Secret Origins: Another Summer Festival?

A week or so ago, I walked through the downtown park that hosts most of the summer festivals for which London, Ontario, has become noted. Sunfest, Children's Festival, Home County Folk Fest (alas, a casualty of COVID, killed after 50 years, though perhaps ready to return to life in '25), Ribfest, Bluesfest... I've lost track, and felt surprise when I saw a gathering of food trucks and some minor banners as I neared the park's central hub. Poutine fest! How very Canuck, like beavers or coalition governments. Granted, it consisted of, well, a handful of food trucks and some minor banners, but still, from small and artery-clogging beginnings…

No, really: a celebration of deep-fried potatoes, curds, and gravy, along with every thematic variation the small assortment of vendors could devise. I virtuously declined—and then stopped for a beer on a patio as I wound my way home.

Promoted to Captain

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In two days I am off to Seattle to see Tessie graduate with her Masters degree. This is astonishing to me, as it seems only two weeks ago she was a shy little thing hiding behind her mother's skirts when being introduced. I'm so proud of her. She's dealt with loss of her mother and the trauma of being basically kidnapped up to Washington state. She lost her grandfather and the love of her aunt and yet leapt over all these hurdles to become

She once found a handwritten note, inside of a shoe

sitting in a box in an antique shop 

 smudged blue ink,  written in a language she did not know 

She threw away the shoe, but kept the note for years,  until finally 

Curosity led her to a library, who sent her to a translator 

The first person deferred,  recommending a retired college