Atkins

A couple of weeks ago the Laurentian School of Architecture held an auction — for fish huts. I can’t tell you much about it because as of this writing, it hasn’t actually happened.

I have been extraordinarily lucky. When I was 22 years old I had no clue what I wanted to do with my life. When I was 23 years old, I fell into a journalistic job in Thunder Bay and knew that was it.

It’s hard to avoid the question of Rob Ford wherever you live in this country. He brings a larger-than-life “wince” seldom achieved in this highly contested category of public service. He can take you from rage to compassion in an afternoon.

It’s a complicated time to consider the matter of leadership.

It began as many things do. I didn’t have a clue what I was getting into.

In the last 10 years, this ink-stained wretch has broadened his horizons into a variety of digital companies. Some have prospered. Some have died. A couple remain potential home runs. A couple remain on life support. I love each one of them.

My Aunt Betty died this year. She had suffered with dementia for some time and so it was a shock to lose her, but not a surprise. She was 87. Many of you, of course, have a favourite aunt or uncle.

Yesterday, while sitting in the front seat of the car consulting her BlackBerry, my daughter made the following observation on the state of the Canadian economy. I used to have 170 contacts on my BBM directory. I now have 37.

Notwithstanding Stephen Harper’s habit of going for the jugular (i.e.

I can hear the gnashing of teeth from Sparks Street in Ottawa to Ouellette Avenue in downtown Windsor. Yes, that would be the MPPs for the Liberal Party of Ontario. The cabinet ministers would add genuine fear to the grinding of teeth.