Wednesday April 23, 2014




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    Comment and Commentary from a Prairie Perspective
    By William Wardill
    William Wardill of Eatonia still lives where he was born 83 years ago. A virtuous old sage with a wicked wit, he became an omnivorous reader almost as soon as he learned the alphabet. He read about the First World War when still a child and was almost old enough to enlist in the Second World War. His boyhood was spent in a safe passage through the Dirty Thirties. Since earning a university degree in history and English in 1991, he has published numerous columns, articles and books, including a novel in 2010. His work is coloured by small town living, ecological concerns and a belief in a personal obligation to community.

A new era in transportation?

The United Nations, rejecting the tiresome politicking that originates mostly in the United States, ...

A list of sanctions

The talking heads on television news services are following the search for a missing airliner more...

Somebody’s gotta do it

This is the sixth day of April. Yesterday morning we were insulted again by a brief scattering of...

I like Ukrainians: best agents of change are time and patience

In the first decade of the past century when Europe was a powder keg almost ready to explode into...

Side effect

In skipping your way through cable channels you will eventually encounter a new miracle drug....

Tin Pan Alley

Tin Pan Alley was that area of Manhattan where music publishers and song writers congregated with...

I saw it in the funnies

At intervals, writers with nothing better to do and a copious supply of unclear words attempt to...


Old King Coal

When I was a very small child, my mother’s father told me that his youngest brother had crossed the ...

In Mandela’s image

Those among us who have no direct knowledge of South Africa and its political history must accept...

The dementia catalogue

There has been a report that politicians and their minions in distant Ottawa will be discussing...

Canadian ketchup

Rich, red ketchup was a part of my boyhood diet. Every time a bottle of it was purchased for me, a...

An enduring symbol

For longer than the span of my years, people have walked unaware on what I hold to be the most...

Stealing the sunlight

In my small town there are two areas of unwounded prairie wool. One is a portion of a boomtown rail ...

Christmas belongs to me

Christmas belongs to me because it is part of my cultural inheritance. Christmas belongs to me...

The Sapient Society of Grumpy Old Men

To borrow a term from the lexicon of a bumptious bureaucrat, I am a stakeholder. I am a stakeholder ...

Peripatetic pigs and other matters

The busy bureaucrats in Regina have found another way to keep their pay cheques coming. They have...

The last fowl supper

Alsask has been a place-name in Saskatchewan for 103 years. For most of that period volunteers in...

Looking after the old ones

Old men are associated with unpleasant odours. They ooze, drool and release gaseous eruptions. They ...

Canadians are in good hands

One day last week, having been overcome by an attack of egotism, I was singing and dancing in front ...



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