Share this:

The scent of books

The minute you walk in the door you can smell the books.

It’s not an unpleasant odour, but there is definitely a vague mustiness in the air. The shop, at first glance, also seems haphazard and jumbled — even chaotic. But appearances (as they say) can be deceiving. Out of chaos can arise enlightenment.

And therein lies the essence of literature.

There is definitely a sense order to this small bookshop on the main street of the town in which I live; but it is not that of the conventional mind. This is a place in which the interdependence and interconnectedness of all things (as opposed to oppressive homogeneity) is clearly the rule and not the exception.

There is also an unconscious flow to the shop, as well as a variety of focal points. Although the window announces “used books” — gently used I would say — it is obvious to any bibliophile that these are not throwaways.

Au contraire mes chers!

And this shop is the antithesis of the big box bookstores found on the periphery of the town, which tend to be spacious, effective in a retail sense, and highly directional — for obvious commercial reasons. In themselves, they are lessons in media literacy. Such literary outlets, usually found in or adjacent to shopping malls, of course have their place as major retail outlets but their inherent economies of scale can hinder access to more idiosyncratic books — in unorthodox settings — and possibly even the ideas and concepts implicit in them.

And in this shop on Main Street, the senses are heightened even more because this is a shop that is tactile in so many other ways. The books invite you to pick them up, to take them down from the shelf, to gently re-arrange them.

These books are old friends.

À la recherche du temps perdu

Entering the shop is a Proustian moment; not unlike the gestalt feelings that Marcel Proust experienced when he dipped his madeleine in his tea.

And as Proust himself said, “A change in the weather is sufficient to recreate the world and ourselves.”

Or better yet, “Every reader finds himself. The writer’s work is merely a kind of optical instrument that makes it possible for the reader to discern what, without this book, he would perhaps never have seen in himself.”

And Proust’s madeleine evokes a similar kind of holistic sense for bibliophiles everywhere. These books are memory generators of many literary hues and shades of the past; but there is also in them a sense of something universal. Such books as these are moments out of time. They embody not only the love of reading but the freedom inherent in reading.

And Proust also hit the nail on the head when he said, “As long as men are free to ask what they must, free to say what they think, free to think what they will, freedom can never be lost and science can never regress.”

No books are banned or burned in this shop.

A repository far from the madding crowd

As someone once said to me, “Books are our silent friends.”

But as our intimates, they also permit and encourage a kind of shared sense of privacy that in the 21st century is becoming more and more difficult to find.

And there are old friends here, especially Margaret Drabble, one of my favourites.

I also find other old friends and titles that I have not read; and I come home with three: Iris Murdoch’s The Black Prince; Peter Mayle’s Toujours Provence; and cranky Paul Theroux‘s Sunrise With Seamonsters.

Books as travel companions

As Alain de Boton, demonstrates, you should never be without a book when travelling. In his book The Art of Travel, he defines travel as an art form — in a literary sense especially.

The Art of Travel also confirms what we have known for a very long time; that travel is the most experiential form of learning. It is also a multi-factored human behaviour that, since the beginning of human civilization, has been manifested in many ways and for many reasons. To Homo sapiens sapiens, travel has meant survival: a search for ideals; an escape from one reality to another; simple pleasure (some call it “fun”); a physical, psychological, and spiritual process — and much more.

But good books are also a form of travel — armchair travel for sure.

Books as true social media

Why do books matter? Why they are living entities? Why they are the sum total of the human condition. But most of all, why do books create dialogue and social interaction?

In my view, the answer is obvious.

To see another independent bookstore’s view of the land of literature, click on the link below:

The Joy of Books

For the love of books

In the new interconnected literary world, there are many ways to share books with friends. My wife, for example, is part of what in essence is a virtual book club; although I suspect she and her university friends might not define it as such.

Bloggers can also now recommend and comment on their favourite “reads.”

I recently found one called For the Love of Books.

However, I have to add that the above particular “book blogger” also raises the issue of gender differences. Do book clubs, virtual or otherwise, also reveal anthropological realities? Women as nurturers? Men as hunters?

I am reminded of Stephen Leacock’s The Sinking of the Mariposa Belle, in which the women all gather in the salon, close up the shutters “as if they had never left home”; whereas “the guys” all gather in the grungiest part of the ship. Oh … and the Mayor comes aboard with a large box of sandwiches — which, according to Leacock you can hear clinking.

Having said that (with some trepidation), my latest book is David Brooks’ The Social Animal: The Hidden Sources of Love, Character, and Achievement; which explores evolutionary biology and neuroscience in great detail.

His analysis of parent-child relationships, for example, may cause you to revisit the perennial nature/nurture debate.

But I especially relate to his emphasis on the unconscious mind:

“The inner realm is illuminated by science, but it is not a dry, mechanistic place. It is an emotional and enchanted place. If the study of the conscious mind highlights the importance of reason and analysis, study of the unconscious mind highlights the importance of passions and perception.”

Share this:

The special season

During the winter in Québec, you learn how to appreciate a season that has its own special beauty and brilliance.

It is also a time of the year when you fully appreciate how the culture of Québec — from the time of the French régime in North America in the 17th century to the present — was shaped by people interacting successfully with the vigorous natural environment.

It is perhaps the season when the art of human bonding is most apparent.

Winter in Québec is not something to be feared, avoided, nor underestimated. Winter in Québec is glorious, spectacular, and a time of personal and collective triumph.

For the Québécois, winter is integral to a way of life that celebrates courage, the aesthetic of the land, and self-determination.

The Laurentians

Two of my favourites maxims are: “The only real change occurs in the village,” and “It takes a village to raise a child.”

The village at the heart of the Laurentians is both literal and metaphysical; real and conceptual. It is also the quintessence of the Québécois experience — especially during the winter.

In Québec’s famed Laurentians, that experience is also a feast for the senses

Songs of Winter

Winter in Québec is not just a season. For the Québécois, it is a grand ritual, an elaborate ceremony, and a state of mind. It is also the cultural internalization of almost 400 years of struggling with — and yet living in harmony with — the land. It is a source of a collective sense of self and a a significant element in the self-determination of this Canadian province which is distinct on so many levels.

Many of the artists of Québec imbue their work with a healthy respect for this formidable season. One of Québec’s best-loved chansonniers (poet-singer-troubadours … and often superstars) was Félix Leclerc. In his hymn to winter, Soirs d’Hiver, (Winter Evenings) he gives a glimpse of how winter has become part of the Québec psyche.

Les soirs d’hiver, ma mere chantait

Pour chasser le diable qui rit; C’est a mon tour d’en faire autant

Quand sur mon toit coule le vent.

(On winter evenings, my mother sang; to chase away the laughing devil; Now it is my turn to do the same/ Each time I hear the wind in the eves.)

The beauty of winter in Québec’s Laurentians is not only in the splendour of a natural environment that surpasses all expectations, but it is also in the interaction of the people who have not forgotten the communal values and skills that are their ways and means of physical and cultural survival.

The oft-repeated term joie de vivre is indeed integral to the Québec way of life; however, I always take that term one step further to l’art de vivre.

Québec’s Laurentian playground — especially in the winter — is about community, and the interdependence of human relationships. It is about survival and la belle énergie that is the heartbeat of the true human village.

A visit to the Laurentians is “a moveable feast.” Allow me to offer you a few appetizers.

Geology and time have been good to the Laurentians

The way in which landscape shapes culture is a recurring theme and lesson in the Laurentians. Moreover, despite our well-founded concerns about an over-crowded planet, we are fortunate now and again to discover (or re-discover) areas of peace and tranquillity — and spaciousness.

In the Laurentians — 22,000 square kilometres of natural beauty — you will discover a rugged landscape that, by its very nature, has preserved “the natural order of things.” And this includes a pace and quality of life that increasingly we see dissipating.

This is Le pays d’en haut. As is often the case, the term defies a suitable translation. It means something like “the land up there” or “the highlands” or “away and beyond.” But the experience of the Laurentians has always been a multi-levelled one; an experience of something much deeper conceptually and — dare I say it — spiritually.

The Laurentians contain 9000 lakes and rivers, three enormous and separate regions (the Laurentian Gateway region within easy access to Montréal; the Laurentian Heartland; and the Upper Laurentians), and an integrated network of towns and villages, each of which has its own particular flavour and idiosyncrasies. In my experience of visiting Québec for over 40 years, this ease of self-expression is very typical of the province, one of the most liberal and free-thinking “communities” in North America. And the rigorous but permissive landscape and topography of the Laurentians enhances this cultural trait.

These are very old mountains; part of the famous (Precambrian) Canadian Shield. These are not the soaring and grandiose mountains of the Canadian Rockies (upstarts really); these are ancient mountains that have endured the ancient and ceaseless grinding of glaciation, a monumental process that eventually created a rather subdued topographical relief. This is one of the oldest physical landscapes on the planet; and an environment that nurtures a free spirit embellished by wisdom.

These ancient rocks are the Earth unclad. Covered by a thin layer of soil, this is planetary bedrock that was the first to be permanently elevated above the sea. And the titanic geological forces that created this land, and its many small lake basins and rivers, also left behind a Boreal forest that is home to abundant flora and fauna.

The Auberge du Lac Morency: hospitality spoken here

As a guest at l’Auberge du Lac Morency, I became an instant happy camper. I immediately felt chez moi — as if I had refused to acquiesce to the maxim that “you can’t go home again.” You probably have experienced a similar holistic feeling of familiarity and ease somewhere in your travels.

The village-like comfort zone of the Auberge is quite typical of the Laurentians. With one notable exception, the Laurentians have succeeded in repelling the mega-corporate, mega-resort mentality. And the human scale amenities and aesthetic finesse of l’Auberge du lac Morency are in many ways what the Laurentians are all about.

Clustered around a small non-motorized lake less than an hour from Montréal, the Auberge is also a role model for the kind of full-service medium-sized resort that is able to combine a sense of being “away from the madding crowd” while at the same time combining a sense of privacy with a discreet sense of community. (The term for “resort” in French is villégiature; hence the theme of the village.)

For students of the hospitality industry, a work term at l’Auberge du lac Morency would be the most experiential learning they could have in order to learn the craft. My enthusiasm for the Auberge stems from its exquisite setting but also because of the people who live and work there.

Leading the team of dream makers at the Auberge is the affable Director François Péloquin; hôtelier par excellence, learned and well-trained sommelier, highly informed nature enthusiast, and general all-round good guy. I’m told they often refer to him as le coureur de bois.

François is a natural when it comes to the hospitality industry, and his happy, motivated, and adept staff reflect his dedication to the best practices of this industry. He is the kind of host who oversees everything with a eagle’s eye but also, as a team leader, he encourages his staff to accept ownership of their work. He is also a great conversationalist; English or French … your choice … but I’m not sure in which language he talks the fastest … we slipped back and forth between the two without my knowing it. However, he also has the hôtelier’s intuitive sense when to “let it be.”

There is much I could tell you about François, his staff, and the Auberge — his amazing wine cellar, the carefully orchestrated operations, the suitability of the property for group functions — but I will let you discover more from the website; or just by going there.

However, I must rhapsodize briefly about the cuisine and the brilliant chef Daniel Saint-Pierre. I have had the good fortune to dine well around the world (especially in France), but I can say without any hesitation that I have not dined better anywhere else. The artistry of Daniel is, as we say in French, sans pareil (without equal).

The virtuosity of l’Auberge du lac Morency is also characteristic of the lifestyle that is within easy reach in the Laurentians. During my stay, I was reminded of a promotional slogan from the Québec Tourism department a few years back: Hospitalité Spoken Here!

SynoviaSpa at L’Auberge

In the European tradition of health-enhancing spas in beautiful natural areas, l’Auberge has a superb spa operated by Pascal Groleau.

To visit the spa click here.

Saint-Sauveur: a blended community

Unbridled growth is not what the Laurentians are all about; smart growth is the only way to go in this vast natural area. Like so many “tourism” destinations, sustaining a viable local economy that also allows for the sustainable growth of natural resources is a challenge but also common sense. The principle of sustainability is at the heart of the Laurentian experience, whether it be a question of human resources or natural resources.

The town of Saint-Sauveur (within an easy hour’s drive from Montréal) is in the Laurentian Gateway Region. As is happening elsewhere in the world, it also has become an alternate “satellite city” close to but distinct from a larger metropolis; in this case Montréal. It is not a bedroom community to and from which people commute on a daily basis; but is increasingly becoming a lifestyle choice. As a result, it has developed into a thriving, multi-faceted municipality that has succeeded in creating a state-of-the-art business community while maintaining a small town ethos.

Saint-Sauveur has always been a very popular all-seasons vacation destination, especially for Montréalers, and as the closest ski destination to Montréal it is especially popular. If you want ease of access, variety, and laid-back skiing that won’t cost you an arm and a leg, head to Saint-Sauveur and it’s five mountains. By the way, the Ski à Mont-Sauveur experience also includes the most extensive night skiing in the Laurentians.

Located in the Piedmont Valley, Saint-Sauveur, as I discovered, is still very much a “village” in terms of human interaction and a no-nonsense approach to quality of life issues. Saint-Sauveur is also experiencing a carefully controlled boom time, especially with regards to it being an attractive corporate conference and convention centre. As one who has been on the organizing end of conferences, I can highly recommend the Manoir Saint-Sauveur, an elegant and very contemporary award-winning hotel with some of the best convention facilities I have seen — and within walking distance of la Rue Principale with it’s many shops, restaurants, and heritage buildings.

Saint-Sauveur has also become a major arts centre and destination. It is now known and respected worldwide for its Festival des Arts an international event that attracts world-class performing arts groups, orchestras, and especially dance. The festival celebrated its 10th anniversary in the summer of 2006 which showcased Jirí Kylían, considered one of the world’s leading choreographers. Saint-Sauveur is also a role model for communities who have discovered that the arts are an industry that, in partnership with the travel, tourism, and hospitality industries, has a direct impact on the community’s bottom line.

I was having lunch in the Manoir’s aptly named restaurant L’Ambiance — a gourmand buffet actually — with Pierre Urqhuart, President of the Chamber of Commerce. (By the way, in Québec it’s not unusual to encounter names that reflect the French, Scottish, and Irish immigration patterns to Québec.) We were chatting about all that Saint-Sauveur has to offer when Pierre casually mentioned that after lunch he was attending the retirement reception of Soeur Élisabeth, a nun who appears to have taught just about everyone in Saint-Sauveur to sing. Along with being the most sports-oriented of all Canadians (remember that terrain) the Québécois are also the most musical. They love to sing, and to teach others to do the same; hence Sister Élisabeth’s long career. So I asked Pierre if I could come along.

The réception was actually a Christmas recital in the church on Main Street, a solid granite church built in the very distinct style of small town churches you see throughout Québec. For this occasion, it was full of multiple generations of locals, all of whom it seemed had been voice-trained by the diminutive Soeur Élisabeth. The good sister, by the way, is five feet in her stocking feet at most, but also the the kind of choir mistress one would pay strict attention to. Sister Élisabeth and her other sister nuns occupied the front pew and with great delight watched and listened to the youngest members of the parish celebrate the accomplishments of this nun d’un certain âge.

Val David: creativity and fire in the Laurentian belly

Regions of great natural beauty are often magnets for artists; and this is true of the Laurentians, especially the village of Val-David.

This is a community that gently proclaims itself to be un monde à part et à partager (a world away and one to be shared). This ethos is very much at the heart of the village, as it is in many other such communities throughout the Laurentians. But in Val-David, they have really taken the belief system to heart and practise what they preach with a quiet determination and respect for what the mayor referred to as “a marriage between the arts and nature.”

Val-David in some ways suggests a Québécois archetype, the rural community that was of necessity a world unto itself because of its geographic situation. It is a community whose history clearly shows the interdependence that developed among its members and how the integration with the stunning natural world around it became the antidote for any feeling of isolation. This, I believe, is what led to a collective vision that is very much supported and promoted by the elected municipal officials who are as engagé in the arts as the many artists and artisans who have migrated to Val-David. Here too the arts “industry” is the economic foundation of the community as well as a natural “product” of the landscape.

It should come as no surprise therefore, that such a community would also have a long tradition of story-telling, of oral history, and of personal and communal archives. Val-David’s collective vocation is to preserve the fundamental principles and values that made this town 76 kilometres north of Montréal a world apart. And perhaps the most important of those basic values is the generosity of spirit — the openness to diverse worldviews — that is communicated almost subliminally to the visitor to Val-David.

The art of land management

The town of Val-David has become an arts mecca and, in some senses, a refuge. Embraced and nurtured by the environment in which it lies — a valley of over 40 square kilometres, old mountains with their gently rounded summits, an intricate network of small lakes, rivers, streams, and regenerative forests — this is a stupendous and nurturing physical landscape but not one that overwhelms the senses. These are not young, soaring mountains and impenetrable forests. This land has aged well; it has achieved the respected status afforded eldership. Like most of the Laurentians, you feel comforted by this terrain. This is why I am hypothesizing that artists find Val-David particularly supportive and liberating.

The people of Val-David take their nature seriously, protect it, and interact with it in a similar way to that of aboriginal people who do not let the passage of time separate them from the spirits of their ancestors. This commitment to the land is especially evident in the Regional Park Dufresne, an extensive tract of land set aside for public enjoyment, and especially attractive to hikers and cross-country skiers. This is a public area however, where a very clear environmental ethic is practised and encouraged.

From an arts perspective, Val-David may surprise you. In a subtly renovated heritage building on the main street, I found an art gallery with dark, rich wood floors and white walls on which were displayed in a current exhibit of contemporary paintings that celebrated childhood; a very apt marriage of young and old.

In the summer Val-David hosts one of the most important pottery, glass, and ceramics exhibitions on the continent; the Mille et un Pots (A Thousand and One Pots). The event, which is the largest in North America is hosted by the Japanese-born ceramist Kinya Ishikawa. But it is also a huge family affair within this particular part of the art world. As a fan of ceramics especially, I was delighted to see some very original and contemporary pieces that demonstrate why this is a unique art form. I was also privileged to visit a pottery-ceramics class for young people with learning disabilities for whom this very tactile art form is an alternative way for them to communicate lives.

Why the Laurentians are an enduring experience

This prodigious land and its physical and cultural landscape are in many ways a microcosm for the heritage of the Québécois.

The language and culture of Québec continue to flourish against formidable odds; they have survived what has been referred to as la marée de la culture anglophone dans l’Amérique du nord (the tide of English-speaking culture in North America).

Québec has a total population of just over seven and a half million people of which 82 per cent are francophone — whereas the primarily English-speaking culture of Canada and the United States combined comprises about 145 million people.

Through persistence and a strong collective sense of self, this predominantly French-speaking part of North America is very much alive. And at the heart of the magnificent and vigorous Laurentians you will experience the self-sustaining values of the human village — Québécois-style.

Mea Culpa… but call me Mr. Cool

As is the case with any major tourist destination, there are increasingly “issues” that can create culture clashes. Québec is the traditional home to the snowmobile (invented by the famous Bombardier company). Given the terrain, climate, and vast distances of the Laurentides, it’s quite understandable why “skidoos” and all-terrain vehicles became popular here.

However, the movement towards a Laurentians that is non-moteurisé is picking up speed (pardon the play on words) and there are communities in the region that have passed such bylaws. It is a dilemma, especially for me who prefers a nice quiet canter on my horse, but also is not opposed to thrills and chills.

But I have to be honest and tell you that I did the ATV thing — and it was a blast, even though it meant some initial personal humiliation. Oh, and I plan to atone for the greenhouse gases I created somehow.

See: My great Laurentian ATV experience.

Laurentian resources

The Laurentian Tourism Association; info-tourisme@laurentides.com; Toll free number: (Canada and the U.S.) 1-800-561-6673

L’Auberge du lac Morency (Resort, Spa, and Conference Centre)

La Vallée de Saint-Sauveur Tourism

Festival des Arts de Saint-Sauveur

Ski Mont-Sauveur

Manoir Saint-Sauveur Resort and Convention Centre

Val-David

Le Centre d’Exposition de Val-David

The Dufresne Regional Park

Images of the Laurentians

And if you wish to practise your French …

Read the history and heritage of the town of Val David, one of the best example of the theme belle énergie. To access this information, click here.

•

More about Québec from The Philosophical Traveller

Wandering at Will in Québec’s Eastern Townships

Montréal: Francophone Festival City and Paris of North America

Québec City: Cradle of the French Régime in North America

Hôtel-boutique, Québec Chic: How two small Québec hotels embody the culture of hospitality

Talking Travel’s Great Northern Adventure at the Québec Winter Carnival

Share this:

A podcast with Robin Banerjee P.Eng, owner of the Algonquin Eco-Lodge

To listen to this podcast, click on the Play button below.

The power of regeneration in nature

In an untainted landscape there is a glimpse of something developmental, perpetual, and timeless. And in Algonquin Park, the oldest provincial park in Canada (established in 1893), you can be far from the madding crowd and yet only three hours from Toronto, the largest urban centre in the country.

In this natural wilderness, a quarter the size of of Belgium or of Wales, you can also transcend human time. Sitting beside a partially frozen waterfall on a snowy forest path, as I did, you might also find yourself re-focusing your mind and senses in order to listen to the simplicity of a consummate natural environment.

This is also Canadian Shield country where a diversified and heavily forested terrain also engenders a unique ecosystem.

But to reach the Algonquin Eco-Lodge, you must either walk or ski for 2.5 kilometres; and I can assure you that this smooth transition from the clamour of the 21st century is achieved gradually and gently. On the trail leading to the lodge, your brain may already start to feel endorphinized or you may experience a slight dopamine rush.

And as many naturalists will tell you, this integration with an infinite natural environment is the real essence of the mind-body connection.

But there is another transition that occurs at the Algonquin Eco-Lodge. The lodge is completely “off the grid,” which also means that guests experience the state of being totally unplugged. There is no cell phone service, no video games, no television, and no radio — just the sounds of silence.

Small is beautiful

In his now classic book Small is Beautiful: Economics as if People Mattered, E.F. Schumacher asked his readers to look carefully at the basic assumptions of modern economics.

At one point in the book he says the following:

“[A modern economist] is used to measuring the ‘standard of living’ by the amount of annual consumption, assuming all the time that a man who consumes more is ‘better off’ than a man who consumes less. A Buddhist economist would consider this approach excessively irrational: since consumption is merely a means to human well-being, the aim should be to obtain the maximum of well-being with the minimum of consumption. . . . The less toil there is, the more time and strength is left for artistic creativity. Modern economics, on the other hand, considers consumption to be the sole end and purpose of all economic activity.”

The book has also been described as “weaving together threads from [John Kenneth] Galbraith and Gandhi,” but a book that also looks very closely at the pragmatics of emphasizing decentralist economics, and most importantly the scale of any organization and the extent to which that scale must be considered an independent and primary problem.

And Schumacher emphasizes that “Ever bigger machines, entailing ever bigger concentrations of economic power and exerting ever greater violence against the environment, do not represent progress; they are a denial of wisdom.”

He also stresses the importance that “[N]o system or machinery or economic doctrine or theory stands on its own feet; it is invariably built on a metaphysical foundation.”

In recent years, of course, we have seen a growing concern and controversy over excessive consumption on the Blue Planet, as witnessed especially by climate change. We have also seen other trends towards a simpler but purer way of life such as the “Slow Food Movement” which emphasizes a global and grassroots approach to linking the pleasure of good food with a commitment to local communities and the environment.

But Schumacher’s work also emphasizes that “limitless economic growth of a material kind, without proper regard for conservation … cannot possibly fit into a finite environment.”

And these are some of the themes and issues that the Algonquin Eco-Lodge embodies and personifies.

•

Pay a virtual visit to The Algonquin Eco-Lodge

To see images of this unique lodge, click here.

•

Watch a video of Robin Banerjee explaining the feat of engineering that is very much part of the lodge.

To watch this video, click here.

•

Humans howling

In the evening, shortly after supper, we heard the wolves howling. We rushed out to the deck and into a very dark but starry night. I grabbed my recording equipment, but forgot my reading glasses! Furthermore the darkness did not help; and by the time I managed to get the equipment right-side up, the wolves had decided that they had had enough communing with homo sapiens sapiens and retired for the night. So all I was able to record were a few humans pretending to be wolves.

•

Links and  websites

(a) The Algonquin Eco-Lodge

(b) The Algonquin Eco-Lodge blog

(c) Searching for the Sublime: Algonquin Park and the Origins of Wilderness Tourism in Canada

This material from the Canada Science and Technology Museum suggests why Algonquin Park is such an historic and ecological destination in the Province of Ontario.

(d) The Friends of Algonquin Park

In the Province of Ontario, there are many organizations and individuals who understand why Algonquin Park is a very significant natural resource.

(e) The network of Ontario Parks

A well-developed system, Ontario Parks can provide travellers with all the information they need.

(f) Small is Beautiful: Economics as if People Mattered, by E. F. Schumacher

(f) Call of the Wild Adventure Consultants

The above is Robin’s sister company, named for Robert Service’s famous poem of the same name.

To see and hear the poem, click here.

•

And last, but not least, check out the Lodge on Facebook.

Share this:

1917 Paul Evan Gillespie, 34rd Division, Canadian Armed Forces

Paul Evan Gillespie

I would recognize his face if he came up to me in the street. I know his full name and the precise dates of his birth and death. I have seen a photograph of the rather ordinary wooden cross bearing the essential information — including the undistinguished block letters “RIP” — that marks the spot in France where his body lies.

But to me Paul Evan Gillespie, the son of a certain “Aunt Maggie” and my grandmother’s cousin, is still in many respects an unknown soldier. And with the relentless passage of time and the death of living memory it seems to me that he, like all soldiers killed in the Great War — or any war — may remain forever unknown soldiers.

When the much-used shoe box of odds and ends of family photographs sent by a cousin arrived finally — having been misdirected by Canada Post — it contained a jumble of what initially seemed to be the residue of the lives of three generations of people directly or indirectly related to me. My penchant for putting things in order was the only real motive for attempting to make some kind of visual and archival sense of them. Sifting through the bits and pieces of unremarkable lives lived, I re-arranged in protective plastic images of my father, his siblings, my grandparents and great grandparents, and their sundry friends.

The third photograph definitely takes me by surprise because it is the grave of Private P.E. Gillespie. His name is very prominent, juxtaposed with the blunt inscription “KILLED IN ACTION.” As if directing someone to the grave, the sentence fragments on the back of the photograph indicate “Position of Grave Faubourg d’Amiens Cemetery Arras Nearest Railway Station Arras.”

A wooden cross

I look at the photo again. It is an image of a simple, almost banal, wooden cross with four connecting supports each bearing official information; the kind of marker that could be put up quickly and often. The lettering is a rather old-fashioned typeface, obviously hand-painted, and done by someone who has had considerable practice. The spacing is accurate and even; a few minor stylistic flourishes attempt to embellish this common wooden cross. Thrust into rough dirt with clods of earth and spindly pieces of grass around it, the grave marker has been photographed by someone who knew consciously or subconsciously how to suggest perspective because behind it, rows of similar but not identical common crosses march silently off into the mists. There are no flowers, no carefully tended lawns. This place of the dead is one of utility and some haste; the war still has two months in which to run its course. There will be others to bury, other crosses to erect — not as many as in previous years, however, because attrition has slowed down the killing. Paul Evan Gillespie is one of the “next to last,” among those who perhaps were the unluckiest. He was nineteen years old.

The National Archives

The reading room of the National Archives of Canada in Ottawa is well-lit, appropriately library-quiet with long wide tables on which a few other silent individuals have spread various documents, letters, and maps. I have sent a fax a month ago requesting access to Box 3541-69, which must be cleared through the Canadian Government’s Freedom of Access and Information Act.

I wait patiently while the archivist locates my request, which had gone astray because my registration number had been pre-assigned and differed from that on my day pass. Paul’s regimental number 329064 in the database also differs by one numeral from that on the cross in the photo. But fortunately it is only a minor discrepancy — that one digit might have led to the proverbial ships passing in the dead of night.

Some time passes during which my thoughts wander to more immediate plans during my visit to Ottawa. And then I am slightly startled when a librarian approaches me from behind and hands me a modern, pristine, brown cardboard box. The label identifies it as an “Interim Container”; it has also been archived with the help of a barcode.

Potpourri

I put the box on the table in front of me and look at it almost nonchalantly. And then with the simplest of gestures on my part I open the box that contains the only other records of Paul Evan Gillespie that I have found. Inside there is a potpourri of common-looking official documents and annotated index cards — almost haphazard but innocuous — like old school records, all giving off that musty smell of old paper.

I learn that Paul Evan Gillespie was born on January 9, 1899 and “died of his wounds” at Arras on September 7, 1918. Strangely, one of the documents in the box notes that this expression “is cancelled & the following substituted: Killed in Action.” An “authorized” letter was sent to his “widowed” mother Mrs. Margaret Gillespie on September 20, 1918. Another document indicates that a telegram was sent on the day he died. Perhaps the letter gave some kind of explanation of the events of that day, the final events in Paul’s life; the kind of “fleshing out” of the event that a terse official telegram simply could not communicate.

Paul enlisted in the “Canadian Over-Seas Expeditionary Force” on February 16, 1917 in Guelph, Ontario. His Attestation Paper affirms that he solemnly declared that he was “willing to fulfil engagements by me now made, and I hereby engage and agree to serve … and to be attached to any arm of the service therein, for the term of one year, or during the war now existing between Great Britain and Germany should the war last longer than one year…”

He also swore allegiance to “His Majesty King George the Fifth” and on the form a magistrate appended his signature attesting to the fact that the “recruit” understood each question that was read to him. On a separate official form, the medical examiner — following the printed instructions “*Insert here ‘fit’ or ‘unfit.’” — certified Paul as “fit” and noted that he had “transverse scars 3″ long middle of anterior aspect right thigh. Large mole 1″ to right of middle line Lumbar spines.” Paul’s hearing and vision were “normal.” On the “Casualty Form – Active Service” it indicates that Paul was posted to the ninth regiment of the Canadian Army Medical (Ambulance) Corps, even though he listed himself as a “banker.” Under “Theatre of War,” is entered in careful script “France.” A rubber stamp on the document declaring “Embarked Halifax 12-4-17, Disembarked Liverpool 29-4-17” confirms he had gone to war. An official record of his movements informs me that he was later “Taken On Strength … as water detail” in Étaples, France.

Another standard form tells me a little bit more about him. Paul had a fair complexion with brown eyes and auburn hair and was a Presbyterian. He was 5 feet 8¾ inches in height, weighed 137 pounds and had a “minimum chest measurement” of 32 inches although his “maximum chest expansion” was 35 inches. His “apparent age” was “18 years 2 months”when he left Canada and he had no “congenital peculiarities or previous diseases.” In several other documents he is again declared “fit.” Handwritten comments on an index card state that he was “not elig. for 1914-15 Star” but that a P.& S. and a C. OF S. were forwarded to his mother as was $570 in back pay, although further payments to Aunt Maggie were “suspended” because Paul was not the “sole support” of his mother. This final payment, following the instructions in Paul’s Form of Will he signed on April 12, 1917 was sent c/o the bank of Commerce in Iroquois, Ontario. “Aunt Maggie” I discover later was my grandmother’s aunt. Paul and I might qualify as what in my family has been referred to as “shirt-tail cousins.”

The Unknown Soldier

A few hours later — a brilliant October day, the fall colours still very much in evidence — I am standing before the recently inaugurated Tomb of the Unknown Soldier at the base of The National War Memorial in Ottawa, Canada’s national capital. It seems to me that from an aesthetic, conceptual, and historical point of view the Memorial is now finished. The three levels complete the thematic “flow” from the lofty symbols of honour, glory, and victory over death at the top, to the mid-level sculpture of soldiers in battle struggling to make some headway, and finally to the ground level where the exquisite and poignant granite sarcophagus containing the physical remains of a soldier of The Great War simply but emphatically confirms the hard truth. Here lies a real soldier, a true — although unknown — Canadian soldier who has finally been brought home.

Paul Evan Gillespie is not the soldier in this tomb but despite the few additional traces I have discovered of his existence and of our very tenuous connection, in many ways he could be because, for all intents and purposes, he is still unknown to me. I do not know how he lived his 19 years, what he liked or disliked, whether he was happy or sad, or if in his short adolescence he had achieved a strong sense of himself. I can speculate about him and imagine his hopes and certainly his fears. I realize that if he had lived and even managed to reach a very old age, he would today be over 100, but such a speculation seems quite futile. The full life he might have had, his full potential is what is eternally unknown because Paul was and forever will be only 19. The realization depresses me.

Matthew

Having done all that it seems there is to do, I return to my hotel feeling what I can only describe as vacant. Fortunately, that evening I have arranged to have dinner with Matthew, a former student of mine now enrolled at the University of Ottawa. A bright, compassionate, and very sensitive young man, Matthew is also 19 and already has demonstrated — through his desire for truth and self-determination — the covenant of youth that we attribute to each new generation.

I show him the photographs and photocopies of the archival material and we talk about Paul Evan Gillespie, as if he were somewhere about. Matthew understands intuitively what I have sensed in this brief excursion and is able to reflect and augment my thoughts and feelings. Having recently begun the next big passage in his own life, Matthew understands the enormous transition that was forced upon Paul Evan Gillespie — and the consequence. Talking this through with Matthew, the sense of disembodiment, disconnectedness, and dispersal that my “encounter” with Paul Evan Gillespie elicited begins to abate. As has been the case so often with so many of my former students whom I have come to know well, Matthew’s fresh presence of mind and youthful perspective create a generational connection, an understanding that underscores why I have attempted to realize this belated bond with Paul. The regeneration induced by honest and timely communication with young people replenishes my need for a belief in innocence, hope, and humanity.

Life is full of ironies; dramatic, prophetic, and otherwise. Little did I know that before re-discovering Paul, in all likelihood I had walked past his grave in the Canadian cemetery in France when my wife and I were travelling there and following the First World War route from Vimy to the Somme.

Regret

Paul, if we have forgotten you, I regret deeply that senseless neglect. If we were not able to control events so that you became your full self and lived a complete existence, I am deeply sorry. I mourn your loss which ultimately of course is our own. I can only hope that you will now be a little less unknown and that those who lived and died as you did will not have done so for nothing.

Visiting the Front

Many travelers re-trace the history and events of both world wars by re-visiting the actual places that have become engraved in our collective memories.

(a) If you are planning such a trip, the website www.firstworldwar.com is a very useful and comprehensive first guide:

(b) A number of companies such as Somme Battlefield Tours Ltd offer organized tours of the battle fields and memorials of the First World War. Specialized battlefied tours are a niche market in themselves. Bartletts Battlefield Journeys Ltd. is one example.

(c) For more information on Canada’s Tomb of the Unknown Soldier click on the preceding link.

(d) The last Canadian soldier of the First World War

(e) See also Rain in Hiroshima.

Paul Evan Gillespie before he left for the First World War; he was only in Europe for three weeks before he was killed.

…

The following has been contributed by Bruce Leeming, a direct descendant of Paul.

“On the night of September 7, 1918, Paul Evan Gillespie left the Hôpital St. Jean to go to the YMCA to buy a coffee. His unit, the 9th Field Ambulance, had recently moved there from not too far away in order to take over other duties.

The Hôpital St Jean was built in the 12th century and in WW1 was taking in wounded from the front lines just a few miles away. By early September 1918, they were being swamped with men suffering terrible afflictions from gas attacks.

Today the Hôpital St. Jean is gone, torn down after the war.

What is left is only the statue and maybe some trees you see in this 1909 photo.This statue would have faced Paul Gillespie as he left that night in September. The statue is that of the Abbot Halluin who served the area with distinction, and lived here between 1820-1895.

To find the YMCA Paul Evan Gillespie had to walk through the Grande Place, which was not too far away. His overall distance would have been under two kilometres. The photo below is of the Grande Place February 1919.

Paul was walking through this town square when a German long range shell came in. It killed several people and wounded others. Paul was one of the people killed (or perhaps just wounded); but there is no doubt that he died of his wounds late that night. His family was told he was killed by a single bullet. His mother died believing this was what had happened. Many families were told the same thing, in hopes that they would believe that their loved ones suffered as little as possible.

Paul is buried In Arras at Faubourg D’ Amiens Cemetery. A cemetery which also has 35,000 names of men lost in the battles around Arras; and who have no known grave.There are many Canadian Field Artillery in this cemetery too.”

Jim Wilkinson and his son Paul at Paul’s grave. Paul Harold Wilkinson is named after his two great uncles, both of whom were lost in WW1.

Victory at Vimy

The War to End All Wars

In 2008, the world remembered the 90th anniversary of “the war to end all wars.”

Today, a great deal of the travel market, in one way or another, emphasizes historical travel — especially travel related to war.

At first, this may seem strange or incongruous, but only if “travel” means a vacation or some other form of escapism.

Battlefield tours are not new; travellers have been revisiting famous battle sites and other remnants of war for a long time. In many cases, former “war zones” have become major “tourist” destinations; this of course includes the famous sites of both world wars as well. Even tours by former Vietnam veterans to that country have become a way in which these men and women (and others) gain some kind of perspective, perhaps even some kind of reconciliation with the past.

John Babcock was the last surviving veteran of the First World War; he died at the age of 109. Many families around the world, like Babcock’s have connections to many wars, especially through a member of the family, either living or dead. Much oral history has been preserved about the realities and first-hand experiences of war, but eventually those prime sources of historical recall are silenced.

As Holocaust memorials and museums teach us, the very worst of history must be preserved and not forgotten.

…

Share this:

The ethics of music

The concert took place in the Yee Hong Geriatric Centre; a peaceful venue for the contemplation of the meaning of music, song, and eldership.

Like a succession of single tones in any musical composition, the concert was a tribute to the residents of this wonderful facility who, each in his or her own way, is approaching the end of their days.

The concert also celebrated the harmony of human existence: peace, friendship, and the artful blend of the human voice and music.

The Chinese Diaspora

There is little doubt that human beings are a migratory species. However, even though most of us moved beyond the transient stage in our evolution and “settled down” in permanent communities — in which our diverse cultures soon began to take root — many of us continued, of necessity, to migrate throughout the world.

There are of course many historical, economic, and sociological reasons why human culture (in its various hues and shades) continued to spread far from and beyond the initial “borders” in which it developed; but history shows how these migrations also contributed to the mosaic of other indigenous cultures, and to human culture in general.

It is worthwhile attempting to get an overview of the enormous contributions that Chinese culture has made to global culture — and to many of our individual national cultures.

The numbers speak for themselves

Worldwide, there are an estimated 40,000,000 “Overseas Chinese.” These are people of Chinese birth or descent; and we must not forget the additional numbers of individuals of partial Chinese ancestry who may also consider themselves as belonging to the Chinese diaspora.

The latter term, by the way, is from the Greek and means dispersion. It also has connotations of forced exile, and a collective migration out of the traditional homeland. Also implied in the term is the immigrant experience of living as a minority in a majority culture.

In many nations around the world, this minority cultural experience has often been the norm for Overseas Chinese, and a significant hardship. In Canada for example, where I live, people of Chinese descent are the largest non-European ethnic origin in our nation today; and the fifth largest of any ethnic origin in Canada other than English or French. Most were also born outside Canada. In fact, when you include all Chinese dialects and the two principal languages of Mandarin and Cantonese, Chinese is the third largest mother tongue in Canada after English and French.

Integration and heritage preservation

The Chinese people have always been a migratory culture. As early as the Ming Dynasty they were exploring trade opportunities in the South China Sea and the Indian Ocean. Different waves of emigration (and subsequently immigration) followed to regions as diverse as North America, Oceania, the Caribbean, Latin America, South Africa, Russia, and Southeast Asia. In the 19th century, the age of colonialism was at its height and the many multinational colonies far from their cultural homelands required labourers, and China often supplied a pool of such workers. These people of course were most often economic refugees and frequently they worked in backbreaking and dangerous jobs such as the building of railroads and mining. This, as I have indicated, was how Canada’s transcontinental railways completed the east-west natural flow of which the St. Lawrence River and the Great Lakes were the first stage in the longest freshwater waterway to the interior of the North American continent.

As economic refugees, these migrant Chinese struggled long and hard to improve their lives and to successfully integrate into the “host” nation.

This was not always easy as racism and other forms of discrimination often relegated them to the status of second class citizens. However, as difficult as their lives were overseas (often living isolated existences; for example along the route of the aptly named Canadian Pacific Railway where even today you can find small Chinese businesses in the smallest of communities) what they did manage to do was to hang on to their culture.

And as we all know, language is the core of any culture.

In many ways the Chinese who emigrated throughout the world became role models for preserving thousands of years of history and art, while at the same time contributing to infrastructure-building far from “home.”

And they continued to speak Chinese — and to express their love of music.

Audio selections from the concert

The Choir: selection one

Chanelle Tseng’s piano solo

Choir leader Lily Tong’s Magic Flute solo

The Choir sings a Russian folk song

Chanelle Tseng and Taylor Cao: a piano duet of Schubert’s Military March

The ensemble plays a song using traditional Chinese instruments

A flute duet

Panis Angelicus by Lily Tong

Taylor Cao’s vigourous piano solo

The Choir: finale

Watch the video

To watch the video, click on this link.

Images and imagery from the concert

The evening’s programme

Other resources

The Yee Hong Geriatric Centre

Other China stories from The Philosophical Traveller

China Then China Now

The Chinese Diaspora: A Brief Look at the Power of Culture

An Evening of Traditional Chinese Music — and Eldership

Share this:

A serendipitous encounter

The invitation to the concert came from a new friend I had met on Canada Day in a conservation area near both our homes. The meeting occurred shortly after I had returned from China, a trip that had left me exhilarated, and once again cognizant of the fact that travel is the most experiential form of learning whether it be international, national, regional — or just around the corner.

And so on this particular Canada Day, always a very multicultural event in the town in which I live, I had the pleasure of experiencing once again the mosaic of Canadian society.

My new friend Colin is of Chinese heritage — and a musician. The orchestra in which he plays uses traditional Chinese instruments, all of which have histories that go back many centuries. His organization is aptly called CHEERS (Chinese Elders Ensemble for Recreation and Service), a not-for-profit and charitable organization (and musical ensemble) of retired amateur musicians whose mission is to involve as many seniors as possible in its musical activities and programs; and thus to expand the social circle of seniors and to foster friendship and well-being.

And for music lovers or musicologists — amateur or professional — the CHEERS orchestra is a unique opportunity to explore the infinite world of music.

The culture of eldership

Eldership has always been critical to human societies, especially in terms of transferring skills, history, heritage and language especially to the next generations. However, in the 21st century, some of these basic principles can tend to get lost. And along the way, a great deal of collective wisdom and many generations of practical experience can also disappear.

In First Nations communities in Canada, for example, there has always been an emphasis on collective memory, in part so that the mistakes of the past are not repeated. Furthermore, transferring a strong collective sense of self to succeeding generations is critical. And for First Nations People in Canada (and many other minority populations around the world), this is a lesson that warrants repetition. At its best, true eldership is not paternalistic dominance behaviour nor is it a hierarchical issue of “out with the old, in with the new.” It is instead an emphasis on the transference of knowledge through the collective memory.

In her paper,”Ageing and Cultural Diversity: A Cross-Cultural Approach”, Susan Judith Ship points out the following:

“Traditionally in First Nations, Inuit and most Ethnocultural Minority cultures, Elders are those people, usually older, who are recognized by the community as possessing great wisdom and who are called upon as an authority to advise or act on important family and community matters. The term ‘Elder’ in some cultures, referred to and may still refer to any older person to indicate respect, honour, and special status as aging in many cultures is associated with experience, wisdom, the transmission of cultural heritage and language, leadership roles in the community, and in some cases, spiritual knowledge.”

And on the other side of the world in Australia, the Eldership Project, emphasizes that:

“We believe a person cannot truly progress through life  — passing over thresholds — unless they have been seen and blessed. And that Elders, especially, must be there to bless…. we have also seen Eldership alive and well — sometimes in the conscious, intentional part that older men and women have played in gatherings, rituals, ceremonies or discussions; at other times, in spontaneous eruptions of grace, healing, wisdom or presence.”

The role of music as an inter-generational legacy

Music is brain science; as well as a form of language itself. Musicians, musicologists, and music teachers throughout the world have always known this.

Petr Janata is a cognitive neuroscientist at University of California, Davis. As he has discovered, using brain scans, music is a powerful memory tool.

In his research he has discovered that “The brain region responded quickly to music signature and timescale, but also reacted overall when a tune was autobiographically relevant. Furthermore, music tracking activity in the brain was stronger during more powerful autobiographical memories.”

Extrapolating, it is therefore not difficult to see how memory, which is essentially neurological activity, autobiographical in a collective sense, and most importantly the sounds of a culture, can enhance the collective and individual sense of self.

Audio clips to accompany this story

Although I was privileged to hear traditional instruments during my visit to China, it has only been in retrospect that I have had the opportunity to learn more about them; and about the music of China.

In the following brief medley of pieces from the CHEERS ensemble and other virtuosos, you will hear a variety of pieces that are playful, dramatic, and hauntingly beautiful.

For me, these are mnemonic sounds of China.

…

 To listen to each of these excerpts from the concert, click on the text below the photograph.

A medley of pieces by the Ensemble

Celine Liu’s Zheng solo

Macie Ho’s Pipa solo

Dora Wang’s Dizi solo

Sandy Lee singing The Mountain Reflected Red

The Auld Lang Syne finale

It may initially seem curious that a Chinese orchestra would end its programme with Robert’s Burns’ Auld Lang Syne. However, this old folk tune is universal in many ways and speaks to people all around the world.

The poem was originally written in 1788 and was set to the music of a traditional folk song in Scotland. It was initially used to celebrate the start of the New Year at the stroke of midnight, and to end a célidh (dance).

The phrase auld lang syne has been translated in a number of ways but in its most universal sense it appeals to the collective memory of many cultures who sing it in order to honour tradition and “for the sake of old times.”

The song, a pentatonic folk melody and sprightly dance (in the original it probably had a much quicker tempo), was also originally sung to celebrate Hogmanay (New Year’s); and became a Scot’s custom that spread to many parts of the world, communicated worldwide in part by Scots who emigrated throughout many parts of the globe. It also has had many curious musical “incarnations” including that of Canadian band leader Guy Lombardo (a native of my home city of London, Ontario) who perpetuated the tradition for many years in Times Square of New York City.

In the most traditional expression of the song (usually performed in a large group), members form a circle by joining hands. During the last verse, the members of the group cross their arms across their breasts so that the right hand is linked with that of their neighbour on the left, and vice versa. At the end of the song, in its most traditional fashion, the members of the group rush to the middle, turn under their own arms, and end up facing outwards hands still joined.

The song is sung, in various forms and ways, in over 20 countries including nations as disparate as Japan, China, the Netherlands, Sudan, Poland, and Zimbabwe. It has also been featured in over 30 films.

One of the more poignant moments in which the song was used was when the body of Prime Minister Pierre Elliott Trudeau left Parliament Hill in Ottawa for the last time and travelled to Montréal for a state funeral.

And one of the more contemporary expressions of the song was performed by Daniel Cartier on Cape Cod Beach in Massachusetts, USA.

In essence, the lyrics of the song ask the rhetorical question whether old times should be forgotten. But it is also a call to remembering long-standing relationships; and the interconnectedness and interdependence of all things.

And this is the essence of the wisdom inherent in eldership.

To view a slideshow of images and imagery of the CHEERS concert click here.

To view it as a slideshow, click on “Slideshow” in the upper right-hand corner.

Classical ballet with a distinct Chinese flavour

When I was in China, I was fortunate to see how the culture of the “East” and the “West” have been blended, in this case in the form of.

Other resources

• The B.C. Elders Communication Center Society: Preserving the Past
• The Eldership Project of Australia
  The Toronto Chinese Orchestra
• The Chinese Cultural Centre of Greater Toronto
• Music-Memory Connection Found in Brain

Other China stories from The Philosophical Traveller

• China Then China Now
• The Chinese Diaspora: A Brief Look at the Power of Culture
• An Intrinsic Melody of Chinese Voices and Music

Share this:

St. André de Montréal

When Pope Benedict XVI officially approved bestowing sainthood on a simple carpenter from Montréal on February 19, 2010, he completed the final step in a process through which this man of humble origins had already been declared “venerable” and subsequently “blessed”. His canonization was the ultimate recognition of his life’s work.

Brother André is only the third saint in Québécois history; and the only one to have lived in modern times.

Previous to Brother André, Saint Marguerite Bourgeoys 1620-1700, and the Founder of the Congregation of Notre-Dame was declared a saint. And a year after her death, Marguerite d’Youville (1701-1771) was also declared a saint by the Vatican. She was the founder of the Sisters of Charity, more commonly known as the “Grey Nuns”.

But there are other saints a bit closer to home — at least not too far from where I live. They are known as The North American “martyred saints”.

These were the eight Jesuit Brothers who found themselves in the middle of the war between the Iroquois and the Huron. There are a number of reasons why these Jesuits were seen as a threat, primarily to the Iroquois who saw them as allies of the Hurons. The Iroquois perceived the Jesuits, rightly or wrongly, as helping to organize resistance to Iroquois raids among the Hurons. In addition, some have speculated that the arrival of the Jesuit Brothers in New France coincided with the arrival of new diseases from Europe, primarily smallpox, and consequently the Jesuit Brothers suffered from guilt by association.

The Jesuit martyrs were canonized by Pius XI in 1930. See a link to The Martyrs Shrine in Midland, Ontario. See also Ste. Marie Among the Hurons. And there is also, by the way, a national shrine to the martyrs in Auriesville, New York.

Sainthood, saintliness, holiness, and enlightenment

All four descriptors describe the legacy of Brother André, but the veneration and higher honours afforded individuals like him merit further consideration.

It is a fine distinction perhaps, but the Roman Catholic Church does not create a saint, but through the extensive process of canonization, it formally recognizes a saint. Furthermore sources I have consulted differ somewhat, the theological statement of faith is that all who eventually achieve the ultimate state of grace in Heaven are in fact also saints because they have “perfected” holiness.

Generally speaking however, a “saint” is someone who has been canonized if they lived after the year 1000AD. Furthermore, in 1969 the Roman Catholic Church deleted a number of saints from its liturgical calendar because of a lack of historical evidence affirming their sainthood.

The concept of holiness, however, is at the core of most religions; although that term is somewhat ambiguous and therefore difficult to define. On the other hand, the individual who exhibits exceptional holiness is a universal figure in many of the world’s religions, even in pre-Christian times. The enlightened one is perhaps more correctly described as “illuminated” because of the halo or aureole — a circular light — that has been depicted in religious iconography as surrounding the head of the individual. Such sacred figures were seen as pure beings who had attained the highest degree of perfection.

In his writings, for example, Homer describes a light surrounding the heads of heroes in the field of battle. In Asian art, in particular the iconography of Tibetan Buddhism, flames — halo-like — are often depicted as surrounding the head of the venerated individual. This is also the case in Chinese and Japanese art as well as in some Islamic art. The light emanating from the body, usually the head, of exemplary individuals has also been depicted in images of what have been referred to as Hindu saints.

The narratives of extraordinary human beings who accomplish equally extraordinary tasks, and the attendant light surrounding them, would appear to be universal in its imagery.

And in the vernacular of the 21st century, it is not uncommon to refer to extraordinary individuals as “saints”; which reminds me of the core lesson of Le Petit Prince: “Here is my secret. It is very simple. It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; What is essential is invisible to the eye.”

Such enlightened individuals are also seen as exemplary — usually charismatic leaders in a spiritual sense — special individuals who in some way are able to intercede on behalf of others.  But the concepts of sainthood and saintliness can vary from religion to religion; and herein lie the “hues and shades” of holiness and sanctity as they apply to such extraordinary individuals. What is also universal, however, is that certain “moral” traits are seen as especially worthy of veneration.

In his article “Anatomy of Sainthood”, Jack Crabtree of the McKenzie Institute of Portland, Oregon comments:

“Our English word ‘awesome’ most closely approximates ‘holy’. If someone is holy, something about him moves us to hold him in awe. In the presence of someone who is holy, we will be somewhat intimidated, silenced, subdued, and restrained; because we will be made to feel our lowliness, to feel the humbleness of our own stature and position. We will feel compelled to respect him and to grant him the honor and recognition that he deserves. There is an aura about the holy person, a spookiness or feeling of heaviness which causes us to walk softly and not to be obtrusive, to know our place and not to act presumptuously, and to be respectful and deferential. In other words, the holy person has an aura about him that makes us stand in awe of him. Perhaps we do not stand in gaping wonder; rather we may look upon him with quiet, considerate respect, but in a kind of awe nonetheless.”

To read the full article, click on the following link: “The Anatomy of Sainthood”.

A curious symbol of the history and culture of Québec

From a social history perspective, Brother André is somewhat of an anomaly in Québec because in the centuries-old struggle between the State and the Church in New France, which became especially critical in contemporary times during the lead-up to the Quiet Revolution of the 1960s, the State and the Church in Québec often found themselves at cross-purposes.

The motto of Québec, Je me souviens (I remember), is another of those expressions that “lose something in the translation”. The phrase also has a certain implied ambiguity. The motto is enshrined on The National Assembly buildings in Québec City (other provinces have “provincial legislatures”) and symbolically and somewhat enigmatically conveys various levels of meaning.

To some, the motto is a reference to the fact that the Québécois became “a conquered people”, following the apocryphal 20-minute battle on The Plains of Abraham in Québec City in 1759 in which England and France fought over an expansion of their colonial empires. As history has shown, England won; and the destiny of North America was transfigured.

In Québec, there are those who say that the Québécois were not conquered but rather abandoned by the bourgeoisie, many of whom returned to France when they saw the “writing on the wall”. But for many, the term also suggests a deep historical attachment to French culture — long-standing traditions, and memories which have not been forgotten — and consequently the motto created considerable controversy in Canada.

In 1978, when nationalism was again on the rise in Québec, the guiding principle was changed from its former La Belle Province to Je me souviens. Today there is perhaps no greater populist expression and reminder of the history and heritage of the people of Québec than the “new” motto which can seen on license plates throughout Québec.

Furthermore, la survivance — another term that loses in the translation, meaning roughly cultural survival, on many levels. Cultural survival in its broadest terms has play a key role in the evolution of Québécois society. And according to Claude Bélanger of the Department of History of Marianopolis College in downtown Montréal:

“Without a doubt, the social institution which exercised the greatest influence and had the most impact on Québec was the Roman Catholic Church…. [but] was also echoed by the new social scientists that were trained in Québec in the period immediately following the Quiet Revolution. This group, which sought the modernization of Québec and championed the cause of radical change, condemned widely the obscurantisme that had characterized Québec in the period before the 1960s, and blamed the Church for much of the ills that many believed afflicted Québec in the contemporary era.”

As witnessed by other “distinct societies” throughout the world, social, cultural, and linguistic survival became the renewed and universal elements in the collective memory of the Québécois.

To read Bélanger’s summary of The Quiet Revolution, click here.

In addition, because for a long time Québec was a primarily agrarian society, cultural survival — including most importantly language survival — was also reflected in what came to be called the revanche des berceaux (revenge of the cradle). Because of the population growth in what was then known as Lower Canada (primarily French-speaking); and which doubled every 25 years, the clergy therefore faced enormous challenges in terms of serving what they saw as the needs of their parishioners. The ratio of priests per capita also quickly declined especially when Québec began to emerge as a major force on the world stage through La Francophonie, an international political, social, and cultural organization in which significant numbers of the populations of member countries are francophones.

In due course, the narrative of Brother André, and those who identified with him and supported him, eventually brought him sainthood. He became a populist saint in the hearts and minds of many people even those beyond Québec’s borders, but also was remembered as an ordinary working class man, and an iconic figure who represented the hopes and aspirations of a distinct society.

A Holy Cross Brother

Born into poverty and of very fragile health, Brother André was orphaned at the age of 12. However, he exhibited an intense spirituality early in life. And although he never rose in the ecclesiastical ranks (until he achieved sainthood of course ), he worked primarily as a concierge at Notre Dame College, a job that included many menial duties.

But to be canonized as a saint, there had to be proof of miracle cures, and these were reported initially by word of mouth throughout the Catholic population of Québec. However, throughout his life Brother André steadfastly refused to take credit for any of them. He did however demonstrate an equally intense devotion to St. Joseph and frequently recommended that saint as an intermediary for anyone suffering physical diseases.

When brother André (born André Bessette) died in 1937 at the age of 91, more than a million people filed past his coffin in tribute to a man who would one day become a saint.

Travelling with the Catholic Media

I have been on many media or press trips; however none have been quite as focused or “inspiring” as the one called “Montréal, The City of a Hundred Steeples”.

As a bilingual Canadian, Montréal  is my favourite city in North America and — as you may have already guessed — in some respects it is my “spiritual” home away from home.

Montréal, and this goes for much of Québécois culture, is always among the avant-garde. You only need to look at the artistry of the  Cirque de Soleil to understand Québec’s unique worldview and its intellectual courage. There are many other examples of its contemporary outward-looking worldview, including the fact that it has one of the healthiest and most dynamic music industries in the world. This too is the result of the historical-sociological-political history of what has been formally recognized as a “distinct society” by the Government of Canada.

As we moved from place to place in Montréal, my Catholic colleagues and I engaged in a mutual exploration of such issues as the nature of spirituality and “faith”, the use of the term “The Church”, and the challenges facing the Roman Catholic Church in the 21st century. They did not shy away from any of these issues, but spoke of them with conviction and concern. We also dined well; after all we were in Montréal!

For me, it was a bit like being a lion in a den of benevolent Daniels.

Faith-based philosophies and other worldviews always give me reason to explore the unconscious elements at the core of our species, especially those that speak to our diversity and commonality. I believe in science and the scientific method; but I also believe in the indomitable and catholic spirit of humankind.

I also like Mother Teresa’s statement:

“Be faithful in small things because it is in them that your strength lies.”

…

Audio components for this story

Father Marcel Demers of the Basilique Notre Dame in Old Montréal, talking about the state of Catholicism in Québec.

To hear the above clip, click here.

Nelson and the Blessing of the Motocyclettes at Saint Joseph’s Oratory

To hear the above clip, click here.

Organ music from the Mass in the Chapel of the Saint Joseph Oratory

To hear the above clip, click here.

“Make A Joyful Sound,” from the Mass in the Chapel of the Saint Joseph Oratory

To hear the above clip, click here.

…

Iconographic images and imagery to augment this story

Click here to see additional photos taken at St. Joseph’s Oratory in Montréal. In order to view the images as a slideshow, click on “Slideshow” in the upper right-hand corner.

Resources

St. Joseph’s Oratory

The Oratory museum

Quebec Catholics (CBC)

Catholocism and the French Language, Henri Bourassa

The Roman Catholic Church and Quebec

The Quiet Revolution

Le Devoir: “Un patrimoine en danger”

The Catholic Church of Quebec — “Heritage in Danger” (English version)

The Saints of Canada (Canadian Conference of Catholic Bishops)

Other stories in this series

“A Hotel Called Nelligan in Old Montréal”

Coming soon …

“Mothers of New France: How the Women of Québec Established a Colony”

“The Religious Art and Vision of Guido Nincheri”

…

This story is part of the series

“The Catholic Arts and Architecture of Montréal”.

Share this:

To listen to this podcast, click on the link below.

Chatting with Kurt…

A pilot for all seasons

There are some individuals one encounters en route who inspire hope that human civilization is not going to Hell in a handbasket. One such individual who crossed my path recently is Kurt Jahr.

Kurt is in many ways un homme à tout faire and a man for all seasons. Furthermore he is a Renaissance person who engages in critical analysis, writes beautifully, and is a blogger who tackles some very heavy-duty issues.

Many say that the travel and tourism industry is the largest on the planet. In my experience, this is indeed true. But this global industry is made up of many highly skilled individuals who embody the best principles and practices of their diverse fields of endeavour. Kurt Jahr is one of the best examples of an individual who has eclectic talents and skills, is capable of engaging in the most complex forms of critical analysis, and always emphasizes what is in the best interests of people.

He is also a remarkable and creative individual who has many transferrable skills; and he is one of the best examples of someone who fully understands the interconnectedness and interdependence of all things.

Kurt is a pilot for Thunder Airlines, an airline that serves Northern Ontario from a base in Timmins (the home of Shania Twain) and serves remote communities on James Bay and Hudson’s Bay. He is also a social commentator as well as a talented webmaster. His website designs are wonderful examples of media literacy as well as being highly communicative aesthetically and effective.

Kurt can talk about just about anything including political theory, economics, ethical philosophy, science — he has a preference for the “hard” sciences — religion, futurism and the role of technology in the advance of human civilization. His latest “obsession” (his term) is pharmacodynamics and human nutrition; disciplines in which he confesses he is still learning.

I would also venture to say that he is the kind of hands-on philosopher who manages to achieve a pragmatic approach to life — he is after all a pilot — but also has what appears to me to be a superb grasp of the theoretical and even the ethereal.

In this podcast, Kurt comments on many issues including aviation safety, economics and the airline industry, aviation as both a science and an art, the iconic “character” of the bush pilot — including “flying by the seat of your pants” — the role of the intuitive “feel” in flying, and flying as “a state of flow”.

To hear this chat, click on the link at the top of the page.

Resources

Thunder Air, more than an airline

Kurt’s blog: Letters to Liberty

Kurt’s personal website

The Polar Bear Express, alternative transportation to Moosonee and polar bear country

Timmins, Ontario, home base of  Thunder Air and the home of Shania Twain

Moosonee, “Touch the Edge of the Arctic”

High Flight , a visual rendering of the famous poem by John Gillespie Magee, Jr. Born in Shanghai, China, Magee was an American pilot who flew for the Royal Canadian Air Force before the United States entered the Second World War. He died in a mid-aire collision.

AcademicEarth.org, a resource Kurt recommends for lifelong learning

Thunder Air’s northern routes

…

Other aviation stories from The Philosophical Traveller

A Wright Moment in North Carolina

Flying the Bear

Share this:

A podcast with Bonnie Neely, owner of Real Travel Adventures

To listen to this podcast, click on the link below.

Chatting with Bonnie…

The culture of the race car

Culture, and the many subcultures that are part of the of human experience, is what makes Homo Sapiens truly unique.

Eons ago, when we stood up and began to migrate — and to travel — that crucial transition moment was also the beginning of our species ability to adapt, to invent, and to conceptualize. And a great deal of the ingenuity that has become our “stock in trade” was initially thanks to our opposable thumb which allowed us to create tools and to manipulate so much in our environment.

But our innate ability to predict and imagine was also a major great leap forward in so many ways. We became a species of dreamers, in the best and most comprehensive sense of the word. We also to developed the ability to visualize and to design.

In essence, we became engineers.

And the art of engineering also led to so many other triumphs, for example the space industry. As Frank Lloyd Wright said, “Space is the breath of art.”

And for the many millions who are fans of the race car, it too is a thing of beauty, and an art form. And in many ways, it is the ultimate in mechanical engineering. It is all about beauty, design, and the physical manifestation of our ability to transcend our limitations.

NASCAR as a travel and tourism “industry” unto itself

As USATourist.com points out, NASCAR is the stuff of cultural traditions and social history. This industry has its roots in the wide open spaces of the American South and in its landscape which formerly included large areas of farmland.

But the NASCAR cultural phenomenon is also an ideal venue for sociologists, psychologists, social historians, and cultural anthropologists.

Consider the following:

“During the post-World War II years the American economy hit a boom time and more people spent money on entertainment. Dirt track racing was already popular in the South where large tracts of land and inexpensive gasoline fueled the sport. In 1948 Bill France organized racing into an entity that expanded during the next fifty years. The first official NASCAR race was held February 15th 1948 in Daytona. That year 52 races made up the NASCAR season. The original stock cars were the same sort of automobiles that traveled America’s highways.

NASCAR is rooted in the dirt roads and mountain passes of the American south. Until the 1980s, the South was a string of rural communities with lots of wide open space. A large part of the south is farmland. With limited public transportation, the automobile is a necessity. The earliest stockcar drivers copied the driving style of moonshiners, those who make alcohol illegally to avoid the paying taxes on it, frequently driving through the backcountry to deliver their product. In the USA, making and selling alcohol without paying taxes on it is an illegal activity.”

But it wasn’t just about moonshine; as a cultural phenomenon NASCAR also became a democratic initiative in that it brought a degree of levelling to American society.

And like so much in the American tradition, it brought the sport of race car driving to the people.

Resources

The NASCAR Hall of Fame

Sam Bass, NASCAR artist

Visit Cabarrus County

Charlotte Motor Speedway

Concord Motor Speedway Park

Beauty, art, and adrenaline

NASCAR: a community and family affair

Bonnie’s articles about NASCAR racing

“Rev Your Engines for NASCAR”

“Cabarrus County Offers More Than Races”

“NASCAR Offers Many Career Choices”

Photo credits

Lead photo courtesy of The NASCAR Hall of Fame (Sean Bush). Other photos courtesy of Bonnie Neely

Share this:

What’s in a number?

Well if it’s the number 7 we are talking about, a lot of human history, cultural anthropology, and universality.

The number seven has been described as belonging to “the world of dreams.” It is also often seen as the most “spiritual” number in numerology; and in the human experience throughout the ages it has been implicated in many corollary systems, traditions, and beliefs. In our desire to make sense of a universe that is mysterious and mystifying, it has served as a tool to help us create a sense of order.

It is both a prime and primal number.

The number 7 reflects a human anthropological concept, but it also has universal implications: seven days of the week, seven spirits; seven colours in the spectrum; seven notes in the musical scale; seven major chakras (energy points) in the human body; seven key features on the human head. The list could go on and on including  — yikes! — the Seven Deadly Sins.

So I was not surprised to learn that a grassroots blogospheric event had taken the mystical number 7 in new directions. It’s called “My 7 Links” and it is brought to you by the innovative and traveller-friendly online resource TripBase.

How it works

You have to be nominated, as I was by Ottawa-based journalist Laura Byrne Paquet.

By the way, Laura is one of the most creative and scholarly writers and travel journalists I know. Her book Wanderlust is ample evidence of this. You can listen to my chat with Laura here: “Wanderlust: A Social History of Travel”. And be sure to check out her blog “Facing the Street” by clicking on the preceding link.

So here I go with my list of seven…

1. My most beautiful post

“Beauty” as they say, “is in the eye of the beholder”. But beauty can be a complex concept; sometimes even a “terrible beauty”. This is the essence of the Peace Park in Hiroshima.

“Rain in Hiroshima”

2. My most popular post

Much to my surprise this piece about New Zealand got a lot of hits. Initially I was assigned the article by the editor of a major Canadian magazine. However, she then left the magazine and was replaced by someone else who no longer wanted a general piece but instead wanted me to write a specific piece. That article eventually turned out to be “The Sweet Sound of Doubtful”. But, in the “long run” it was the article below that got the most hits.

“New Zealand: Grace, Civility, and Splendour”

3. My most controversial post

There’s no doubt here because I took some risks by possibly ticking off the powers-that-be in the mainstream media — and my colleagues.

“An Irish Scholar’s Challenge to Travel Writers”

4. My most helpful post

A recent story and podcast was, I believe, the most helpful to travellers in terms of making the connection between travel, healthcare, and science.

“A Physiotherapist’s Tips for Travellers”

5. A post whose success surprised me

This one surprised me because I received a personal email from the man himself (Dr. Ho) from his homebase in China. He also agreed to my invitation to record a podcast. Dr. Ho is now a millionaire, or perhaps even multi-millionaire.

“On the Road with Dr. Ho”

6. A post I feel didn’t get the attention it deserved

Actually I am not surprised that this mega-post didn’t get the attention it deserved. It was the most ambitious and “interconnected” piece I have probably done to date. I also realize that people are busy and often assaulted by information overload; and consequently have less and less time in a media-world-gone-mad to read and digest.

“Unconscious Travelling: More than Meets the Eye”

7. The post I am most proud of

I need to first explain that I am very wary of “pride”, which indeed can go before the fall. Is it pride, arrogance, conceit, chauvinism, amour-propre, self-esteem, or something else? Semantics perhaps, but given the “I’m proud to be …” statements I often hear, I try to be especially careful with that particular feeling.

“The Hands of Juan Quezada”

…

And my nominees are … the envelope please …

Bijan Bayne

Bijan Bayne is a man for all seasons. He is a sports journalist, frequent radio guest, and a very knowledgeable and scholarly individual on matters relating to African-American history. And these are just a few of the roles he plays.

Here is a sample of a sports blog of his, “Secrets to a San Antonio Dynasty”.

Julia Bayly

Julia is the kind of reporter you can trust because she always gets the facts right. Her perspectives on those facts are also bang-on. She lives in Forth Kent Maine and is a regular contributor to the Bangor Daily News. Julia is also one of those femmes à tout faire, who understands how the human narrative is integral to human culture.

I am especially fond of this blog of Julia’s: “Muktuk Kennels – Where Dogs Rule”

Judy Hammond and Glenn Cameron

Judy and Glenn own and operate Clear Communications, a very grassroots and enlightened public relations firm. They are also, in my opinion two of the best in the PR industry. Their narratives about the social history and heritage — and natural environments — of destinations they represent also communicate why the travelling public in the 21st century has come to expect a more meaningful travel experience.

See this particular blog of theirs about the Canadian West:  “Central Canada meets western Canada”.

Ian Creelman

Ian is a former student of mine, a very articulate software engineer, and now a friend. He is also someone I have had the privilege of working with in producing a podcast that shows the interconnectedness of travel and engineering. (See “The Concentric Worlds of Travel and Engineering”) Ian is relatively new and fresh to the wide world of blogging.

He has travelled extensively and here is a post of his on Egypt: Egypt.

Graham Simmons

Graham is a member of a very eclectic collective of Australian travel journalists called the Global Travel Writers. They are well-known for emphasizing “excellence in travel journalism”. Graham and I met in India and over the years have stayed in touch, often via Skype.

Graham is also a superb photojournalist, as you will see from “Dispatches from the Red Centre”.

…

“There is not one big cosmic meaning for all, there is only the meaning we each give to our life, an individual meaning, an individual plot, like an individual novel, a book for each person.” — Anaïs Nin

“Believing as I do that man in the distant future will be a far more perfect creature than he now is, it is an intolerable thought that he and all other sentient beings are doomed to complete annihilation after such long-continued slow progress.”— Charles Darwin