Five Years a Writer

December 27, 1966-December 27, 2025 Cordt was my colleague and friend — and my mechanic on call. I met him when he began teaching at Red River College and I immediately liked his straightforward approach to everything — communication, teaching, friendship. When I needed something, he helped me out. Never made a fuss, was always present for me. When I had a question about something with my car, Cordt was my first call. When my mum was ready to give up driving and sell her car, Cordt gave advice on process and price. I had a question, he had an answer. He willingly lent me his car for errands at lunch. When I lost an election to be on the college’s board of governors, he brought me a “loser muffin” and we laughed together. He made my job as department schedule-maker so easy with his willingness to take on any new course, anytime. He gave me countless rides between our workplace and my home. When he wanted to try out the newly opened Jollibee restaurant, he asked me to go along; he loved ...

Such intensity! Amanda at about age five, writing something. I like my green beans steamed just long enough that a bit of crunch remains. Then served with just salt, maybe a squeeze of lemon — maybe. My favourite green veg, plain, is obviously what it is, there on the plate. My writing is, I think, a bit like those green beans: plain, accessible, identifiable for what it is — a thinker making sense of her world via words served up, unadorned, for enjoyment and appreciation by anyone who joins her at her virtual table. Until I came up with the green beans analogy, I had been contorting myself to shape today’s post  —  to make it fancy, doll it up, hide its inherent simplicity with sophisticated technique and impressive side notes*. And then I heard my mother’s voice exclaiming, “Don’t drown the green beans!” She meant, just cook them and serve them. They are good as they come, naturally. So.  I am closing out my posts for this year by saying a simple and sincere THANK YOU ...