Home & Sir John A.
Visited ACB the past weekend, had a very good time. BBQ on Saturday (Huge steaks) and corn and lasagne and stuffed grape leaves. All good.
Gave Pater his copy of Palestine (interesting book) and we all had good time. Uday & Qusay were both there, although Uday didn't make it in until 8.
Sunday, Cynra & I went up to Kingston to start my quest to view the resting places of all of Canada's PMs.
Sir John A is buried in Cataraqui cemetary, where Kingston has been interring its citizens for two hundred years.
Old cemetaries are fascinating. It's like watching a scroll of history. Graves pass by, markers submerged into the ground, obelisks standing up, headstones standing erect. You get a sense of time and family. You see fragments of lives etched into granite, births and deaths, infants taken early, centarians who fought through world wars. You turn your head, a stone, turn again, another.
There are two possible reactions to this, really. You can shut it out, or let it in. Shut it out, and it's all rocks and numbers, dates and history. Let it in, and you realise it's all people, each stone a life led, breaths and dreams, favourite drinks and lost loves. Saints and sinners, good people and bad.
The subject of the trip was easily located; there were signs pointing towards it, and a fence surrounding it.
The marker itself is very simple. No towering monument, it's a simple cross stating his name, with the slogan "At Rest". An obelisk, perhaps ten feet in height, marks the grave area. Surrounding him are his family, his wife, brother, and infant son.
The fence gate was not even locked, and the burial area was well travelled. Around the stone were a set of wreaths, from the IOOF, the Kingston Law Society, and the Conservative party of Canada. The last two of them had fallen down, knocked down by wind. I picked up the Law Society's wreath.
It was what I suppose we have to expect, somber, humble recognition of our past. We have no towering monuments for our leaders; they even refused to name a mountain after Trudeau (a good thing, or last week's news would have included the story of three climbers being rescued from it).
Next to Sarnia, I suppose. No hurry, as it isn't going anywhere.
Gave Pater his copy of Palestine (interesting book) and we all had good time. Uday & Qusay were both there, although Uday didn't make it in until 8.
Sunday, Cynra & I went up to Kingston to start my quest to view the resting places of all of Canada's PMs.
Sir John A is buried in Cataraqui cemetary, where Kingston has been interring its citizens for two hundred years.
Old cemetaries are fascinating. It's like watching a scroll of history. Graves pass by, markers submerged into the ground, obelisks standing up, headstones standing erect. You get a sense of time and family. You see fragments of lives etched into granite, births and deaths, infants taken early, centarians who fought through world wars. You turn your head, a stone, turn again, another.
There are two possible reactions to this, really. You can shut it out, or let it in. Shut it out, and it's all rocks and numbers, dates and history. Let it in, and you realise it's all people, each stone a life led, breaths and dreams, favourite drinks and lost loves. Saints and sinners, good people and bad.
The subject of the trip was easily located; there were signs pointing towards it, and a fence surrounding it.
The marker itself is very simple. No towering monument, it's a simple cross stating his name, with the slogan "At Rest". An obelisk, perhaps ten feet in height, marks the grave area. Surrounding him are his family, his wife, brother, and infant son.
The fence gate was not even locked, and the burial area was well travelled. Around the stone were a set of wreaths, from the IOOF, the Kingston Law Society, and the Conservative party of Canada. The last two of them had fallen down, knocked down by wind. I picked up the Law Society's wreath.
It was what I suppose we have to expect, somber, humble recognition of our past. We have no towering monuments for our leaders; they even refused to name a mountain after Trudeau (a good thing, or last week's news would have included the story of three climbers being rescued from it).
Next to Sarnia, I suppose. No hurry, as it isn't going anywhere.