Kingston | Geoffrey & Mika

Jacinda Ardern, Prime Minister of New Zealand, posing with Justin Trudeau, Prime Minister of Canada and Sadiq Khan, Lord Mayor of London.

I remember in 1968, my mother enrolled me in a class at the Holy Family parish in Kingston, Ontario. The class was to prepare me for my First Communion. I was seven years old, and in the class, I received my first lessons from the Roman Catholic Church in its perceived need that I learn humility. I have fleeting memories of the classes–on the whole, I think I enjoyed attending them. After our lesson, we got to play games like hide and seek. One night we got to watch That Darn Cat. The experience that lingers in my memory was delivered by the young woman who taught the course. She told us that Jesus, as a boy did not talk back to his parents and teachers; neither did he fight with other children. I think the children in the class took this lesson to heart. The experience was not unreasonable in and of itself–Christianity, Roman Catholic, Orthodox and Protestant, teaches that we should try to be like Jesus. Knowing that I talked back to my parents on occasion and got into scraps with my siblings left me feeling a little abashed–so I did my best to follow the example set by the boy Jesus. I learned at that early age that I am not perfect–that despite it, I should strive to do good and avoid doing evil. At the time, I did not appreciate that it was easy for the boy, Jesus, as He was Divine, unlike the rest of the children in the class and me. Continue reading →

Mika and I are Queen’s grads. I graduated in 1986 with a B.A. in sociology. Mika graduated in 1996 with a B.Sc. in mathematics and computer science. The years I spent at Queen’s were a lot of fun for the most part. Political correctness was yet to take hold. Frosh week, was a drunken and ribald festival in which we were expected to use vulgarity liberally. I remember suffering quite a culture shock when my mother and father left me on campus. I have never cared for vulgarity personally and until I met with my Gael group later that day I was on the brink of calling and asking them to take me home. Once I was settled into my Gael group, no. 9–our group chant was “Number Nine is doing fine, the rest of you are fucking swine”–I began to feel better and joined in the ribald fun that continued for the rest of the week. Early into my first year at Queen’s, some students organized a game they called “Kill.” The game consisted of players who had completed an entry form giving their address on campus or in the student ghetto. Players were given an information sheet indicating where their victim might be found and to make a kill you used a toy pistol that fired plastic projectiles. To authenticate the kill there had to be a 2-3 witnesses who were acquainted with the victim. I made my first kill before I was gunned down outside my drama class. When you were killed, you gave the information form of the victim you were stalking to your assassin and the game continued. Somehow, in the current climate across college and university campuses, I do not think this game is played anymore. Continue reading →