Viola Desmond’s Place in History.

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I love her face the first time I saw her. It was a week-long education series for The Voice of Our Members that Viola Desmond was introduced to us. Born and raised in Halifax, Nova Scotia. An African-Canadian woman. The … Continue reading

Setting the record straight

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Women play an essential role in the world. For without the woman’s womb, we are not born. Rejoice and be thankful. – Perpetua

Perpetua and Felicity

Perpetua and Felicity

We celebrate the lives of some remarkable female saints this week, and today, we remember saints Perpetua and Felicity. These remarkable women were early third-century, African martyrs were of great significance in the life of the early Church. They were condemned as Christians by the Roman authorities and sent to the public arena, to be mauled by wild animals. However, they survived and were then taken to be executed by the sword. Their story was widely circulated secretly throughout the early Christian congregations, giving encouragement in the face of adversity. They were martyred for their faith on this day in the year 203.  – Pray As You Go

On this date: History of Perpetua

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Perpetua, a noblewoman, and Felicity, a slave, were imprisoned and killed on March 7, 203 in Carthage. Carthage is a magnificent ancient city in Tunisia, part of Africa. During Perpetua’s imprisonment, she kept a diary and accounts that provided a vivid picture … Continue reading

Father and Son

Art Morgan

Here lies ashes of Art Morgan buried at the foot of Sakura Tree at Forest Law Cemetery close to Mother’s gravesite.

 
Father and Son
wearing the same outfit
black turtle neck, black jacket, black coat. 
Can I tell the difference?
young and older,
spitting image. 
It was Remembrance Day. 
Father was in town for the legion
to commemorate Remembrance Day. 
Where have you been hiding this young lady?
asked Father to Son. 
Where have you been hiding your father?
a thought I kept to myself for the Son. 
He was an army pilot during World War II. 
Father survived the war,
got married, raised a
family of four. 
I was happy to meet Father but
death came to soon. 
He died
in his own
hands. 
Why? 
Have you seen a
grown man cry?
Son was inconsolable. 
In Father’s bedroom
there I sat on his bed and lit
a candle to say a little prayer
and left the candle burning
by the bedside table. 
WHO LIT A CANDLE! 
Scream came out of Son’s mouth
hush, it was me, hush
Inconsolable.
wishing I could take away his
pain. 
Thanksgiving Day
time to scatter the ashes on top
of the mountain
overlooking the lake. 
One by one
the family took handful of ashes
blown to smithereens
carried by the wind. 
Mine placed in a small container
for Father’s ashes to bury him
at the cemetery. 
At the foot of the Sakura tree
is where I buried his ashes
near Mother’s resting place. 
Father’s bible was given to me
in memory of Son’s Father. 
There is no answer to Why. 
Remembrance Day
will always remind
me of Father and Son.