The Brown Knowser

It was July 2, 1994. The day started off with stormy weather—torrential rain, thunder and lightning, hail, and high winds. Not the best weather for an outdoor wedding. I drove to the event, through rain, wondering what we were going to do. We had 55 guests that would have nowhere to go for shelter, as the reception room, the tea house at the Mackenzie King Estate, in Kingsmere, wouldn't be open to them until 6, as it was still open to the public until 5. They were in for a soaking. Or so it seemed, until the rain eased, then ended, just as my best man and I pulled into the parking lot. The wind was still blowing, but that was a good thing: by 4:30, it had pushed away the clouds and let the sun dry the lawn. By the time the ceremony started, the weather couldn't have been better. Even the wind eased off, blowing only enough to keep the mosquitoes at bay. The ceremony was short and sweet. The reception and dinner was perfect. The service was spectacular. The music and d...

The first time it happened, it was the result of a miscalculation. A conversion of miles to kilometres: one, on the road sign; the other, on my fuel gauge. I'm an English major: you do the math. Lesson learned: the next time you see a Last Fuel for the Next XX Miles sign, heed it's warning, and fuel up. So, we were getting close to the exit for Cortland, NY, and with several miles still to go, I came to the realization that my digital fuel indicator would reach zero before we could safely reach a gas station. My passenger and I became worried, wondering how far we would have to walk after the engine went silent, the car slowed to nothing. The indicator read 0 kms to empty, and yet, the engine continued to run. About a half-mile later, a road sign read 1 mile to the next exit. It was like being in the desert and seeing an oasis in the distance, wondering if it was real or just our imagination. Even though the sign was real, there was still no way of knowing whether we...

Now that the one-metre cycling law in Ontario has come into effect, the vitriol in the backlash from some drivers has heated up. On news posts , on the radio, on television, and all over social media, drivers of motorized vehicles balk at the law, which states that a vehicle that is passing a cyclist must maintain a minimum of one metre of distance from the cyclist. If it is unsafe to pass, the motor vehicle must wait, behind the cyclist, until it is safe to pass. Yesterday, as my cycle group traveled on Century Road, just south of Manotick, some asshole, passing the 12 of us on a straight road with plenty of visibility and plenty of room, decided to get as close to us as he could  as he sped by. Never mind that there was a vehicle that was ahead of him and gave us a wide berth. His car spewed black smoke from his exhaust as he hit his accelerator (not like those brain-dead, rolling-coal drivers: his car was just a piece of shit) and I could see him laughing as he came close to...

I have to admit that I was more than disappointed when the severe storm and tornado warnings came to nothing. I was sitting on my front porch, beer in hand—it was a sai son called There's No Way of Knowing —waiting for something to happen. The wind was strong, a couple of rain drops fell, but nothing that made me feel I should move indoors. Thunder rumbled in the distance as the sky grew dark from thickening clouds. But nothing. Disappointed, I grabbed my camera and hopped in the car. I drove north, where the storm seemed to be raging. I hit the Ottawa River Parkway and drove on wet roads, but the rain had already swept through this area. Looking north, into the Gatineau Hills, I could see that that was where the action was. I was not going to drive that far. With only 10 minutes to sunset, I realized that it was the summer solstice. The sun was fading on the longest day of the year. While the storm clouds had already promised to swallow the glowing ball of fire, its ray...

It was the summer of '89. Almost every weekend, I partied with my buddy, Andy, at his folks' house on March Road, north of Kanata, just before the turn in the road and the intersection of Dunrobin Road. There were always people in the house, always guests staying over. I spent more weekends, drinking beer and singing along with Andy's brother-in-law, who strummed his acoustic guitar 'til the wee hours of the morning, than I spent at my own home. I shared a spare bed more weekends with my girlfriend's best friend than I did with my girlfriend, who was planting trees in Northern Ontario and then travelling throughout Europe. The friend and I slept. That was all. Behind the house was a large, above-ground pool, with a spacious cedar deck built around it. More beer, soaking in the sun or taking a dip. When the sun was out, that's where you could always find us. Poolside. It was a great summer.

I laughed aloud as she wired me up. She was a petite woman of East Asian descent. Standing toward each other, she came below my chin. As I stood, arms stretched wide so that she could attach the monitors on straps around my chest, her arms seemed to hug me. "Did I tickle you?" she asked. "No," I said, "I just see the absurdity of it all. There's just no way that I'm going to sleep, tonight." How could anybody with sleep problems get a good night's rest with electrodes glued to the scalp, with straps tightened around them, with wires up the pant legs? At home, a little bit of light seeping through the window and under the door, the glow of the electronic devices charging on night stands, distract me, make it hard to fall asleep. The tiniest of sounds stir me from light slumber. I turn a lot in my sleep. It's like I'm on a rotisserie, laying first on my back, then on my right side, on to my stomach, over to my left side, and ret...

I made Mother's Day happen for DW. My kids didn't, though I gave them many chances. "Let me take you shopping," I said to them. That's a big deal, because I hate to shop, especially with my family. I feel like I'm being dragged from store to store, comparing many things, walking out with nothing. When I shop alone, I already know what I want and know where to get it. I have an idea of how much I'm willing to spend, and if the item happens to be on sale, all the better. I'm in and out in minutes. One of my daughters went away for that weekend. My other kid didn't know what to get her mother and wasn't willing to shop. I knew what she wanted. She had been talking about adding a rack to the back of her bike, upon which she could attach panniers. I made a trip to The Cyclery, in Old Ottawa South, talked to the owner about the bike DW has and asked for his best recommendation. One rack: sold. He showed me three panniers, of varying quality a...

I'm privileged. I'm a straight, white man, born and bred in North America. I'm well-educated, well-travelled, well-read. I have no religious affiliations. A have a well-paying job, a house, two cars, a spouse, and healthy children. I am truly fortunate. I have never known fear, intimidation, and hate over the colour of my skin, my sexual orientation, my culture, my religious belief, my gender. As news about the shooter in the Orlando nightclub massacre is gathered and evolves, we are seeing a picture of a troubled individual, Omar Mateen, who may or may not have committed this heinous offence because he was conflicted over his sexual orientation. If this is the case, there are more reasons to be outraged over what happened. It's bad enough that he may have gone on a murderous rampage over his homophobia. There's enough hate in the world, already, over trivial matters and differences of opinion. But love is love is love. If too people love and care for one ...

Just one day after the Rideau Lakes Cycle Tour, my knee is just a little sore but my left foot is in a bad way. The top of the foot often clicks when I walk, as bone grinds upon bone, but now the sound is steady and louder. I'm on a steady diet of Tylenol and Advil, to dull the pain and ease the swelling. This is my new reality, until I have surgery to correct the condition . But just one day after my return ride from Kingston ended in Elgin , a couple of friends have offered their sympathy, congratulated me on what I managed to complete, and said that they'd see me next year. No, you won't , was my response, unless I chose to volunteer . I know that every year, after I finished riding the RLCT, whether I've completed the journey or not, I've said I'm not doing it again. And then I'd do it again. But this time, I mean it. I'm staying down. I'm reminded in that skit on The Kids In The Hall : the young tough kid, trying to pick a fight in a...

I'm cursed. And Mother Nature is a bloody bitch. Four attempts at completing the Rideau Lakes Cycle Tour and four failures. Sure, last year I actually completed the full Century Tour, riding the 200 kilometres from Perth to Kingston, and back, but I had actually registered for the Classic Tour, the 350-km route from Ottawa to Kingston. A fall and fractured wrist forced me to shorten my ride. Year one, I made it from Ottawa to Kingston but didn't ride on the second day. Year two, I made it from Ottawa to Kingston, but after 60 kilometres on the return trip, a problem with my left calf forced me to stop. Last year, I succeeded in completing a route but it wasn't my chosen route. This weekend's ride looked promising. I started training early: first, in spin classes at the gym, and as soon as the snow was gone and the roads were clear, I re-registered with the Ottawa Bicycle Club and joined as many group rides as I could make. I figure that because I started r...

Brock Turner and his father, Dan. Mr. Turner, I'm writing to you as one father to another, as a dad who knows what it's like to want to do anything to protect his kids. I'm sorry to be so blunt, but you are a failure as a father. When we enter into parenthood, it is our duty to see that our children are healthy and well cared for, ensuring that they have adequate shelter and food, and are placed out of harm's reach. As they grow, we teach them the basic life skills that they need to thrive in our society: how to talk and communicate with others. How to take care of themselves, from simple hygiene to feeding themselves. If we're a good parent, we'll pass on the golden rule: to treat other people the way we would want people to treat us. That includes not raping people. I don't have any sons. I can't teach my kid that, when he goes out for a social evening, to treat people with kindness and courtesy. That, if he meets a woman, he is to treat ...