Posts tagged Editorials
Editorially speaking…

Even as a kid I knew what the Broad Arrow stood for.

As the son of a career navy man, I’d seen it from time to time on various things such as trunks and tools, etc.: a three-pronged arrow head pointing straight up, sometimes beneath a crossed bar.

I noticed it among Dad’s things and, later, in the treasure trove of maritime memorabilia on display or for sale at Capital Iron & Metals. 

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Editorially speaking…

Sasquatch aka Bigfoot hasn’t been in the news lately but some Williams Lake residents were reminded of the elusive giant recently when they found a B.C. Forest Service bulletin attached to their windshields.

Headlined SASQUATCH ALERT, the notice advised of recent Sasquatch sightings in the area and urged that anyone encountering one of the hairy creatures not to be alarmed, that Sasquatch come down from the mountains to feed on fish, freshwater clams, vegetation and to mate.

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Editorially speaking…

This week, the Chronicles concludes the sad tale of Canadian Pacific Airlines Flight 21, British Columbia’s worst unsolved mass murder.

How is it, one might ask, that hardly anyone, besides journalists and family descendants, seems to know about it? Is 60 years that long ago? It’s almost as if many us have placed a statute of limitations upon memory.

While researching and writing this story several thoughts have come to mind.

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Editorially speaking…

It’s so easy to think of history as being, well, long ago and far away. In the past. Come and gone. Done with. Move on.

The reality, of course, is that history walks among us as a living, vibrant being. Rather than being static, it’s happening every minute of every day, even in our own backyards. Okay, sometimes it takes a while to be officially recognized and recorded as such; that’s what historians and archivists are for.

Conversely, and it’s happening more frequently these days, we turn the telescope around and, like the revisionists of Communist infamy, we try to undo history—making even more history. 

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Editorially speaking…

Now the company that wants to salvage whatever valuable minerals are left in the ore dumps of the Tyee and Lenora mines on the Cowichan Valley’s Mount Sicker is looking to process the tailings piles of the Blue Grouse Mine.

Jennifer and I made several visits to the adjoining Blue Grouse and Sunnyside claims on the west shore of Cowichan Lake years ago, I’m happy to say, so it isn’t on my bucket list, or I’d be champing at the bit to check it out before they can go to work.

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Editorially speaking…

There’s an interesting item in this week’s Terrace Standard about Japanese triplexes at “the last intact cannery on B.C.’s north coast” having been restored as a vital piece of the region’s multicultural fishing heritage. 

The North Pacific Cannery in Port Edward, virtually unaltered to this day, goes all the way back to 1889 when salmon canneries were a major contributor to the provincial economy. Now it’s a national historic site and museum that offers visitors “an immersive glimpse” into the lives of cannery workers.

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Editorially speaking…

One of the joys of researching in old newspapers is discovering smaller news items, nuggets I call them, that just don’t make it to the big time. By which I mean, they’re what some would cruelly call trivia, so get passed by.

But this one recently caught my eye and, if only momentarily, sucked me down the rabbit hole. I share it with you today. It’s from the Victoria Daily Times of Jan. 25, 1929.

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Editorially speaking…

There’s an interesting footnote to today’s Chronicle about Louisa Townsend who came to B.C. on the bride ship Tynemouth and married Edward Mallandaine.

Their son, Edward Jr., born propitiously on July 1st, 1867, the same day as the Confederation of the Dominion of Canada, became an itinerant carpenter for several years after leaving school at the age of 14. He found himself (again propitiously) in the CPR construction town of Donald, B.C., in time to witness the driving of the Last Spike.

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Editorially speaking…

Memory is a funny thing. It can be vivid, branded into the brain; it can be ephemeral, just a wisp-like fog that swirls about you from time to time but is always there, slumbering in the subconscious while it awaits a word, a sight, a smell or a sound—something, anything—to bring it if only momentarily to the fore. 

One that has always stuck in my mind from childhood concerns money. A stack of bills pulled from the wall of an old house, once a store my mother told me, as it was being torn down.

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