Opinion

There’s a reason the term “starving student” has staying power and is a tired cliché — and it’s not just because of alliteration. It’s because “starving student” is a very real stage in many of our lives.

After a punch to the heart, the realization of an apocalyptic tragedy, there is time for shock, grieving, for prayer and, eventually, time for reflection and expressions of remorse, despair, hope and deliberation.

I cut through the Bay Centre last Friday on my way to meet a friend for lunch. It was busier than I’d expected, crowded with what I first took to be Christmas shoppers.

A friend and his wife were at a movie recently, saving three seats for friends, in the usual way — an umbrella on one seat and hats on the others.

Changing the rules in the middle of the game is almost certain to bring howls of protest from the other players. In some drinking establishments, it might bring more than that.

It would be nice to think that by now, politicians, male or female, could be judged on their abilities, their vision, their values and so on. Gender should not be a factor. But, sadly, we’re not there yet. In fact, it’s probably worse than ever.

The prison chaplain came home at dawn, his face haggard. Before he went to bed, Cyril Everitt told his grown son one thing about the hangings he’d just witnessed: “There was blood everywhere.” It was Toronto, Dec.

A year after the pictures were broadcast across Canada and the world, the images of deplorable housing conditions in Attawapiskat are still shocking.

When Canadians hear news of mass killings, their first instinct is to think it has happened in the United States. They’ve been right most of the time, especially in recent years. The U.S.

Traditional arts groups such as orchestras, ballets, operas and theatres that neglect to think about how they fit into the broader social context and respond accordingly will fail.