Dewey was born almost 14 years ago, in an Ontario town I can’t recall. He was the only boy puppy left of his litter, and he sat timidly in the back of the pen, trembling amongst all the girls vying to come home with us. We chose him on the spot, of course. His first […]
The other day I walked by a young girl who lives on our street, sitting outside on the bottom step, reading a book. I felt an instant camaraderie with her, as a reader, first, but specifically as an outdoor reader. When we moved into Centretown, which is in downtown Ottawa, we downsized in a massive
Small space, big space Read More »
My dad, who is 85, spent a few months in Spain a couple of years ago, sitting on a deck writing his memoir out by hand on legal pads. He conquered it by writing various topics one after another, and he worked on this most mornings. He wrote about his strongest childhood memories, what it
You should write your memoir. My dad did. Read More »
Today, I clipped the leash onto Dewey, my most reliable walking partner — he always says yes, he never says no — and coaxed him 4275 steps, according to my iPhone. It was a fruitful walk. I complimented a woman on her purple corduroy pants — wide wale. “Thanks!” she called out, and seemed mildly
Walking is one of the best things we can do Read More »
I am waiting with bated breath for a memoir to arrive in my inbox, written by my father. Working title? My Story by Russell S. Durling. I’ve been a tiny bit coach and a big part cheerleader for my 85-year old dad, as he worked his way through a project he had talked about for
How to write your life Read More »
