Glenn Kubish

I think we can now get a better picture of what Canada's unknown solider might have looked like. The tomb of the unknown soldier is a feature of the National War Memorial in Confederation Square in Ottawa. The tomb holds the remains of an unidentified Canada soldier killed in France in the First World War. The idea is powerful: this soldat inconnu represents the Canadians who have served—army, navy, air force, merchant navy—and died, in the past, in the now, and in the future, in the name of this country. Reading those engraved words—The Unknown Soldier Le Soldat Inconnu—summons a foggy image. I hear the words and I see a featureless soldier wearing a steel helmet and for some reason I imagine I see hills. Or, do I somehow see the idea of that soldier and the idea of those hills? I can keep these wispy images framed for only a few seconds before they vanish. My experience has nothing else to anchor them in anything more solid. But the murderous events of October 22, 201...

There is a terrifyingly beautiful feeling waiting for me in the Rockies. Quite what it is I have never been able to make stand still. It sometimes feels like merciful obliteration. I mean, the Rocky Mountains take no notice of those passing through, need nothing from those passing through. They are a quiet, powerful other. * By contrast, the urban landscape makes demands of me. It orders me to read this sign, read that billboard, read this digital screen. Read, read, read. And that reading makes noise in my head. And being the reader, I am tricked into believing the messages need me. In the mountains, there is no such fraud in the quiet trees.                                                                  ********                             ...

( Quick Note From Me : This is an article written by Ottawa writer and friend, Margaret Baer-Opazo. It's about her cousin, the brilliant Patrick Anderson, the star of the Canadian men's Paralympic basketball team. But it's also about heroes and sons and figuring out who is worth looking up to.) In our cynical age of tainted athletes, doping scandals, and corruption, anyone watching the coverage of the 2012 Paralympics from London can see that disabled athletes have become our true heroes.  Huge crowds have been thrilled watching exciting performances by athletes showcased by the host British media as powerful and strong, “sexy” and “cool.” What the world is discovering now, my family has been watching for some time now. My cousin, Canadian Patrick Anderson, is widely considered to be the world’s best, most complete wheelchair basketball player.  Combining power, speed, pinpoint shooting, and vision, he is the LeBron James of wheelchair basketball,...

Here is some video of the changing the guard ceremony in Ottawa. What I don't have on tape, what I didn't have time to get on tape is the medley of Canadian songs the band plays before the drills start. It was good to be there when they played Alberta Bound . I have stayed. Unlike most of my friends, I have stayed. I have to travel and find other ways to simulate the perspective on home that comes from away. Hearing  Alberta Bound reminded me of that. But that is not the item. Here is a bit of Ottawa from our perspective on the day after Canada Day, 2012.

At the intersection of Albert and Elgin in Ottawa, just outside the National Arts Centre, is a figure portrait, the work of Ruth Abernethy, in honour of the music and personality of Canadian jazz great Oscar Peterson. Seeing it is an unexpected thrill, even in a city full of stunning statues, plaques, carved words.  Turn up the volume on your computer, and take a look, listen at something different. It demands that you notice and contemplate Peterson's joy. His is not the carved face of a typical Father of Confederation, a prime minister, a judge or any other citizen hero.  Really, how many sculptors have the courage to capture their subjects in anything but the most severe, stern, awful facial expressions? I don't disparage those works. I'm just glad this is different, and that bronze has been taught to smile. I think Peterson has just finished playing something live and has turned to accept the applause of the audience. But he also seems to be contemplating tha...