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Three Things from Edmonton podcast -- Episode 100: wherewithal, Professors Plumb, reunion

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Once a week I’ve try to notice what I noticed made me happy or grateful. So the noticing equipment doesn’t freeze up. This week's podcast is episode 100:                            1. Wherewithal   Through the kindness of friends and the historical support of taxpayers, I got to Rogers Place to watch an Oilers game in person. The person I watched, with the puck, without the puck, watched even as he skated onto the ice for warm-up, was Connor McDavid. It’s a different Connor McDavid than you see sometimes at the dog park or at the IGA, where he’s just another dog lover and coupon clipper. On the ice, on skates, free from the hold of the thick earth, #97 moves like the wind. Over, between, into, against, around, across, through, by. He skates prepositionally. And that would be quite good enough if what he did for a living was the league’s skating skills competition. He plays hockey, though, and that means he skates...

Three Things from Edmonton podcast, episode 53: showing your route, showing your roots, mailing it in

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  Happy. End. Of. The. Week! This is where once a week I try to remember three little things that made me happy or grateful and then record it in a short podcast. Here's Three Things, episode 53 . 1. Showing your routes I fight in myself the modern impulse to bail out of a newspaper story after the first 10 seconds of reading. I always feel I have something else to look at. I’m a child of print swimming in a visual mediascape designed to keep the attention of goldfish. I mean, look: A 30 second TV commercial for a home exercise machine has 18 cuts and all kinds of effects to keep my attention. Lack of attention is assumed by social media. A typical Twitter user takes about three seconds to decide whether a tweet is worth staying with. We scan, we swipe, we scroll, we, basically, confront written material like we are television viewers, trained to expect a new shot every second. Which is exactly how you don’t read a newspaper. Poor newspapers. All that non-moving black print on un...