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The Full Story

Another Day

 These are stories and writings about another day. I tried not to put more into it, leaving the reader with just a viewpoint or snapshot of what happened. Sometimes the back story is inferred, what happens next is for the reader to decide for themselves. Some are stories, some are just how I felt or what I observed on that given day. 


The Window:

This story was originally inspired by observing a child playing with their grandfather’s hand. It reminded when you see a mother bear and her cubs in the wild. The cubs are always bouncing around the mother, while she remains stoic and indifferent to their intrusions. This grandfather was doing the same thing. This incident happened around Christmas, so I imagined what may be going on in his head. At a time that is so closely associated with family, I wondered what could be meditating on while his grandchild continued to investigate the creases and folds of his hand.


My grandfather, The Reverend. Canon Dr. George Smith, a stoic, firm and serious man inspired me for the character. I was inspired by my grandmother also, a soft and kind woman, not quite his foil, but able to compliment him and be his soft side. After many years of marriage she knew how to listen to him, paying attention to the important things, and softly absorbing his blustering free-thought. She would never dismiss him, always listened, but knew when to and when not to react. George and his wife were a terrific couple, complimenting each other while fulfilling their respective roles in life. 

Xena and Beer:

This began as an observation of two man-boys watching Xena, Warrior Princess.

Black Flower Duet:

Over the course of my lifetime I have seen the hardship of life especially through disease. Some of us are fortunate enough to have someone to accompany them through the progression of the disease. In the story, Thalia is treated to an experience of unexpected beauty while facing her finality. A gift given to her by someone who is accompanying her on her final journey. They do not ask for anything in return, they just want to bathe in the moment together.

I Woke Up Today:

I have been living with MS for over 40 years, at times it is very difficult to see all the blessings I have in this world. I wrote this piece as a reminder for myself that despite having this terrible disease, I still have it good.

Come Melinda:

One of the worst things in life is for a parent to bury their child. I knew the family for a few years and Melinda’s battle with brain cancer, and the effect and the terror inflicted on her parents because of it. I was privileged to see Melinda the night before she passed away. What struck me was that she continued to fight to the very end – and it was my thought that she needed peace.


Monet’s Gardens:

I refuse to talk about this story. Due to the ambiguity of the story, readers have presented me with a multitude of different interpretations. I leave it up to the reader to generate their own interpretation.

Ali and the Cello:

I met Ali at a small, downtown diner on a very hot summer day. She informed me that she had bought a cello and was learning how to play it. On this day, she was going back to her apartment to open the windows, strip down, try to keep cool and just enjoy playing a cello. Most musicians I know have become friends with their instrument, having fond memories of traveling around the world with their instruments. I’d hope Ali would be one of them.

The Orange:

I am always amazed by the amount of outrage that can be sparked but the smallest of “things.” When you have a group of people with various personalities together, it is always surprising to see what the different viewpoints and reactions are. I enjoyed writing about such outrageous, righteous indignation and the reaction to the outburst.

The Question of Father Michael:

Raised in the Anglican faith, I spent my youth as a choirboy at St. James Cathedral in Toronto. There, as a choirboy I had incredible experiences including singing some of the most beautiful music in an opulent church. When I was thinking about writing Father Michael, I thought of Warren Eling. Whom I had the honour of knowing.

The question of Father Michael is split in two: the beauty and opulence of the church, and what it meant to be a good Christian. I saw that in Father Eling, and in the good work that he did.

Decades later, late night news flash, an Anglican Priest had been murdered in Montreal – it was Father Eling. He had picked somebody up at a gay bar and was killed. Afterwards it was confirmed to be a sex act gone wrong, not murder. Still, it hit me like a ton of bricks that this great, Christian man was still a man, seeking human comfort like any one of us. It felt like one of my touchstones had been ripped away from me. I hope The Question of Father Michael gives Father Warren Eling the reverence he deserves.

The Gurus:

Sometimes the absurdity of life can present itself. What would happen if the mafia goes to an advertising agency to retool their image? How would the advertising agency fulfill that request?


Sometimes we need to look at the microcosm of daily life, and sometimes within that microcosm there is so much to be seen in the lives of families and couples. Sunset was an examination of just one day that many people could relate to. Nothing more, nothing less, just a day.


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