After dislocating my finger, I'm forever grateful for my kids' love and concern
Photo: Freeimages.com – Adrian, Canada
I was 4 and I’ll never forget.
Our gazes locked. A kindergarten classmate; her eyes, red, swollen. Tears streamed down her face.
I felt something. You know the feeling. Starts in your heart, works its way through your throat, eyes, rolling like the surf crashing toward shore.
I cried. Because . . .
Being only tough and strong prevents boys and men from discovering their authentic selves
Photo: Freeimages.com – Josef Faustbeck
Take it like a man.
How often have you heard this expression? Or maybe one of its cousins: Man up. Don’t be a sissy. Be a man. Don’t cry.
When I played university football, emblazoned at the top of our dressing room, in huge, black lettering, read the words: INTIMIDATE AND DOMINATE.
I . . .
My son and I joined thousands for an Ottawa football celebration
A grey, drab, Tuesday morning. Ottawa awoke to a thin sheet of freezing rain coating the streets. By noon, the temperature had risen, the ice had melted and thousands of fans lined Bank Street for a victory parade to cheer on their football heroes and 2016 Grey Cup champions, the Ottawa Redblacks.
We parked on Fourth Avenue between Chrysler . . .
The Canadian Football League is quirky, exciting and intimate
The television’s blue-hued light flickered in the dark. “I hear someone coming,” I whispered to my brother. “Turn off the TV and hide!” The stairs creaked as Dad made his way downstairs to get a drink of water. We hid behind the laundry room door.
“Shh … be quiet or we’ll get in . . .