Author: Anne McDonald

Books can be powerful influencers. I am very grateful that the books I was exposed to growing up created such vast historical, geographical and imaginative worlds for me. To this day, my only real material wealth is in books. Most of my books do not have much trade-in value, though, so I keep some of…

I met up with the family in Banff. I was waiting as arranged on Banff Ave, just over the bridge when Dad pulled up with George, Agnes and Sandy, and I jumped into the car with them. We were off on our trip across the country. Destination: Ripley, Ontario.  Dad had told us that if…

“Uncle Gillis!” Dad exclaimed as his elderly uncle descended from the train stairs at the Coquitlam Station,” What are you doing with that shot gun?” It was Christmas in the early 1960’s and Uncle Gillis was arriving from Tabor or Fort Mcleod, Alberta, for his annual visit to the West Coast family. Uncle Gillis talked…

“Maybe we could get your Aunt Mary to give a lecture on sex education at the high school while she is here,” Dr. Bob suggested to Dad, who appeared to agree. Imagine how I felt! I was a young teen, new to junior high school, having given up riding my bike to school and switched…

Growing up, I thought nothing much happened in Mom’s childhood or family. That was because we were raised on Dad’s dramatic legends of his small town, Drumheller, Alberta, the Fort MacMurray of its day, full of bootleggers, madams and shoot-outs with the police. The town characters, which included some of our own family, would have…

Since, Ken started the topic of going to church when he was younger, it brought to mind a few memories from my teen years at the Haney United Church. George Musallem owned the big local car dealership, Musallem Motors and Dad owned McDonald Fuels, so they both moved in local business circles. They both attended…

About midnight, the old bus pulled to a stop. Out the window, I could see signs that indicated we were on the Italian mainland at the place people would exit for Venice. The Greek driver ordered, “Everyone get off the bus and take all your stuff!” The unruly passengers started shouting, “What’s going on?” “You…

“Which would you rather be, rich or famous?” “Rich”, the guests, several young middle-aged couples, replied.” My father, the host, argued that he would much rather be famous. He certainly didn’t end up rich although he’d started out in life the son of a relatively rich man.  He did succeed in achieving something between fame…

I came home to an empty house every day after school when I was in grade five. Mom was working in the office of Dad’s new fuel oil business. George and Agnes were babysat by the next-door neighbour, Mrs. Ottenbreit. That was considered safe enough in 1958. I was a reliable child, who could be…

In Honduras, despite our leader Steve’s best laid plans, we never knew what the day would bring. The day before, the ten of us Canadian teachers, well actually five, because the other five identified as Quebecois, had been up visiting leaders of COLPRUSUMAH, the Elementary Teachers’ Union in their hilltop centre on one of Tegucigalpa’s…