest models are even more so. Several models come with built-in vacuums. They have superior second-row entertainment systems and lots of USB plugs to keep the kids occupied. Their lower floor height also makes getting in and out and loading cargo easier than with SUVs.

Minivans also tend to be more spacious than SUVs unless you opt for the largest and most expensive SUVs.

The Pacifica has a volume of 2,478 litres behind the second-row seats for example, while the Dodge Durango SUV needs to have its second-row seats folded flat to accommodate 2,392 litres. You can still fit a 4x8 sheet of plywood or drywall inside a Pacifica or Grand Caravan.

The Kia Sedona minivan has 2,220 litres of cargo space behind its second row and is 23 centimetres shorter than Ford's less fuel-efficient Expedition, which has just 1,628 litres of cargo space.

Minivans also have the edge on price in an apples-to-apples comparison of passenger capacity. The relatively budget-friendly Pacifica L model, which will soon be rebranded Voyager, can carry eight and starts at $32,245. Pricing details for the Voyager haven't been released yet. The eight-passenger Odyssey starts at $35,490. The Kia Sedona, which can be configured for eight, starts at $28,495. In SUVs, you need a full-size SUV to match that passenger capacity - a Toyota Sequoia SUV starts at $61,365 and the Chevy Suburban starts at $59,200.

That is why my daughter's family, who recently moved from Toronto to Kitchener, opted for a Grand Caravan - after vowing they would buy an SUV.

With three young boys, they need as much space as they can get and at an affordable price.

Yet, the space advantage doesn't seem to matter to consumers, Libby says, and that's why automakers are not investing in minivan development.

It doesn't make sense for them to spend the money to develop AWD for minivans because there's not enough return on the investment.

"They're obviously putting the money in the 48-per-cent [market share] rather than the 2 per cent," he says.

He also says most drivers in southern Canada don't really need AWD, but they want it anyway. "It's the peace of mind knowing you have it. It gives them a feeling of comfort."

Libby predicts the automakers that are producing minivans will continue to do so because there are fewer competitors than when minivans were hot, so they get a bigger share of a smaller pie. But barring a "miracle," he sees no chance for a consumer shift back to these handy vehicles - even with new features.

Says Libby, "I don't believe there would be more of an uptick."

Associated Graphic

Chrysler has joined the likes of other automakers in its struggle to sell its minivan models, such as the Pacifica, which few Canadians are buying. FCA

Newer minivan models have become even more family friendly over the years, with several containing built-in vacuums and superior entertainment systems. They are also more spacious- the Pacifica, above, has a volume of 2,478 litres behind its second-row seats. FCA

Despite advances in electric-vehicle technology and its increasing inevitability, Albertans aren't quite ready to put their welfare in an EV driver's seat, Doug Firby reports
Friday, July 19, 2019 – Print Edition, Page D1

Drumheller, Alta., hasn't quite caught the electric-vehicle (EV) fever that is sweeping across Canada's cities.

One need not look too far to figure out why. The message is clear in the dusty GMC, F-150 and Ram pickup trucks that line the streets of this town of 8,000, about 90 minutes northeast of Calgary. These hardworking people are prudent with their cash and are not inclined to jump on bandwagons.

EV wariness is perhaps also not surprising in an area that is a living monument to the epoch that gave the world fossil fuels. Its Royal Tyrrell Museum holds a massive collection of dinosaur bones. And the sandstone slopes that line the Red Deer River Valley reveal seams of coal that date back 70 million years. Pumpjacks as far as the eye can see still pull thousands of barrels of crude oil from the earth each day.

Yet, the plug-in hybrid Volvo XC90 that I've parked by the Circle K truck stop has caught the eye of Mike Pettis. He stopped by the nearby radio station, Drum FM, to visit his wife, Colette, and asks me whether he can have a look at the car.

"I've never been around one, I've never driven one," Pettis says. "That said, my livelihood depends on oil and gas."

When I acknowledge the name of his employer - a major fossil-fuel transportation company - on his cap, he asks me not to name it in print. He gives me a look that says, you know why.

An hour northwest in Red Deer, a city of 100,000, it is also a lot easier to find EV skeptics than it is to find a charging station (there is just one Level 3 charger, at the downtown Canadian Tire).

"Oil and electricity don't mix that well here in this province," says Bill Phelan of Spruce Grove as he rests against his 2007 Buick Allure outside the Alberta Sports Hall of Fame & Museum. The dozen EVs, hybrids and other fuel-sipping vehicles parked there are on a provincewide tour organized by the Automotive Journalists Association of Canada (AJAC). Like Pettis in Drumheller, Phelan is skeptical but also curious.

"I guess they're coming whether we like it or not," he says with a shrug.

Alberta's rural people, who often drive long, lonely roads in subzero temperatures, are not ready to put their welfare in the seat of today's limited-range EVs.

Yet, in the province's four biggest cities, it seems the EV shift is nearing a tipping point.

Erin Collins, a CBC reporter based in Calgary, says he's planning to install solar panels on his house within six months to power an EV or plug-in hybrid that he'll buy within two years.

"[It] would have been nice to have provincial rebates on both, but they make sense financially right now even without," Collins says. He'll buy when he sees the "massive influx" of next-generation EVs coming over the next three years.

Other Calgarians say they like the idea of EVs, but are waiting for prices to drop, charging infrastructure to grow and batteries to improve.

"Technically, it isn't there yet for me," says Shawn Alain, who runs a social-media-marketing firm in Calgary. "I need to drive from Vancouver to Calgary. Make it [an EV] charge as fast as filling up your tank, and then I'm interested." Electrification of vehicles faces several hurdles in Alberta not found in other provinces. Gasoline has recently been selling for less than $1 a litre, while in British Columbia, prices have hit highs of $1.70. The government of Alberta has been slow to subsidize a network of fast-charging stations that are fundamental to overcoming "range anxiety." And the moral argument - that electricity is a cleaner way to travel - doesn't hold sway in a province that still generates half of its power from coal, and another 39 per cent from natural gas.

Alberta, like the other Prairie provinces, falls below the 2.5-percent national average of electric car adoption. Just next door in B.C. - where gas prices are higher, chargers more common and rebates on offer - 15 per cent of vehicles on the road are powered by electricity, according to a report by Blake Shaffer, an energy and environmental economist and adjunct professor at the University of Calgary.

Advocates of subsidies say they help overcome the price premium consumers must pay for going electric. For example, the 2019 Hyundai Kona electric car starts at $44,999 in Canada, according to, while the 2019 gas-powered version starts at $21,099.

The payback on EVs is also longer in Alberta than in some other provinces. Shaffer crunched the numbers and found that in B.C., drivers could save up to $1,600 a year in fuel costs. But in Alberta, it would take between eight and 15 years to pay off the premium paid for an EV, depending on whether it was eligible for a federal rebate.

I experienced range anxiety first-hand as one of the participants in AJAC's annual EcoRun test of high-mileage vehicles. When I climbed into an all-electric Chevy Bolt in the hamlet of Longview, an hour southwest of Calgary, I discovered it had just 84 kilometres left on its charge (a result of an apparent overnight charger malfunction). My destination of Canmore was twice that distance.

Help came from Tyler Smith, who runs an auto-repair shop in nearby Turner Valley. A few years ago, he helped a friend's son convert an old Triumph sports car into an EV, and in the project, he installed a Level 2 charger at his shop.

It would be several hours for this slow charger to get my Bolt powered up. I grabbed a gasoline-powered car and left the Bolt with Smith for retrieval later.

More chargers are coming to Alberta, though. Atco, a provincial utility, has put fast chargers in Edmonton, Calgary and Red Deer, and is about to add 20 more in communities across the southern part of the province as part of the Peaks to Prairies electric-vehicle-charging-network expansion program. Funded by municipalities, the province, the federal government and corporate partners, the chargers can deliver 80-per-cent charge on a typical EV in 30-45 minutes.

"It could become a new core business for this utility," says François Blouin, director of innovation for Atco. "It's a paradigm shift."

Blouin says Atco is working hard to catch up to other provinces, with the help of municipalities. They are fully committed because they "see the trend" and want to support tourists who may visit the province in EVs. I ask why it has taken so long to build a network.

"We're in an oil province," he says.

At the charging station in Red Deer, Atco senior manager of business development Mike Nissen is upbeat. "We've had great interactions with Albertans," he says. "They're just waiting for [EV] trucks to get to the market."

Putting charging stations in place will make a big difference, but most Albertans are still reluctant to make the leap.

"Not yet," says Fred Kerr, a Calgary comedian. "I would want to see lower car prices and much better batteries and infrastructure first."

Sean Myers, a communications professional with the University of Calgary, says his family will look at an EV the next time they're in the market.

"It feels like Alberta isn't quite there yet," he says, "but I could see having one now for trips around the city."

Associated Graphic

'My livelihood depends on oil and gas,' says Mike Pettis, a resident of Drumheller, Alta., who says that he's never been around an electric vehicle such as this hybrid Volvo XC90. Residents' wariness of EVs is not surprising in a region that serves as a living monument to the epoch that gave us fossil fuels.


Bill Phelan of Spruce Grove, Alta., pops by to take a look at a Nissan Leaf during a stop in Red Deer.


Thursday, July 11, 2019 – Print Edition, Page B17


July 11, 2017 Dear Mum, Two years, too long. Miss you. xo


On Wednesday, July 10, 2019 at North York General Hospital. Arthur Lundy, beloved husband of Loretta of 66 years. Loving father and father-in-law of Karen Lundy and Joe Laufer, Ellen Lundy, and James Lundy. Cherished Zaidy of Benjamin and Kristin, David, Trevor, Matthew, and Joshua.

At Steeles Memorial Chapel, 350 Steeles Ave., W., on Friday, July 12, 2019 at 11:30 a.m. Interment Pardes Shalom Cemetery, Community section. Shiva 215 Burbank Drive. Memorial donations may be made to Dr. Solomon Jacob and Kate Woolfson Foundation c/o The Baycrest Foundation at 416-785-2875, or the North York General Hospital Foundation at 416-756-6944, or the charity of your choice.


Age 77, son of Betty and Jack, died of cancer in Hamilton.

on July 9, 2019, at the Dr. Bob Kemp Hospice.

Jack was born in Maidstone, SK, and raised in Victoria, BC. He graduated from four universities, receiving his Ed.D from the at University of British Columbia.

Jack taught and coached football in Leamington, ON, until returning to BC where he taught at Vancouver Community College and Fraser Valley College while he studying for his Ed.D. He was a Director for the Ministry of Skills Development, for Centennial College, and Director of the Learning Centre for LIUNA.

He played rugby from college until his 30s, when he became a referee. He played the baritone sax and bass clarinet in three bands. He loved to talk and always had stories to tell.

Left to celebrate his life are his wife, Sylvia; their daughter, Shannon McLaren and her husband, Phil Rohtla; his grandchildren, Jack and Jessica Rohtla of Ottawa; and his uncle and aunt, Bruce and Lida Paxton of St. Catharines.

We have honored Jack's wishes for cremation and no funeral.

A reception for family and friends will be held Friday, July 12th, the 50th anniversary of the day Jack and Sylvia met in 1969. Please come celebrate his life with us from 2-4 p.m. at the Legion Branch 163, 435 Limeridge Road E., Hamilton.

In lieu of flowers, the family would appreciate gifts made in Jack's honor to either the Cancer Assistance Program, or to the Dr. Bob Kemp Hospice.

SYLVIA JEAN LI (née Douglas)

Systems analyst, daughter, sister, wife, mother, reader, creator, tech and role-playing game aficionado.

Died peacefully as dawn broke on July 5, 2019, at age 75. Born January 3, 1944 to Donald George Douglas (nuclear physicist, storyteller), and Anna Catherine Fife (teacher, mother, caregiver, maker of pies). She spent her early childhood in Montreal, before the family moved to Winnipeg.

Sylvia read voraciously, studied violin. The first thing she did when she got to the University of Manitoba was join CUCND (Combined Universities Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament).

She marched in Ban the Bomb demonstrations, graduated with a double-major in Math and Physics - with some music and history courses squeezed in - and got her first job programming computers, which turned into a lifelong career of programming and systems analysis. This was back in 1965, when very few universities in the world offered degrees in computer science.

On September 18, 1965, she married Robert Shiu-Ki Li scholar, musician, engineer, a multi-talented adventurous spirit who can construct anything you might want with only cardboard, masking tape, and a quick trip to the dollar store.

Sylvia was a tireless mother, raising two children with Robert: caringly soothing their physical and emotional hurts, patiently helping with homework, and implicitly demonstrating the importance of a career outside the home. As an early programmer, she had a front-row seat to the industry's rapid development, from punched cards through to IBM mainframes, to early languages such as COBOL and RPG - experience which came in handy in the late 1990s, when she came out of retirement to work for Telcordia in New Jersey, to help save the world from an imminent Y2K-bug meltdown.

She had an extraordinarily rich life of the mind and impressive catholic tastes, gulping down novels by the cartful. Raised on the classics, she fell hard for speculative / science fiction and fantasy, discovering SF&F fandom in her mid-40s. And she tried her hand at it, too, joining the Better Than Hockey writing group in Winnipeg, and, later in life, completing the not-yet-published SF novel, High City.

In her 40s and 50s, she found a group of like-minded creative spirits in the Big House, enjoying their company through the year and especially during the Winnipeg Folk Festival, where she was a charter member of BaggieCon. With Robert and the kids, Sylvia enjoyed road trips to many of Canada's provinces and nearly all of the U.S. states. And she thrilled at the trip of a lifetime to China, as Robert proudly shared his homeland with her.

But not all of her travel involved going somewhere in the physical world. In her late 30s, Sylvia shared many Saturdays with her son, running a Dungeons & Dragons campaign at the University of Manitoba as Dungeon Master. In the last decade of her life, Sylvia became an integral member of the Improbable Island online community, first as a player and soon thereafter being appointed a Moderator. She loved the challenge and sense of humour, helping to guide the tone. If she learned wisdom late in life, she said, it was there.

Sylvia spent the last five weeks of her life at Toronto's Kensington Hospice, lovingly cared for by the staff, whose team of experts and volunteers allowed family and friends to provide her with emotional support rather than exhaust themselves as caregivers.

There, she continued with her creative outlets, taking whimsical still-lifes with her iPhone that she shared with family.

Sylvia was predeceased by her parents and her youngest brother, Donnie. She leaves her husband, Robert Li; her brother, Rob Douglas, and his wife, Marie D'Iorio, of Ottawa; her children, Rosemary Li-Houpt and Christopher Li and their respective spouses, Simon Houpt and Jamie McDaniel; and her adoring grandchildren, Sascha, Michal, and Zoe Houpt, and Cybil Li. Family and friends are invited to gather in Sunderland Hall of Toronto's First Unitarian Church, 175 St. Clair Ave. W., on Saturday, July 13th at 3 pm for a celebration of Sylvia's unique life. Donations may be made in her memory to the Kensington Hospice at the Kensington Health Foundation.


Peacefully on Saturday, June 22, 2019, Maxwell John Miller, FRIBA, FRAIC, Past President, Ontario Association of Architects and longtime chief architect for Simpsons and Sears. Happily married to Evelyn Miller (nee Lamb) for over 59 years before her death in 2012. Much loved father of Henry (Lynn) and Avarina and loving grandfather of Sebastian (Lauren), Victoria, Emily and Juliana.

Friends may visit at RosarMorrison Funeral Home & Chapel, 467 Sherbourne St.

on Thursday, July 11 from 2 - 5 and 7 - 9 p.m. Mass of Christian Burial at Our Lady of Lourdes Church, 520 Sherbourne Street, on Friday, July 12 at 10 a.m. In lieu of flowers, memorial donations may be made to St. Michael's Hospital Foundation. Heartfelt thanks to Sabrina and all at Integracare. Condolences


Peacefully, in his 87th year, surrounded by family, at North York General Hospital on Saturday, July 6, 2019. Beloved husband for 59 years of Wanda van Wassenaer (Sulkowska).

Proud father of Nicole van Wassenaer (Glenn Elliott) of Toronto, Philip van Wassenaer (Violet) of Mississauga and Valerie van Wassenaer of Collingwood.

Cherished grandfather of Erik, Lucas, Julia, Jacob and Philip.

Floris will be sadly missed by extended family and friends.

A Celebration of Life will be held on Saturday, July 20th at the Humphrey Funeral Home A.W.

Miles - Newbigging Chapel, 1403 Bayview Avenue (south of Davisville Avenue) at 3:00 p.m. In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions in Floris' name to the North York General Hospital (7 North) or the Toronto Dementia Research Alliance would be gratefully appreciated.

Condolences may be forwarded through

Capturing tonnes of carbon and conservatives' climate hopes
Projects in Alberta and Saskatchewan are global leaders, but technology's efficacy and viability still needs more work
Saturday, July 13, 2019 – Print Edition, Page A14

ESTEVAN, SASK. -- One of Canada's largest science projects is humming away on the south Saskatchewan Prairie, capturing thousands of tonnes of climatewarming carbon dioxide every month and storing it underground where it should remain buried for eons.

The idea behind carbon capture and storage is simple in theory, but it has faced years of teething problems and cost overruns at the facility next to the Boundary Dam power station to get the project working. Now, a small and unremarkable brown pipe - warm to the touch even in a freezing Prairie wind - juts out of the hulking building and disappears into the ground, carrying a constant stream of carbon dioxide and the hopes of a growing number of Canada's conservative politicians.

Half of provincial governments are now in the hands of conservative premiers opposed to carbon pricing, arguing instead that technology - to reduce emissions and then capture and store what's left over - is a better solution to climate change. Saskatchewan has been committed to carbon capture and storage for nearly a decade and the government spent $1.5-billion building the facility at Estevan, the world's first at a coal-fired power plant.

Premier Jason Kenney in neighbouring Alberta is also considering pouring more money into carbon capture, adding to the two projects already functioning or nearing completion in the energy-rich province.

Turning the stream of pollutants coming off burning coal into carbon dioxide that can be sequestered underground or sold to boost fading production from nearby oil wells, is a difficult prospect. The plant at Boundary Dam uses enormous amounts of chemicals, cooling towers the height of an office tower and enough electricity to power a small town. The Saskatchewan plant was also poorly designed for the region's low-quality coal, leading to years of painful lessons as much of the plant had to be periodically disassembled to clean out unexpected buildups of ash and other contaminants.

"It's the joys of coming first," said David Jobe, the director of carbon capture at Boundary Dam, as he walked through the structure. He says carbon capture is now a proven technology that the provincially owned utility could sell to sequester the emissions from hundreds of coal-fired power plants in China and India.

"We've proven it can work.

Now we need to make it cheaper," he added.

THE PRICE OF PROGRESS At $1.5-billion, the bill for the facility would be about $1,300 for each of Saskatchewan's 1.1 million residents.

The Parliamentary Budget Office has warned the plant could lose $1-billion over 30 years, which could drive up electricity bills in the province. SaskPower has also not paid a dividend to the provincial treasury in recent years because of the expense of large projects such as Boundary Dam.

The plan now runs near 94per-cent efficiency, capturing nearly all the pollutants coming off a single boiler at Boundary Dam. However, grinders and welders are still a daily sight after nearly five years of operations - despite the fact that the facility was designed to be unstaffed.

Because of carbon capture, one of the boilers at Boundary Dam will remain open for decades after the federally mandated deadline to close all coal-fired power stations by 2030. The project will sustain coal-mining jobs in southern Saskatchewan and help local energy companies increase oil production through a process known as enhanced oil recovery, according to Saskatchewan Environment Minister Dustin Duncan.

"We wanted to see whether we could be part of the solution, by continuing to use these assets over the long term in a way that would significantly reduce their emissions," Mr. Duncan told The Globe and Mail. While Premier Scott Moe's government has ruled out adding more carbon capture at Boundary Dam, the provincial government is still debating whether to build another facility at a nearby coal-fired power station. That decision will be made midway through the next decade.

Mr. Duncan notes the numerous problems the plant experienced in its first five years or so, in particular needing to periodically dismantle and clean the whole facility.

"It's been frustrating at times, but we knew all along that this was really first-generation technology, it was the first of its kind in the world on a commercial scale using postcombustion emissions, particularly from a coal-fired power plant. I think we all went into it with eyes pretty wide open," Mr. Duncan said.

Estevan Mayor Roy Ludwig has expressed his frustration at the lack of new carbon capture in the province and has called for Mr. Moe's government to expand the technology's use. The region around Estevan is dominated by rocking oil pumpjacks and the towering steam from Boundary Dam hangs in the air like a storm cloud, visible from kilometres away. The carbon-capture plant has been toured by a number of prominent business leaders and politicians from around the world and is one of the area's best shots to continue producing coal and oil, according to the mayor.

"We're cautiously optimistic that we can continue for some time with clean coal technology, but that's obviously tempered by what's going on in Ottawa," said Mr. Ludwig. He's concerned that Prime Minister Justin Trudeau's government hasn't shown much enthusiasm for carbon capture and has instead focused on a Canadawide carbon tax system to curb climate change.

SUBSIDIES OR MARKET MECHANISMS Two carbon-capture projects in Alberta have also received $1.24billion in financial support from that province's government.

Near Edmonton, Shell's Quest carbon-capture project has stored four million tonnes of carbon dioxide, the most of any comparable facility in the world, according to the company. The Shell project, which began operations in 2015, captures one-third of the emissions from a nearby upgrader, an energy facility that turns bitumen into synthetic crude oil.

A larger project is the Alberta Carbon Trunk Line, a pipeline for carbon dioxide under construction linking the industrial facilities of the Edmonton area to an underground storage location about 200 kilometres to the south near Red Deer. The line, which is expected to finish construction at the end of this year, is designed to allow facilities that adopt carbon capture to tap into it over the next few decades.

Mr. Kenney's government is now prepared to look at future projects, according to Alberta Environment Minister Jason Nixon.

"We're currently exploring options to help companies reduce emissions with cleaner technology. For example, revenue generated from the [government's proposed technology] fund could be used to support research and investment in carbon capture, utilization and storage," the minister said in a statement.

Carbon capture works in some instances and is effective, according to Duncan Kenyon with the Calgary-based energy think tank Pembina Institute, but there are often cheaper ways to get similar reductions in carbon emissions.

"This is exactly what is needed as part of a meaningful climate strategy and we do need to put a ton of money into research, but here's what's missing: Do you need the government to throw a few billion at carbon capture or do you just put in a market mechanism that does the same thing without subsidization? Because that's exactly what a carbon price is," he said.

Falling prices for renewables have made a number of carboncapture projects uncompetitive, according to Mr. Kenyon. However, he said a carbon tax, along with a project like the Alberta Carbon Trunk Line, which would allow an industrial facility to adopt carbon capture more cheaply and avoid paying the tax, could work.

"We don't just need to throw out public money at this. We can also support these innovations through carbon pricing and just letting a financial incentive work," Mr. Kenyon said.

Associated Graphic

David Jobe, director of carbon capture at SaskPower's Boundary Dam power station near Estevan, Sask., says the technology is now proved and the provincially owned utility could sell it to sequester emissions from hundreds of coal-fired power plants in China and India.


The Montreal native, remembered for his tough-guy attitude, fought beside his brother and headlined local matches at a time when the province couldn't get enough of the sport
Saturday, July 13, 2019 – Print Edition, Page B19

Beneath bright lights, the two wrestlers clashed in the middle of the ring.

Jacques Rougeau Sr., wearing black trunks, repeatedly slammed his fist into his opponent's face. It may have been a show, but soon the man's eye turned black and his face red. Neither seemed to be acting.

"Unbelievable!" the commentator roared as Mr. Rougeau pummelled the other man through the ropes.

The hometown crowd roared.

This was Montreal, where, in the early 1970s, wrestling matches at the Montreal Forum and other arenas frequently sold out. At the top of the game were the Rougeau brothers, heads of a dynasty of wrestlers whose family name is synonymous with wrestling greatness.

"The Rougeau family is considered the royal family of Quebec wrestling. They've been on the wrestling scene for over 70 years," said Patric Laprade, a play-byplay announcer for wrestling on TVA Sports, historian and author of multiple books on the subject.

On July 1, Jacques Rougeau Sr.

died of pulmonary fibrosis at a palliative care centre in SaintJean-de-Matha, surrounded by family. He was 89.

He was born in Montreal on May 27, 1930, and was raised in the Villeray-Rosemont neighbourhood. His mother, Albina Auger, was a businesswoman who operated a hat store and a salon. His father, Armand Rougeau, worked in the meat industry.

When Jacques Sr. was a boy, his father taught him to box and he picked up the sport quickly, winning the coveted Golden Gloves title as a young teen. But the pugilist chose to make the change to wrestling.

His uncle, Eddy Auger, introduced Jacques Sr. and his brother Jean - known as Johnny - to wrestling. They trained in a basement academy run by Tony Lanza, a bodybuilder, wrestler and photographer. It was there that the two brothers learned to lift weights and throw other men around the ring.

In the mid-1950s, a star wrestler named Yvon Robert ran the wrestling scene in Montreal. At the time, Mr. Robert was almost as popular as famed hockey player Maurice (Rocket) Richard, according to Mr. Laprade.

"It was very hard for French Canadians to actually break [into] that roster," he said.

Mr. Robert chose Johnny as his successor to follow in his footsteps as the local wrestling star.

Johnny was charismatic, and his wrestling was flashy and elegant, in contrast to his stoic and quieter brother Jacques, whose toughguy attitude was more of a personality trait than an act.

Johnny, with his greased hair and handsome face, went on to become Montreal's star wrestling personality. Jacques Sr. quit the sport soon after he started in the 1950s. Promoters were less willing to take a chance on the quiet tough-guy. He also injured himself while practising; Jacques Sr.

was spinning in circles with another man on his shoulders - to disorient him - when his leg caught on a mat and broke in three places.

His leg healed but he stayed away from the sport for a time, instead working odd jobs, including a doorman gig at his brother's nightclub, the Mocambo.

"He was one of the best doormen in town. You wouldn't mess with Jacques Rougeau or you would regret it," Mr. Laprade said.

"That reputation followed him when he came back into wrestling."

In 1965, Johnny started a promotion called All-Star Wrestling and asked his brother to wrestle with him.

"My father, one of his greatest qualities is that he's loyal and if he loved you there's nothing he wouldn't do for you," his son, Raymond, said.

So began the next chapter of a wrestling career that took him across Quebec, Ontario and the Northeastern United States, and even to Japan.

One of his tag-team partners, Gino Brito, remembered those days and the long drives from show to show alongside the stoic Jacques Rougeau Sr.

"We got along good," Mr. Brito said. "Sometimes we'd drive to Chicoutimi, [Que.]. Maybe out of the five-hour drive, we were lucky if we spoke half an hour."

The Rougeau Brothers were headliners at a time when wrestling was booming in Montreal and Quebec. Hundreds of thousands of people tuned in to watch wrestling on television.

"We were on TV Sunday mornings and nobody was in church.

Everybody was watching wrestling," Mr. Brito said.

Thousands turned up weekly at the Montreal Forum to watch the Rougeaus battle against the likes of the Russian Bear (Ivan Koloff), the Sheikh (Ed Farhat) and Abdullah the Butcher (Lawrence Shreve).

One of Jacques Sr.'s rivalries was more violent than the others.

Dick (Tugboat) Taylor, a U.S.

wrestler, battled Jacques Sr. twice in heated bouts. A rubber match was scheduled for the Montreal Forum in 1973, but Mr. Taylor didn't show up.

The resulting frenzy is the stuff of legend. According to Mr. Laprade, to prevent the 20,000 fans from rioting, Mr. Taylor's manager stepped into the ring as a sacrificial lamb. Jacques Sr. gave him a theatrical walloping.

The fans went home somewhat appeased, but the story goes that Jacques Jr. heard a rumour: Mr. Taylor was lounging in a bar downtown with his championship belt.

"He took the Leduc brothers with him and went to that bar ... he waited for Taylor ... and beat the heck out of him," Mr. Laprade said. "Taylor was never seen in the wrestling business in Montreal again."

At the height of their popularity, in 1972, the Rougeau Brothers sold out Jarry Park stadium, then home of the Montreal Expos baseball team. More than 26,000 fans turned up.

Jacques Sr. battled against the Sheikh that night and won the Montreal title in front of the roaring crowd.

His son, Raymond, was the third Rougeau on that card. He remembered his father as someone who always made good on his promises.

When Raymond was just a boy, Jacques Sr. asked him if he wanted to be a wrestler.

"I said I don't know," Raymond said. "It intrigued me, but I never thought I could compete with those guys and my father asked me, 'Do you trust me?' " Jacques Sr. promised Raymond that with the proper training he'd compete in his first wrestling bout by the age of 16. He delivered on that promise. Raymond had his first match three months after his 16th birthday.

Jacques Sr. had five children, four of whom went on to become heavily involved in the world of professional wrestling.

Raymond and Jacques Jr. became popular wrestlers in the World Wrestling Federation, now called World Wrestling Entertainment, and competed together for a time as the Fabulous Rougeaus.

Armand's wrestling career was cut short by an injury. Joanne, Jacques's daughter, worked as a promoter for the WWF in the 1990s.

Jacques Sr. retired from the sport in 1976, but he occasionally returned to the ring. He wrestled with his sons in 1984 and continued to be involved in the sport through them.

Jacques Jr. continued wrestling until 2018. His sons Émile, Cédric and Jean-Jacques also wrestled.

"Jacques Rougeau Sr. is probably why the family is considered a dynasty," Mr. Laprade said.

After wrestling, Jacques Sr.

ventured into real estate, buying and selling property. He spent his summers in Rawdon, Que., where his family lived, and his winters in Florida. He and Mr. Brito remained friends.

Jacques Sr. leaves his wife, Louise Parizeau; three sons, Raymond, Armand and Jacques Jr.; two daughters, Joanne and Diane; 10 grandchildren, including former NHL player Denis Gauthier Jr. and 12 great-grandchildren.

Jacques Sr. was a quiet man, according to those who knew him, but he was dependable, solid and honest. Despite the fame he achieved as a wrestler, he preferred to stay out of the spotlight.

"He had a presence. When he entered a room, even if he didn't speak, everyone turned," Raymond said. "He was a success but despite all that he stayed very reserved, very simple, very humble."

Associated Graphic

Jacques Rougeau Sr. retired from wrestling in 1976, but his sons and daughter turned his career into a dynasty by also getting involved in the sport.


NDP's Robinson re-enters the federal fray with a green message
Saturday, July 13, 2019 – Print Edition, Page A13

BURNABY, B.C. -- For Svend Robinson, there was no better place to denounce the Trudeau government's Trans Mountain pipeline policy than the constituency office of Liberal MP Terry Beech.

Since 2015, Mr. Beech has been MP in the Burnaby North-Seymour riding Mr. Robinson wants to win for the New Democrats in this fall's federal election, launching the second act of his political career after 15 years in private life.

Mr. Robinson describes the riding as "Ground Zero" for the pipeline expansion because it's the location for the tank farm that will store bitumen shipped from Alberta. Also, tankers will pick up that energy product for shipment.

So the former New Democratic MP and now party candidate summoned the news media earlier this summer to Mr. Beech's office, and levelled his criticism over Ottawa re-approving the pipeline expansion. At the time, Mr. Beech was away, in Ottawa.

"You've got to be creative," Mr.Robinson said of taking the fight to his political foe's doorstep.

"You have got to find creative and effective ways of getting your message out."

Fifteen years after his career as a high-profile MP came to a dramatic end, Mr. Robinson is trying to get back into the House of Commons. And he sees the environment as a crucial issue for his and his party's chances this fall - something that has already brought him into open conflict with his own party.

Mr. Robinson is now 67 and two years past retiring from a consultant's role in Europe with the Global Fund to Fight AIDS, Tuberculosis and Malaria. His career after leaving politics in 2004 also included a stint with the Public Services International global trade-union federation.

In April, 2004, Mr. Robinson abruptly quit his post as a Burnaby MP after stealing a $21,000 ring at an auction. The incident prompted him to open up about mental-health issues.

Now, he says he has been inspired to give politics another shot by the climate-change crisis as well as the housing crunch that's putting reasonable accommodation out of the reach of many Canadians.

Mr. Robinson made headlines in May after the NDP lost a federal by-election in Nanaimo, where the party previously held the seat, to the Greens. He took to Twitter to warn that the results were a "wake-up call" that the party must be bolder on climate change and other environmental issues, such as natural-gas fracking and new petroleum infrastructure. It was seen as a direct challenge to the party and its leadership.

Mr. Robinson now casts himself as a loyal trooper for the NDP cause and has kind words for party Leader Jagmeet Singh. He also says he's content with the NDP's platform, which includes a $15billion climate plan. "I am quite comfortable taking this into the election and riding on this," he said.

He acknowledged NDP troubles, including departing incumbents and discouraging poll numbers, but said Mr. Singh has a few months to turn things around as national leader of the party. He also dismissed the suggestion that he might be interested in seeking the leadership.

The fight to win the riding in October has plunged Mr. Robinson into some of those challenges facing the party, which is attempting to stay relevant against the Liberals and Greens on the left. The party is also seeking to overcome dismal fundraising and the exit of such high-profile MPs as Nathan Cullen.

The expanded Trans Mountain pipeline, which the federal Liberals bought and recently reapproved after it became stalled in the courts, would mean more tanks at a complex in the riding, and increased tanker traffic off its shores. Mr. Robinson is betting that the Liberals will pay a political price for supporting the pipeline expansion.

Anita Kuttner, the riding's Green Party candidate, says the former MP may be out of synch with the times. "He came in, a similar age to me coming in now and did a great job. There's no reason I can't do tha,t too," said the 28-year-old astrophysicist.

"In the political sphere, Svend did a lot and it's wonderful, but we're in a new era and there are new topics to be discussed."

In saluting Mr. Robinson, Ms.Kuttner is referring to an expansive record. The critic of U.S. foreign policy once heckled Ronald Reagan while the U.S. president was speaking in Parliament. He was with Sue Rodriguez, grappling with ALS, when her fight for physician-assisted suicide ended with a doctor helping her take her life, raising the profile of the issue. He spent 14 days in jail for peaceful civil disobedience protesting against logging of oldgrowth forests in B.C. The advocate for LGBTQ issues was the first openly gay parliamentarian.

He was admired, and disliked.

He knows that well.

"When you take a stand on issues, there will be people that passionately support you and people that equally passionately despise you," he said.

Even when he lived and worked abroad, Mr. Robinson said he maintained his roots in Canada. "Obviously, I was based in Switzerland but my partner Max and I have always had a place on Galiano Island, and came back as often as we could," he said.

Graeme Truelove, author of a 2013 biography of Mr. Robinson - Svend Robinson: A Life in Politics - says it was never inevitable that the former MP would try to return to politics, but that it's not entirely surprising.

"This is somebody who was never going to retire to a beach with a good book," Mr. Truelove said.

This is Mr. Robinson's second attempt to get back into politics.

In 2006, Mr. Robinson ran in the Vancouver-Centre riding held by incumbent Liberal Hedy Fry. Ms.

Fry won with 44 per cent of the vote compared with 29 per cent for second-place Mr. Robinson.

He speaks of the exercise with a visible distaste. "It was too early. I shouldn't have run there.

It was too early after the ring."

When Mr. Robinson was last an MP, just before the 2004 federal election, Jack Layton was leader of the NDP at the forefront of a 14-member caucus. Paul Martin was the Liberal prime minister.

Today, the NDP has 41 members among 335 in Parliament. In British Columbia, they have 13 of 41 seats, just behind the Liberals with 17. There are eight Conservatives, two members of the Green Party and one independent.

However, one recent Angus Reid survey suggested the NDP were fourth behind the Greens in B.C.

Of the Greens, Mr. Robinson said the NDP's best tactic to counter them is to emphasize its long, hard work on social- and economic-justice issues. "I think the NDP brings more to the table [than the Greens] on those issues," he said.

In 2015, Mr. Beech won Burnaby North-Seymour by six percentage points over the secondplace NDP. The Conservatives were close behind. This year, the Conservatives are running Heather Leung, an occupational therapist who previously ran for Burnaby city council. In 2015, the Greens won 5 per cent of the vote.

Mr. Robinson and Ms. Kuttner agree that 2015 saw voters shift to the Liberals and Justin Trudeau to head off the re-election of Stephen Harper and his Conservatives.

"No one speaks of Trudeaumania now," Mr. Robinson said.

Mr. Beech was not available for an interview.

Mr. Robinson said he would like to see the NDP elect enough MPs to hold the balance of power "along with a few Greens" in a minority parliament.

And if this second attempted comeback fails? He is too focused on campaigning to consider the possibility, he says. "I am not making any plans beyond Oct.


Associated Graphic

Svend Robinson will run as the federal NDP candidate for Burnaby North-Seymour in the 2019 election. Below: He attends a Canada Day celebration at a non-profit housing project for low-income seniors in Burnaby.


Dr. Charles Best, the co-discoverer of insulin, invited him to Toronto, where he studied the effects of exercise on the disease and the production of glucagon in the body
Thursday, July 18, 2019 – Print Edition, Page B16

The internationally renowned scientist Mladen Vranic possessed a certain quality that helped him make great strides in diabetes research: He kept probing until he got answers.

His widow says his powerful resolve dated back to his childhood, when he narrowly survived the Holocaust with his family.

Originally from Croatia, he fled with his parents and grandmother to Italy during the Second World War because of their Jewish heritage. But the Nazis followed close behind and arrived in the same part of Italy where the family had taken refuge. When the Vranic family fled, they ended up detained in a camp.

Despite the poor conditions there, young Mladen still went to school and played sports.

"I took classes in Latin," Dr. Vranic told a graduating class at the University of Toronto in 2011, while accepting an honorary degree. "My teacher, in despair, told me that I might be better suited to milking the cows."

When the Nazi threat grew, Dr. Vranic's family received word about a rescue boat and waited on a pier for it to arrive. They were fortunate to make it aboard and escape to safety. A few weeks later, Nazis entered the Italian camp and sent everyone inside to Auschwitz. Only two of the camp's inhabitants survived.

Dr. Vranic was lucky to escape and would carry the experience with him wherever he went.

"The experiences of coming so many times to almost be captured, of losing all their properties and art made him just be a fighter," said Linda Vranic, his widow. "He would not give up on anything."

Dr. Vranic would make the most of the remaining years in his life, going on to become a distinguished diabetes researcher at the University of Toronto with numerous accolades in Canada and abroad.

He died on June 18 in Toronto of congestive heart failure at the age of 89.

Dr. Vranic was the last postdoctoral fellow to work with Charles Best - the scientist who co-discovered insulin. Dr. Vranic studied how exercise affected diabetes, and he changed the prevailing thinking in the scientific community when he found that the hormone glucagon can be produced outside of the pancreas, in the stomach. The discovery helped determine the role of glucagon in diabetes.

"He could be relentless in sticking with an issue that he was interested in and wanted to accomplish," said John Dirks, former dean of the faculty of medicine at the University of Toronto. "He was very focused and he wouldn't let go, but all for good reason." Dr. Vranic was born on April 3, 1930, in Zagreb, the only child of Vladimir and Ana Vranic. His father taught mathematics at the University of Zagreb, but couldn't get an academic appointment because of his Jewish background.

After the Second World War, his father returned to the University of Zagreb as a professor and dean. Vladimir brought the first computer to the university despite the views of his colleagues that "computers represented a prostitution of pure mathematics," Dr. Vranic wrote in a career retrospective in 2010. "I have tried to apply the same tenacity to my own research endeavors."

After finishing medical school at the University of Zagreb, Dr. Vranic pursued graduate studies in physiology, where diabetes was the only research topic in the department at the time. Coincidentally, his father developed Type 2 diabetes at the same time.

After finishing his PhD in 1962, Dr. Vranic reached out to the University of Toronto for an opportunity to work with Dr. Best, who was then head of the university's Banting and Best Department of Medical Research. Dr. Vranic's thesis was published in the journal, Diabetes, and Dr. Best was pleased with his work. He invited Dr. Vranic to work with him as a postdoctoral fellow.

Dr. Vranic began developing a new way to measure the production of glucose in the liver separately from glucose utilization in the muscles. Researchers used his method for years, eventually leading them to determine the roles of insulin and glucagon in the body.

Under a different teacher, Dr. Vranic tested the impact of exercise on diabetes, determining when exercise is beneficial and when it's not. This led him to organize the first symposium on the subject in California, where participants were engaged in discussions until well into the night. This work would eventually bring researchers to a major eureka moment when they found exercise can actually prevent Type 2 diabetes.

As a testament to his contribution to diabetes research, in 1991, the American Diabetes Association recognized Dr. Vranic with the prestigious Banting Medal, which is awarded to one researcher in the world each year whose work has advanced the understanding of diabetes.

The same year, Dr. Vranic was appointed chair of the department of physiology at the University of Toronto. Dr. Vranic had recently recovered from a stroke. "I was a little concerned as to whether he was able to do the job," said Dr. Dirks, who appointed Dr. Vranic. "He assured me that he would be fine. And he was."

He received an honorary degree from the Karolinska Institute in Sweden in 1992.

In 2005, he received the Albert Renold Award from the American Diabetes Association for his work training diabetes researchers. He also received the Canadian Diabetes Association's inaugural Lifetime Achievement Award in 2007 and was inducted into the Canadian Medical Hall of Fame two years later. In 2010, he was appointed to the Order of Ontario and named an officer of the Order of Canada.

Despite his numerous awards, Dr. Vranic would think about recognizing others instead of himself.

"He would often like to discuss with me who we should nominate for awards in the community," said Daniel Drucker, who worked alongside Dr. Vranic in the department of physiology at U of T. "Many of us are always thinking about how we can nominate ourselves for awards."

His students remember the scientist as someone who was calm and capable of diffusing tension.

"Sometimes the lab got totally chaotic," said Patricia Brubaker, a former postdoctoral fellow working under Dr. Vranic, noting that his lab had students from all parts of the world and diverse personalities. "I never saw him angry ever."

If there was a conflict, "he would go into his office and close the door, and just have a discussion," continued Dr. Brubaker, who is now a professor in U of T's departments of physiology and medicine. "It was always very calm and measured and personable rather than confrontational."

And he was as curious about people as he was about science.

"When visiting scientists would come, he would bring them into his office and he would speak to them about what their backgrounds were, and how they got involved in science," Dr. Brubaker added. "He would try to understand the whole person."

Dr. Vranic wouldn't retire until his 80s and, in 2015, helped co-found a company researching a cure for hypoglycemia.

He leaves his widow, Linda; their daughters, Claire and Anne; Iva, his daughter from his first marriage; and a grandson.

About a month before he died, he published an autobiography, titled Between Scylla and Charybdis: A Life Retrospective.

Although his physical movement was limited in his final months, his wife took him to the opera about a month before he died.

In his career retrospective about his work over the previous 50 years, Dr. Vranic quoted Robert Frost's The Road Not Taken: "A scientist is always facing choices ... focusing on specific areas of research, selecting students, fellows, and collaborators.

"The [road] 'less travelled' offers the opportunity of originality, which in my opinion is the key goal in all aspects of arts and science."

Associated Graphic

Mladen Vranic, a Croatian Holocaust survivor and groundbreaking medical researcher, is seen in his office at the University of Toronto in 2009. Colleagues and former students describe Dr. Vranic as a patient, generous man who often sought to elevate the achievements of others.


Penguin Random House's Strange Light imprint makes its debut with Sara Peters's I Become A Delight To My Enemies - an experimental work about trauma and terror, told through a multitude of disembodied narrators, that might just make for the most audacious audiobook yet
Saturday, July 13, 2019 – Print Edition, Page R6

Sara Peters is on the phone, talking about I Become A Delight To My Enemies, her voice by turns hesitant, pointed, self-deprecating, dark, funny. "I think of it as a novel, I suppose," the 36-year-old begins, when asked how she would categorize the work. "I wanted this book to be poly-vocal and I wanted the form of each piece to be reflective of the speaker," she says. "I was also thinking of how to undermine any notions of linearity."

A mixture of poetry and prose, with no page numbers, the book marks the debut of Strange Light, a new imprint at Penguin Random House (PRH) that illuminates "experimental" and "boundary-pushing" works. (As part of its debut, Strange Light also published Max Porter's second novel, Lanny, a story about a boy who is drawn by a menacing force and vanishes from an idyllic English village.) A brainchild of the editorial team behind Hazlitt, the awardwinning digital magazine at PRH, Strange Light is a bold, creative gambit - an indiestyle initiative in the bosom of the largest trade publisher in the country.

The subject matter, while in some senses timeless, is also very much of the present moment. I Become is a book of voices, disembodied, all of its characters from a nameless town where they experienced sexual abuse and terror. Contributing to the sense of secrecy and shame, some of the text appears occasionally as marginalia, like whispered comments from the periphery of a town's main square. No two pages are alike. The text is often in fragments, abruptly cut, as if the speakers are hesitant about how much they should say.

If the print version was a work of meticulous design the audio version was a leap of faith, weaving the voices of 15 actors to create the feeling of an agitated, toxic town.

"Trauma leaves gaps and is prismatic," Peters explains when discussing the unconventional approach to her subject.

Asked about how people respond to "experimental" work in any media, she says, "I think it's really important to never condescend to people's appetite for art."

She, too, speaks in fragments - growing silent at times, and in other moments blurting out how she feels in surprising admissions.

The eldest of seven children, she was born in Antigonish, N.S. At the age of 5, she wrote simple things about "the moon and water," she recalls with a laugh. But now, "I really hate and resent writing most of the time. I feel compelled to do it. I do. I wish I just went joyously forth."

After an undergraduate degree from Concordia University in Montreal, she completed an MFA from Boston University and was a Stegner fellow in poetry at Stanford.

I ask if I Become took a long time.

"About four years. I write very little and I rewrite endlessly." A silence falls between us for a moment. And then she offers: "I do things like set time limits for myself. Like, 48 minutes."

The time limit is "totally arbitrary," she explains.

How many times does she do these 45minute writing stints?

"Probably five units of 48 minutes a day."

In between, she might go for a walk, eat something or take a nap. Mostly, she likes to work in a library.

"I really like Robarts [library] at U of T because it feels very anonymous ... and I'm shamed by the industry of the undergrads around me," she says with a small laugh.

Her first book, 1996, a collection of poetry, was published in 2013. Since I Become was completed a year ago, she hasn't written anything. "I feel very, like, scraped out," she admits.

After the print version was finalized, the audio version got under way. "The amount of attention that was taken in figuring out each character and thinking about them and how they would be embodied ..." Peters says, trailing off. "I felt honoured by the sensitivity and the precision of it."

Of its adult list, PRH Canada publishes nearly 90 per cent of its titles in audiobook versions (with the exception of cookbooks). In house, it has produced 130 audiobook titles, while others are co-publications in collaboration with colleagues in other countries.

By far, I Become was the most challenging project Ann Jansen - the book's director of audio production - had tackled at PRH. Jansen has produced spoken versions of numerous titles since the department was launched two years ago. "Sound has found its renaissance. It never went away," says Jansen. "It's that pleasure of hearing a human voice tell a story."

For I Become, the audio version is a radio play - in many ways, the truest iteration of its concept. "We wanted layers of voices, almost crashing into each other. Which is realistic if you were to take any sliver of any town in Canada," Jansen explains.

"It was a great experiment," says Sonia Vaillant, associate producer and studio manager, who has a background in theatre.

"But there was never a moment when I thought it wouldn't work."

Much of the work was in pre- and postproduction. The team met with Peters to discuss the tone each of the characters should have and "how to capture the range of femininity," Vaillant says. Then, the actors were brought in one by one over the course of four days to be recorded in studio.

"Sara's words were so alive, so precise,"

says Tess Degenstein, one of the voice actors. "I was leaning so hard on her words."

She allowed the structure of the pieces she read - the spaces between the lines on the page, the punctuation and fragments of words - to inform her reading.

In one of the poetic pieces Degenstein read, Oracle, she took her cue from the slashes in the text. "As an actor, all of these breaks are a sort of innate conflict of wanting to move forward, wanting to drive through, but being stopped at every turn when there was something really important that was to be said. The text created its own emotionality."

For other parts of the book, a number of actors would individually read an entire passage and then, later, in postproduction, different voices were used for different lines - whichever seemed to best suit the words - so that the whole was a tonal tapestry of voices. Caleb Stull, the sound engineer for PRH audiobooks, spent weeks putting I Become together in collaboration with Beverley Cooper, a freelance director.

Many of the actors identified with the female anger in the characters of the book.

"For me, personally, it was less about tapping into a cultural moment and more about tapping into my own physical body and my own experiences," Degenstein says.

Similarly, Peters didn't write the book in reaction to #MeToo. She tells me that she has been thinking about the subject matter of I Become - "specifically how marginalized people experience violence" - since the age of 10 or 11. Questioned about why a girl as young as 11 would be aware of sexual violence, she answered simply, "I am a woman, and I was brought up with the particular set of hideous expectations for people assigned female."

And those are? "How we expect women to look and act and behave and how much they are allowed to speak and how much they are silenced."

Listening to I Become is an aural immersion in a town of people who need to speak out, to reveal truths, to push back against the shame, to hold out hope. And in that way, it's a powerful reflection of #MeToo, whether that was Peters's intention or not.

The voices are literally heard.

Associated Graphic

The actors behind the audiobook: 1. Paloma Nunez 2. Justin David Miller 3. Angela Asher 4. Amanda Cordner 5. Tess Degenstein 6. Martin Roach 7. Nicole Stamp 8. Maggie Huculak 9. Amy Nostbakken 10. Norah Sadava


Tuesday, July 16, 2019

Former champions play out comedy of errors, though only one of them is laughing
While Duval finds a way to smirk through (several) strokes of bad luck, McIlroy's would-be homecoming unravels in tragic fashion at the Open
Friday, July 19, 2019 – Print Edition, Page B10

PORTRUSH, NORTHERN IRELAND -- 14 American golfer and former world No. 1 David Duval required 14 strokes to close out the par-five seventh hole with a nonuple bogey at Royal Portrush on Thursday during the first round of the British Open.

150 Northern Ireland's Rory McIlroy, the odds-on-favourite before the tournament began, sits tied for 150th after an abysmal eight-over 79 on the first day.

There are two ways to handle a crushing humiliation on the golf course. We saw both after Thursday's first round of the Open Championship.

David Duval had one very bad hole, in the same sense that someone trapped in a well for a week has a bad hole.

After losing a couple of balls and then playing the wrong one(!), Duval put up 14 strokes on the par-five seventh. It was a nonuple bogey, which happens so rarely I had to look the word up.

He scored 91 on the day. Ninety-one! Duval's a past Open champion. He's been No. 1 in the world.

The guy I'm sitting beside in the news centre, the Toronto Sun's Jon McCarthy, played Royal Portrush a few months ago and scored an 85. And nobody interviewed him afterward.

Duval has never been cuddly. He came in after his round much less cuddly than usual.

"[The score] is not reflective of anything I'm doing," he said. "It's just one of those godawful nightmare scenarios."

It was hard to tell if he meant pooching the round so badly or being forced to talk about it. The anger and humiliation was plain.

But after a bit of low-grade raging, Duval began smirking (when someone asked if they had at least offered him a cart ride back to the tee to redo things) and then laughing (when someone asked him to explain how all the penalties he'd incurred added up, and he couldn't).

By the end of his five minutes, Duval had found the point where tragedy becomes comedy. He was on his way to getting over it. Or as over it as a player working at this level can be.

Rory McIlroy couldn't get there. After the day he had, he may not ever.

Two strands in McIlroy's life intersected on Thursday morning. First, there was the Open itself. Since it was being played in his home country, he has become the semi-willing mascot of the event.

McIlroy hasn't won a major in five years. He's been close, but not that close. Nevertheless, he was installed as the firm favourite here based entirely on a little history and a lot of romanticism.

This was supposed to be his moment.

The second strand is the change McIlroy has made in his mental approach. After years of streakiness, he's talked about easing up, finding his bliss and not taking his work home with him. He got hooked up with a sports psychologist, started meditating and made the mistake of gushing about it. Now people talk about McIlroy as though he's the Dalai Lama.

These two ideas - McIlroy as homecoming hero and man on the verge of a breakthrough - collided at the first tee. The resultant implosion was not quite Nevada Test Site level, but by midafternoon, everyone in the world had heard about it.

For many years, Royal Portrush did not own some of the land in the middle of its own golf course. Though those parcels have since been purchased, they are still considered out of bounds. That's where McIlroy landed with his first shot. Then he put it in the rough. Then the much worse rough. Then he yanked a short putt.

This will have been the most anticipated tee-off of McIlroy's life and he could not have got it much worse: a quadruple-bogey eight.

He gathered himself through the bulk of his day. The rains came and went, as did the sun.

Around these parts, you can get wet, be dried and soaked once more in the time it takes to walk to your car. It's like living in a very lush dishwasher.

McIlroy's concentration deserted him on the 16th - after missing another short putt, he leaned in off-balance to tap in and lipped it. Double bogey.

He got it entirely wrong on the 18th. Triple bogey. He finished at an eight-over 79, one worse than Tiger Woods, who was less spectacularly bad. The current leader, American journeyman J.B.

Holmes, is on five under.

For two years, we've been hearing about McIlroy's magical bond with Royal Portrush. After just four hours of finally getting to see their act in real life, the course disappeared him from the Open.

Unlike Duval, McIlroy did not seem angry or humiliated. He came in cracking jokes.

Is there a way back from that score?

"There's definitely a way back to Florida," McIlroy said.


Then he realized the guy was serious.

Without saying the words, McIlroy said no. There is no "way back" from that round on a links course in a major. All he can do in the next three days is unhumiliate himself.

That isn't possible. McIlroy understands that. Which is why none of the jokes or laughs seemed funny. You could see McIlroy's confusion. He stuttered through answers or took huge pauses before answering.

You were aware that every ounce of his meditative art was being channelled into maintaining the facial expression of someone who had not walked headfirst into a phone pole on global television.

About halfway through, it began to dawn on him this wasn't working out. Breeziness was not the best look here. He began tracking back to seriousness. Expectations? What expectations?

"Look, I was nervous on the first tee," he said. "But not nervous because of that."

Nervous because of what then?

By the time McIlroy left, he looked despondent. Comedy was becoming tragedy.

A few days ago, McIlroy was asked if he would trade seasons with Brooks Koepka. McIlroy's had a bunch of wins, runner-up spots and top-10 finishes this year. He may be the most consistently good golfer around.

Koepka's standout statistic is that he won another major. He is the most erratically great. "I wouldn't trade, no," McIlroy said.

"I need to relax to play my best golf."


Trying to pass off this "Majors, what majors?" nonsense puts in doubt the truth of anything McIlroy says into a microphone.

That's what deep frustration does to elite athletes - it turns them into smiling prevaricators.

It makes them flinch from facing things head-on, because head-on might end up in flames.

Duval doesn't have to worry about it because no one expects anything from him. McIlroy is still cresting his expectation, and in danger of ending his career a mild disappointment. That kind of thing will get a man thinking.

Which is how you end up with Thursday's car-crash of a round.

You were thinking about that yourself as McIlroy was up there shoulder-shrugging through what has to be just about the most disappointing day of his career.

Another contender would be his disintegration at the 2011 Masters. At least that happened on a Sunday. He got to leave once it was over.

This time around, he has to show back up to work the next day in front of all of his friends and pretend everything's fine.

Associated Graphic

Rory McIlroy tees off on the eighth hole during the first round of the British Open held on the Dunluce Links at Royal Portrush Golf Club on Thursday in Northern Ireland.


At five under, American journeyman J.B. Holmes, seen teeing off on the fifth hole on Thursday, is the current leader.


McIlroy walks a fine line as he returns to Northern Ireland
The only place where what the golfer says or does really matters is on this island but, as a Catholic, his status in Portrush is freighted with history - he'll want to show well, without assuming ownership
Thursday, July 18, 2019 – Print Edition, Page B10


Rory McIlroy's first round at Royal Portrush was a gift for his 10th birthday.

The course is about an hour's drive from where he was raised in Belfast.

He'd seen his father play there.

At 16 years old, he set the course record here - a remarkable 61. As the course has since been redesigned, it will stand forever.

McIlroy claims to still remember every one of those 61 shots.

If we were making a movie about his career, that's where it would start. What's happening right now would feature somewhere near the denouement.

McIlroy, 30, has been a prodigy and the next big thing. He's been a failure and a major champion. In between, he's helped sell a lot of clubs, though less than had been hoped.

The Golf Industrial Complex wanted McIlroy to be the next Tiger. Instead, he's a Tom Watson or a Seve Ballesteros - a star, but no more or less than a half-dozen of his peers.

He hasn't transcended the sport.

The only place where what McIlroy says or does really matters is on this island. That hasn't rested easy with him. He is a Catholic which, in these parts, makes you more Irish than British. McIlroy spent his 20s dodging questions about his loyalties.

That hasn't stopped people from assuming the answers.

From the outside, it's assumed that McIlroy is an avatar of this nation, of its people and of this specific place. He is, but not in the "isn't-it-cool-to-be-a-Canadian-playing-inCanada" way that we take for granted.

It's something much heavier and more freighted with history.

To be "from" somewhere in Northern Ireland is a complicated business. You are from a city or a county, but not really. Where you're really from is a block on a particular estate in this section of which end of that city. Belonging is highly localized. That's what happens when everyone looks the same.

You can't make up where you're from or move on because your accent - something that can shift perceptibly (to natives, at least) in the space between two bus stops - gives you away. You're from where you're from, forever.

McIlroy has played Portrush, loves Portrush, feels he was weaned in Portrush, but he is not "from" Portrush. While trying to be breezy about all this attention, he was at pains to get that clear on Wednesday.

"Portrush has been - the golf club at least - has been a very big part of my upbringing," he said.

It's not hard to imagine that McIlroy's connection to this place is a large part of what made returning the British Open to Northern Ireland possible. It's certainly a significant part of the interest in this tournament. It's what makes this occasion so romantic, in the soggy, sitting-bythe-fire way Ireland does better than anywhere.

The frenzy is so high that people have paid as much as $800 a night for "luxury" tents a 25-minute walk from the course. Those 25 minutes will seem like 25 hours when the rain is coming in hard, as it was Wednesday.

"It's a warm rain," a gentleman named Nigel explained to me, lest I be afraid.

The Irish have a lot of words for rain - misting, spitting, bucketing, pelting and you most definitely should stay home when it's hammering - but there is no such thing as a "warm" rain. At least, not once you've been out in it for as long as it takes to come up through the soles of your shoes.

Someone I know from this part of the world sent along a note hoping I'd be lucky enough to "experience all five seasons in a day."


"The fifth is always a surprise."

That's hard to pack for.

Amid all that charm, there's McIlroy. He's not particularly charming. He's spent years living in the United States. His accent has flattened. From the look to the idioms, he strikes you as more transcontinental than Irish.

He's one of those Davos types - a high-earning, rootless citizen of the world. A global salesman.

This week he's selling home.

It's only in golf that a player can truly be said to "come home." A goalie from Mississauga may end up on the Toronto Maple Leafs, but he didn't grow up playing house league at Scotiabank Arena. McIlroy learned golf in this place. By our standard, he's playing in his backyard. Any North American athlete would be making an absolute meal of this - out on the town and selfies for days.

Though he has the history, McIlroy seems a little light on stories. Mostly, he talked about the golfing considerations - what the wind does, where to aim at the second hole, why you should trust what you know rather than what you see. There was nothing about the place itself. You could feel his discomfort in this regard.

When asked how it's been to be out and about in Portrush over the past couple of days, McIlroy said, "To be honest, it hasn't felt any different than any other Open Championship."

It sounds like the wrong answer, but it is the correct one if you don't feel you have the right to speak on behalf of this place.

And to say something like, "I'M THE PRINCE OF THE CITY," would sound uppity, which is seriously not on in Ireland.

So there's poor Rory, caught in an awful bind. He wants to show well for Northern Ireland, while not seeming to take ownership of Northern Ireland, knowing that some people here still do not believe he represents Northern Ireland.

That's a lot to ask from a diplomat, never mind a golfer.

Then, as it had to, the news conference on Wednesday turned treacly - to the meaning of this event and its legacy and what it's all about, really. Not the Open. Life.

Now drawing on his adult experience as a man of the world rather than his childhood one as a kid from Belfast, McIlroy was more comfortable. Two ideas console people in that larger arena - that we are all the same, and that the magic of free-market forces will protect us from harm.

"It's a different time," McIlroy said. "It's a more prosperous place."

A couple of questions later, he was really warming into it.

"Forty years on, it's such a great place, no one cares who they are, where they're from, what background they're from, but you can have a great life and it doesn't matter what side of the street you're from."

It's probably a bit easier to have a great life when you're worth a hundred-million bucks, but he has every right to his lived experience.

But in speaking this way, McIlroy was solving a problem. He was showing well for the country, but in terms so non-specific they cannot possibly offend anyone. It was a diplomat's answer. It's the sort of answer that looks great in promotional material. So, landmines avoided and mission accomplished.

The second part of McIlroy's job is easier. All he has to do is win a golf tournament.

Associated Graphic

Rory McIlroy plays a shot during a practice round at Royal Portrush Golf Club in Portrush, Northern Ireland, ahead of the British Open. At 16, he set the Royal Portrush course record - a remarkable 61. As Cathal Kelly writes, it's not hard to imagine that McIlroy's connection to this place played a part in the Open's return.


DIY investors: Mutual funds can be your friend
Online brokers are getting better at providing access to lower-fee Series D funds
Saturday, July 20, 2019 – Print Edition, Page B8


DIY investors, please check your snobbery about mutual funds for just one minute.

After a push from regulators a year ago, online brokers are getting better at providing access to funds with lower fees than those sold by investment advisers. The prototypical DIY investor fled mutual funds to buy stocks and exchange-traded funds. But mutual funds offer the sort of diversification and professional management that might appeal to cautious DIYers.

Buying mutual funds at an online broker remains a tricky business, though. If you're not careful, you can still buy funds with fees that are inflated by compensation to investment dealers for advice and service to clients. There's a panoply of fee wastage here - the whole point of DIY investing is to avoid advice costs, and online brokers can't even offer advice because securities regulators prevent them from doing so.

Let's quickly review the most common mutual-fund series: Series A and B may be sold by advisers or bank branches, low-fee Series D is for DIY investors using an online broker and Series F is for use by advisers who offer feebased accounts. That's where clients pay a percentage of their account assets as an advice fee and product fees are layered on top of that to get the all-in cost (fees for all other mutual funds cover both the cost of owning the product and advice or service).

A review of fund-selling procedures at five major online brokers found that it's now standard for clients ordering funds to be defaulted into the Series D version, when it's available. Where a Series D version of a fund doesn't exist, investors will typically end up buying a Series A version.

The key difference between Series A, B, D and F is the trailing commission, an industry term for payments from fund companies to advisers and dealers as compensation for advice and client service. The cost of trailers is built into fund fees - investors don't pay them directly.

Expect one percentage point of a Series A mutual fund's management expense ratio (MER) to be allotted to the seller - online broker or investment advisory firm - as a trailing commission. On bond funds, the trailing commission is usually 0.5 of a point. Balanced funds can be at 1 per cent, even though they can be half bonds.

A Series D equity or balanced fund would have a trailing commission of 0.25 per cent, while a bond fund might be 0.15 per cent.

Those vestigial trailers are supposed to compensate online brokers for providing a platform to buy and sell mutual funds. Only Series F has no trailer at all.

The mutual-fund share of online brokerage assets has declined in the past five years, but it's still substantial. The data analysis firm Strategic Insight reports that almost $35-billion in online brokerage assets were held in mutual funds as of March, 2019, or 7.4 per cent of the total.

ETFs accounted for $46.2-billion of online brokerage assets in March, which makes sense.

They're ideal for DIY investors because the best of them offer exceptionally low fees and transparency.

Still, some DIY investors have opted for mutual funds and used them in their online brokerage accounts over the years. Unwittingly, they may have long owned Series A funds with full trailing commissions designed to compensate investment firms providing advice.

Securities regulators have long forbidden the online-brokerage business from providing advice.

But it was only a year or so ago they proposed changes that would prohibit online brokers from selling mutual funds with trailing commissions embedded in their fees.

The brokerage industry has responded with measures to help ensure clients end up in Series D funds, including procedures to direct clients to Series D funds where possible when placing a fund order.

Brokers are also trying in one way or another to notify clients who hold Series A funds about the availability of cheaper Series D versions. For example, BMO InvestorLine says it communicated the availability of Series D by e-mail, on the web and through phone campaigns. Qtrade Investor says it has included a note about this in its client e-newsletter multiple times since May, 2017.

TD Direct Investing sent letters late last year to clients holding mutual funds encouraging them to review their holdings and invest in Series D if available. RBC Direct Investing has used rotating banner-ad campaigns online to inform clients about Series D.

These funds are also featured as a prominent choice on the main research centre menu. Scotia iTrade says it notifies clients about Series D in various ways that include client newsletters and educational resources.

Some of the brokers said they have similarly reached out to clients who have regularly added money to Series A funds through a systematic investing plan.

Online brokers have clearly made an effort to get the attention of their clients holding Series A mutual funds. But it's easy to see busy people missing these letters and online notices and thus not making the switch to Series D.

This is why all investors who own mutual funds at an online broker should review their holdings immediately to see what exactly they own.

Tax-wise, there's some good news for people switching to the Series D version of a fund held in Series A. The general consensus among brokers is that this transaction would not be a taxable event in a non-registered account if done correctly.

Thoughts from RBC Direct Investing on switching to Series D from Series A: "Switches from Series A to Series D do not have any tax implications as long as the fund had no load [a sales fee when you bought] and the units are deferred sales charge-free. In addition, to remain a non-taxable event, the buy and sell order to initiate the switch must be the same dollar amounts, have the same transaction date and the same account number."

The new regulations covering sales of mutual funds by online brokers are still under consideration by the Canadian Securities Administrators, a group of provincial securities regulators. A CSA spokesperson said the group is currently reviewing comments from investing industry players on its proposed changes.

Meanwhile, DIY investors angry about the trailing commissions they have already paid are pursuing class-action lawsuits against several different fund companies. Essentially, they're challenging the payments of trailers by these fund firms to online brokers.

Anthony O'Brien, a partner at the law firm Siskinds LLP, said a court will begin deciding in January, 2020, whether the most advanced of the lawsuits can proceed.

While online brokers have focused on Series D funds as the answer to the regulatory move against them collecting trailing commissions, the ideal solution would be to sell trailer-free Series F funds. However, the fund industry insists on reserving Series F for fee-based advisers and keeping them out of the hands of online brokers. There are exceptions, though.

The independent broker Qtrade Investor says its clients can buy Series F versions of funds from NEI Investments and Vanguard, a big player in ETFs that also has a fund business. There are also a small number of mutualfund brands that have no trailers in their fees and offer funds through online brokers. Examples include Mawer, Leith Wheeler and GBC.

One further thought for committed DIY mutual-fund investors is to take a look at Questrade, an online broker that charges its mutual fund-holding clients a $29.95 monthly fee and rebates trailing commissions back to them each quarter. This may be attractive for investors who have large accounts held in funds.

Associated Graphic



He and a group of other businessmen started with just $20,000 from the federal government to distribute Maple Leaf flags and help create nationwide parades, which grew bigger each year
Special to The Globe and Mail
Wednesday, July 17, 2019 – Print Edition, Page B15

Back in 1968, Dominion Day wasn't popular in Quebec, to say the least. As the annual commemoration of Canada's being granted dominion status by the British empire, the holiday didn't go over well in a province riven by language and class wars that featured the Front de libération du Québec's increasingly violent campaign to separate from the rest of the country.

Into this cultural morass stepped W. Bruce Kippen and a few other English- and French-speaking stalwarts of the business world, who had formed a group called the Canada Committee four years earlier. Their goal was simple: to do away with Dominion Day and create a "Canada Week," with July 1 called "Canada Day."

It was, Mr. Kippen once said, as if they were proposing heresy. For swaths of French Quebec, the notion of a holiday that celebrated Canada as a whole was anathema.

And the federal government wondered why it should tinker with something that was such an entrenched tradition.

"We met with someone in Ottawa who was a muckymuck in what would become Heritage Canada," he recalled. "They gave us a cheque for $20,000 - a pittance - and basically expected us to go away."

But they didn't. Instead, the following year saw them prudently using that $20,000 to distribute Maple Leaf flags and leaflets, and helping to create parades across the country. The events were small at first, to be sure, but they grew bigger each year. Ottawa eventually took note of their efforts, and the holiday officially became "Canada Day" in 1982.

Mr. Kippen, who earned a Queen Elizabeth II Jubilee medal for his efforts, died on June 30 in Montreal of cancer-related causes. He was 93 and had entered palliative care only three days earlier.

"It's fitting that Dad died the day before the holiday he helped to name," said Alexander Kippen, his eldest son. "It's his legacy for the country and we can't be prouder."

Walter Bruce Kippen was born in Montreal on Jan. 30, 1926, the younger of Eric and Marguerite Kippen's two sons. The father owned a small investment firm, while the mother ran the household, an apartment in the centre of the city. The parents were saving to build a country house in Como, then a village on the Lake of Two Mountains west of Montreal; construction had begun when the Great Depression hit and the father ran out of money. The family ended up living on the property for at least a year in tents.

"This was not a bad thing for my dad," Alexander Kippen said. "He was thrilled to be living in a tent on the water. He loved showing me a photograph of a garden shed, saying that he had built it."

After a childhood that honed his love of the outdoors, fishing, hunting and camping, Mr. Kippen yearned for more. During the Second World War, he signed up for the Royal Canadian Air Force as soon as he could - at the age of 161/2 - so desperate to be deployed overseas that when the force announced it no longer needed pilots, he said he'd become a mechanic, and then, when the force said there was no need of them either, a tail gunner.

"Tail gunners were the first to be killed in combat because they sat in that little glass bubble at the back of the plane," Mr. Kippen's son said. "Dad was willing to take the risk and signed up. But at over six feet, he turned out to be too tall."

Victory in Europe was declared soon after, in May, 1945, and a frustrated Mr. Kippen was granted leave from the air force and hitchhiked to Southern California, figuring he would join the American force and fight in the South Pacific. Again, his timing was off, as the U.S. detonated nuclear bombs over the Japanese cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki just as he got to the West Coast.

While in California, he was at a bar one night chatting with some women when a man sauntered over and introduced himself as Milton (Gummo) Marx, a theatrical agent.

"You may know of my brothers," Mr. Marx said, referring to Groucho, Chico, Harpo and Zeppo.

"Well, yes," Mr. Kippen replied.

The agent, who had performed with his brothers early in their career as vaudevillians, wondered if Mr. Kippen was an actor and asked him to visit his office the next day. When the younger man went, he was struck by all the publicity shots on the walls of stars he recognized.

"You know this guy?" Mr. Marx asked, pointing to a photo of an actor with curly hair, a square jaw and craggy features. "I see you as following in his footsteps, the next Fred MacMurray."

Although Mr. Kippen took his card and agreed to consider the offer, it seemed too unreal. So he hitchhiked back to Montreal, where he did a commerce degree at McGill University and proceeded to reinvent himself over and again, first as an oil-rig worker in Alberta, where he made enough money to build a successful car wash in Calgary, and then, in the late 1950s, as an investment whiz back in Montreal who expanded his father's small firm to New York and Toronto before selling it in the midseventies, at least partly because of the ascendance of the Parti Québécois in Quebec.

By that time married to Elfride Audley, who he'd met on a visit back to Montreal in the late fifties while running the car wash, and with three adolescent children to support, he had to figure out quickly what to do next. He returned to Calgary, commuting weekly as he started a petroleum company. In a way, the experience helped him expand his vision from beyond his home province to a vast country that needed the opportunity to overcome its regional differences and become stronger.

He used to become incensed when he would hear Montrealers talk about Alberta as if it was a world away, the younger Mr. Kippen recalled. "Once, someone called it the frontier and Dad asked, 'What the hell do they think it is? Siberia?' " When the federal National Energy Program helped wipe out his petroleum business in the early eighties, he worked as an executive for a shale company in the Athabasca oil sands, reinventing himself yet again.

And true to form, when it came time for his son to get a summer job, it wasn't going to be at a cushy Montreal tennis club or restaurant. Instead, Mr. Kippen sent him to Edmonton, where he stayed at the YMCA until he found a job on the oil rigs.

"Those jobs paid my way through school and toughened me," Alexander Kippen recalled. "My father also toughened me by example. He was extraordinarily tenacious and always got up when he was knocked down. He said he had no choice."

Mr. Kippen, who had a penchant for cigars and salty language, didn't take well to the fact that doctors could not cure the cancer that had spread to his bones. He chafed at losing his memory and his strength. His son said that in a way he had the perfect, painless death, falling asleep one night and simply not waking up.

Along with his wife and eldest son, Mr. Kippen leaves his other children, Francesca and David Kippen, and five grandchildren.

Associated Graphic

W. Bruce Kippen reinvented himself over and over again, working jobs as an oil-rig worker and, later, a car-wash owner in Alberta, and an investment whiz in Montreal. He was even once a prospective client of legendary theatre agent Milton (Gummo) Marx.


Renewing the romance of rail travel
Drained of literary notions, or the vagabond charm of gap-year backpackers, John Semley writes that travelling by train in Europe still has plenty to offer
Special to The Globe and Mail
Saturday, July 13, 2019 – Print Edition, Page P14

Somewhere between Cologne and Frankfurt, as I sat slumped in the back of a second-class car, earbuds crammed in tight to filter out the barking of a group of loud men who, with their bad tattoos and too-tight Lacoste T-shirts - all hammered on Beck's at 10 a.m. - fully fit the archetype of the "English soccer hooligan," I arrive at a dispiriting realization: My fantasies of European train travel aren't likely to come true any time soon.

Apologies to Patricia Highsmith and Agatha Christie, and good old Graham Greene. There will be no high-society heists. No sordid affairs. No tastefully comported sociopathic playboys beguiling me into committing homicide. No intrigues of any kind.

Drained of such archly literary, woefully romantic notions, train travel in Europe still offers something else: practicality. And maybe that's enough.

Piqued by a particularly tantalizing Black Friday/Cyber Monday bargain that effectively halved the price of select Eurail passes, my partner and I hatched a plan to see Europe, or at least a solid swath, by train. We booked a flight into Paris and, two-weeksand-change later, a return flight from Krakow, Poland. In between, we'd cast our fates to the four winds. Sort of.

These particular passes (the Adult Saver; $359 Canadian apiece, with the massive discount; the regular price would have been $718) permitted five "travel" days within a one-month period. As defined by Eurail, an organization owned by some 35 European railway and shipping concerns with the express aim of marketing European rail travel to non-Europeans, a "travel day" is pretty much what it sounds like: an unlimited day of travel aboard however-many trains, through however-many countries. So, the day we travelled from Paris to Cologne, Germany, with an afternoon stopover in Brussels (to glug overproof beer, drag fatted fries through thick mayo and make the requisite pilgrimage to the city's famous bronze of a small boy urinating eternally), counted as one day, despite the multiple trains and connections. (That most train depots we passed through had daily luggagestorage options, for as cheap as a few euros, made stashing bags and puttering around a city on a stopover that much easier.)

It's a good system. With some research, anyway. Cost-benefit-wise, the Eurail pass becomes more valuable in countries where train tickets snagged day-of can be relatively expensive (such as Germany) and proves relatively useless in places where highspeed trains demand additional reservations (such as France or Belgium or the Netherlands), effectively foiling the whole fly-by-the-seat-of-one'spants appeal. Also, in the very process of flashing a Eurail pass to an on-board fare inspector, one risks exposing oneself as a tourist, if that's a concern.

Trains were, for the longest time, the way to get around Europe. Booking a one-way airline ticket between cities was ultraluxe, Old Money stuff. Like: You might as well charter a zeppelin.

But air travel has changed.

The rise of zero-frills low-cost carriers (LCCs) has made intraregional travel vastly more accessible. A recent report prepared by the Centre for Aviation, a travel data hub, showed that the global LCC fleet has doubled in size over the past decade (from 2,900 to 6,000 aircraft), with Europe having the highest penetration rate.

This is due to the increasing capacity of both "legacy" LCCs (Ryanair, easyJet, Eurowings) and newer, zaniernamed arrivals (Wizz Air, SkyUp, French Bee). These airlines have expanded the possibilities of European travel, at a drastically lower price point. When, a few years ago, a friend in Britain agreed to meet me in Prague for a few days, she made arrangements with all the nonchalance of someone planning a lunch date two towns over.

Continent-hopping budget flights, combined with ultrafast high-speed trains, also spelled curtains for opulent rail travel. When the old-school Orient Express made its final Paris-toIstanbul journey in 2009, it was declared, by NPR, "a victim of high-speed trains and cut-rate airlines." Likewise, Deutsche Bahn's 2015 decision to scrap overnight sleeper trains out of Berlin was motivated by a 1.3-billion ($1.9-billion) decline in profits, which the operator attributed to consumer preference for short-haul flights.

Yet, these flights, for all their apparent convenience, are beset by their own problems: little-to-zilch in the way of in-flight amenities, checkedbaggage fees that effectively double the cost of tickets, scammy up-charges on everything from a bottle of water to an oversized carry-on (which might well be a bag deemed regulation size on a different carrier) and routes to major capitals that, in actuality, land well outside that capital, necessitating an expensive cab or several publictransit transfers. There's also the more general hassle of getting to an airport, passing through security etc., which can itself turn a swift 55-minute flight into a four-hour affair.

Trains, while perhaps all but drained of the lavishness of some long-bygone era, offer comparatively more in the way of convenience: comfortable seating, (relatively) wellstocked bars, tables at which one can fritter away a few hours learning the rules of skat or some other regional card game. Best of all, trains usually deliver voyagers smack in historic city centres, allowing wayfaring passengers to hop off and carry on their gallivanting, with little in the way of inconvenient rigmarole.

There's also the easygoing pleasure of train travel itself, the appeal of which extends well beyond Old World locomotive fetishists. Sat sunken into the jammy red plush of a Thalys train, pulling out of Paris's Gare du Nord en route to Bruxelles-Midi, it is undeniably pleasant to watch the City of Light recede and soon give way to what Edith Wharton described as "the sober disciplined landscape which the traveller's memory is apt to describe as distinctively French."

Even at speeds approaching 300 kilometres an hour, the Intercity-Express train connecting Cologne, along the banks of the Rhine, to Munich, where Bavarians in lederhosen and peasant dresses celebrated May Day framed by the snow-capped Alps fuzzy in the distance, never felt rushed; the ripening springtime canola crops a sunny, expressionist blur against the deep-green farmlands. And unlike airplanes, trains elevate travel into what Paul Theroux called "a continuous vision ... a succession of memorable images across a curved Earth." One feels ferried not merely from one discrete place to another, as on an airplane, but carried between these places. Cities, and whole nations, separated by language, culture, history and conflict, seem bound together by a vast webbing of wood and steel.

There may not have been some mysterious chap luring me into some convoluted plot to ferry a mysterious briefcase for him, or some meaty Turk offering me a pinch from his gilded snuffbox. But when, upon our return home, I was asked for the most memorable day of the fortnight abroad, my mind kept settling on an afternoon ride aboard the Berlin-Warsaw Express, where my partner and I split from our compartment and installed ourselves in the bar car, whiling away 6½ hours playing war and gin rummy while draining about as many bottles of stiff, reasonably priced Polish beer as the Earth rumbled underneath us.

Romance of a less literary sort, more everyday sort, perhaps. But I'll hold it close all the same.

Associated Graphic

Travelling by train in Europe still has its charms, whether it is heading out for an adventure from Cologne, Germany, top, or heading on a historical train tour of England starting at London's Paddington Station, above.

Is Boris Johnson a buffoon or a charismatic leader?
He's poised to become the next British PM, but once said his chances at the top post were about as good as 'finding Elvis on Mars'
Saturday, July 20, 2019 – Print Edition, Page A6

LONDON -- He's known simply as "Boris" and to some he's a gaffe-prone buffoon who's unfit for high office, while others see him as a charismatic leader who will lead Britain out of the European Union.

Whatever people think about Boris Johnson, he's on track to becoming the next British prime minister, a remarkable feat for someone who once said his chances at the top post were about as good as "finding Elvis on Mars, or my being reincarnated as an olive." The ex-journalist, exmayor of London and ardent Brexiter is miles ahead in the Conservative Party leadership race, thanks to a lively mix of Brexit boosterism and a "do or die" commitment to pull Britain out of the EU on Oct. 31, no matter what.

"We need to get Brexit done and there are no buts about it," he told a rally of 4,000 party faithful this week.

"We can do it. Of course we can."

Party members have until Monday to mail their ballots, but opinion polls and interviews with dozens of members show Mr. Johnson should easily defeat his only rival, Foreign Secretary Jeremy Hunt. The result will be announced Tuesday and the winner will take over as prime minister from Theresa May the next day.

Mr. Johnson's enthusiasm for Brexit and his willingness to leave the EU without an agreement - although he has been short on details and said the cost of a no-deal divorce would be "vanishingly inexpensive" - have invigorated party members who grew tired of Ms. May's plodding.

She spent two years negotiating a 600-page withdrawal agreement with the EU only to see it rejected by Parliament three times. The party pushed her out as leader in May and many Tories doubt she was ever committed to Brexit, since she voted to remain in the EU in the 2016 referendum. In Mr.

Johnson, who co-chaired the Vote Leave campaign, many members see a true believer who will stand up to the EU.

"You've got to have a prime minister who really believes in Brexit and backs it," said Guy Watts, an account manager and a party member from London who supports Mr. Johnson. "... I really think he's the only one who can do it."

Fiona Henderson, a teacher and party member from Peterborough, is so eager for Brexit she's disregarding Mr. Johnson's many foibles, such as his messy personal life - one divorce, one separation, several affairs and at least one child out of wedlock - and his jarring and sometimes bigoted comments, such as calling African children "piccaninnies."

"There's been a lot of negative stuff said about him and whether that's true or not I don't know. I just believe he means what he says on Brexit," Ms. Henderson said.

There are plenty of people worried about Mr. Johnson's stance on Brexit. EU officials have expressed dismay and economists say he doesn't appreciate the consequences of a nodeal Brexit. Last week, the Office for Budget Responsibility, a U.K.

government agency, said a disorderly Brexit would send the economy into immediate recession. An increasing number of Tory MPs oppose Mr. Johnson's strategy and last week 17 Conservatives joined opposition MPs to support a move that will curtail the next prime minister's ability to pursue a no-deal departure.

For now, Mr. Johnson enjoys overwhelming support among Tories, and victory next week would mark a stunning political comeback. He'd been all but written off three years ago when he quit the race to succeed thenprime minister David Cameron, who resigned in the wake of the Brexit referendum, which saw 52 per cent of voters back leaving the EU. Ms. May won by acclamation and she named Mr. Johnson foreign secretary, but he stepped down last year in a dispute over Brexit.

Mr. Johnson has an uncanny ability to surprise people, said journalist Andrew Gimson, author of Boris: The Rise of Boris Johnson. "I think he's underestimated by quite a lot of his critics," Mr. Gimson said.

"His whole style of government will be quite different from Theresa May, where she worked out what she thought was the best course of action and stuck to it with a sort of counterproductive stubbornness. I think he'll be ... less risk-averse and more audacious in his approach to the whole thing."

Mr. Johnson, 55, has certainly shown plenty of audaciousness over the years. He was born to British parents in New York as Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson and spent much of his youth in Brussels where his father, Stanley, worked for the European Commission. After a privileged education at Eton and Oxford, he joined The Times as a trainee reporter in 1987, only to be fired for making up a quote. He landed a job with Britain's Daily Telegraph in Brussels, where he made a name for himself by writing stories that mocked EU bureaucracy.

"Brussels recruits sniffers to ensure that Euro-manure smells the same," read the headline on one.

He went on to become editor of The Spectator magazine under the ownership of Conrad Black.

"I've never understood the terrible antagonism to him in some circles, although I am not blind to his limitations as his former boss," Mr. Black told The Times.

"Boris lied to me, but that's Boris." Mr. Black was referring to Mr.Johnson's promise that if he became editor he would drop plans to run for Parliament. "But it wasn't two weeks before we found that he had thrown his hat in the ring as candidate," Mr.Black recalled.

Mr. Johnson won a seat in 2001 and tried to remain editor of the magazine, famously telling a colleague; "I want to have my cake and eat it."

His political career has included two terms as mayor of London and a return to Westminster in 2015. Through it all, he has relied on humour, self-deprecation and more than a little exaggeration.

During a rally in London this week, he brandished a packaged kipper and claimed the Isle of Man producer had to mail the fish to customers with a small packet of ice to conform with EU regulations. He called the rule "pointless" and "expensive," but EU officials said there was no such regulation and that transportation of smoked fish was a U.K. matter. And they noted that the Isle of Man, a British Crown dependency, isn't part of the EU.

Mr. Johnson is impossible to categorize. He's befriended U.S.

President Donald Trump, but calls himself a feminist and is pro-choice on abortion. He wants more control over immigration, but supports an amnesty for illegals. He's proud of his Turkish great-grandfather, but has raised fears about Turkey joining the EU. He champions free enterprise, but wants to tax online retailers such as Amazon to help high street merchants.

His inconsistency and irreverence can be divisive, even among some Tories who roll their eyes at the prospect of him as prime minister. "Boris is just an entertainer," said Lynne Faulkner, a retired human-resources manager and party member who backs Mr.

Hunt for leader.

"Three years ago I said if Boris became prime minister I'd leave the country. I'm too old now. All I can do is pray."

Associated Graphic

Ardent Brexiter Boris Johnson, right, is in the running to be Britain's next prime minister and is currently experiencing overwhelming support among the Tories.


Multistorey living on a single level
Owners of Little Italy condo use clever design tricks to separate 3,000 square feet on one floor into unique spaces
Friday, July 12, 2019 – Print Edition, Page H5

TORONTO -- 540 College St., unit 301 TORONTO

Asking Price: $4,285,000 Taxes: $6,386.83 (2018) Maintenance fees: $1,689.82 monthly Lot Size: 2,950 square feet Agent: Paul Johnston, Right at Home Realty Inc., Brokerage

Crossing the statuario marble entranceway into Gianpiero Pugliese's and Mariya Naumov's Little Italy condo, you notice the elegant living space looks nothing like the bare office space it was four years ago.

The architect and interior designer crafted the 3,000square-foot home essentially from scratch, sparing no detail to make day-to-day life more convenient.

"Every time I come home, I feel pampered in a way," Mr. Pugliese said. "When we travel, we come back and we're like, 'Thank God.' " "It has an amazing flow," Ms.

Naumov added.

They bought the entire third floor of the former office building when it was nothing but "concrete and wires," she said.

But the amount of space on one level, coupled with the high ceilings and ample natural light, promised something better and piqued the couple's creative interests.

"This was kind of a labour of love because it's what we do for our clients all day," Mr. Pugliese said.

The pair designs high-end homes and commercial spaces, including popular restaurants Colette and The Chase Fish and Oyster. If you've eaten there, you'll recognize the same dark, cloudy wallpaper in the couple's powder room.

Here at home, they're showing how a well-designed condo can suit a family as well, or better than, a detached house.

"We've got almost 3,000 square feet here of pure, livable space," Mr. Pugliese said. "If we design a 3,000-square-foot house on three floors, a good portion of that is taken up by the stairs. The amount of livable area is way better."

He likens their condo to flats in France or New York, where people are used to raising families on one level.

The couple loves living in Little Italy, and when they had their son in a small condo nearby, they knew they didn't want to leave the neighbourhood. They love the vibe, the lively parks nearby, the proximity to work and being able to walk to popular restaurants and cafés.

As for outdoor space, Mr. Pugliese created a "winter garden."

It's a south-facing room onto College Street, with walls almost entirely of windows, so in summer they open to turn the room into a covered terrace.

Flaps descend inside the walls to cut off the air conditioning to the garden, and once you close the French-knobbed glass doors you're in the outdoor climate.

"It's awesome at nighttime," Ms. Naumov said. "I usually just open these up and read a book."

There's also a drafting table here, where the couple gets to work putting their visions on paper.

As fall nights get cooler, the terrace becomes part of the home again. The double-sided fireplace visible from the dining room and the garden helps create a cozy vibe.

Mr. Pugliese now incorporates the winter-garden concept in some of the condos he designs for clients.

"It's very urban. It's almost like being in a hotel," he said.

"You want to feel like you're on vacation."

Moving inside, there's a sitting area with couches, followed by a grand dining table in front of an elegant, open-concept kitchen.

The family of four usually eats in the kitchen, one parent watching the kids eat dinner until the other gets home to share a later meal.

But when company comes over, Mr. Pugliese and Ms. Naumov serve meals at the dining table.

For entertaining, the condo has a special "butler kitchen." Essentially, the kitchen is divided in two parts. The main area is exposed, but there's also a section where a freezer, microwave, second sink and dishwasher are tucked away.

The couple says it's perfect for stashing dishes out of site, or getting a turkey ready for a big reveal.

"You don't want to see dirty dishes while you're entertaining, right?" Ms. Naumov said.

The kitchen marks the end of the condo that's open concept for entertaining.

The rest is like the "upstairs" in a home, Mr. Pugliese said. A pair of double doors, perfectly aligned with the point in the herringbone floor, separate the family's bedrooms from the living area.

Closest to the kitchen is their young daughter's, who has cheater ensuite access to the children's shared bathroom with equator marble tile.

Her room is black and cream, and was inspired by a Harvard rocking chair Gianpiero's parents gave him for graduation that now sits by her crib.

Next is their school-age son's room, complete with a stack of Lego organizers and chalk-friendly wallpaper.

"We were going to do the alphabet to help them learn.

But by the time we got around to it they already knew the alphabet," Mr Pugliese said, laughing.

From there, Ms. Naumov and Mr. Pugliese's master suite begins.

First is a boudoir attached to their walk-in closet. It's dark, with soft lighting - Mr. Pugliese wanted the feeling of going shopping at a boutique every time you get dressed.

"I always like to put a bit of an anti-space before you get into the bedroom. So if somebody's sleeping, and somebody's getting ready, you're not crossing through the bedroom all the time," he said.

And then, arm's length from the walk-in closet is the couple's laundry room.

It's also open to the hallway, meaning dirty clothes from anyone's closet are no more than a few steps away from the machine.

"It's the convenience. Until you actually live it you don't appreciate it. It's like, 'Oh my God, this is so much easier,' " Mr. Pugliese said.

The master bedroom is airy and clean, with a view onto leafy Euclid Avenue.

The couple are selling because they're itching for their next creative project together. They haven't decided on what they'll do yet - adding they've been "spoiled" by living here.

"It's the power of design ... your relationship to your body and how you flow through spaces ... those principles really do impact your quality of life," Mr. Pugliese said.

Associated Graphic

Gianpiero Pugliese and Mariya Naumov bought the entire 3,000-square-foot third floor of a former office building when it was nothing but 'concrete and wires.'


With their College Street condo, Mr. Pugliese and Ms. Naumov show how a well-designed condo can suit a family as well as, if not better than, a detached house. While the couple works in high-end homes and commercial spaces, Mr. Pugliese points out that a similar sized house over three floors would lose lots of its space to staircases. 'The amount of livable area is way better' here, he says.

The unit's kitchen, below right, marks the end of its open-concept design. The area past that serves like the 'upstairs' of a traditional multistorey home, owner Gianpiero Pugliese explains, including double doors that separate the family's bedrooms from the living area.


The couple loves life in Little Italy, with its lively nearby parks, the proximity to work and being able to walk to popular restaurants and cafés. They say they have been 'spoiled' by living here.


Saturday, July 13, 2019

Is the Trump presidency just a real-life revenge movie?
The U.S. commander-in-chief embodies payback as a nagging cultural trope, giving vent to an increasing sense of powerlessness among working-class Americans, writes Don Gillmor
Saturday, July 20, 2019 – Print Edition, Page O8

Don Gillmor's latest book is To the River: Losing My Brother W hen asked what a second term of the Trump presidency would look like, his former strategist Steve Bannon said, "You're going to get pure Trump off the chain." It will be, he warned, "four years of Donald Trump in payback mode."

A lot of the first term has been in payback mode. Mr. Trump spent an extraordinary amount of time on personal feuds: Barack Obama, Hillary Clinton, CNN, The New York Times, Jeff Bezos, former employees and any Democrat (or Republican) who spoke ill of him. In the wake of the Mueller report, a Republican source said, "He wants to go after the people that went after him," specifically Mr. Mueller himself, and former White House lawyer Don McGahn.

Mr. Trump has gone through much of his life creating enemies and pursuing vendettas. British billionaire Richard Branson had lunch with Mr.Trump decades ago and said all he talked about was how he was going to get back at the people who wouldn't lend him money during his bankruptcy years.

Revenge is a nagging cultural trope, and the appetite for revenge appears to be growing. The third John Wick movie arrived in theatres in May and grossed more than US$55-million in its opening weekend; this is a series whose overarching narrative was kicked off by a former hitman avenging the death of his puppy. Liam Neeson's late career is basically the same revenge movie under different names; the latest, Cold Pursuit, in which he plays a man avenging his son's death at the hands of a drug cartel, came out in February. The second season of The Punisher, Netflix's adaption of the Marvel comic book, in which a man becomes a vigilante after his family's murder, debuted in January.

Mr. Trump embodies this zeitgeist.

The increasing sense of powerlessness felt by middle- and working-class America is given vent by his trashing of the Washington elites and his draining of the swamp. The fact that he hasn't trashed the elites and the swamp has gotten deeper during Mr. Trump's reign doesn't matter. The United States is a country of optics; he looks and sounds like the angry wrecking ball who is going to make someone pay. A man for our times.

Revenge may be hardwired into our brains, according to a study in Psychology Today, although, surprisingly, it makes us feel worse afterward. It's cathartic on the screen but not in real life.

It also increases our anger rather than decreases it. The reason for this is that when we don't act on our vengeful feelings, we tend to trivialize the issue - it isn't worth sticking a pencil into the eye of the guy who took your parking spot.

But when we act on it, we blow it up into something larger, and go over it repeatedly, and ultimately we feel worse.

The study said that one of the few scenarios where revenge is satisfying is when offenders acknowledge they have wronged you. None of Mr. Trump's many offenders falls into this category, and it may explain his frequent temper tantrums. The sheer frustration of the world not understanding the torments, conspiracies and WITCH HUNTS! he has nobly endured. As it turns out, the personality type most prone to vengeance is the narcissist. In his book, The Narcissist You Know, Joseph Burgo cites a type - the vindictive narcissist - whose need for vengeance is driven by unconscious shame. It's fair to say that all of Mr. Trump's shame is unconscious. But whatever drives it, revenge can ultimately be self-destructive. Confucius said, "When embarking on a journey of revenge, dig two graves."

Though it would be a lot more than two in Mr. Trump's case.

One of the staples of the revenge film is the white male vigilante who is threatened by other races or religions.

The Death Wish series (six films between 1974-2018) exploited this idea effectively. The recent Bruce Willis version was described as "racist" and "altright fan fiction." Here are Mr. Trump's Mexican rapists and murderers, his Muslim terrorists, his Honduran killers, all of them threatening a law-abiding, god-fearing, white middle class.

The middle and working classes face all kinds of challenges - factories moving offshore, increasing automation, languishing industries (coal, for instance), stagnant wages, opioid crises - but none of these have the visceral punch of a multiracial bogeyman. And none of them have an easy political solution. But a demonized racial underclass is readily identifiable and affords an easy political solution (send them all packing). As every television evangelist knows, God may bring them into the tent, but it's Satan who keeps them interested. Nothing binds people like a shared enemy.

Revenge is an ancient theme, seen in the Iliad, the Bible and Shakespeare (Hamlet), but it is in film that it has found its perfect medium. As a genre it has percolated throughout American movie history. The Hays Code, which was enforced between 1934 and 1968, suggested that immorality had to be punished onscreen, and it made the ending of The Big Sleep (1946) more violent than originally planned. The righteous had to triumph and the wicked needed to be shot. But what was once a trickle of vengeance is now a flood.

Movie vigilantes often have to take the law into their own hands because the system has failed them. Mr. Trump is working both sides of the street, dismantling the democratic system and replacing it with Death Wish 7 - the border guarded by vigilantes, personal enemies punished, minority voters disenfranchised and Muslims, Mexicans and anyone from Central America banished.

Every country gets the movie it deserves. Britain's Brexit politics are Monty Pythonesque, while Ukraine, where a comic actor was elected President, is shaping up to be an Adam Sandler film.

The United States may ultimately end up with The Death of Stalin, a black comedy that has Mr. Trump's apparatchiks watching their publicly-revered-though-privately-loathed leader die (politically, at any rate), then dismantling his legacy and rewriting their own part in it. But in the meantime, it's all revenge, all the time.

When the Donald Trump biopic is made, the opening shot may be Mr.Trump sitting at the 2011 White House Correspondents' dinner, being publicly roasted by Mr. Obama. Around him is the sound of raucous laughter, the Washington elite rejoicing in his humiliation in grotesque slo-mo. The camera moves in for a close-up of Mr. Trump's terse orange face, silently plotting revenge.

The 2020 presidential campaign already resembles a series of revenge movie trailers with short, often conflicting descriptions of the enemy at the gates (Mexico, socialism, the media, China and Korea maybe, definitely not Russia). Mr. Trump isn't good with plot, which requires strategy and foresight, and his spoken narratives are often incoherent, but he's a wizard with taglines. "They doubted his wealth, they mocked his popular vote, they went after his family (sort of), but when they attacked his golf game, it was payback time. 2020: This time it's personal."

Associated Graphic

If the United States is like a movie, it might be The Death of Stalin, in which the publicly-revered-though-privately-loathed leader's cronies await his death so they can dismantle his legacy and rewite it to their own ends.

What I learned during a 12-hour walk
Inspired by the long treks of philosophers, poets and pilgrims, Oliver Moore set out on a journey from Lake Simcoe to Toronto's waterfront on foot
Monday, July 15, 2019 – Print Edition, Page A12

Walking can seem the simplest thing. While it offers a long list of health benefits, it can feel hardly like exercise at all. Take it to extremes, though, and it becomes a physical, even existential challenge.

For centuries, philosophers, poets and revolutionaries have found value in long walks.

Pilgrims through the ages have taken to the road, nourishing their souls while strengthening their bodies.

"To walk out of our houses and beyond our city limits is to shuck off the pretense and assumptions that we otherwise live by," Michael Harris writes in Solitude: In Pursuit of a Singular Life in a Crowded World.

I set out last month to try this myself - aiming to cover 90 kilometres in a day - inspired also by a Stephen King novel and a brief mid-20th-century craze for very long treks.

The U.S. walking fad started with president John F. Kennedy challenging a military commander by asking if his men could march the equivalent of 80 kilometres. The officer turned the tables by asking if the president's men could do it.

A craze was born when his brother, Bobby Kennedy, covered this distance, without preparation, in a pair of Oxfords.

While few now walk that far in a day, popular trekking routes attract people by the thousands.

But you don't have to fly around the world for an epic walk. Rather than a pilgrimage on Spain's Camino de Santiago or tackling the GR20 in Corsica, famed as one of the world's toughest walking routes, I forged a path in my own backyard, trying to follow a longpromised route from Lake Simcoe to Toronto's waterfront.

A decade after politicians endorsed this walking and cycling route, the "Lake to Lake" trail is now largely a winding patchwork of pre-existing paths, most of which have not been rebranded.

But anyone with patience and an online mapping tool can piece it together, figuring out how to bypass or bushwhack the missing bits.

On a long walk, you can be alone with yourself. Or at least as much as modern life allows. True solitude isn't always easy to find, even very early on a Sunday on the residential streets of Keswick, Ont, a small town about 70 kilometres north of Toronto.

Setting out before 5, under the deepest blue sky of the predawn hours, I soon encounter the odd driver. From several backyards come the confused burblings of the previous night's survivors.

Within a half-hour, I pass a trio of intense-looking young men fishing in an inlet off Lake Simcoe.

Moments later, a newspaperdelivery woman.

But my supporting cast is mostly animals. The chorus of birds and frogs. The rabbits that rush away from me. The guard dog that rushes at me. The rooster that rouses himself 90 minutes after I started walking.

Metres from the top end of Yonge Street, I pass a sign warning drivers that pedestrians may be in the area. But I'm well south of that, perhaps a quarter of the way along my route, before I encounter anyone else on foot.

Walking is one of the most accessible forms of exercise, burning a few hundred calories an hour without specialized equipment. While few walkers, even serious ones, cover more than 20 to 40 kilometres a day, there are extreme practitioners who see 100 kilometres as a routine outing.

In Sweden, such enthusiasts have adapted the theme of King's The Long Walk, which tells the story of a dystopian future in which the most popular entertainment is an endurance test among teenage boys. The competitors are shot if their walking falls too often below a set speed, and the pressure drives some mad, while others turn into automatons.

The Swedes removed the threat of death and dubbed the annual event the Maratonmarschen. Last year's winner covered more than 400 kilometres.

Such walks are not for everyone. They wear you down by inches, and your mind may react in unexpected ways. Over time you might find yourself in a fugue state, fully aware of the moment - feeling every footfall - while the hours slip by uncounted.

Muscles grow weary, and co-ordination suffers. Your fingers swell with blood. Each individual step is easy, but doing more than 100,000 of them tenderizes your feet.

In Holland Landing, after about four hours of walking, I pick up the well-used Nokiidaa Trail.

This forms the backbone of the Lake to Lake trail almost as far as Richmond Hill and is one of the nicest stretches of the route.

The path is pleasantly wooded, and enthusiastic children sometimes whoop when a commuter train passes on the nearby tracks.

An hour spent navigating a swamp while going cross-country has left me a little the worse for wear, legs slashed and wet from the waist down.

But the day is warming, and my shoes have finally started to dry.

Although I take a tumble near Newmarket - unwisely trying to consult a map as I walk - I'm feeling pretty fresh.

The profound value of walking is woven through literature and history.

Odysseus was told by the prophet Tiresias to walk with an oar until he was so far from the sea that someone would not recognize what he was carrying. Only there would his odyssey be over.

The poets Arthur Rimbaud and William Wordsworth were great walkers. Philosophers such as Michel de Montaigne and Friedrich Nietzsche saw it as fundamental to their life. Mohandas Gandhi incorporated walking into his protests, as did U.S. civil-rights activists.

By the time I reach Highway 7 on my own particular journey, I've covered a comparatively modest 55 kilometres.

Hot spots presage blisters, and a big toenail has completed its transition to stormy grey-black.

My muscles are starting to voice their unhappiness.

But at least I've knocked off the ugliest part of the route.

Great stretches through Richmond Hill are busy suburban road, heavy with strip malls and industrial units. Sidewalks are few, cars plentiful. A road crew's flag man doesn't quite know what to make of someone approaching on foot.

A quick crossing of Markham brings me to Toronto and into the relative home stretch. But not far into the city a leg injury that has nagged for half the day suddenly goes nuclear.

I hobble on, hoping mobility will return. With King's fictional gun to my head, who knows how much farther I might go?

Instead, I eventually accept that the flesh is weak. I board transit, my journey over. I've covered 75 kilometres in almost 121/2 hours of walking.

Although it's less than I'd planned, the difference between a 75-kilometre and a 90-kilometre walk is somewhat arbitrary. And no matter the distance, there's no tangible prize for the many hours, the fight through the swamp, the pain. The value of a long walk is to lose yourself in a long walk.

"You are nobody to the hills or the thick boughs heavy with greenery," writes Frédéric Gros in A Philosophy of Walking.

"You are no longer a role, or a status, not even an individual, but a body, a body that feels sharp stones on the paths, the caress of long grass and the freshness of the wind. When you walk, the world has neither present nor future."

Associated Graphic


A Quebec city's game plan
Beloeil has designated 48 streets as free-play zones, with lowered speed limits and high-visibility signage, to encourage children to get outside
Thursday, July 11, 2019 – Print Edition, Page A1

BELOEIL, QUE. -- It all started with a warning from police. A father in Beloeil, Que., complained to city hall that his six-year-old son faced the threat of a ticket for playing hockey on the street in front of his house.

"I couldn't believe it," recalled Pierre Verret, the city councillor who received the complaint in 2014. "I played street hockey with my friends during my whole childhood. I found it incredible that our children didn't have the freedom to play outside."

And so began a minor revolution to turn the streets of Beloeil over to the cause of old-fashioned child's play. Today, 48 residential streets in the suburb east of Montreal have earned city designations as free-play zones, complete with lower speed limits, hours of play and high-visibility signage. It's allowed children to do something that has become a rarity in these risk-adverse, hypervigilant times: play out in the street.

"It's good because I can play right outside my house," Marc-Antoine Brisson, 16, said in the middle of his street this week as he shot hoops with his brother, Maxime. "On the weekend, there are so many children everywhere, cars can't drive fast."

As he spoke, a car approached and slowed down. The boys paused briefly and moved to let it pass, then resumed their lay-ups.

"I've made new friends," said Maxime, 10. "Before, we just played in the driveway. Now there's more space to have fun."

The award-winning initiative in Beloeil has been emulated in 17 other towns in Quebec, joining a global trend to let children enjoy unstructured play on their doorsteps, away from screens, parents, teachers, camp counsellors and the other overseers of their time.

Proponents say free play offers a crucial antidote to organized and supervised children' activities. Left on their own, children learn to take risks and test their physical limits, laying the groundwork for developing motor skills as they grow up.

"We're seeing new generations of helicopter parents who have fears - they don't want their kids to get hurt, to fall, or to climb trees because it's dangerous," said Corinne Voyer, director of the Quebec Weight Coalition, which helped Beloeil set up its street-play program. "But kids need to learn how to jump and run and evaluate whether they can take risks without consequences. They need to know if they can climb monkey bars without falling. If we create completely sterile environments to avoid accidents, kids won't learn the physical skills they need to do sports later in life."

Beloeil's program "removes barriers to make it easier to play freely," Ms. Voyer said. "It's a great initiative."

Those barriers include antinoise and anti-nuisance bylaws that are commonplace in cities across the province and can be enforced by police to stop a street-hockey game if they receive a complaint. Beloeil modified its own anti-nuisance bylaw in 2016 and turned to the province to clear a legal path for street play. In 2017, it got what it wanted. The Quebec National Assembly adopted Bill 122, a law granting municipalities more autonomy, including "the power to permit free play in the streets."

Beloeil's program, Dans ma rue, on joue!, took off. In spirit, it summons up a bygone time of outdoor play with neighborhood friends. Of course, things were simpler then. All it took for a child to go out and play was a parent shouting "Go out and play!"

Beloeil's program, on the other hand, adds a healthy layer of modern-day regulations.

To turn a street in Beloeil into a free-play zone, a parent has to submit an application to city hall.

The request is studied by the city's traffic committee, which rules out streets that are unsafe due to traffic flow or obstructed views; curving streets or those with hedges or view-obscuring trees, for example, are rejected.

Then, the application is sent to all the neighbours on the street; it takes the support of 66 per cent of them for the project to go ahead. Three streets in Beloeil have failed to get enough support and lost their bid. (One woman who voted against the idea said in an interview she thought it was too risky and children should play in parks and backyards.)

If approved, each family receives a certificate of recognition, code of conduct and letter of thanks. Speed limits on the designated streets are reduced to 30 kilometres an hour and signs announcing the play zones are posted at either end. Children can play from 7 a.m. to 9 p.m. as long as street lighting is adequate.

The program has turned some residential streets into boisterous play zones of children shooting baskets, playing hopscotch, practising slapshots and skipping rope. On Donat-Corriveau Street, seven hockey nets line the curb.

Some days, there are 20 children on the crescent playing hockey, said David Vachon, a father of three children, 10, 13 and 16.

"It's easy and accessible for the kids, all you have to do is open the door. And I can keep an eye on them," he said. "If they didn't play here, it would limit their physical activity."

The set-up has also created bonds between neighbours. Parents regularly gather to watch the children. Some turn up in chairs with a glass of white wine in hand, Mr. Verret said. Experts say play zones reclaim part of the street from cars, while building a sense of community.

"It's a very powerful yet practical way to start using streets in ways that are better for everybody," said Tim Gill, an independent British researcher specializing in child-friendly urban planning. "It moves away from the idea that the sole job of a street is to be a place where the car is king and everybody else just has to get out of the way."

To help adults appreciate the value of free play, he says he often reminds them to think of their own childhood memories.

"I'm keen to remind grownups of the everyday magic of being out in your neighborhood playing with your friends," Mr. Gill, author of No Fear: Growing Up in a Risk-Averse Society, said from London. "It's not mere nostalgia.

These are powerful, formative experiences that helped us to figure out where we were and how we solved problems."

Problem-solving is what motivated Mr. Verret. When he was faced with a kid risking a ticket for playing street hockey, he said he felt he needed to respond. "If I can leave one legacy this will be it," the 58-year-old councillor said. "I just want kids to go play outside."

Associated Graphic

Sixteen-year-old Marc-Antoine Brisson and his 10-year-old brother, Maxime, play basketball on their street in Beloeil, Que., on Monday.


Ten-year-old Maxime says the street outside of his family's house in Beloeil, Que., gives him more space to play than the driveway.


Parents in Beloeil, Que., who are looking to turn their street into a free-play zone can submit an application with city hall. Once the city's traffic committee studies it, neighbours are sent applications and the project goes ahead if 66 per cent of them support it.

A notorious curmudgeon who turned his back on academia, the one-time professor took up work as a cab driver while producing unromantic volumes dedicated to stories of working life in his native B.C.
Special to The Globe and Mail
Thursday, July 11, 2019 – Print Edition, Page B18

Rolf Knight abandoned an academic career of great promise to write histories of the working people in his home province of British Columbia. He produced a dozen books while earning a living of sorts as a taxi driver.

Mr. Knight, who has died at 83, laboured mostly in obscurity, though his books are now praised for the insights they offer into working life.

Eight years ago, his memoirs of the bustling Vancouver waterfront was reissued as part of a celebration of the city's 125th birthday. For the quasquicentennial, his Along the No. 20 Line was one of 10 out-ofprint books to be reprinted.

A notoriously grumpy man, Mr. Knight did not care for the description of his 1980 book as a "lost gem."

"God knows what that means," he said. "That's the kind of puffery that booksellers put out."

Like any author, he wanted his words to be read.

Unlike some, he was unwilling to perform tricks to make that happen.

"He was crusty. Difficult. Cantankerous. Questioned everything," said Rolf Maurer of New Star Books, which published several of Mr. Knight's titles.

"He could have been a superstar in his field of anthropology. Instead, he did a 'Take this job and shove it' in the 1970s. He refused to let anybody do his thinking for him and for that he suffered financially."

In 1974, Mr. Knight wrote his first book, A Very Ordinary Life, which described the tribulations endured by his mother from her early life in Berlin to gold-panning in the B.C. Interior to a succession of gruelling and low-paid jobs in camps and the city.

Three years later, he quit a tenured position as an associate professor in Toronto to dedicate himself fulltime to research and writing.

By then, Mr. Knight, an independent socialist, was disgruntled by the intellectual indifference of his students and the narrow-minded obsessions of faculty members. He would also be unsatisfied by the publishing world and the reaction to his books.

"Some people just can't tolerate the imperfection of the world, and Rolf was the most extreme example of that I ever met," Howard White of Harbour Publishing said . Although Mr. Knight could be a curmudgeonly character, Mr. White considered the independent-minded writer to be erudite and good company in a relaxed social setting.

Born in Vancouver on March 4, 1936, Mr. Knight had a peripatetic childhood with his German immigrant parents. His father, Alois Knight, known as Ali, worked as a cook. His mother, the former Phyllis Golm, served food to work crews in the province's isolated logging camps and mining towns.

His earliest memory was being four years old and living in a room at the rear of a camp cookhouse on an inlet of the Queen Charlotte Islands, now known as Haida Gwaii. His outdoor playground smelled of a salty sea and fresh-cut cedar, while he was warned away from the oily perfume of heavy machinery in the camp. He was the only child on site. So starved were the men for entertainment, a logger once slipped him a small plug of tobacco and told him it was licorice.

The family bounced between camps and the city until his mother tired of the exhausting routine of working seven days a week. She remained in the city while her husband worked elsewhere. When he was in the city, he sometimes earned a few dollars by losing the opening bout on a professional wrestling card at the Exhibition Gardens.

At 14, Rolf got a job as a mess boy and baggage handler aboard the Gulf Wing, a Second World War sub chaser converted into a passenger-freight boat serving coastal camps and outports. The following summer, he built roadside campsites with a trail crew based in Kamloops and later earned his first union wage by helping to build the giant aluminum smelter at Kitimat, where he wrote his final highschool exams, barely passing.

At the University of British Columbia, Mr. Knight, who considered himself regarded as an "injudicious gadfly" by his professors and fellow students, found reward for his intellectual curiosity. He earned an undergraduate degree and completed a master's in anthropology in 1962 after winning an exchangestudent competition to Nigeria. He also did anthropological fieldwork in the semi-permanent Cree settlement of Nemiscau in northern Quebec and among the sugar-cane workers in the Cauca Valley of southern Colombia, "a bloody dangerous place to wander around in." He completed a doctorate at Columbia University, in New York, in 1968.

He taught at the university before taking teaching positions at Simon Fraser University, in the Vancouver suburb of Burnaby, at the University of Manitoba and at the University of Toronto.

His books amounted to a library of reminiscences and oral histories about working life, eschewing the romanticism that can be found in writing by people unfamiliar with the rigours of physical grunt work and the paltry sums such labours generate. In 1976, he released A Man of Our Times, a thin volume about the life of a Japanese-Canadian fisherman. This was followed by Stump Ranch Chronicles and Other Narratives (1977), about loggers and homesteaders in B.C.'s Columbia Valley.

More than a decade of accumulating facts and stories resulted in Indians at Work (1978), an eye-opening account of Indigenous economies following contact with Europeans. The book was revised and reissued in 1996, remaining an essential examination of wage work by "generations of Indian loggers, longshoremen, teamsters, cowboys, miners, farmers, fishermen and cannery workers."

A biography of Homer Stevens, a communist who led the fishermen's union, was nominated for a BC Book Prize the year after it was released in 1992.

Memoirs recounting his working and academic life, Voyage Through the Mid-Century (1988), bristles with his frustrations at a world in which a working life is either romanticized or ignored.

Mr. Knight spent years in the blue-and-white livery of MacLure's Cabs. "I wasn't driving a cab to learn anything," he wrote, "I just couldn't find any other work." In time, he became exhausted by the "petty thugs, degenerates and lunatics" he ferried as passengers, though he nursed a particular disdain for "boozed up high rollers" and Air Canada crews, whom he found to be reactionary and insulting.

Mr. Knight, who suffered ill health after a stroke some years ago, died on June 22. He leaves the former Carol Johnstone, his wife of 51 years, who usually typeset her husband's books and supported him through her regular job at a university.

Two years ago, he won the prestigious George Woodcock Lifetime Achievement Award for an outstanding literary career. It came with a welcome $5,000 cheque. In his remarks on accepting the award, Mr. Knight thanked the librarians of his youth who directed him to the works of George Orwell, Upton Sinclair and others. He also grumbled about having had to self-publish 500 copies of Traces of Magma, an annotated bibliography of left-wing novels, which was utterly ignored upon its release in 1983.

Associated Graphic

Rolf Knight is seen at home in Burnaby, B.C., in 2011. In his memoirs, Voyage Through the Mid-Century, the author rails against a world lacking realistic portrayals of working people - stories he dedicated himself to telling, as he wrote of B.C.'s homesteaders, loggers and fishermen.


British Open is back in Northern Ireland after 68 years, teeing up mystery and excitement
Saturday, July 13, 2019 – Print Edition, Page S11

Graeme McDowell winning the 2010 U.S. Open at Pebble Beach was a source of pride for Northern Ireland. Rory McIlroy winning the U.S. Open at Congressional the following year with a record score was a source of hope.

And then, a month later, Darren Clarke became the first Ulsterman in 64 years to raise the silver Claret Jug.

In a span of six majors, three champions came from a small country within the United Kingdom known for its castles, coastal links and three decades of religious and political violence known as "The Troubles."

What began as a question - "Could the British Open return to Royal Portrush?" - became a drumbeat until organizers found a way to make it work.

Golf's oldest championship returns to the Dunluce Links of Royal Portrush for the first time since 1951, the only occasion in 159 years that the British Open was not held in Scotland or England.

"I didn't see it getting big enough or sophisticated enough to host an Open," said David Feherty, who grew up in Northern Ireland and makes his return as part of the NBC Sports broadcast team. "It's just extraordinary what they've done."

The response to Royal Portrush playing host to the British Open on July 18-21 for the first time in 68 years has been a combination of excitement and mystery.

The championship was a sellout 11 months ahead of time. The Royal & Ancient Golf Club decided in April to provide an additional 15,000 tickets for tournament days, and those were snatched up quickly. That means more than 200,000 spectators for the competition days of the 148th Open. And that should come as no surprise. Royal Portrush played host to the Irish Open in 2012 and drew 112,000 fans over four days, a European Tour record.

"I believe big-time sport needs big-time crowds," R&A chief Martin Slumbers said.

"We're certainly going to get that."

And what will they see?

That's the mystery.

The vast majority of the 156-man field - only 21 players were at the 2012 Irish Open - will be competing on the Harry Colt design for the first time. That included Francesco Molinari, the defending champion who will try to become the first back-toback winner since Padraig Harrington in 2007-08.

Clarke still had possession of the Claret Jug when he returned to Portrush for the Irish Open and was paired with Molinari.

"Being paired with Darren the first round, it was something I still remember," Molinari said. "So I can only imagine what the Open is going to be. It is going to be even bigger, going back to Northern Ireland after so many years. Defending is always special, but defending in a place where the tournament has not been for so long I'm sure is going to be extra special."

There have been a few changes. To make it a large enough stage for the British Open, the R&A with approval from the club changed the routing. Martin Ebert, who consults on a half-dozen links in the Open rotation, took land from the Valley Links to build two new holes, Nos. 7 and 8. The original 17th and 18th holes are now used for the tented village.

But the nature of the links hasn't changed.

There are fewer bunkers than at most links courses because the contours and cliffs and dunes serve as a reasonable defence. The 16th hole is "Calamity Corner," where a shot over the ravine on the 236yard par-three that falls to the right could wind up 50 feet below the green.

Feherty recalls being there the first time he played with his father and almost didn't make it back up.

"I almost had to rope myself to my dad and establish base camp," he said.

Ebert was profuse with his praise of Royal Portrush.

"It's hard to argue that this will be the finest piece of links land [on] which the Open Championship is played," Ebert said in 2014 when the R&A announced a return to Portrush. "No other venue, I don't think, has such pure links undulations throughout its 18 holes."

McDowell is the only one of the three major champions from this generation who actually grew up in Portrush, at Rathmore, the club next door. Even with a victory this year in the Dominican Republic, nothing was as satisfying as his 68 in the final round of the Canadian Open to earn a spot in the British Open. He could only dream of Royal Portrush getting another Open. It would have been a nightmare to miss it.

For McIlroy, the pressure might be greater than going for the career Grand Slam at the Masters.

He is the only two-time winner on the PGA Tour this year and is No. 3 in the world.

He grew up in Holywood, but Royal Portrush feels like home. McIlroy was just 16 when he set the course record of 61 at the North of Ireland Amateur.

"To have a round like that, do it there, have my dad watching, for me to shoot 61, was pretty cool," he said.

But this is big business. McIlroy is coming up on the five-year anniversary of his last major, a drought far too long for his skill set. And he'll have the hopes of a golfmad country with him.

"I think one of the big things for me next week is to enjoy the experience," he said.

"It might be 68 years until Portrush gets the Open [again], so go out and enjoy it.

Look around. It's going to be such a great experience for me. The more I can enjoy that and roll with it and play with freedom, the better I think I can do."

Tiger Woods used to go to Ireland to prepare for the British Open. Now it's time to play, and there might be some rust. For the second time this year, Woods goes into a major championship without having played in a month.

Since his victory at the Masters, the biggest buzz in golf this year, he has played three tournaments and 10 rounds.

Woods, who went to Thailand after a tie for 21st in the U.S. Open, posted a recent video from his home in Florida of waking at 1 a.m. to prepare for jet lag. The great preparation might be keeping it in play on a links that has a higher premium on accuracy than some other Open courses.

Brooks Koepka will try to extend his amazing run in the majors - two victories and two runner-up finishes in the past four majors. He has never fared particularly well in links golf, which might be all the motivation he needs.

The Americans, meanwhile, will try to go for their first sweep of the majors since 1982, when Craig Stadler won the Masters, Tom Watson won the U.S. and British Opens and Raymond Floyd won the PGA Championship.

Until then, the intrigue is Royal Portrush.

"It's been a long time in the making," McIlroy said. "And obviously, everyone over there is so excited."

Associated Graphic

Englishman Max Faulkner, seen in a photograph from 1960, won the 1951 British Open, the only other time that the event has been played outside England and Scotland.


His writing evolved from a fragmentary narrative style he called 'compiled fiction' to more accessible farce, taking aim at bureaucracy
Special to The Globe and Mail
Saturday, July 20, 2019 – Print Edition, Page B18

Author Ray Smith, who died last month at the age of 77, began his career writing in an avant-garde style that some readers considered brilliant and others found unfathomable. His highly experimental early work was not always received kindly, or even understood. As his career progressed, he won some accolades, although he spent little time basking in the limelight of great Canadian literature.

In his first book, the 1969 short story collection Cape Breton is the Thought Control Centre of Canada, Mr. Smith challenged literary conventions by doing away with traditional plot structures and character development. The stories are compilations of narrative fragments. In a self-referential passage of the book, Mr. Smith called his approach "compiled fiction."

A Globe and Mail review of "Smith's prose patchwork piece" panned the book, calling it "literary anarchy," but the reviewer admitted that Mr. Smith's talent was undeniable.

Five years later, when Mr. Smith published Lord Nelson Tavern, Globe and Mail literary editor William French took a far more favourable view. He declared, "Smith writes cunningly and with great verve." He compared Mr. Smith's writing to mirrors: "The carnival kind that distort reality, eliminating the boundary between the real and the imagined."

John Metcalf, a fellow novelist, essayist, editor, critic and friend, places Mr. Smith in the same elevated league as American writers Kurt Vonnegut and Thomas Pynchon.

"Ray was part of an international movement," Mr. Metcalf said.

"In a Canadian context, he was like a monolith that stood above the plains. He was one of the first seeking to say things in a new way that was not the traditional realistic narrative we were used to. He was not Agatha Christie."

Explaining one story from Cape Breton is the Thought Control Centre of Canada, Mr.

Smith wrote: "It is about italics, capital letters, parentheses, the semi-colon, a floating point of view, non sequiturs, over-plotting, flat characters, spy thrillers, high-rise apartments, lingerie, short stories, overstatement, understatement, dropped endings, and plum cordial."

Mr. Smith eventually shifted to a more accessible and entertaining writing style. A subsequent farcical novel, The Flush of Victory: Jack Bottomly Among the Virgins featured a protagonist named Major Jack (Bummo) Bottomly, who enabled Mr.

Smith to poke fun at the Canadian military.

By skewering bureaucracy, Mr. Smith proved he could be both astute and funny.

He once described a fictional spring fashion show as having "all the sprightly charm of a pre-war tractor."

Mr. Metcalf said his friend had a following, particularly among writers, although university professors rarely included Mr.

Smith's books in their English literature courses. "Their sympathies didn't lie with the unconventional, which Ray certainly was."

Never keen on self-promotion and increasingly reclusive in later life, Mr. Smith simply dropped from public view. His work, however, gained new audiences beginning in 2007 with re-releases from publishing house Biblioasis.

"We sell small but steady amounts every year" publisher Dan Wells said.

"Ray Smith was incredibly playful, funny, sardonic and very aware of what he was attempting to achieve. Those early novels from the story collection on, I think they remain among the most important works to be published in this country."

James Raymond Smith was born on Dec. 12, 1941, in Inverness, N.S. He was the first of three boys born to Fred and Jean (née MacMillan) Smith. Fred Smith turned to banking after flying dangerous missions as a pilot during the Second World War, but he kept up his commercial pilot's licence and flew for the rest of his life.

Ray's education began at the age of 5 in Mabou, Cape Breton, at a school near the Red Shoe, a pub once owned by his grandfather. In adulthood, Mr. Smith, who was twice divorced, liked to frequent the pub with his two grown sons.

His postsecondary education began in Halifax at Dalhousie University, where he earned a bachelor of arts with honours in English, and years later he received a Master of Fine Arts degree from Montreal's Concordia University.

His first serious attempt at writing began during a trip to Spain in 1964. He graduated from poetry to short stories to novels, but being a slow writer, and aware of the financial challenges of writing for a living, he supported himself by teaching at Dawson College in Montreal from 1971 until his retirement in 2007.

During this period, he also spent a year, from 1986 to 1987, as writer in residence at the University of Alberta, followed by a Scottish/Canadian Fellowship that allowed him to live in Edinburgh for a year and give readings throughout the country, before returning to the classroom at Dawson.

Writer Mordecai Richler once advised Mr. Smith to get out of teaching because it would "eat him up." He ignored the advice.

"Mordecai could make a decent living as a freelance writer but I write slowly. I follow my own interests and I knew that working as a freelancer wasn't for me so I stuck with teaching," Mr. Smith said in an interview he gave to Cape Breton's Inverness Oran newspaper.

In the early 1970s, with his first book gaining recognition, Mr. Smith was included as one of the Montreal Story Tellers, a reading group assembled by Mr. Metcalf.

The five-writer gathering included Clark Blaise, Hugh Hood and Raymond Fraser.

Their mission was to make high-school students aware of contemporary Canadian prose and show that that there was more to literature than Shakespeare.

During this heady time, Mr. Smith became a founding member of the Writer's Union of Canada, mingling with literary luminaries of the day, including Margaret Atwood, Margaret Laurence and Mavis Gallant. His stories were also included in several anthologies.

In 1992, Mr. Smith's satirical work A Night at the Opera won the Hugh MacLennan Prize for Fiction from the Quebec Society for the Promotion of English-Language Literature (QSPELL).

His body of work also includes The Man Who Loved Jane Austen, a story of love and betrayal set in Montreal; The Man Who Hated Emily Brontë, a satire on life in Quebec; and Century, a novel published in 1986 that explored the merits and horrors of modern life. He considered Century to be his best work.

"It got some pretty solid reviews," he wrote in a Biblioasis press release, "but as a novelist in Canada it's not uncommon for your works to be received with a stony silence. I once asked Farley Mowat why he wore a kilt and his answer was 'Have you ever tried to get any attention in this country?' But if I had to do it all over again I don't think I'd do it any differently."

After his long career in teaching, Mr.Smith retired in Mabou, where he enjoyed gardening, reading and baseball. He continued writing in an office he set up in his longtime family home.

Mr. Smith died on June 20 at Inverness Memorial Hospital, not far from his home.

His health had been in decline for some time. He leaves his sons, Nicholas and Alexander, and brothers, Gerry and Dave.

Associated Graphic

Ray Smith began writing during a trip to Spain in 1964. Throughout his career, he wrote poetry, short stories and novels, and taught at Dawson College in Montreal to supplement his income.


Decades later, a spoil of the Cranmer Potlatch returns home
Kwakwaka'wakw sun mask travelled the world after it was stolen by a government official in the infamous raid
Saturday, July 20, 2019 – Print Edition, Page A15

For nearly 100 years, through mirrored eyes carved from cedar, the Kwakwaka'wakw sun mask witnessed worlds it was never meant to see. Seized during an infamous raid on a potlatch in remote British Columbia, then improperly sold, the mask spent time in New York and ended up in Paris in the possession of one of the world's most famous anthropologists. It remained in France for decades. But on Saturday, after nearly two years of negotiations, a ceremony is planned to welcome it to the U'mista Cultural Centre in Alert Bay, B.C.

U'mista means "the return of something important" in Kwak'wala, and the museum houses other returned artifacts from that potlatch, including masks.

"We, of course, want all of the masks to come back, and every time we hear of one that's been found it, of course, makes us all that much happier," says 'Namgis Chief Bill Cranmer, board chair at U'mista.

"It's kind of like healing. Because when they took all these masks away, it took quite a big part of us away."

Donald Ellis, a Canadian dealer in Indigenous art for nearly 45 years, orchestrated the mask's return, negotiating the sale and putting up his own money - a six-figure sum, he says - to buy the mask to bring it to U'mista. The homecoming was timed to coincide with the July 20 opening of a major exhibition, The Story Box: Franz Boas, George Hunt and the Making of Anthropology. Boas and Hunt conducted field work among the Kwakwaka'wakw people in the 19th century; this exhibition, which recently closed in New York, was brought to U'Mista thanks to funding from Ellis and others.

An agreement to buy the mask was made months ago. But by Tuesday, it was nowhere near British Columbia and Mr.

Ellis was anxious.

"I'm trying to do something good," he said, "and [in the process] I feel like I've lost five years off my life."

Mr. Ellis's involvement with the mask dates back to 2017, when an academic, Marie Mauzé, told him a story over dinner in Paris. She had been asked to assist in the auction catalogue entries for a group of Northwest Coast objects at Christie's.

Among them was the sun mask, which Ms. Mauzé recognized from photos taken after it was seized in 1921. "You can't sell this," she said, as Mr. Ellis recounts.

Shortly after that dinner, she e-mailed an archival photo to Mr. Ellis. It shows the mask displayed with other treasures in the Anglican Parish Hall in Alert Bay after they were taken on Christmas Day, 1921.

Potlatches were banned in 1885. But in remote B.C., these vital cultural ceremonies, which involve feasts and gift-giving, were sometimes held nonetheless, with lookouts keeping watch for government officials known as Indian agents. On Dec.

25, 1921, 'Namgis Chief Dan Cranmer - Bill's father - held a large potlatch on remote Village Island east of Alert Bay. (The 'Namgis are Kwak'waka'wakw.)

Indian agent William Halliday got word and officials descended on what has come to be known as the Cranmer Potlatch, arresting participants and confiscating some 750 items.

"My father didn't speak too much about this business because it really affected him, especially feeling so bad that people had to go to jail because of what he did," Mr. Cranmer says.

This incident, Mr. Ellis says, "was, in many ways, the poster child for Canadian colonial behaviour."

The items were transported to Alert Bay and displayed; admission was charged. Most were later sent east, many to the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto and what is now the Canadian Museum of History in Ottawa.

Almost all of the artifacts have since been returned.

U'mista, which opened in 1980, was designed to house returned items from the Cranmer Potlatch.

But the sun mask was sent on a different path. Halliday sold it, with more than 30 other pieces, to George Heye in New York, who established the Museum of the American Indian in 1916.

Halliday was not permitted to sell these objects and was reprimanded for doing so.

Heye ran into financial troubles and many works from his museum were sold. The sun mask's museum catalogue card indicates "whereabouts unknown," according to Mr. Ellis.

It has now been discovered that the mask was brought to France after the Second World War by the world-renowned anthropologist Claude Lévi-Strauss, and sold at auction in 1951 to collector Pierre Vérité. His son, Claude Vérité, inherited it and offered the mask at Christie's, according to another collector, Pierre Amrouche.

Mr. Amrouche, who lives in Paris and Togo, says Claude gave it to him in 2017, after which he kept it in his Paris living room.

Two years of negotiations to bring the mask back to B.C. took a twisted path. A benefactor who had offered to help buy it backed out. Mr. Ellis decided to purchase it himself for U'Mista.

"I have a pretty strong sense of right and wrong," Mr. Ellis said of his motivation during an interview at a Vancouver hotel on Tuesday. "I want this to show that ... dealers are not all bad guys." Also, he says, he has done very well and wanted to do something to give back.

That has caused him some stress. A few minutes after explaining his reasons for doing this, he checked his phone.

"What the hell," he said to himself.

The mask, which had been shipped from Paris that morning, was supposed to be at the FedEx hub in Memphis by then, en route to Vancouver. Instead, at midday on Tuesday, it was in Philadelphia.

Mr. Ellis was to head north on Friday morning for Saturday's ceremony.

"Is it worth it, all this pain and suffering," I asked him.

"Right now, no," he said.

"But it will be."

On Thursday, it was. A box containing the mask was sitting on the kitchen table of Mr. Ellis's oceanfront home on Howe Sound, and he was finally about to see the treasure he spent nearly two years fighting for.

Some packing peanuts spilled out.

And then: "Wow," he said several times under his breath.

The mask was larger than Mr. Ellis had expected, and older; the hand-cut nails on the back suggest it was made circa 1870. The one remaining mirrored eye - meant to reflect firelight and sun - had largely disintegrated, and while much of the paint had faded, the underside of the nose, protected from daylight, showed a bright blue.

"When I see this now, it's really well painted, beautifully painted."

Mr. Ellis picked it up and examined it, front and back, then laid it on the table, face up. Light streamed in from the ocean-facing windows and the skylight.

And for the first time in nearly a century, the mask was basking in the B.C. sun, just a few hours from home.

Associated Graphic

The Kwakwaka'wakw sun mask - painted a now mostly faded bright red and blue, and donning a weathered mirrored eye - will be welcomed into the U'mista Cultural Centre in Alert Bay, B.C., on Saturday.


Donald Ellis, a dealer in Indigenous art, admires the mask in Vancouver.

A Quebec city's game plan
Beloeil has designated 48 streets as free-play zones, with lowered speed limits and high-visibility signage, to encourage children to get outside
Thursday, July 11, 2019 – Print Edition, Page A1

BELOEIL, QUE. -- It all started with a warning from police. A father in Beloeil, Que., complained to city hall that his six-year-old son faced the threat of a ticket for playing hockey on the street in front of his house.

"I couldn't believe it," recalled Pierre Verret, the city councillor who received the complaint in 2014. "I played street hockey with my friends during my whole childhood. I found it incredible that our children didn't have the freedom to play outside."

And so began a minor revolution to turn the streets of Beloeil over to the cause of old-fashioned child's play. Today, 48 residential streets in the suburb east of Montreal have earned city designations as free-play zones, complete with lower speed limits, hours of play and high-visibility signage. It's allowed children to do something that has become a rarity in these risk-adverse, hypervigilant times: play out in the street.

"It's good because I can play right outside my house," Marc-Antoine Brisson, 16, said in the middle of his street this week as he shot hoops with his brother, Maxime. "On the weekend, there are so many children everywhere, cars can't drive fast."

As he spoke, a car approached and slowed down. The boys paused briefly and moved to let it pass, then resumed their lay-ups.

"I've made new friends," said Maxime, 10. "Before, we just played in the driveway. Now there's more space to have fun."

The award-winning initiative in Beloeil has been emulated in 17 other towns in Quebec, joining a global trend to let children enjoy unstructured play on their doorsteps, away from screens, parents, teachers, camp counsellors and the other overseers of their time.

Proponents say free play offers a crucial antidote to organized and supervised children' activities. Left on their own, children learn to take risks and test their physical limits, laying the groundwork for developing motor skills as they grow up.

"We're seeing new generations of helicopter parents who have fears - they don't want their kids to get hurt, to fall, or to climb trees because it's dangerous," said Corinne Voyer, director of the Quebec Weight Coalition, which helped Beloeil set up its street-play program. "But kids need to learn how to jump and run and evaluate whether they can take risks without consequences. They need to know if they can climb monkey bars without falling. If we create completely sterile environments to avoid accidents, kids won't learn the physical skills they need to do sports later in life."

Beloeil's program "removes barriers to make it easier to play freely," Ms. Voyer said. "It's a great initiative."

Those barriers include antinoise and anti-nuisance bylaws that are commonplace in cities across the province and can be enforced by police to stop a street-hockey game if they receive a complaint. Beloeil modified its own anti-nuisance bylaw in 2016 and turned to the province to clear a legal path for street play. In 2017, it got what it wanted. The Quebec National Assembly adopted Bill 122, a law granting municipalities more autonomy, including "the power to permit free play in the streets."

Beloeil's program, Dans ma rue, on joue!, took off. In spirit, it summons up a bygone time of outdoor play with neighborhood friends. Of course, things were simpler then. All it took for a child to go out and play was a parent shouting "Go out and play!"

Beloeil's program, on the other hand, adds a healthy layer of modern-day regulations.

To turn a street in Beloeil into a free-play zone, a parent has to submit an application to city hall.

The request is studied by the city's traffic committee, which rules out streets that are unsafe due to traffic flow or obstructed views; curving streets or those with hedges or view-obscuring trees, for example, are rejected.

Then, the application is sent to all the neighbours on the street; it takes the support of 66 per cent of them for the project to go ahead. Three streets in Beloeil have failed to get enough support and lost their bid. (One woman who voted against the idea said in an interview she thought it was too risky and children should play in parks and backyards.)

If approved, each family receives a certificate of recognition, code of conduct and letter of thanks. Speed limits on the designated streets are reduced to 30 kilometres an hour and signs announcing the play zones are posted at either end. Children can play from 7 a.m. to 9 p.m. as long as street lighting is adequate.

The program has turned some residential streets into boisterous play zones of children shooting baskets, playing hopscotch, practising slapshots and skipping rope. On Donat-Corriveau Street, seven hockey nets line the curb.

Some days, there are 20 children on the crescent playing hockey, said David Vachon, a father of three children, 10, 13 and 16.

"It's easy and accessible for the kids, all you have to do is open the door. And I can keep an eye on them," he said. "If they didn't play here, it would limit their physical activity."

The set-up has also created bonds between neighbours. Parents regularly gather to watch the children. Some turn up in chairs with a glass of white wine in hand, Mr. Verret said. Experts say play zones reclaim part of the street from cars, while building a sense of community.

"It's a very powerful yet practical way to start using streets in ways that are better for everybody," said Tim Gill, an independent British researcher specializing in child-friendly urban planning. "It moves away from the idea that the sole job of a street is to be a place where the car is king and everybody else just has to get out of the way."

To help adults appreciate the value of free play, he says he often reminds them to think of their own childhood memories.

"I'm keen to remind grownups of the everyday magic of being out in your neighborhood playing with your friends," Mr. Gill, author of No Fear: Growing Up in a Risk-Averse Society, said from London. "It's not mere nostalgia.

These are powerful, formative experiences that helped us to figure out where we were and how we solved problems."

Problem-solving is what motivated Mr. Verret. When he was faced with a kid risking a ticket for playing street hockey, he said he felt he needed to respond. "If I can leave one legacy this will be it," the 58-year-old councillor said. "I just want kids to go play outside."

Associated Graphic

Ten-year-old Maxime says the street outside of his family's house in Beloeil, Que., gives him more space to play than the driveway.


Parents in Beloeil, Que., who are looking to turn their street into a free-play zone can submit an application with city hall. Once the city's traffic committee studies it, neighbours are sent applications and the project goes ahead if 66 per cent of them support it.

How to swing into early retirement
Sally, 54, wants to retire soon and has substantial assets, but will they last?
Special to The Globe and Mail
Saturday, July 13, 2019 – Print Edition, Page B10

Sally has been working parttime earning about $45,000 a year for the past 10 years, but plans to retire soon even though she's only 54. She is recently divorced with three grown children.

"I hesitate to stop working because I want to be sure I can afford to do so," Sally writes in an e-mail. She has a mortgage-free house and substantial investments, but she is uncertain about how far her assets will go.

"I don't yet have a good grasp of what my investment income will be each year because I recently sold off rental properties that I got as part of a separation agreement with my ex-husband," Sally adds. "My investment portfolio is now just over $2-million, but has only been this size for a few months." Of this, about $1.7-million is non-registered and $337,000 registered.

"I would love to have a financial adviser take a look at my situation to help me figure out if I can stop working now, live comfortably and have enough money to last throughout my life," Sally writes. A top priority is to give each of her three children $90,000 to use as a down payment for a house. She also wants to spend part of the winter down south. Her spending target is $85,000 a year after tax, plus $15,000 for travel.

We asked Stephanie Douglas, partner, portfolio manager and financial planner at Harris Douglas Asset Management Inc. in Toronto, to look at Sally's situation.

WHAT THE EXPERT SAYS Despite what could be a 40-year retirement horizon, Sally has nothing to worry about, Ms. Douglas says. "Not only can Sally achieve her goals, she'll still have a net worth of $3.3-million at age 95, but that would be mainly the value of her house." She would have very little investable assets left. The projections assume a rate of return on investable assets of 4.5 per cent.

The planner assumes Sally starts receiving Canada Pension Plan and Old Age Security benefits at the age of 65. She also assumes that Sally spends $50,000 ($70,000 less the trade-in value of $20,000) every four years on a new vehicle until the age of 75, and that she gives her three children $90,000 each (for a total of $270,000) in 2023. The additional $15,000 budget for travel ends at the age of 80.

"If Sally chooses to keep spending this additional $15,000 annually beyond age 80, she would not run out of investable assets until 2059 at age 94," Ms.Douglas says. At that point Sally would still have her house, which would be worth roughly $3.2-million with inflation.

Now for her investments. Sally's asset allocation is roughly 54 per cent stocks, 32 per cent fixed income (including a personal loan) and 14 per cent cash. "For Sally's investable assets to last until age 95 without her having to sell her house, she would need a rate of return of at least 4.2 per cent," the planner says.

Sally says she will likely sell her house at some point so she may be willing to accept a lower rate of return with less volatility and risk, the planner says. That's because she would have more money to add to her portfolio later. Ms.

Douglas recommends Sally keep a minimum of five to seven years' worth of living expenses in fixedincome securities so she will not be forced to draw from her stock portfolio during a pullback in the stock market. The planner suggests a one- to five-year ladder of government and high-quality corporate bonds.

Sally's portfolio could be set up to be more tax-effective, Ms. Douglas says. Sally should consider moving more of her fixed-income exposure to her registered accounts. For example, her Canadian-dollar spousal registered retirement savings plan has an allocation of 7 per cent cash, 45 per cent bonds and 48 per cent stocks.

When the $510,000 loan is repaid, she could rebalance her portfolio, selling the stocks in her registered accounts to make room for more bonds.

"This would be better from a tax perspective because interest income is 100-per-cent taxable at Sally's tax rate" if it is not sheltered in a registered account.

After she quits working, Sally will be relying entirely on her savings and investments until she begins collecting government benefits. Ms. Douglas suggests that Sally withdraw from her non-registered accounts first, with an appropriate amount coming from the U.S. dollar portion to fund her travel expenses.

This will allow her registered accounts to continue to grow taxfree.

Based on the planner's analysis, Sally likely will not have her Old Age Security benefits clawed back. That assumes the OAS claw-back income threshold increases at the rate of inflation.

"So I would not suggest early RRSP withdrawals from these accounts because the tax-free growth will be more beneficial to her."

Sally has $165,000 in bank savings accounts and more than $200,000 in guaranteed investment certificates. The planner suggests Sally shift that $165,000 from the savings account to highinterest GICs to get a better return. Keeping this money in GICs makes sense because Sally will need $320,000 in the next three years for the down payments for her children and a new vehicle. If Sally would like to keep extra cash for emergencies, she could set aside three to six months of living expenses, or roughly $20,000 to $42,000. Alternatively, she could use a line of credit for emergencies.

Sally plans to spend several months each year down south.

She has 45 per cent of her nonregistered portfolio in a U.S. dollar account invested in U.S.

stocks, which will help reduce exchange-rate risk when she needs U.S. dollars to travel to the United States.

If there was a recession or a pullback in the stock market, however, Sally could be forced to either sell some of her U.S. securities or convert some of her Canadian dollars to U.S. dollars to cover her U.S. travel expenses. Her U.S. dollar account has less than $1,000 in cash. To help mitigate the risk, Sally could split some of the cash and fixed-income portion of her portfolio between her Canadian and U.S. dollar accounts.

In terms of estate planning, Sally updated her will in 2017. She should also ensure she designates beneficiaries (other than her estate) for her registered accounts.

Doing so will allow these assets to go directly to the beneficiaries rather than going through probate and incurring fees. Sally should be aware that her RRSP and locked-in retirement account will be taxable on her death and the estate (not the beneficiaries) will be responsible for paying the taxes, Ms. Douglas says. "Sally should discuss the implications of this [on her estate plan] with her lawyer." Want a free financial facelift?


Some details may be changed to protect the privacy of the persons profiled.

Associated Graphic


In Lehman's terms, a signature memory caps and captures a career
Exemptions expired, a former No. 1 finishes off with a major title and a copper's helmet
Saturday, July 20, 2019 – Print Edition, Page S1

PORTRUSH, NORTHERN IRELAND -- As he walked up the 18th fairway at Royal Portrush on Friday - the final time he will do so at an Open Championship - Tom Lehman began to cry.

He put his arm around his cadddy - his son, Thomas Jr. He told him he loved him and that he hoped that one day their roles would be reversed. In that manly way that seems a relic of another time, he pawed his face embarrassedly, as though he were doing something wrong.

"I did everything in my power not to start bawling," Lehman said, still close to weeping a halfhour later. "I mostly succeeded."

Lehman, 60, is in the final year of the exemption he earned by winning this tournament in 1996.

He is no longer playing well enough to qualify for majors on his own.

Since that Open victory was his only one in a major, this is it. It's over.

By the time a pro gets to the end, he has often let go of the big memories. It's not holding the trophy they remember.

It is instead those little moments that punctuate all grand experiences and, in hindsight, make them real. We all know this feeling. Something someone said, or the way they looked at you.

From the distance of a quarter century, Lehman remembers Kevin Boyles (at least, he's pretty sure that was his name). Boyles was the police officer assigned to act as his body man during the '96 Open, held that year at Royal Lytham.

As Lehman recalls it, Boyles was with him everywhere that week. From the moment he got out of his car in the morning to the walk back to it in the evening, Boyles was alongside.

They became friendly in that intense way you sometimes do with people you know for only a short time and will never see again. Afterward, the pair swapped hats - a winner's ballcap for a copper's helmet. Lehman still has that souvenir.

As he hit his approach at 18 that Sunday, the crowds swarmed onto the course and surrounded the green. They were still allowed to do that in those days.

Boyles got in front of Lehman.

The policeman reached back, roughly grabbed hold of the man who was then the best golfer in the world and began plowing through. After a short struggle, the pair popped out in front of the green.

Lehman saw his ball sitting up there. The tournament was waiting to be won and his life was waiting to be changed.

But before that happened, Boyles put an arm around Lehman's shoulder and said in a singsongy Lancashire accent: "Aye Tom, we've been through a lot ... together, but now you're on your own." There weren't a lot of people there to hear Lehman recount his favourite story from The Open. Four or five. Lehman has been yesterday's news for many years. But those who were enjoyed hearing it told nearly as much as Lehman wanted to tell it. He laughed and then he almost cried again.

Lehman came out with his signature memory unprompted because his life had changed again.

He'll never win another big one.

He probably knew that already.

But on Friday morning with only a few half-interested hacks around for commiserations, he finally knew it for a fact.

From this moment on, he is a citizen of Former - former major winner, former world No. 1, former big deal.

This isn't sad. It's glorious.

Imagine if you could distill your professional life down to one remarkable week. By the end, you hope you've done a lot of things, but you'd have this one thing to explain them all.

It's likely the rest of us will miss our high-water mark. It's only later we think, "It never got any better than that."

But the pros know. They give them a big silver doorstop to remind them.

This feeling of knowing when you peaked must be especially sweet for those who've won just the once. That makes things simple.

I wonder if Tiger Woods has a Kevin Boyles. He probably has a hundred of them. Which makes the exercise useless. Too much success is dangerous. It dulls everything.

No sport loves its one-time winners as much as golf. It's an acknowledgment that taking a major is about luck and timing every bit as much as talent.

A handful of guys win these things on merit alone. All the others - all of them great golfers - pull a golden ticket. That's the romance of the thing.

As such, golf is uniquely fixated on the "man most likely to." Right now, that might be England's Tommy Fleetwood. He's got the brand-star-of-the-future trifecta - gifted, charismatic, looks great on camera.

Fleetwood led the tournament briefly on Friday. He was sevenunder by the end of the round. By the end of the day, he was trailing Irishman Shane Lowry and American J.B. Holmes by one stroke.

Fleetwood is what they call poised. For a lot of things.

Dozens and dozens of people showed up to talk to Fleetwood, who has never won a major or been world No. 1.

Fleetwood should be used to this by now, but he came off the course blinking and a bit dazed.

He was doing the "on the other hand" dance - he isn't thinking about winning, but on the other hand.

He likes where he's at right now, but on the other hand. You never know what will happen, but on the other hand.

After rolling through a dozen clichés about staying in the moment, Fleetwood sighed and said, "You've got so many clichés now."

He already looked tired.

In 48 hours, it may turn out that Fleetwood was living his majortournament dream all week long and didn't realize it. Maybe he has his own magical cop. Maybe he'll be crying down the back end of a course in 25 years' time. Who knows? All those things are clichéd, too.

But the clichés exist for a reason.

Would Tom Lehman have remembered Kevin Boyles from the distance of one-third of a lifetime if he had not won The Open that year?

He probably would have.

Because Lehman had the capacity to do that thing they all talk about - be in the moment.

And unlike fame or attention or money, moments will stay with you your whole life long.

Associated Graphic

England's Tommy Fleetwood tees off on the seventh hole during the second round of the Open Championship at Royal Portrush Golf Club on Friday. Fleetwood is in second place at seven-under par, one stroke behind co-leaders J.B. Holmes and Shane Lowry. Several big names missed the cut. More golf coverage on pages 10, 11.


England's Lee Westwood tees off on the 14th hole at Royal Portrush in Northern Ireland during the British Open on Friday. Westwood is currently tied for third with countryman Tommy Fleetwood, who briefly led the tournament earlier in the day.


Lowry, Holmes share British Open lead
Native son McIlroy, meanwhile, ends his Portrush run early after devastating start
Saturday, July 20, 2019 – Print Edition, Page S11

PORTRUSH, NORTHERN IRELAND -- Everyone in the massive grandstand rose to cheer and celebrate a bold performance by Rory McIlroy, who longed for such support and affection on his walk toward his final hole at Royal Portrush in the British Open.

Except this was Friday.

And now McIlroy can only watch on the weekend as one of his best friends, Shane Lowry of Ireland, goes after the Claret Jug.

Lowry birdied four of his opening five holes on his way to a four-under 67 and shared the 36-hole lead with J.B. Holmes, who shot a 68.

Lee Westwood and Tommy Fleetwood were one stroke behind. Brooks Koepka and Jordan Spieth were three back.

That can wait.

This day was all about McIlroy, who kept the sellout crowd on edge as he tried to make the cut after opening with a 79. The roars had the intensity of a final round as McIlroy ran off five birdies in seven holes to brighten a gloomy sky over the North Atlantic. Needing one final birdie, his approach took a wrong turn along the humps left of the 18th green.

He made par for a 65.

"It's a moment I envisaged for the last few years," McIlroy said.

"It just happened two days early."

He was disappointed. He was proud of his play. Mostly, though, he said he was "full of gratitude toward every single one of the people that followed me to the very end and was willing me on."

"As much as I came here at the start of the week saying I wanted to do it for me, by the end of the round there today I was doing it just as much for them," he said.

Adam Hadwin (69) of Abbotsford, B.C., was tied for 58th at oneover par. Corey Conners of Listowel, Ont., and Austin Connelly, an American-Canadian dual citizen, missed the cut.

Tiger Woods and Phil Mickelson won't be around, either. It was the first time in 77 majors they have played as professionals that both missed the cut in the same major. Darren Clarke, who honed his game on the Dunluce Links as a junior and now calls Portrush home, missed the cut in a most cruel fashion with a triple bogey on his final hole.

And now the first British Open in Northern Ireland since 1951 moves on without them, still with the promise of a great show.

Lowry was so nervous he was shaking on the tee when the tournament began on Thursday, swept up in the emotion of an Open on the Emerald Isle and on a course he knows. He gave fans plenty to cheer for when he opened his second round with three straight birdies, added a birdie on the fifth and holed a 40foot birdie putt on No. 10 to reach 10 under, making him the only player this week to reach double figures under par. The cheers were as loud as he has heard.

"Just incredible," Lowry said.

"You can't but smile, but can't but laugh how it is. There's no point trying to shy away from it. It's an incredible feeling getting applauded on every green, every tee box. I'm out there giving my best, trying to do my best for everyone." He three-putted the 14th, saved par on the next three holes with his deft touch around the greens and closed with a bogey to fall back into a tie with Holmes, who played earlier in the day and was the first to post at eight-under 134.

Holmes won at Riviera earlier this year and then failed to make the cut in eight of his next 12 tournaments as he battled a two-way miss off the tee and felt so bad that he says he never thought he'd recover. But he did enough in Detroit three weeks ago to regain some confidence and he has been in a groove at Portrush.

"You can have that great round and that day where everything goes right. But it's nice to get two rounds in a row," Holmes said. "It shows a little consistency. And two days in a row I've hit the ball really well and putted well."

Fleetwood and Westwood, two Englishmen at different stages in their careers, each shot a 67 and will play in the group ahead of Lowry and Holmes. Westwood is 46 and can make a case as the best active player without a major considering his status - a former No. 1 in the world and on the European Tour - and the number of near misses in the majors, such as Muirfield and Turnberry at the Open, Torrey Pines in the U.S.

Open and Augusta National when Mickelson outplayed him in 2010.

Is it too late? Westwood wasn't willing to look that far ahead.

"There's too much ground to cover before Sunday night," Westwood said. "There's a long way to go in this tournament. I've never felt under that much pressure, to be honest. You lads write about it.

I've always gone out and done my best. If it's going to happen, it's going to happen, and if it doesn't, it doesn't."

The experience of winning majors was behind them.

Justin Rose had a 67 and was two shots behind, along with Cameron Smith of Australia and Justin Harding of South Africa.

Another shot back was a group that included Koepka, who has won three of the past six majors.

He was in a tie for eighth, the 16th time in his past 17 rounds at the majors he has ended a round in the top 10.

Koepka wasn't happy with much about his two-under 69, calling it "a little bit disappointing," perhaps because he played in dry weather and only a mild wind.

"But at the same time, I'm close enough where I play a good weekend, I'll be in good shape," he said.

Spieth hasn't quite figured out how to get the ball in play more often - too many bunkers on Thursday, too much high grass on Friday. But that putter is not a problem and it carried him to a collection of mid-range birdie and par putts for a 67.

"I'm in contention. I feel good," Spieth said, winless since his Open title at Royal Birkdale two years ago. "I feel like if I can continue to improve each day, hit the ball better tomorrow than I did today, and better on Sunday than Saturday, then I should have a chance with how I feel on and around the greens."

Graeme McDowell, born and raised in Portrush, played well enough to make the weekend. He finished with four straight pars for a 70 to make the cut on the number at one-over 143 and felt the pressure of sticking around for the home crowd.

Associated Graphic

Shane Lowry kicks up some turf playing a shot on the 14th hole at Royal Portrush on Friday. The Irishman birdied four of his opening five holes on the way to a four-under 67.


Off the beaten track in Nova Scotia
The Eastern Shore offers some of the Maritimes' most sublime landscapes and rugged outdoor adventures
Special to The Globe and Mail
Saturday, July 20, 2019 – Print Edition, Page P8

Most summertime road-trippers in Nova Scotia find themselves travelling a few well-worn paths.

Head south out of Halifax and you'll soon hit the bucolic South Shore, full of colourful, historic port towns and picturesque harbours. Venture west for the verdant Annapolis Valley and its abundant wineries. Or journey north, to Cape Breton, for golfing, the highlands and a unique mingling of Celtic, Mi'kmaq and Acadian cultures.

But there's one road less travelled, which in the past few years has begun coming into its own: the unsung Eastern Shore, an exciting outdoors destination offering some of the Maritimes' most sublime landscapes, with camping, kayaking and whitewater rafting.

The adventures begin before you've even left the Halifax metropolitan area, at Lawrencetown and Martinique Beaches, just 30 and 45 minutes from the city, respectively. Martinique is the place to beat the crowds, with its four kilometres of gently sloping white sand and reliably excellent surf. Novices can take lessons at the Halifax Surf School, and on weekends grab some after-surf nosh from one of the food trucks that cluster in the parking lot.

Meander along Highway 7 for another hour or so - past blink-and-you'll-missthem villages and postcard-placid coves - and arrive at Tangier Grand Lake Wilderness Area. This is a paddler's paradise: 16,000 protected hectares of rivers, lakes and backwoods campsites, connected by portages. The excursion isn't for novices, though - the country is wild, the portages are challenging and the paddling can get intense.

Starting out at Tangier Grand Lake, make your way to the ocean along the system of waterways, ending with a kilometre of whitewater where the Tangier River empties into the Atlantic. You may need a rugged vehicle for the backwoods roads, and consult Canoe Kayak Nova Scotia for information including route maps, portages and where to put in your craft.

For paddlers looking for a more leisurely and accessible paddle, the Musquodoboit River is a gentler, yet still stunning voyage through 80 kilometres of farms and forests. Access points and campsites are abundant, and the lower river contains more in the way of whitewater action and falls for the adventurous.

When you get to the ocean, you'll find the Eastern Shore's greatest gem, and one of its newest attractions: the 100 Wild Islands. An enormous archipelago that spans much of the province's eastern coast, some of the islands were acquired and are protected by the Nova Scotia Nature Trust.

This vast, designated wilderness area is open to the public to explore - although guides are recommended - with a shore patrolled by pilot whales, and a diverse landscape of freshwater lakes, salt marshes, rocky headlands, sheer cliffs and almost-tropical white-sand beaches. The islands even contain snatches of the only boreal rainforest in North America outside of the continent's west coast.

Experienced sea kayakers can access the islands, wending their way from one to the next, and to hidden inlets, coves and beaches. The wildlife is plentiful, from porpoises to giant jellyfish to an abundant variety of bird species.

Less-experienced boaters can get there on organized tours. Murphy's Camping on the Ocean offers a variety of tours until mid-October, and operates a drop-on, drop-off service that will bring groups out for overnight camping. Great Earth Expeditions also offers a Wild Islands Camping Adventure, an overnight package that sees campers sailing to one of the islands. You'll forage for wild foods, snorkel in the pristine waters, have a beachside seafood boil and enjoy a communal campfire under some of the clearest night skies in North America.

Near the eastern extent of the islands is Taylors Head, a rugged finger of land that extends six kilometres into the ocean, full of hiking trails and hidden beaches - and you may just spot some seals among the rocky outcroppings.

If you've made it this far, you haven't even left Halifax County, although you might feel far out in the wilds. Stay on the 7 and pass into Guysborough, Nova Scotia's second-least populated county, with a mere 7,600 people spread over 4,000 square km, most living in the rustic villages lining the coast. The road doesn't exactly open up here; Highway 7's coasthugging route doesn't lend itself to fullthrottle straightaways. But the dramatic scenery provides more than enough diversion.

There's also more accommodation for the camping-weary: Seawind Landing Country Inn, a secluded property on a 20acre peninsula, makes for panoramic ocean views from any of its 13 guest rooms. It's a perfect jumping-off point for the Bonnet Lake Barrens Wilderness Area, a vast landscape of granite barrens and coastal forest, lined with crescent-shaped beaches and hiking trails along historic footpaths that once joined tiny coastal towns. It's a bit chillier and foggier up here, though - a true New Scotland landscape.

Further along, DesBarres Manor Inn is probably the top pick in the county's largest - although still-tiny - namesake town, Guysborough. The 10-room, Georgian-era inn is situated at the centre of a six-acre garden, and packs in the amenities, including a fireside-dining lounge specializing in locally procured foods.

Not far past the border between Halifax and Guysborough counties is Liscombe Lodge and Resort, boasting a variety of accommodations, from luxe to (relatively) rustic. Its 17 riverside chalets come fully appointed, complete with wood stoves, and some of the area's abundant hiking trails beat a path almost to their doorstep.

The area offers another great river-paddling experience on the Liscomb River.

Like the Musquodoboit, it's a more accessible and gentler voyage than the more intense backcountry experience in Tangier-Grand Lake.

Keep heading to the very tip of the province's mainland to reach Canso, where the last weekend in July sees the Stan Rogers Folk Festival bring a peerless lineup of folk, blues and bluegrass acts. As with the rest of the coast, the area is blessed with plenty of trails and beaches, including Black Duck Cove, where you can find some of the warmest waters on the East Coast ("warm" being a relative term, of course).

Those interested in food and drink will find less on the Eastern Shore than they will in Nova Scotia's better-known tourist destinations, although the region still has some gems. Try Rare Bird Craft Beer in Guysborough, or the chef-driven menu at DesBarres Manor Inn. But for the most part, that's not what the Eastern Shore is all about. Emptier, wilder and a little more raw than the rest of the province, this unique and underappreciated corner of Atlantic Canada is best enjoyed outside.

Associated Graphic

Nova Scotia's Seawind Landing Country Inn, a secluded property on a 20-acre peninsula, offers panoramic ocean views from any of its 13 guest rooms.

Nautical adventure is part of the experience of visiting the 100 Wild islands. An overnight camping trip offered by Great Earth Expeditions is a fabulous way to explore this untouched jewel.

The 10-room, Georgian-era DesBarres Manor Inn offers sumptuous rooms and cuisine in Guysborough on the Eastern Shore.

Velan investors press for sale of company embroiled in family feud
Thursday, July 11, 2019 – Print Edition, Page B1

A group of discontented shareholders is urging Velan Inc. to put itself up for sale amid disappointing financial results and discord among the family members who control the company.

"It's been a disastrous investment," said Stephen Takacsy, president and chief executive officer of Lester Asset Management in Montreal. Mr. Takacsy is part of a group of six institutional investors that own approximately 16 per cent of Velan's total equity and is pushing the board of directors to launch a strategic review, as the company prepares for its annual meeting on Thursday.

The group is also open to a privatization. "The company should never have gone public," Mr. Takacsy said.

Founded by A.K. Velan in 1950, Montreal-based Velan went public in 1996 and initially produced decent returns, developing a reputation as a world leader in manufacturing industrial valves. But it has also become known for feuds among the family members who control the company through a dual-class share structure that gives them 93 per cent of the voting rights. A.K.'s three sons - Tom, Ivan and Peter - control the holding company that owns the multiple voting shares.

Over the past five years, Velan's stock price has fallen 52 per cent, partly because of the slump in the oil and gas industry and heightened competition. The company specializes in valves for the energy, cryogenics and shipbuilding industries and employs more than 1,800 people, with manufacturing facilities in nine countries.

Some shareholders say the battles among the Velan brothers are part of the problem. (The company declined to comment, citing the pending release of quarterly earnings.)

"It's fair to say that disagreements among the family members are hindering the performance of the company," said Wayne Deans, chairman and CEO of Deans Knight Capital Management Ltd. in Vancouver. Mr.

Deans, who invested in Velan when it went public, is aligned with Mr. Takacsy. The shareholder group is withholding votes for all of the director nominees in a symbolic gesture in hopes of pressing the board to act.

Tom, 67, is chairman of the board and previously served as CEO after his father stepped down. His brother Peter, according to the company, poses a potential problem.

In a management circular filed in June, the board recommended that investors withhold votes for Peter, 73, who has been nominated as a director through the family holding company. (He later put forward a self-nomination, only to withdraw it a few months later.)

The corporate governance and human resources committee of the board contended in the circular that Peter's "past boardroom demeanour toward colleagues and management of the Corporation, his unwillingness to help or collaborate with Board colleagues and management, or serve on special committees in a constructive manner, all have had a negative effect."

The committee was "openminded" about Peter's candidacy, "but could not conclude that things would be different this time." Two independent directors said they will resign from the board "in a careful and diligent manner" if he is elected. Peter declined to meet with the committee for an interview, and his presence on the board could increase the risk that management leaves the company and negatively affect the "strategic transformation" under way at Velan, according to the circular. Peter did not respond to phone calls for comment.

Peter served as a director from 1971 to 2005 and resigned from his executive vice-president post in 2003 citing "differences of opinion regarding succession and direction of the company." He returned to the board between 2008 and 2018, but withdrew his name as a candidate two days before the annual meeting last year.

The fractious tone may have been set early on by founder A.K.

Velan, who spoke six languages, claimed to do hundreds of pushups each day well into old age, and wrote two books outlining his theories on the creation of the universe. A.K. started the company in 1950 after immigrating from what was then Czechoslovakia.

Although his three sons were heavily involved in the company, he ruled for decades.

A.K.'s grip on Velan was one of the reasons billionaire investor Stephen Jarislowsky resigned from the board in 2002, frustrated over the lack of succession planning. He expressed dismay at the way board meetings were run, which turned into quarrelsome affairs. A.K. also talked too much about valves. "If the chairman insists on talking about nothing but that, after a while the meetings are meaningless," Mr. Jarislowsky told the National Post at the time.

"You wonder why the hell you're there."

Mr. Deans had a similar experience when he was invited to attend a board meeting with A.K. a few years ago. "It wasn't the kind of board meeting I would have expected from a public company," he said. "It was more like a private-company family squabble."

A.K. retired from Velan in 2015, and the company appointed an outside CEO in 2017, the same year A.K. died in his sleep, just a few months shy of his 100th birthday.

Velan's performance took a hit along with the oil and gas market starting in 2015. Sales totalled US$455.8-million in fiscal 2015 and the company posted a profit of US$18.6-million. Since then, revenue has dropped 19.5 per cent and Velan turned in a US$4.9-million loss in fiscal 2019.

The company launched a turnaround strategy to improve efficiencies and lower costs, which management maintains is working. Velan took a more drastic step in January when it announced the closing of a plant in Quebec. The facility will be shuttered by the beginning of 2021 at the latest, and Velan will move some of the production to India.

Despite Velan's challenges, the shareholder group argues the company is undervalued, with a healthy order backlog and US$40.9-million in net cash. Mr.

Takacsy, whose firm has held the stock since 2009, pegs the book value at roughly $18 a share, while the shares closed at $10.32 on the Toronto Stock Exchange Wednesday, and he faults Velan for not buying back its stock.

Mr. Deans, meanwhile, said Velan should take advantage of a consolidation trend under way, pointing out that U.S. industrial manufacturer Crane Co. made a US$894-million hostile bid for smaller rival Circor International Inc. in May.

Shareholder dissatisfaction at Velan has been brewing for a while. The dissident group of institutional investors, which also includes Kernwood Ltd., Oakwest Corp. Ltd., Walter Financial Inc.

and Dubeau Capital, has sent letters and met with board members in recent months. Stéphane Dubeau, president of Dubeau Capital, vented to CEO Yves Leduc on an earnings call in October.

"There's just no value construction. Nobody is following your company," he said. "You guys should be better off just to run the whole thing privately."

"Thanks for your input," Mr. Leduc replied.

VELAN (VLN) CLOSE: $10.32, UP 32¢

Associated Graphic

Lester Asset Management president and CEO Stephen Takacsy's firm has held Velan stock since 2009. He estimates the company's book value at roughly $18 a share.


Throughout her career, which included 16 years presiding over civil and family law cases on the Quebec Superior Court, she was a champion of women in her profession
Special to The Globe and Mail
Monday, July 22, 2019 – Print Edition, Page B16

In red-framed prescription glasses, with a constant smile, strong Catholic faith and ferocious work ethic, retired Quebec Superior Court Judge Anne-Marie Trahan brought a joyously operatic approach to the oft-dry world of statutes, civil codes and stuffy traditions. As a champion of women, of children and even of struggling opera singers, she was at once modest and a diva in the best sense of the word - a leader who friends and colleagues said lived her life by example and tried to see the good in everyone around her.

"Even if you disagreed with her, or your client disagreed with her, she was always inclusive, interested and interesting," said Brian Mitchell, a former bâtonnier, or head, of the Montreal Bar. "She lived her faith every day of her life."

In March, Christian Lépine, the archbishop of Montreal, asked the retired judge, who sat on the executive council of the Order of Malta of Canada as the Dame of Magistral Grace, to comb through 70 years' worth of archives to determine the number and nature of cases of alleged sexual abuse committed against minors in five Catholic dioceses throughout the province. The audit, which promised to be difficult, upsetting and time-consuming, was to begin in September and last from 18 to 24 months. But Ms. Trahan died at her home in Outremont, Que., on July 12, barely two months after being diagnosed with a virulent, incurable cancer.

She was 72.

"She will be forever remembered for her rigour and her concern for the rights of vulnerable people," the archbishop told the online legal publication

Last month, the Quebec Bar awarded Ms. Trahan with the Mérite Christine-Tourigny, given each year to a member for his or her involvement in social issues, especially the advancement of women in the profession.

Nancy Cleman first met Ms. Trahan in the mid-1980s, when she was a junior lawyer practising maritime law. "AnneMarie was presiding over a hearing at the water transport board, where the four senior lawyers were all men, as was usual," she recalled.

"But there were four women juniors, which was unheard of, and to mark the occasion, she gave us all a token, a button imprinted with the number four and a piece of metal she had engraved with the date."

Anne-Marie Trahan was born in Montreal on July 27, 1946, the eldest of Marcel Trahan and Emélie Bourbonnière's three children. Her father was a Quebec Youth Court judge and her mother a social worker by training who remained at home to care for the family.

The family lived in Outremont, a neighbourhood nestled against the eastern flank of Mount Royal in the heart of the city.

While she was growing up, books and music filled the house. There were piano lessons, complete with the repetitive practice of scales. Anne-Marie's father, who took care of the children on Saturdays when their mother was out shopping, was wont to listen to live radio broadcasts from the Metropolitan Opera.

Although he himself couldn't carry a note, she told journalist Frédéric Cardin in an interview in June, 2018, that there were singers in her father's family, including one who had sung for the Opéra de Paris.

She listened to opera with her maternal grandfather, too. "Listen to how they sing with such passion," he would tell her. And she did, the music carrying her away to new, exotic worlds that somehow also seemed familiar - worlds where women's rights were trampled on; where people schemed, dreamed, triumphed and tragically died; where characters such as Georges Bizet's Carmen stood up for herself, only to be killed by the man who professed to love her, and where Leonore, in Beethoven's Fidelio, determinedly disguises herself as a prison guard to save her husband from prison.

For young Anne-Marie, the world itself was an opera and she nurtured her love for it all her life. She even presided over a conference last year that explored the links between opera and the law.

"Take the case of Tosca," she told Mr. Cardin in that same interview, referring to the Puccini masterpiece.

"It's an opera that was composed at the time the first international conventions against torture were being written, after the Crimean War. One of the librettists was a lawyer and he was surely aware of [the conventions]."

Ms. Trahan could quote Cesare Bonesana di Beccaria, the 18th-century Italian criminologist, philosopher and politician whom many consider the most talented jurist and legal thinker in the Age of Enlightenment, as easily as she could a line from Verdi. Indeed, she said to Mr. Cardin that the Verdi opera Aida, which was first performed in 1871, raised ideas the philosopher had written about a century earlier, including the rights of an accused to remain silent and mount a full and fair defence.

She was a stellar student, completing her law degree at the University of Montreal in 1967. She was admitted to the Quebec Bar the following year, joining the Montreal firm Lavéry de Billy as an associate. In 1979, she left to work in a number of public-service positions, including one in the commercial law division of the United Nations in Vienna. In 1981, she was appointed to sit on the Canadian Transport Commission; four years later, she became president of its water transport board. From 1986 to 1994, she was an associate deputy minister in the federal Ministry of Justice, working to bring federal legislation in line with Quebec civil law right around the time the province's new civil code was being adopted.

On July 5, 1994, she was appointed to the bench of the Quebec Superior Court, presiding over civil and family law cases until her retirement on July 30, 2010.

"She was so hard-working and modest, never bragging about her accomplishments," Ms. Cleman said.

"I often said to her, 'I don't know how you do what you do because there doesn't seem to be enough hours in the day.' The lessons she taught me and others were to be kind and watch out for people. Or, as I think of it, to simply emulate her."

Although she never married or had children, her youngest brother, Dominique Trahan, a criminal lawyer who worked in youth division of the provincial legal aid department, said his sister was fun and lighthearted.

"I was the only one of us to have to have children and she was the best babysitter we could ever get and the best godmother to our son," he said. "Even in the week before she died, we were with her and laughing.

She just brought joy to everyone."

Predeceased by her brother Etienne, Ms. Trahan leaves her brother Dominique, three nieces, a nephew and a host of others in the legal and cultural worlds who are still reeling from her sudden death.

Associated Graphic

In March, 2019, the archbishop of Montreal asked Anne-Marie Trahan to work through 70 years' worth of cases of alleged sexual abuse committed against minors in five Catholic dioceses in Quebec.


Week-long space odyssey marks 50th anniversary of voyage to moon
The Smithsonian's National Air and Space Museum puts restored Apollo 11 spacesuit back on display as astronaut Michael Collins returns to launch pad to mark the exact moment he, Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin blasted off
Wednesday, July 17, 2019 – Print Edition, Page A1

CAPE CANAVERAL, FLA. -- Apollo 11 astronaut Michael Collins returned Tuesday to the exact spot from which he flew to the moon 50 years ago with Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin.

Mr. Collins had the spotlight to himself this time - Mr. Armstrong died seven years ago and Mr.Aldrin cancelled.

Mr. Collins said he wished his two moonwalking colleagues could have shared the moment at the Kennedy Space Center's Launch Complex 39A, the departure point for humanity's first moon landing.

"Wonderful feeling to be back," the 88-year-old command-module pilot said on NASA TV.

"There's a difference this time. I want to turn and ask Neil a question and maybe tell Buzz Aldrin something, and of course, I'm here by myself."

At NASA's invitation, Mr. Collins marked the precise moment - 9:32 a.m. on July 16, 1969 - that the Saturn V rocket blasted off.

He was seated at the base of the pad alongside the Florida facility's director, Robert Cabana, a former space-shuttle commander.

Mr. Collins recalled the tension surrounding the crew that day. "Apollo 11 ... was serious business. We, crew, felt the weight of the world on our shoulders. We knew that everyone would be looking at us, friend or foe, and we wanted to do the best we possibly could," he said.

Mr. Collins remained in lunar orbit, tending to Columbia, the mothership, while Mr. Armstrong and Mr. Aldrin landed in the Eagle on July 20, 1969, and spent 21/2 hours walking the grey, dusty lunar surface.

A reunion Tuesday at the Kennedy firing room by past and present launch controllers - and Mr. Collins's return to the pad, now leased to SpaceX - kicked off a week of celebrations marking each day of Apollo 11's eight-day voyage.

In Huntsville, Ala., where the Saturn V was developed, some 4,900 model rockets lifted off simultaneously, commemorating the moment the Apollo 11 crew blasted off for the moon. More than 1,000 youngsters attending the city's U.S. Space Camp counted down "5, 4, 3, 2, 1!" - and cheered as the red, white and blue rockets created a gray cloud, at least for a few moments, in the sky.

The U.S. Space & Rocket Center was shooting for an altitude of at least 30 metres in order to set a new Guinness World Record. Apollo 15 astronaut Al Worden helped with the mass launching.

Also present were all three children of German-born rocket genius Wernher von Braun, who masterminded the Saturn V.

"This was a blast. This was an absolute blast," said spectator Scott Hayek, of Ellicott City, Md. "And, you know, what a tribute - and, a visceral tribute - to see the rockets going off."

Another spectator, Karin Wise, of Jonesboro, Ga., was 19 during Apollo 11 and recalled being glued to TV coverage. "So, to bring my grandchildren here for the 50 anniversary was so special," she said. "I hope they're around for the 100th anniversary."

At the Smithsonian's National Air and Space Museum in Washington, the spacesuit that Mr. Armstrong wore went back on display in mint condition, complete with lunar dust left on the its knees, thighs and elbows. On hand for the unveiling were U.S. Vice-President Mike Pence, NASA Administrator Jim Bridenstine and Mr. Armstrong's older son, Rick. Mr. Armstrong died in 2012.

A fundraising campaign took just five days to raise the $500,000 needed for the restoration. It was taken off display 13 years ago because it was deteriorating, museum curator Cathleen Lewis said.

Calling Mr. Armstrong a hero, Mr. Pence said "the American people express their gratitude by preserving this symbol of courage."

Back at Kennedy, NASA televised original launch video of Apollo 11, timed down to the second. Then Mr. Cabana, the director, turned his conversation with Mr. Collins to NASA's next moonshot program, Artemis, named after the twin sister of Greek mythology's Apollo. It seeks to put the first woman and next man on the lunar surface - the moon's south pole - by 2024.

President John F. Kennedy's challenge to put a man on the moon by the end of 1969 took eight years to achieve.

Mr. Collins said he likes the name Artemis and, even more, likes the concept behind Artemis. "But I don't want to go back to the moon," he told Mr. Cabana. "I want to go direct to Mars. I call it the JFK Mars Express."

Mr. Collins noted that the moon-first crowd has merit to its argument and he pointed out Mr. Armstrong himself was among those who believed returning to the moon "would assist us mightily in our attempt to go to Mars."

Mr. Cabana assured Mr. Collins: "We believe the faster we get to the moon, the faster we get to Mars as we develop those systems that we need to make that happen."

About 100 of the original 500 launch controllers and managers on July 16, 1969, reunited in the firing room Tuesday morning. The crowd also included members of NASA's next moon management team, including Charlie Blackwell-Thompson, launch director for the still-in-development Space Launch System moon rocket.

The SLS will surpass the Saturn V, the world's most powerful rocket to fly to date.

Ms. Blackwell-Thompson said she got goosebumps listening to the replay of the Apollo 11 countdown. Hearing Mr. Collins's "personal account of what that was like was absolutely amazing." The lone female launch controller for Apollo 11, JoAnn Morgan, enjoyed seeing the much updated firing room. One thing was notably missing, though: stacks of paper. "We could have walked to the moon on the paper," Ms. Morgan said.

Mr. Collins was reunited later Tuesday with two other Apollo astronauts at an evening gala at Kennedy, including Apollo 16 moonwalker Charlie Duke, who was the capsule communicator in Mission Control for the Apollo 11 moon landing. Only four of the 12 moonwalkers from 1969 through 1972 are still alive: Mr. Aldrin, Mr. Duke, Apollo 15's David Scott and Apollo 17's Harrison Schmitt.

Huntsville's rocket centre also had a special anniversary dinner Tuesday night, with some retired Apollo and Skylab astronauts and rocket scientists. Mr. Aldrin was set to attend, but was travelling Tuesday and likely wouldn't make it on time, a centre official said.

Mr. Aldrin, 89, hosted a gala in Southern California last Saturday.

NASA spokesman Bob Jacobs said Mr.Aldrin bowed out of the Florida launch pad visit, citing his intense schedule of appearances. Mr. Aldrin and Mr. Collins may reunite in Washington on Friday or Saturday, the 50th anniversary of Apollo 11's moon landing.

Associated Graphic

Visitors take selfies at the Smithsonian's National Air and Space Museum in Washington on Tuesday in front of the spacesuit worn by Neil Armstrong when he walked on the moon.


Kennedy Space Center director Robert Cabana, left, speaks with former astronaut Michael Collins at the facility's Launch Complex 39A, which served as the departure point for humanity's first moon landing 50 years ago.


Transit projects drive development out of downtown areas
Ventures in Quebec, Ontario seek to balance commuters' needs with economic growth outside major centres
Special to The Globe and Mail
Tuesday, July 16, 2019 – Print Edition, Page B6

From the window-lined third floor of Solar Uniquartier's first completed office tower, it looks as though anyone living, working, dining or shopping in the $1.3-billion development will have to sprint across four lanes of highway traffic to reach the Du Quartier light-rail transit station.

Thank goodness for finishing touches. Soon after the 2017 announcement of Greater Montreal's Réseau express métropolitain (REM) rapid-transit system, Solar Uniquartier's developer, Devimco Immobilier, modified its plans to include a direct pedestrian link to the nearby station. The pedestrian link is scheduled to open in 2021. By that time, Solar Uniquartier will be home to 2,600 housing units and 1.2 million square feet of commercial and office space.

The addition of a pedestrian bridge wasn't the only change prompted by REM's green-light to build another 67 kilometres of light-rail transit - making it the world's fourth-longest automated transportation system.

TRANSIT FUELS DEVELOPMENT OUTSIDE OF A CITY'S URBAN CORE "When we bought the land in 2013, we didn't have a firm answer about REM," says Marco Fontaine, Devimco's vice-president of residential building development. "We took a risk, and as soon as the line was confirmed, the tempo and scale of everything changed because demand took off."

The spike in demand was especially pronounced among commercial buyers and tenants, says Mathieu Bordeleau, Devimco's vice-president of development and operations. "KPMG has already leased about 11,000 square feet for a satellite office.

This kind of tenant wants to be in a well-connected environment that's fun and exciting, like downtown Montreal, but also doesn't need all its employees to commute downtown. It's about employee retention, and for some companies, it's also about paying lower rents."

Those are two of many interconnected factors fuelling a commercial development boom around impending transit infrastructure such as the $6.3-billion REM, the Greater Toronto Area's $1.4-billion Hurontario LRT, and the recent extension of weekday GO train service into the Niagara region. Rather than shuttling commuters between bedroom communities and downtown offices, the latest transit-oriented developments, or TODs, are focusing on the dual benefits of consistent transit use and economic development outside major city centres.

TODs have been important aspects of Canadian urban planning for decades, with developments along Toronto's Yonge subway line and around Vancouver's False Creek being two prominent examples. But because TODs have rarely extended into the suburbs, and have tended to be mostly residential, they have done little to change the unidirectional commuter transit flows of North America's major metropolitan areas.

PLANNERS ARE ADAPTING TO TRANSIT DEMAND "Transit planners are realizing that the old ways don't work," says Ahmed El-Geneidy, a professor at McGill University's School of Urban Planning. "If we want to spend billions of dollars on lightrail infrastructure, we need to have people going in both directions throughout the day. And the only way to do that is to have businesses, office space and employment opportunities not just in city centres, but in and around stations all along transit lines."

Many European planners have successfully developed suburban transit hubs that are attractive places to both live and work, Dr.

El-Geneidy says, pointing to hightech meeting spaces dubbed "Seats2meet" that are available to rent in Dutch stations. "Office space located in or near these nodes attracts many different kinds of businesses, from branch offices to startups to the shared workspaces that are popular with the younger generation."

While Canada "has not pushed commercial TOD enough," according to Dr. El-Geneidy, progress is being made where major transit expansions are now under way. Mississauga's Downtown21 Master Plan, for instance, aims to boost office space from 3.6 million square feet to 17 million square feet over the next eight to 10 years in the area around the gigantic Square One Shopping Centre.

One of the new developments in the thick of the planning overhaul, Camrost Felcorp's threeacre Exchange District, is proposing to combine more than 2,000 condo units with approximately 100,000 square feet of retail and office space, all of which will be seamlessly connected to the Hurontario LRT.

"The presence of the LRT and other forms of public transit means we don't need as much parking," says Joseph Feldman, Camrost's director of development. "This allows us to bury the parking underground and create a pedestrian realm at ground level, with commercial, retail and office space in a podium, and residential on top."

Leasing or buying office space in the Exchange District will "certainly be at a discount compared to downtown Toronto," he adds.

"I think it's the best investment in the GTA right now because of the future potential and upside transit will bring."

The mixed-use project isn't necessarily designed to allow residents to live and work in the same venue, Mr. Feldman says.

Rather, "it's about putting people on the ground at all times of the day, instead of always leaving in the morning and coming home in the evening. Our goal is to have a constant flow."

PARTNERSHIPS EMERGE AS PLANNERS AND DEVELOPERS FOLLOW TRANSIT Sound familiar? With developers and transit planners sharing this goal, innovative partnerships are taking shape. To fund REM's construction, for instance, the Caisse de dépôt et placement du Québec is phasing in a royalty fee of $10 a square foot for all new building permits granted within one kilometre of stations. In effect, this means Devimco Immoblier is paying more than $30million for Solar Uniquartier's nearby REM station.

Then there's the new GO train station in Grimsby, Ont., which is partly funded by real estate developers with assets in the area.

Slated to open in 2021, as GO Transit's new Niagara service expands, the station's official announcement caused an "immediate surge" in developer and investor interest, says Rino Mostacci, the Niagara Region's commissioner of planning and development services. New projects around the station include the Casablanca Corporate Centre, a five-storey building with 60,000 square feet of office space being developed by Homes By DeSantis and Rosart Properties.

This and other projects "would not have happened without the GO announcement," Mr. Mostacci adds. "From an investor perspective, the risk becomes much lower once a commitment has been made to reliable transit."

This commitment also benefits Grimsby's economy. "We weren't just looking at getting people into Toronto," says Diana Morreale, the Niagara Region's director of development approvals. "These transit stations benefit local employers because they're a good way to get employees into Niagara. They locate their business here, they bring their employees here and they contribute to our local economy."

Associated Graphic

Greater Montreal's Réseau express métropolitain (REM) rapid-transit system is a $6.3-billion project that is fuelling a development boom in the surrounding areas. REM is the world's fourth-longest automated transportation system.


Anchors aweigh
A self-guided boat trip along Ontario's Rideau Canal offers a chance to slow down and take in familiar scenery from a new perspective, Heather Greenwood Davis writes
Special to The Globe and Mail
Saturday, July 20, 2019 – Print Edition, Page P10

After a long day of travel, the glass of red wine I'm reaching for feels well-earned.

"You never used to drink wine," my mother, with one eyebrow raised, calls out from behind me. I laugh.

She must be thinking of the last time we travelled this way together: Just her, my dad and me.

I was 2 then.

My parents have joined my husband, two sons and me many times, but it has been more than 40 years since it was just us three. And the limited number of distractions means my parents are getting a closer look at me than they've had in years.

The decision to take them on this trip is a cliché because it's true: None of us is getting younger (although you wouldn't know it to look at my folks).

With a family and career on the go, days often feel like I'm running at warp speed. Selfishly, I find myself craving more focused time with all my loved ones, but my parents top the list. They were my first trip guides, and the inspiration for the roving life I lead. It feels fitting that we should chart new paths together, free of outside interruptions, at least one more time.

And so I booked this trip for us with Le Boat, a boat-chartering company celebrating 50 years in the European cruising industry this year. It launched in Canada in 2018, offering non-boaters the chance to be captain and crew of their own vessel on Eastern Ontario's Rideau Canal waterway. Neither my parents nor I have any boat-operating experience, never mind a boating licence. But after a 30-minute lesson - in which our instructor teaches us the difference between a throttle and thrusters, calmly offers suggestions when we're about to crash into the dock and double-checks that we know how to "put her in reverse" - we're left to our own devices.

It's just us now, with access to 202 kilometres of lakes, rivers and canals stretching from Kingston to Ottawa.

This isn't a speed boat. We max out at about seven kilometres an hour. Kids on the shore are literally outrunning us (although horseflies seem to have no problem hitching a ride). From our starting point at the Le Boat base in Smiths Falls, it takes us about five hours to reach our first stop of Westport. We could have driven it in 40 minutes. Still, when you're new and nervous, full-throttle feels a lot like Highway 401.

That slow pace is one of the gifts of this trip. The three of us settle into our roles quickly as we snake our way between a fairly well-marked path of green and red buoys. My dad finds the captain's chair and never lets go - intent on taking responsibility for our safety and well-being as he always has. My job is to navigate using the provided map, binoculars and Le Boat guides. My mom is second mate, which seems to mean she can shuffle between playing puzzles on her iPad, relaxing on the comfy bench inside and popping up occasionally to take a few photos.

But even she isn't entirely off-duty: When the time comes to enter a lock or tie up for the night, she takes her position at the rear ropes seriously.

Soon, we're relaxed enough to enjoy the views of hidden island cottages, point out turtles basking on shorelines and attempt photos of herons gliding through the air.

The beauty takes me by surprise. The Rideau Canal is the oldest continuously operated canal system in North America, but until now I've only ever experienced it in the winter, when a 7.8-kilometre stretch in central Ottawa is turned into the world's largest, naturally frozen skating rink.

At the speed we're moving, the serene waters and tree-lined shores can be appreciated. Dad and I get into a rhythm of navigating and steering. Small talk leads to revelations not meant for public articles in major newspapers.

In the evenings, we celebrate successful docking with board games and adventures into small towns.

In Westport, we pop up to the Scheuermann Winery for wood-fired pizza. In Perth, we wander the main street and take a quick peek at the gardens outside the Perth Museum. And that first glass of wine becomes a nightly shared event.

We don't get it all right.

At one point my navigator skills send us offcourse, and the tell-tale scraping of the boat bottom confirms we're in too shallow water. A speed-boating couple catches up to us and helps us make the correction, then follows us for a while to make sure we're comfortable again.

And then, of course, there's the natural tension that can come when three people who don't spend this much time together do.

With my parents as my sole companions, regression is immediate.

My go-to, curseheavy playlist is shuttled aside in favour of more family-friendly tunes.

And parental advice is instinctively met with defensiveness. I am a middleaged woman, but somehow, back with my parents, I find myself reacting with teenage exasperation, heavy sighs and eyerolling at comments that should roll off my back.

If I'm annoying them, they don't say it, but I do catch them sending tight-lipped, knowing looks at each other on occasion.

I see them making accommodations, too. They fuss over whether I'm hungry or comfortable, and one morning I hear whispered reminders between them, early risers both, that they need to be quiet because I'm sleeping. No one wants to wake the baby.

They can't stop being my parents any more than I can stop looking to them for approval.

On the one evening that I slip away from them to the top deck, I find myself seeking them out within 20 minutes for ice cream and a round of Jenga. Solitude isn't why I'm here.

I wanted this trip so that I could be with them, and I find myself regretting any minute where I'm not making the most of that.

And then, just like that, we're approaching the end of our trip. Wondering if my folks are feeling as melancholy about it as I am, I remind my mother that once we land back in Smiths Falls this afternoon, it will be over.

"Wait. I'm going to wake up in my own bed tomorrow?" she asks before muttering under her breath the thing we're all thinking. "That's gonna suck."

Heather Greenwood Davis was hosted by Le Boat.

It neither reviewed nor approved this story.

For more information, visit

Associated Graphic


You don't need a special licence to charter a vessel from Le Boat, above left and right. Heather Greenwood Davis and her parents, top right, took one for a cruise down Eastern Ontario's Rideau Canal. LE BOAT; HEATHER GREENWOOD DAVIS.

A celebration of Woolf
Dalloway Day has been established by a grassroots movement dedicated to recognizing the prolific writer's literary legacy
Special to The Globe and Mail
Saturday, July 13, 2019 – Print Edition, Page R12

A facsimile of Virginia Woolf's handwritten Mrs.Dalloway manuscript draft - complete with substantive revisions, alternate novel opening and ending written in the author's signature purple ink - was published in June for the first time. It's canny timing, because in recent years, a grassroots movement has also begun to observe an annual Dalloway Day in the same month, as a tribute to the prolific writer of essays, criticism and novels.

Since her death in 1941, Woolf's legacy has moved beyond literary circles into popular culture, from memoirs (Katharine Smyth's All the Lives We Ever Lived) and even menopause self-help books (What Would Virginia Woolf Do?) to Hollywood movies such as The Hours. In the sharp new comedy Booksmart, a handwritten sign on a teenage girl's bedroom door proclaims "A room of one's own."

It's equal parts warning and anthem, and a fitting detail for an ambitious high-school senior: The powerful essay of that name by Woolf is one of the great protofeminist polemics.

Celebrations of Dalloway Day include an evening discussion at the British Library (this year, between authors Monica Ali, Olivia Laing and Elif Shafak), as well as a reading at The Second Shelf, the new Soho bookshop dedicated to rare and collectible books by women. Named for author Meg Wolitzer's provocative 2012 essay on the persistent gender hierarchy in the book trade, the shop is one facet of a larger project by writer and bookseller Allison Devers to highlight the works of women and promote gender equality in the literary canon, past and present.

Woolf is one of the most collectible writers today, Devers says, but it wasn't always so. "The current demand for her books and work speaks to an important recognition and valuation that very few modern women writers have received in rare books," she explains. "Our literary heritage and culture is still predominately focused on celebrating men." Most of the writers' houses that are popular tourist destinations are houses famous for famous male writers, Devers says, as are occasions such as Bloomsday and Burns Night. Most of the blue heritage plaques on buildings around London that feature writers, artists and other acclaimed local citizens commemorate the lives of men, "So, of course, we need to start carving out space and places for the celebration of women writers. And Woolf's Mrs.

Dalloway is every bit as worthy and perfect of celebration and acknowledgment."

"Woolf's place in the larger canon is that she wears many different hats, and she has many roles to play simultaneously," says Elicia Clements, associate professor of humanities