Columns

Just to be clear, I’ve always had the utmost admiration for teachers and what they do every day.

When it comes to sports broadcasting, I’ve always enjoyed radio play-by-play over television. Give me a Toronto Blue Jays game, especially during the days of Jerry Horwath and Tom Cheek, on the radio over the Sportsnet or TSN all any day of the week. Same goes for hockey – I’d much rather hear Joe B

The official name for this particular crime is mischief – something that brings to mind naughty children playing “nicky nicky nine doors.”

As one of the many born into Generation Alpha, I have noticed that the older generations don’t have as much confidence in us.

Last week I had an appointment for a CT scan at the Stratford hospital. I have the scan approximately every three months while they check for cancer – melanomas – in my body.

June is Pride Month. Those four words will bring out one of three reactions in readers of this newspaper: support; anger; or no reaction at all.

Knowing what you know of my husband and I – that we do our best to live a healthier lifestyle – it may come as a surprise to learn that Graham was a smoker for almost seven years.

Cars are getting a bad name as major polluters taking up prime downtown real estate that could be turned into sidewalk cafés and sales areas.

It is amazing how quickly things in a conversation can turn negative these days, isn’t it?

If this method catches on and holds water going forward, countless National Hockey League analysts could be out of work.

During my years as a graduate student at the University of Guelph, I was lucky enough to live in my Mum’s childhood home smack dab in the middle of Puslinch. Like many other small hamlets that dot the areas around Guelph, Puslinch was a creation of a bygone era when farmland was carved up willy-nill

As reported in the Banner last week, North Perth has retained a consultant to perform a council composition and ward boundary review for the municipality.

The issue of foreign influence in Canadian politics has once again hit the headlines in a big way.

When I was a little girl growing up in Hespeler, Ont., my dad owned one of the gas stations in town. Dad was a friendly guy who welcomed everybody to his shop and his kitchen table. We had a wide variety of friends stop by to have a coffee with Dad, who loved a good visit and a good story.

Away back, some 20 years ago, in these columns, I expressed my opinion that we have four stages of years to live.