It’s an old saw, “If I’d known how much fun grandchildren would be, I’d have had them first.” In my case, things worked out that way. I’ve never had children. That’s a long story with some sad chapters, but what it means for me now is that I’ve skipped the hard part and gone...
I figured I should get my hair cut pretty short so that it would be wash-and-go for my trip to Australia. I had a coupon for a nearby hair salon and walked over this morning to get my unruly hair tidied for the journey. Women thrilled with the hair they were granted at birth...
The familiar quotation is attributed to Bette Davis. The exact wording varies but is along the lines of “Old age is no place for sissies.” How right she was. As body parts reach their best-before dates, curious and unwelcome failures start occurring. Even though people are healthier and vigorous for more years than ever...
© Photographer Angelo (italia) | Agency: Dreamstime.com He’s back. One of my favourite humorous writers has sent another poem. We’re surrounded by things that beep. The irritating sound is meant to alert us to some problem or other. Here’s what happened to Sterling Haynes. Beep — Beep — Beep — Beep I am becoming...
On December 30 Michael Dahl posed two questions in the title of his blog post on Speak for We: “Does blogging matter? Does it create change?” He was responding to the question David Henderson posed to himself that same day: “Does Blogging Matter in the Social Sector?” I promised to comment on Michael’s post...
Years as a country doctor, in Alabama and in B.C.’s central interior, gave Sterling Haynes insight into the gritty reality of his women patients. He also fathered four strong, independent, amazing daughters—who are also a reflection of his equally strong, independent, and amazing wife, Jessie. When he sent me this poem, he wrote: “Until...
In June 2010 Tom Wayman was in Kelowna, doing a reading from his newly published novel, Woodstock Rising. At the end someone asked him what he thought was the legacy of the Woodstock era. His answer was, “hope”. He said young people now know so much more than we did, but they have no...
Multiple sclerosis is a thief, an autoimmune disease that breaks into the brain and spinal cord, stealing the life those of us who have—so far—escaped such chronic health inroads consider “normal”. No one writes about it more eloquently than Denise Brownlie. She blogs for MS Village, which graciously allowed Catching Courage to republish this...
Regular visitors to Catching Courage will be familiar with the poetry of Sterling Haynes, who writes with both humour and compassion. Anyone who has walked the grey streets of Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside will understand the gritty reality behind this poem. My head is wound with hemp, I walk in the downpour and in the...
Mark Horvath used to be invisible, back when he was homeless. He knows what it’s like when people pass by without acknowledging his humanity. Now he has a home, work, and the drive to rip away the cloak of invisibility that makes our neighbours disappear to us when they fall on hard times. He...
We had a cat, my mother, brother and I. She was one of many animals who paraded through my childhood. This one was special, a pure-bred Siamese. I have no memory of how we acquired such a beauty. We would never have had money to buy her. But there she was, chocolate nose, paws...
This is a departure from my usual posts, but it’s been bugging me. And what do writers do when something’s bugging them? They write about it. Pogo used to be my favourite source of cartoon satire. The lead character was Pogo Possum, a generous, philosophical sort whose most famous line was, “We have met the...
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