sassykg • July 6, 2020

Every year, rain or shine, on July 1, Canada commemorates the anniversary of Canadian Confederation when three separate colonies of the Province of Canada united to become the Dominion of Canada. Canada Day, often called Canada’s birthday, is traditionally celebrated with parades, fireworks, barbecues and fairs. Sadly, this year, the Covid pandemic restrictions halted all such large public gatherings. My husband and I celebrated alone at our summer lake home, eating barbecued hamburgers and McCains french fries. Since we were not enjoying our usually active Canada Day, I decided to reflect on some distinctive Canadian characteristics.

For many Canadians, there are a multitude of uniquely Canadian symbols, sayings, and pastimes of which many of us are staunchly proud. Some underscore our culture, others celebrate our inventions, a few emphasize our accents, others are just plain silly and one is a revered and an almost sacred institution. Let me share a few examples that stand out for me.

Our monetary system is something that distinguishes us from many other countries. In 1987, we gave up our dollar bill (ostensibly to save money) and traded it for a gold coloured coin emblazoned with a solitary loon. Never ones to be subtle with our terminology, the national coin quickly became commonly called “the loonie”. I guess the cost savings were substantial enough that almost 10 years later (god forbid we make a hasty decision!) the toonie was born. The first cousin to the loonie, the toonie features a polar bear and replaced the few two dollar bills still in existence at the time. It seems it was too difficult to come up with a catchy name that captured the polar bear emblem. So toonie it was. After all, it is a two dollar coin and perhaps more importantly it rhymes with loonie!

On the lighter side of things, there are some distinctly “Canuck” idioms that most of the world would need to have interpreted. Here are a few of our more quirky ones:

Canuck – a Canadian citizen
Two-four (or two-fer) – a case of 24 beer
Kerfuffle- a big commotion caused by an argument
Double Double – a coffee available only at Tim Hortons (a Canadian Starbucks) so important that it is made available to our troops in Afghanistan

As far as I am concerned there is no distinguishable Canadian accent but my American friends beg to differ. Apparently I, and countless other Canadians, pronounce the word “about” with something that sounds akin to “aboot”. Ok, I will reluctantly concede this. However, there is one word that is undeniably etched in my vocabulary. I have no idea how this interjection became part of our national expression but I have to agree with the google search that says it is “used to indicate that you don’t understand something, can’t believe something is true or if you want the person to respond.” I am sure you understand-EH!

Another stereotype attributed to Canadians is our predisposition to politeness. Thank you and again let me say thank you to all who have observed this national characteristic whether correct or inaccurate. I know first hand that Canadians are capable of rudeness but would likely ask to be forgiven for it. Sorry, sorry!

Although we may beg forgiveness even when likely not required, we do not apologize for our Canadian inventions – some that might surprise you. Many are sports related like basketball, lacrosse, 5 Pin bowling and the hockey goalie mask. Ask any Canadian about the origin of ice hockey , you will be told with confidence that Canada is its birthplace. It most certainly has become our national sport.

Growing up in Canada, almost any Canadian, male or female from my era is assured of understanding this phrase and it’s accompanying musical introduction: Hockey Night in Canada! This regular Saturday night Canadian sports broadcast was either greeted with delight (mostly by males) or disdain (mostly by females). The teenage guys I knew were interested enough in the opposite sex to ask for a Saturday evening date. But it could never begin until after Foster Hewitt, the commentator, bid goodnight to the fans. In Winnipeg, where I lived, that was most often a late start. There is only so much time a girl can spend under that plastic hair dryer bonnet!!

My family and I have several connections with the hockey world which includes a hockey franchise owner and cousins and friends who have played in the NHL. A recent story can help illustrate how challenging playing hockey can be during the Covid crisis. A former NHL er (who shall go un-named but was the last person to play without a helmet!) has been working in a Scandinavian country as a general manager and coach. Away from his family for at least the last four months, our friend was scheduled to come home for 3 weeks, knowing he had to commit to 2 weeks self-isolation. Two days ago he was on the phone to his wife as he stood at a Swiss train station, ready to get to the airport. Another call interrupted their conversation. Here is what my girlfriend texted about the call he received:

“This is our life… I have a blog for you Kathy. Craig got a call from the team president as he is waiting for his train to Geneva. He tells Craig that he’s heard that now anyone arriving from out of the country will have to quarantine for 10 days- meaning it would be too tight for Craig to come home… as he is telling me this, we hear his train leave the station …Without Craig!!”
My friend is now heading to Switzerland next week to see her husband who says it is considered “essential travel!”
Gotta love Covid – EH?

Now I grant you that Hockey Night in Canada has long since (pre-Covid) morphed from the traditional single-game broadcast on Saturdays to multiple games being aired throughout each week. Add the fact that the original six team league currently boasts 31 teams, and only seven are in Canada, one could say that Hockey Night in Canada may have lost relevance. However, I believe the significance of the popular weekly broadcasts has not been abandoned, evidenced by the NHL’ s current and valiant attempt to complete playoff games that lead to the Stanley Cup. The logistics involved boggle the mind. Testing, quarantining, organizing accommodation are just a few. But one thing I can say with confidence: the long-standing Canadian love affair with hockey will continue through this pandemic. “He shoots he scores” will be heard for years to come.

Here’s to Hockey Night(s) in Covid! And thanks for reading. Sorry if I may have offended!!


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Kathy's Blog

Aging: Boldness and Courage

By K Grieve • February 20, 2026
“Helen Mirren, who turned 80 in 2025, rejects the term “aging gracefully,” preferring to describe her approach as "aging with fun, commitment, and unapologetic realism". She advocates for embracing the natural process of getting older as a "beautiful thing" rather than fighting it, encouraging others to live in the moment and accept physical changes.” Aging is not for the faint of heart! It creeps up on you before you actually know it’s happening. It demands courage, boldness, wisdom, resilience, and realism. Add to that, growing older centers on the stories you carry and the memories you hold. For me, many of those lessons were learned from stories about my mother’s life, her choices, and the way she met hardship and joy. How Mom lived her life gave me my first understanding of what it means to live and to age with determination. My mother Marjorie lived until 95. Mom’s married life was pretty much emblematic of her generation. A devout Catholic, she learned the hard way that the ‘Rhythm Method’ (the practice of choosing specific days for intimacy to avoid pregnancy) of birth control was not in the least dependable. Think five kids with the last, our youngest brother Doug, born when my mom was 40. She smoked Crave M cigarettes. Back then, you could send a kid to the local drugstore with a quarter and a note to the pharmacist to get your cigarettes. Unheard of in today’s world. Almost weekly, my mom made homemade bread which filled the house with a yeasty and comforting smell. And her doughnuts were the talk of the neighborhood. Deep-fried and laid out on brown paper to cool, she dipped them in sugar, and we ate them while they were still warm. It was one of Mom’s ways of showing us love: one delicious donut at a time! My mom’s early life was less typical. Born in 1921 in Saskatchewan, she was a child of the Dust Bowl era. The middle child of six kids, she had a pleasing personality and was known as a hard worker. Perhaps that explains why, when she was just nine years old, she was sent to her Aunt Kate, where she helped in the Red and White store that Kate managed. Mom cried her eyes out for a year after she arrived because she missed home. Seven years later, she cried her eyes out when she was sent back home. My mom met those challenging years away from home with realism that helped to shape her resolve and solidified her perseverance. Her way of handling hardships and setbacks helped shape my understanding of how to approach life’s highs and lows. Looking back, it’s hard not to appreciate Mom’s handling of her early life challenges. At a time when most children are living with their parents and siblings, she learned to adapt, work, and endure separation. The tears marked her sadness, but the fact that she endured it speaks to her strength and courage. As she aged, life asked more of her, not less. She met aging the only way she knew: steadily and cheerfully. Aging didn’t soften her resolve; it strengthened it. My mother was lucky in many important ways. She was surrounded by her family and wonderful caregivers that went above and beyond the call of duty. In the last chapter of her life, she lived with my sister Gail and her partner Andrew. Helped by my other siblings, she was given something money can’t buy: a life that felt like hers. One special caregiver, Helen, understood that caring for another is more than schedules and medications. She would play one of Mom’s favourite songs, and the two would dance, smiling and giggling as they moved to the rhythm of the song. And God only knows why Mom had a parrot for a pet; a parrot that hated everyone but Mom. That bird squawked and tried to attack anyone who entered: except my mom. Strange as it may seem, that annoying parrot triggered my mom’s lifelong ability to tolerate difficult personalities. It seems to me that Mom’s life may have slowed, but it remained rich. Hearing my mom’s stories showed me that tears do not mean fragility. Tears mark courage, determination, and boldness. Now, as I grow older, I begin to see these same qualities as the core to aging. Aging hasn’t softened me: it has required me to stand more firmly, speak more directly, and, like Mom, to keep moving forward with resolve. “Do not go gentle into the night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.” (Dylan Thomas) For most of my life, I believe I have been considered outspoken. But with aging, I have honed that characteristic to a fine point. Not long ago, I was part of a conversation about “the state of the world.” All of us were well into our seventies. We lamented days gone by and talked about how chaotic and fractured everything seems and how our reality is disturbing and disconcerting. The group represented different points of view, and the talk moved rather awkwardly but cautiously into politics. Definitive statements were made as if all would agree. Boldness took over me! I spoke up, standing my ground without apology. I felt something in me shift. It would have been easy to try to smooth things over, but instead, I chose to be bold and stand my ground. I am older now and believe aging is not about retreating from the world. It’s about resolve and courage in the face of opposition. Aging, of course, isn’t just philosophical. It shows up in physical ways. Knees and hips need replacing, bodies that don’t bounce back the way they used to, medications and vitamins galore to swallow. And tragically for some, illnesses occur that can be life-threatening. There is no bravery in pretending otherwise. But boldness and courage still have a place here. They help in deciding to face head-on what lies ahead, to ask the right questions, and to endure treatment and recovery. Aging asks us to be realistic, accepting the challenges aging can present. Aging isn’t always about changes to ones body but the evolving nature of our character. Inspired by my mother, I now feel that I am entering a period of my life where I am more determined to uphold my principles and stand up for the things that I believe. Time won’t always be on your side. It’s the simple truth, and it’s no surprise. But now and then, like my mom, there is still time for a dance!! “The years teach much which the days never know.” (Ralph Waldo Emerson)

Inner City Hope

By K Grieve • January 9, 2026
Inside One Inner City School and the People Who Refused to Look Away Every morning, there are children who walk to an inner city elementary school in Edmonton Alberta carrying backpacks far heavier than books. Some of the weight is invisible: fear, hunger, worry. Burdens that no child should be forced to endure. The daily journey to school is not the “stuff” of fairytales. These young students must step carefully over sleeping bodies-the smell of alcohol and human waste filling the air. They pass by unhoused men and women bundled up in rotting blankets as they huddle on concrete doorways. People shooting up drugs is a regular scene. Some of these people the kids know-some are even family members. Shocking? unthinkable? Not for many of these children. It is simply the reality of their childhood. Inside the school walls, conversations are a chorus of languages and a mosaic of accents and cultures. Many have emigrated to Canada and English isn’t their first language. Some are Indigenous children. Some are housed in shelters or even live on their own. Most are trying to learn how to be heard, struggling with how to tell teachers they have a tummy ache or to confess they are afraid. Yet they are all determined to belong, to be noticed, to be loved and to have hope. Far too many arrive hungry, their empty stomachs growling. Food insecurity is a reality. No breakfast nor lunch packed in cute little personalized lunchboxes. Kim, a dedicated teacher at the school told me there is a breakfast program the school calls “morning meal” that is available to all kids. It may be simple but it matters greatly-yogurt, bananas and sandwiches are given to any child who needs it. There is no formal lunch program, so when extra food is available, it is saved for students without lunch. Slim pickings by most standards. During the school day, these children carry a heavy weight of uncertainty; they are not sure how to make sense of addition and subtraction, not sure what the teacher is saying, not sure where their next meal is coming from, not if the person greeting them at home is friend or foe. The uncertainty fuels their anxiety. The uncertainty robs them of joy. The uncertainty intensifies their fear. Beyond this there are stories even more disturbing. Abuse. Neglect. Physical violence. These realities have taught some children to be on their guard and to always be on the defensive. These children are not “difficult.” They are hurt. A number of the children arrive each day living in what we adults call “fight or flight”. Their antennae are on high alert. Teachers gently tell them how to breathe, how to name feelings and how to calm their bodies. As if these challenges weren’t already overwhelming, the school faces a constant battle with head lice. Despite these struggles, teachers and school administrators show up, day after day, ready to provide stability and predictability. They notice who hasn’t eaten or who is wearing the same clothes day after day. These teachers wear many hats. They are educators, counsellors and protectors. Most classrooms in this school follow a “trauma informed approach”: soft lighting, minimal clutter, consistent routines and predictable schedules. For children whose lives are filled with trepidation, school becomes their dependable constant. The goal isn’t just academics-it’s helping children feel safe and strong enough to begin to heal. Enter my friend Deb! Deb, who is affectionately called Miss Deb, volunteers at this challenging school. Two to three times a week she shows up at the school and does what committed school volunteers do. She gives her time, her heart and her presence to children who need all three. Kim says this about Deb. “I can recall a moment this fall where a student was upset. I was trying to distract him and get him thinking positively so he would calm down. I asked him to tell me things that made him happy. He listed three things. One of them was Miss Deb.” That says it all. But for Deb the stories she hears about the kids have keep her up at night, anxious and worrying. Could there be some tangible way to help? Deb knew the principal and staff had been working for a long time to secure the funding needed to build a new playground for the school. They managed to raise some of the money but were short by $35,000 to make the playground a reality. And for that reason, Deb sent out a heartfelt plea to community members to help fund the long needed play ground. This could not be some ordinary playground. Because of the surrounding environment, it needed to be “ special”: fully enclosed and carefully designed to protect the kids from hazards, like discarded needles from drug use. This playground had to be designed to prevent it from being used as sleeping spaces for the homeless or individuals affected by addiction. What should be a simple place to play must also be a protected space where children can feel safe and simply just be children. And then something special happened. Deb’s plea did not fall on deaf ears. Within minutes of Deb’s email being sent, the local community stepped up. The response was overwhelming. One donor, a well known Edmonton philanthropist, immediately responded and pledged the full $35,000! Others stepped up as well. And most recently a charitable foundation matched the $35,000 which will fund other critical school priorities. It was an astonishing level of generosity and a reminder of how much people care when they are asked. As a former teacher and one who has spent years in public service in Edmonton, I have witnessed first hand how these serious struggles intersect - each intensifying emotional and physical strain. Poverty, homelessness, addiction and family violence are profoundly intensified by our already strained and outdated support systems. Certainly, this local community response was remarkable. It’s proof of the power of a combination of compassion and generosity. This story exemplifies that help can be available when need is shared; it underscores the positive and critical impact of volunteerism. “Sometimes miracles are just good people with kind hearts” But it also leaves us with a bigger and more disturbing question: What can we do as a society to address the deep challenges that at-risk children face? How can we break the cycle that has trapped them? How can we help them envision a brighter future? A playground is a powerful beginning, but it cannot carry the weight.