The Flex, Onward to Wheelhalla

Our societal reliance on automobiles is by no means a great thing, but an interesting side-effect in some cases are the attachments we develop to these animate objects. I feel like these thoughts and feelings are like energy - is it possible they go someplace?

I hate buying vehicles - I don't feel I have the power or even inclination to negotiate effectively and as a result I probably paid too much for a two-year-old, high-mileage vehicle in 2012. But our 2002 Taurus wagon was getting long in the tooth and the transmission a little sloppy, so rather than take it over the mountains in December to visit my mum in Osoyoos, we traded it in for a 2010 Ford Flex with spotty paint on the hood and 72,000 klicks on it already. It ended up being the best vehicle we ever owned.

Part of that quality was in the reliability - outside of wear and tear items like brakes and shocks, it never needed any sort of real mechanical work until it had over a quarter million km on the clock, and precious little even after that.

The Flex was also renowned for its interios space, seating seven (if a couple of them were petite. It also had an enormous cargo capacity, one time allowing us to move a three-person sofa from Leon's to home (with the driver's seat pushed up uncomfortably close to he steerig wheel but still...

G&G 2016

My affection for the Flex far transcended its steadfast nature or the fact it was a smart purchase. The bulk of the mileage may have been the 35 km commute for eight years, but that rig took us the four of us (and two different dogs) to so many places, starting with Waterton National Park and Going-to-the-Sun Road in 2014.

Going to the Sun Road 2014

Vancouver Island Road Trip 2015

Kootenay National Park 2017

Glory's 18th Covid Birthday 2020

And not enough pictures were taken inside of the Flex, where a comfortable second row bench seat accommodated both kids watching musicals on long road trips, and grownups wanting to sleep, read, or even have a beer while watching the scenery. 

To Thompson MB 2013

Going to the Sun Road 2014

Glacier NP 2014

Suffice to say, the Flex has been our trusted steed and what feels like our boon companion for some time now - more than half of Fenya's life, as it turns out!

But all good things must come to an end, and it has been five years now since we passed this milestone while driving to Jasper.

September 2021, outside Edson

We ordered a replacement vehicle in January of '24, and the 'Lander finally arrived on Easter of '25. Fenya has been driving the Flex since then, and I sold it to her in February of this year so she could eventually sell it for a decent commuter ride. A couple months after that, the terminal diagnosis arrived: oil and coolant leakages, costing a prohibitive amount to repair.

Fenya continued to drive it cautiously, palliatively perhaps, until she replaced it with a 2015 Escape a couple of weeks ago. Unwilling to endure the nuisance and tire-kickers that a private sale would require, she ended up calling Pick n Pull who were willing to pay a modest amount. They arrived to tow it away last Tuesday.

We watched from the living room window as the unlit taillights receded from view for the final time, and Fenya said, "Is it weird that I feel a little sad to see it go?"

I shook my head. "Not at all," I said. "That car was a big part of our lives for 14 years. It took you and Glory to school and choir and dance, carried us all to Thompson or Hudson Bay on our way to Churchill maybe a dozen times, towed the trailer out to our campsites every summer, including a big trip to Vancouver Island...It never let us down, never stranded us, got us and sometimes lots of stuff to where we were going without fail."

"I think it is natural for us to have some affections for things that serve us so well for so long. And just because we know rationally that the Flex doesn't have a mind or spirit or soul, doesn't mean that all those feelings we attached to it over so many years are without significance."

She nodded. "I feel more like I am saying goodbye to family pet or something."

"I know!" I replied. "Like we are telling ourselves the Flex is going to live on a farm or something, like a horse being ut out to pasture..."

And as much as I would have loved to find a family with kids who needed something to get them to school and who knew a mechanic who could keep it running for a while, there was no chance of doing that in a timely fashion. Having the parts go to keep other cars on the road a little longer feels like the best alternative; more like an organ donation and less like a horse led to the glue factory.

But at the same time, all those thoughts, those memories, that simply preposterous affection for an amalgamation of metal, plastic and wires - where do they go?

I don't even know how I feel about a possible afterlife for humans, let alone automobiles, but a part of me hopes that the Flex is remembered for a while, for its faithful service and the journeys and adventures it facilitated. That somewhere beyond the finite, those thoughts and feelings aglomerate and take on some sort of substance extraneous to those who constructed them.

If there is a Wheelhalla, I hope our Flex is there, honoured and celebrated as it is truly due. Perhaps it can meet the cars of my ancestors, like the TravelAll that brought us to Alberta when I was six, or my father's Ford Falcon from before I was born.

Ah, it's a nonsensical idea. But I tell you with only a small degree of embarassment that when I walked Canéla on Tuesday morning before the tow truck arrived, I made sure we passed the Flex and I patted its hood and I said aloud, "thanks, and Godspeed."

The One I Missed - Autumnal Geekquinox 2026

Yesterday I tendered my most sincere regrets for my first Geekquinox dinner since Pete started hosting them way back in 2011.

It couldn't be helped; the cold I am fighting settled into my chest, and even if I was feeling better, I would not risk infecting everyone else. So Audrey went without me and I went to bed before 11 and didn't wake up until the following afternoon.

But I was still up when Audrey came home and showed me the wee takeaway container Pete and Ellen had put together for me and I was very nearly overwhelmed. 

And I know Pete appreciates seeing his excellent work commemorated on my blog, so I am using the frayed remainder of my faculties to put together my first takeaway Geekquinox post!

The theme this time was another "Best of" dinner, where guests were encouraged to reflect back over their favourite dishes from the previous thirty-odd Geekquinoxes (Geekquinoctes?) and submit their requests - a task as laborious as it was elementary. There are too many excellent dishes to choose from to make the decisions easy, and compound that with my own increasingly unreliable memory...

Surprisingly, my memory came up with a suggestion without delay, which I kept to myself, knowing the difficulty in preparing the dish. But when Pete re-entered the email thread looking for more suggestions, I ventured forth: "If you are going wide open, it is impossible for me to pass up the opportunity for Beef Wellington..."m a sentiment quickly seconded by another guest.

In case you are unaware, Beef Wellington is a notoriously tricky dish consisting of a beef tenderloin slathered in a mushroom and herb mince paste (duxelles), then baked whole inside puff pastry. It is exquisite, and possibly the very tastiest beef dish I have ever eaten. I have only had it once, and if Pete ever goes vegan, odds are I will never have it again, because I simply do not have the minerals to attempt it myself.

But he's a game fish, our Pete is, so he added it to the menu!

He even sent a picture of it the night before, showing it in its uncooked state!

Obviously less than half the menu was suitable for leftovery so I cannot comment on the hamachi shots (one of my all time faves as well) or the pear and pomegranate salad, but for a dinner party I wasn't even at, my takeaway box was substantial:

Inside you can see (from left) a robust slice of Beef Wellington, an atomic buffalo turd and three different types of compound butter.

I started with the ABT, a crowd hit that, blessedly, returns periodically and is more welcome than the swallows of Capistrano. A halved and seeded jalapeno pepper, stuffed with cayenne-enhanced cream cheese, topped with a piece of smoked sausage, wrapped in bacon and smoked on Pete's Big Green Egg before being drizzled with homemade barbecue sauce.

Reheating it in the microwave meant I lost a little bit of the cream chese filling - maybe misplaced is better than lost, as even the attempted runaways were apprehended and devoured. The filing tasted a little spicier than usual to me, but not unpleasantly, although perhaps this wasn't the best thing to break my fast with? Whatevs. Still one of the most delicious appies out there.

While I waited for the beef to heat up on a foil-wrapped tray in the oven, I turned my attention to the compound butters and the two dinner rolls that had accompanied them. The honey was delicious, even though I am more of a savoury than sweet guy, the garlic was amazing, but the blue cheese remains my favourite.

By the time I was done using a bun corner to mop out the buttery end of the dish, the oven timer beeped and I removed the foil, putting the tray back in to give the pastry a fighting chance after a night in a fridge and 20 minutes under aluminum..

This seems to have worked as the beef was well heated all the way through (and it was a bit of a slab) but the pastry maintained a bit of crispiness as well.

From an experimental point of view, I probably should have tried a bit of the beef from the centre by itself, to see if the flavour from the duxelles permeated that far on its own, but in truth, I just could not be arsed. Each fork was a careful composition of beef, pastry and delicious mince, in a variety of concentrations, and all of them were exquisite. Like, I don't want to oversell this, but from my perspective, Beef Wellington is a perfect balance of texture and flavour. The rich sharpness of the duxelles complements the pastry precisely, and the beef was a tender medium rare that a man with no teeth could have enjoyed. Amazing!

I paused in my writing to take the Key lime pie from the refrigerator and eat it. As expected, it does not disappoint! Tart, swet, tangy and creamy on that classic graham cracker crust. The only disappointg part was that I neglected to photograph it before demolishing it. Delicious!

So here I sit, a day later, still ill, but comforted by delicious homemade food. I lament not catching up with my friends and the stories and jokes that were no doubt shared, but take even more contentment from the sentiments of the other guests (and hosts!), and knowing we will all be together again before too long. 

Thanks again Pete and Ellen!

Oil Crisis (of Conscience)

It could have been practically anyone else, but last week, the Edmonton Oilers announced the signing of Alex Formenton, one of the "London Five."  These are the infamous players from the national juniors team who were arrested in 2024 for an alleged sexual assault that took place in London, Ontario in 2018. All 5 players were acquitted.

The circumstances of the case are troubling and the details can be found elsewhere, but at the end of the day, a young woman agreed to go back to a hotel room with a young hockey player, but more teammates showed up by his invitation. Questions remain about what consent actually means when you are potentially inebriated, as well as intimidated and outnumbered 5:1 by burly hockey players.

After the acquittal in tJuly of 2025, their collective suspension from the NHL stood until they were reinstated by the league and eligible to return after December 2025. Two other members of the five have found a home on NHL teams as well, Dillon Dubé for the St. Louis Blues and Carter Hart, whose playoff run with the Vegas Knights last year was marked by opposing fans chanting "no means no" whenever he took to the ice. The players' union (NHLPA) argued that all the players should have been eligible to return to work following their acquittal despite breaching the NHL code of conduct. 

And this is the argument many people are making to defend the Oilers decision to offer a place to Formenton: without a guilty charge, without a league suspension, why shouldn't the Oilers give him a second chance? It's not like he (or they) did anything illegal?

While this is true, it is not reasonable to say in this case that "not guilty" equates to "innocent."

Regardless of the ability to prove a case in a court of law, where the onus in sexual assault cases is on the accuser to prove their position, we can establish that some serious wrong was done, and that the players involved knew this.

People who say "it was consensual" or "that puck bunny wanted a wild night" are choosing to ignore text messages showing the second guessing by the players themselves ("am I allowed to do this?") and obvious attempts to get their stories straight. 

More damning though is the testimony from the victim, EM, herself, stating she tried to get dressed and leave multiple times, sometimes while crying, only to have her way blocked or an arm placed in front of her by one of the players.

None of this behaviour endears any of these males (I won't call them men) to me because I believe consent can be withdrawn at any time. I also believe that texting teammates with offers of a three-way or oral sex to indulge in porn film fantasies with an intoxicated woman is generally reprehensible.

But defenders are correct in their assertion that there was no crime committed. Guess what though?

That doesn't make it right. Not by a long chalk.

Formenton and the others didn't have to go to jail, fine. I won't think he should be denied a livelihood, even though at one point he had told everyone he had moved past hockey and was going to work in construction. No, playing hockey at a lower level in Switzerland is a perfectly acceptable form of 21st century exile. 

Why shouldn't the biggest league in hockey reserve itself for not only great athletes but also people of good, or at least decent, character?

Many Oilers fans are saying they have had enough. That the hiring of manager Stan Bowman (after not addressing the sexual abuse of one of his own players while managing with the Chicago Blackhawks), followed by Mike Babcock as coach (after being accused of brutally bullying his players and getting released by Columbus after demanding players show him the photo rolls on their phones) and now Formenton, is sending a message that this organization does not care about character, and are doublng down on a philosophy of not just winning first but winning only. That public perception is an afterthought, if it occurs to them at all.

I have to say I am most disappointed in Captain Connor McDavid. Let the front office make a business case justifying $850K for a reportedly average player who came very close to being a convicted sex offender, but the team captain? The guy supposed to lead on the ice and in the locker room? His statement on Formenton was the most vacuous of nothing-burgers: "“Listen, I think he’s gone through a process. He’s been transparent through the process, and that process has led him here today, and it’s a great opportunity for him.”

It was, perhaps unsurprisingly, nearly identical to Formenton's own statement: “I think throughout this whole process, I’ve been open and honest about my actions in it,” said Formenton afterward. “Given that, and being open and honest, I think that has granted me an opportunity today.” Where is the accountability? The compassion for the victim? The contrition? Has he ever asked for forgiveness?

Let's contrast McDavid's stale, canned response to Patrice Bergeron of the Boston Bruins. After learning that recently signed 20-year-old Mitch Miller had admitted in juvenile court to abusing, bullying and taunting a developmentally delayed classmate, calling him racial slurs and making him eat a candy that had been wiped in a urinal, that captain said, "To be honest with you, the culture that we’ve built here goes against that type of behavior. We’re a team that’s built something about character, character people and individuals. What he did, obviously, is unacceptable and we don’t stand by that.

"For me, I know for myself, anyways, in this locker room, we’re all about inclusion, diversity, respect. Those are key words and core values that we have. We expect guys to wear this jersey to be high-character people with integrity and respect. That’s how they should be acting."

The Bruins reversed the signing two days later.

Meanwhile in Edmonton, some fans are putting away their jerseys for the season. They are cancelling Sportsnet. They are refusing to buy tickets. 

Superfan Mama Stanley has not only withdrawn support for the team she once loved, but has started a petition asking the Oilers to reverse the decision to sign Formenton. "I've cried in waves," she writes, because I feel betrayed by an organization I have proudly loved and represented for years."

"Losing Game 7 two years ago meant losing a Stanley Cup; this feels like losing a team I have loved with all my heart for most of my life."

I came back to watching the Oilers after a long absence during their 2006 Cup run. I became a fan in part because of the guts and determination displayed by the team, but even more because of the character shown by players like Ryan Smyth.

I want to feel good about my team, that they are worth my time and loyalty. And this current iteration of the team just isn't.

So I am done, at least for this season.

I won't watch any games, even if they make it to the playoffs. I won't wear their jersey, I won't even follow their results on the news if I can help it. I have not only signed Mama Stanley's petition, I have donated funds to help circulate it. As of Sunday night, the petition has garnered 60,399 signatures. Wow!

Will the Oilers listen? I kind of doubt it. And that's their choice - after all, no one broke the law here. 

But by ignoring the outrage, regardless of ticket sales, they are setting themselves up to be the villains of the league, while burning up a half-century of pride, goodwill and community support.

PSA: The Alberta Referendumb

If you think it is dumb and needless, you're right!
If you think you can ignore it, you're wrong.

Having successfully broken public education and healthcare, the grifting monsters who run my province are turning their sights on Confederation now. 

To appease the Christian Nationalists and racists within their own base, the UCP is holding a non-binding referendum on October 19 to ask Albertans if the province should remain in Canada.

So yeah, it is a referendum asking if we should have another referendum. And this is after the greassroots organization Forever Canadian gathered 400,00 signatures in 90 days clearly stating, no, we do not want to separate! But no, instead, these signatures got lumped in with the allegedly 300,000 signatures the separatist movement collected over a longer time period.

Even more telling are the nine other questions on this ballot regarding immigration and the Canadian constitution. There are plenty of guides outlining them and how out of step with Canadian values they are, and I like this "kNOw the nine" guide by Alberta Voices, but at the end of the day, every yes answer to the nine other questions is support to the seppies, and I will not have it.

If you honestly believe that immigration and Federal intereference are the cause the majority or even a significant portion of our problems in Alberta and not this criminally incompetent provincial government, I assume you have either stopped reading already stopped reading or have been scared off by multisylabbic words.

If you are on the fence, or think that, given the amount of grumbling you are hearing, maybe the separatists have a point - please don't. Because they don't.

Separatism is a non-starter here. It has never polled above 20% and is not driven by any kind of vision of a prosperous future, but by the worst and miost divisive kind of grievance politics. Funded and supported by rich people and bot farms from outside of Canada, and even the Premier has admitted it. 

Don't believe me? Read the words of the people backing them up, like Mark Sylvestre, or Bruce McAllister or David Parker. 

Or, better yet, read their nonsensical "Transition Plan" that they recently released, and promises that this new nation will not be shattered by debt, ostracized by the rest of Canada and much of the western world, or susbsumed by the U.S. but be safe and prosperous right out of the gate, defended by noble unicorn cavalry and pigs delivering bitcoin royalty payments to all citizens. Or something.

At this point, if someone tells me they are actually planning to support separation in the referendum, my response is likely to be, "Really? See, I find that surprising because I know I don't know you all that well, but you don't come across as either a Christian Nationalist or an overt racist..."

Anyways, never mind all that - what's important is that even though this whole separatist vote thing is a non-starter, and a smokescreen for actual, fixable issues, every Albertan needs to show up.

Because every single separatist will vote.

And they are hoping you won't. 

The seppies are going to show up in droves, unless there is a literal earthquake or the polling station is in flames. And maybe even then. Low voter turnout drags this embarassing, economically damaging sideshow out even longer than it has already (and will likely continue until the UCP are voted out). 

And to make matters worse, the referndumb is not only needless, and expensive, it is procedurally a complete shitshow by any measure:

• Elections Alberta is understaffed
• Elections Alberta is underresourced - they were denied the additional funding they requested to deal with recall petitions earlier this year and this referendum
• Elections Alberta needs out-of-province help just to count the ballots in a reasonable amount of time.
• The ballot questions are poorly worded, which will cause confusion and long slow lines at polling stations
• Each ballot is its own, separate piece of paper which must be folded in a specific way to prevent spoiling (and adding still more time to the voting process)

So yeah, even without any sort of intimidation or interference at the polling places, the lineups are going to be ridiculous.

How to deal with it? Don't. 

Just don't go.

Request a special ballot and send it in by mail instead. 

Up until September 25, you can request a Special Ballot from Elections Alberta at this link, or in person at your local Returning Office. Answer all ten questions  and send them in by mail in a special envelope early enough that they are received by 5:00 p.m. October 16.

Avoid the lineups! Vote from the comfort of home!

And ask every Albertan in your life to do the same. 

Share this post! Spread the word! I am really hoping for a high amount of voter turnout, and a demoralizing blow to all the separatists, Wexiters, and everyone else trying to transform the province I have lived in most of my life, and incidentally, destroy the country I love.

The Inaugural Grenzstadt Invitational

After a nine-year absence, my garage saw the return of tabletop wargaming yesterday!

When a friend's son started talking about getting into the re-launched edition of Warhammer Fantasy Battles, myself and another former player mused about getting back into it (yes, similar to what I said about Warhammer 40K three years ago, let it go) and two new players entered the fray. 

Warhammer was Games Workshop's iniital mass combat game and although it features fantasy races like elves, dwarfs and armies of skeletons, it is built around massed units maneuvering around a largely open battlefield, Napoleonics-style, not individual skirmishers fighting in dense cover - a style of play sometimes called 'rank & flank.'

Once I knew a pool of five players were available for the revamped Warhammer: The Old World, I asked if they might be interested in a tiny, two-table tournament at the end of summer, and they all quickly agreed. And to be clear, this is not a tremendously competitive group, eager to establish their superiority, but busy people who understood how a deadline could serve as a great motivator for building and painting!

I already had two armies on hand for this game, but the sizes of the bases (the little platforms each figure stands upon for uniform ranking) had changed. This meant over a hundred infantry in my Empire (human) army alone needed to go from 20mm to 25 mm bases, and the cavalry needed updating as well. Daunting!

This was almost enough to put me off the idea entirely, but thankfully some wise person came up with the idea of making oversized movement trays (something we've always sued for ease of maneuvering) with slots for the old base sizes, and another beautiful genius made 3D printable versions that Jeff graciously produced for me. 

I hated having to cut up the old 20 x 80mm bases (with 4 figures on them) that made both packing and ranking so much easier, but even this worked after a bit of applied snippery.

Basing the trays to match my figures was more of a chore than anticipated, but worked out okay in the end, even if it ended up making some of the fits a we bit too snug.

And after literal decades of knowing my cannons and mortars would look better if based, I finally made artillery bases.

At any rate, life conspired to keep one player away and two players from painting their armies, but four of us gathered early Saturday with completely assembled 1000 point armies and plans to get three games in before supper.

Averland Militia (Empire)

Tomb Kings

Wood Elves

Dissenters of Wing Kong (Grand Army of Cathay)

But this was not to be.

After a brief concours to see each other's armies and cast ballots for pageantry and presentation, we got into our first matches around 10 am. This was my second game of Warhammer in over a decade (and first game ever for one player!), and I was constantly referring back to the rules to make sure I was not conflating editions.

Questions flew back and forth between the tables, and our newbie-style pace meant there was only time to get two games in, but a good time was still had by all. After the sportsmanship and pageantry ballots were factored in, my two draws gave me a single point lead over Sean's incredibly tough, undefeated, and (self admittedly) slightly cheesy Tomb Kings of Khemri. And to be clear, Sportsmanship was a tough ballot, because both my opponents were a joy to play against! It's a nice problem to have, to be completely frank.)

I was already uneasy about winning my own tournament, but knowing that had we actually battled, Sean's two monsters would have rocked and/or socked my puny Averlanders with only a slight chance of my artillery causing them any real sort of inconvenience. With this in mind, I snugged up my tourney marshal hat and declared the Inaugural Grenzstadt Invitational a tie.

Congratulations Sean!

Despite only getting two games in, everyone agreed that the day was well spent, focused on wargaming and camaraderie, pushing toy soldiers around, rolling handfuls of dice and alternating from being delighted and horrified at the results of said rolls.

The applesauce bee happening just outside my garage door (hosted by my wife and her sister but involving everyone not playing Warhammer) was very productive - like, 50+ liters of pure, uncut sauce with an unknown street value - and somehow we managed to not get in each other's way, which was an added bonus. The cooks even benevolently provided some of the fruits of their labours to the players as a parting gift.

Game-wise, my veteran halberdiers aquitted themselves well, while my artillery was not terribly effective, misfiring on two sonsecutive turns in my second game before getting taken out by coutner battery fire. My 20-strong unit of handgunners were pretty decent, successfully defending a small hill from a heavy infantry charge that was decimated by withering fire before they ever got to grips with my unarmoured fusiliers.

In the end, what I really learned is that I really need and want to play more games of Warhammer again, especially with these fellows, which is a nice feeling to have after so long a pause! Perhaps the Second Annual Grenzstadt Invitational will have even more players?

Trade Wars: The Stupid Continues

On Friday night, Audrey and I made a rare appearance at a house party:

It was good time, in part because we knew what side of this nonsensical referendum the other guests would be on, even though there was little talk of it. Seeing Gord Downie's final performance while chit chatting friends and strangers was moving and bittersweet, and it is hard to believe it happened a decade ago.

There was, I think, a little talk about the recent trade talks and the threat of 50% tariffs by the Orange Menace, but early Friday evening, following a three-day pause in the implementation of said tariffs, it seemed like a deal was within reach.

The next day it wasn't.

The deal was scrapped, reportedly after Commerce Secretary and Trump minion Howard Lutnick swooped in at the eleventh hour with new conditions, including:

• the ending of supply management for Canadian dairy (lol - no)
• cessation of French language labelling requirements on goods sold in Canada (ah, non)
• the right of approval for Canadian trade deals made with other countries (seriously, what the eff?)

So Prime Minister Mark Carney told our team to pack up and head home, and announced a number of things, including our own retaliatory tariffs, which other US officials have previously 'warned Canada against doing' (again, what the actual eff?).

Now I am not a Carney die-hard because, well, he is a filthy rich banker pushing some questionable legislation at times, but there is no questioning he is the right guy to have at the wheel at this moment in time, with you-know-who still stinking up the Oval Office another couple of years. Carney is objectively a smart, smart dude, particularly in regards to Economics, but more importantly, I think he honestly does have the best interests of an independent and united Canada in mind.

Any single one of those three items Nutlick brought to the table at the eleventh hour were deal-breakers, so if you think there was never any real intention of doing a deal, well, there are plenty of folks who agree with you. 

His speech regarding the breakdown in negotiations include describing the USA signature as "written in pencil," a poignant way to describe a country or at least an administration acting outside of the CUSMA agreement their own guy created in 2020. I prefer Wab Kinew's assertion that "you can't make a good deal with bad people."

And obviously this whole situation is unfortunate for a number of reason, not the least of which is this: no one 'wins' in a trade war.

But when Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy goes on camera with the fascist lickspittles at Fox News and lets a stream of abject lies pour out of his cakehole without any pushback, it underscores how far our relationship with our closest neighbout and (still) largest trading partner has fallen.

According to Duffy, Careny wiull have to come back to the table because Canada "doesn't have a military," and lives (ungratefully, I imagine) under US protection, in addition to having "record high euthanasia rates."

I'm not going to debate a guy about the morality of medical assistance in dying when he lives in a country where 14% of the population has over $1000 in medical debt and a cancer diagnosis can wipe out generational wealth even if you have insurance - our countries clearly have different priorities and I prefer ours.

But to have a US cabinet member ignore our military after 158 Canadian Armed Forces member died in Afghanistan following 9/11, to say nothing of fighting shoulder to shoulder in two world wars that they were late to the party for? 

Unforgivable.

And I mean, I really shouldn't be surprised - this same selective amnesia came into play when Canada opted out of going into Iraq for DEseRt sToRm Too: This Time It's Familial, so either we are ungrateful fair-weather friends or the other side's idea of loyalty is of the "but what have you done for me lately" variety.

So, yeah, out here, past the hundredth meridian (where the great plains begin), the elbows are going up even higher in this household, and across much of the country. Will I miss bourbon? You bet. But there are great alternatives closer to home.

The Economist described Carney's approach as "defiance," an objectionable characterization in my eyes since it implies that Trump/ the USA are to be obeyed under most circumstances, which I clearly refute. But if you go with Merriam-Webster's second definition: "Resist or withstand: To be completely unaffected by or able to hold out against an attempt or force," I am somewhat mollified.

Because these attacks have done more to unite Canada than anything outside the Olympics, and that makes us considerably more formidable. The French language exclusion item has even driven the CBC's French learning app, Mauril, to #2 on the educational apps chart!

And historically, Canada has tended to emerge from these situations largely intact, eventually, as Tod Maffin outlines here:

Canada vs. USA: The Trade War America Always Loses (History Proves It)

To sum up then: trade wars are as dumb as hatchet fights: they injure both parties and it is difficult, bordering on impossible, to clearly determine a 'winner.'

But on the other hand, dropping the hatchet or turning your back on someone still holding onto theirs might be even dumber. So what do we need right now?

"Courage - my word"

- Gordon Downie / Gordon Sinclair / Johnny Fay / Paul Langlois / Robert Baker (The Tragically Hip)

Edmonton Folk Music Festival 2026 - My Three Faves

I love volunteering at Folk Fest and have done so almost e3very year they have had one since 2016, but most years, at some point, I hit a wall. And after hitting the wall, I have to actually consider if this will be my last year volunteering.

This year it was Friday. Not even a long day! Start at noon, the corral for the tarp lottery at Stage 1 is still up from the day before, no delays in marching the groups of 30 patrons on to the field so they can set up their tarps for main stage (unlike the day before as they scrambled to get more sand and rig mats laid over the soggy ground).

But it was hot. 26 degrees and I was still tired from the extensive standing Glory (my crewmate!) and I had done during the delays of the day before. I also don't think I hydrated enough; by the time the two of us marched off to the dinner line, I was a shambling wreck, cowering from the merciless sun in the shade of teh umbrella I had brought for rain.

But a great dinner (beer braised Alberta beef with garlic, Moroccan spied carrots, potatoes, three different salads) and a little time in the shade left me in a better state to see a couple of the Friday night main stage acts. We couldn't stay for Of Monsters & Men, the big draw that evening, since we had to be back on site at 6:30 the next morning, and since there is no longer a volunteer shuttle, that trip is about an hour now.

But Saturday morning was cool, and Glory and I had already decided that we would only watch a couple of afternoon shows and then head home to nap. We went to bed early and this meant we could see all the main stage acts Sunday, and even stay for the traditional singing of Ian Tyson's "Four Strong Winds" that closes out the festival.

By that point, both sleepy and exhausted, with aching feet and knowledge that my physically demanding teardown shift was a little more than 12 hours away, I was still at a point where I could say: I can't wait for next year.

So what did I like most about Folk Fest this year?

 1) The Workshops

I had wanted to see Nova Scotia storyteller Adam Baldwin in his own concert. I'd told Glory how great his stage banter was when he'd opened up for Alan Doyle at the Jube the year before, but the schedule didn't fit our needs.

So we went to a workshop called Tall Tales that included him, a trio called The Pairs and 'cosmic folk' artist Sister Ray, and it was fantastic. From his rejection of the term workshop in favour of "drinking in the kitchen" to the interactions between songs to the incidental accompaniment by the artists to the songs of others (perhaps hearing them for the first time), it was a great hour spent in the shade of Stage 7.

My favourite bit was Baldwin talking about how his tragic crime song "Lighthouse in Little Lorraine" was based on a true story, but because he could figure out neither a Nova Scotia community that rhymed with 'hashish', nor a narcotic name that rhymed with Louisbourg, he was forced to change both. And then the song got made into a movie! Which he says you can now watch on WestJet and "should be on a DVD in Giant Tiger any day now."

Similarly, the If You Could Read My Mind workshop featuring The Milk Carton Kids, Fantastic Cat, and The Brudi Brothers was full of great tunes, good humour and tremendous interaction as well.

2) My Crew

People are probably tired of hearing me quote my own maxim, "It's less about what I do and more about who I do it with," but it is true. And nowhere is is more true than when working with the Greetings East crew.

We run the tarp lottery, a somewhat arcane and counter-intuitive randomization system that allows 1000 or more dedicated patrons to enter the field prior to the public gates opening for optimal tarp placement. For our part, this includes building an enclosure (corral) that can hold 2000+ people out of fast fence, handing out 2000+ colored tags with the names of performing artists on them to the patrons as they enter, trying to keep them moving towards the back of the corral instead of crowding around the entryway, announcing an artist's name and then lining the people with matching tickets along the sidewalks up and down the neighbourhood, sometimes stretching further than three city blocks.

At the appointed time, usually 30 mins to an hour but sometimes two hours or more, some of us serve as human pylons, dividing the line into groups of thirty, then marching them through main gate and handing them off to security so they can race safely up the hill and place their tarps. 

After that, we (usually) take down the fast fence and stack it, then place our own tarps. I wouldn't call it easy, and sometimes testy patrons can make things more challenging than they need to be, but it is generally a smooth operation, and our duty is done before the first act hits the stage.

There were 19 of us this year (then team was less than a dozen when I started!), mostly ladies, all but a handful are much, much younger than me, and all of them are great. 

Different people are going to be great at different things, but there are no shirkers. Everyone understands and appreciates what we are doing and why, and we get on fabulously with all but a handful of the patrons. And even those ones should get the benefit of the doubt - who hasn't had a bad day outdoors in a crowd?

Having Glory as a crewmate in 2023 and this year has been an extra delight, and out leadership is smart, funny (like most everyone on this crew!), open minded and attentive. And they even bring cinnamon rolls and rice krispie treats for the early weekend shifts!

My crew are a big part of why I will come back next year.

3) The Music

I have been a fan of Corb Lund since 2007's Horse Soldier, Horse Soldier!, and Thursday night I finally got to see him live for the first time. He was sandwiched between two soul music acts, The Womack Sisters and Thee Sacred Souls, both of whom sounded amazing. 

Friday night we saw Irish trio Amble and enjoyed them immensely. Wonderful voices, great musicianship and tremendous stage presence from their frontman (but charm from all). Apparently when the lead singer told his family he was quitting his job as a teacher to play music full time, his father told him, "throw out the trout to catch the salmon," which is maybe the most Irish thing I have ever heard, and you can apparently see it written on a bunch of their merch.  I expect to be hearing more about them in the months to come.

Trousdale is a country/rock flavoured trio from California with a great sense of humour and absolutely heart-stopping harmonies. I am disappointed the studio version of their cover of Neil Young's "Old Man" sounds so tame compared to the version we heard on the hillside of Stage 5 that raised the gooseflesh on me.

St. Paul & The Broken Bones are hard to describe, but soul ensemble with the energy of a Gospel revival service probably comes close. Paul Janeway was perhaps the most dynamic frontman we saw all weekend. At one point he guided both the band and the audience through a 1-2-3 rhythm game ("That was good. Real good!  But we did not come all the way to Edmonton to be good. We came here to be great. And doo you know what separates the good from the great? No? FRACTIONS."), and at another, he clised ski hill on his belly. I will never miss a chance to see this group if I can help it.

At any rate, a week later the exhaustion and foot pain are forgotten and great memories of music, people and food (the volunteer kitchen still puts out simply amazing meals 3000 plates at a time!) are what remain.

I can't wait for next year! Hope to see you on the hill.

BONUS REFLECTION: THE TEEPEE TEARDOWN

At about the midway point of my teardown shift, as we used a rickshaw/wheelbarrow to move a heavy pile of fence posts and post-puller from one spot to another, someone told my crew boss Ross that the Nikawomin crew needed help taking down the 30' teepee from their cultural area.

"These three fellows would be only too happy to help," he said, before wandering off to supervise another group back of mainstage.

One of the Site Crew and a Nikamowin volunteer explained that it was not difficult work but it required multiple, steady hands and a respect for protocol. For instance, stepping over the supporting poles once they were laid down was considered disrespectful.

So began by folding the covering material onto itself, one team on each side of the opening, until it was all gathered at the back, then lowered it folded it some more and placed in on a bench someone carried over to keep it off the ground.

Then we worked as teasm to lower the various poles leaning against the tripod of lashed poles at the center. Working carefully from both a safety and respect perspective, two fellows steadied the pole while lowering it, and others like me moved to catch it once with in reach and then walk to the end until it was carryable.

At one point the volunteer showed us a "cheat" wherein you could use a still standing pole to slow the descent of one being lowered, which worked pretty well. 

Finally we steadied the legs of the tripod, lashed together at the top with a long cord, brought the three poles together one at a time, and then slowly lowered the bundle and caught it like one enormous pole.

"And that's it!" grinned the Nikamowin volunteer. "It's not hard, it just helps to have more hands."

The Site Crew worker nodded. "And you are all teepee certified now, so we'll see you next year, eh?"

And the volunteer grinned and nodded when I asked if I could put "Indigenous housing experience" on my resume.