I was gently reprimanded recently about a post I had made. I had put an image of a certain purple ribbon and medal on my Facebook site without any word of explanation.

Andrée Crépeau, a friend and a former archaeologist at the Fortress of Louisbourg, pointed out that there was likely more to the story than just the image.

She was right.

Sometime back in the 2000s, the late Robert Pichette—a remarkable individual who wrote distinctively in many genres and who along the way designed New Brunswick’s flag—put together a dossier on me and sent it on to France’s Ordre des Palmes académiques (Order of Academic Laurels).

Time went by and then more time.

Robert occasionally told me that my case was strong and I should be hearing from France eventually.

One day in 2010, or maybe 2011, I found in my mailbox a letter (with gilded embossing) from the office of Canada’s Governor General. The letter informed me that Canada had approved of me (and a few dozen others) receiving honours from foreign countries. In my case, it was an honour from the French Republic. I was to become a chevalier of France’s Ordre des Palmes académiques.

I later learned, from the date on the French certificate reproduced below, that my honour had actually been awarded to me back in October 2008. It seems that it takes quite a while for Canada to vet any foreign distinctions given to its citizens.

Eventually, a ceremony was held at the Consulat de France in Moncton, NB, when I received the distinction that Robert Pichette had sought for me. One of the photos captures Robert and I shaking hands at the end of the ceremony. The good looking young people standing with Mary and me are our son Michael and his wife, Emily.

The event is a wonderful memory.

Special thanks to all my friends and colleagues at the Fortress of Louisbourg who very much contributed to every publication on Louisbourg that had my name on it.

The sorting and de-cluttering continued, and yesterday it brought another surprise. In a drawer filled with ribbons, buttons and forgotten small tools—we found a silver T.

Well, not just a silver T but “the” silver T.

At the high school I attended, Truro Senior High, the author of the poem judged to be the best of the year was awarded the silver T. In my Grade 12 year, that honour fell to me, for my “Reflections.” (It’s in the yearbook as I recall.)

I didn’t go on to write much poetry after high school—though I did have my main character write a bit of poetry in my first novel, Thomas, A Secret Life.

Nonetheless, that silver T meant something to me. I guess I saw it as a pat on the back from my Grade 12 English teacher, Miss Helen Beveridge.

As things worked out, I would go on to write quite a bit over the years to come. The encouragement from Miss Beveridge, in the shape of a silver T, was an important step along the way.

Looking closely at the T, I notice that my name pretty much fills the space. Do you think that’s how they picked the winner, by the length of one’s last name? Did anyone with a longer name have to be ruled out?

Cleaning up a cupboard in the laundry room the other day I came across an old briefcase.
It had lots of stuff inside—as if I had been getting ready to go somewhere with lots of material and then for some reason decided to put it in the cupboard and promptly forgot about it for more than a decade.

Included in the long-forgotten material was something that made me smile. It was my student card from my days as a doctoral history student at the Université Laval. That period was 1995-98.

I have very fond memories of my time at the Université Laval. The arrangement was that the university allowed me to travel there for periods of about two weeks several times a year. When I was there, I stayed in a basement apartment of a very nice elderly couple who lived about a 15 minute walk from the campus.

My thesis supervisor was Jacques Mathieu, and he was excellent in that role.

The dissertation that I wrote to complete the doctoral programme at Laval ended up becoming Control and Order at French Colonial Louisbourg, published by Michigan State University Press.

There is a campaign underway to convince the federal government to stand up for the rights of creators.

The request is that the Copyright Act be amended and reinforced, because it was seriously undermined by amendments passed by the previous government led by Stephen Harper. Those changes permitted wholesale copying of books by universities without the authors of the books receiving any compensation.

The campaign is called Creators Calling on Ottawa. Writers—and other creators—are encouraged to send messages to the responsible federal politicians. Those individuals are the Prime Minister and two of his ministers.

@JustinTrudeau

@FP_Champagne

@pablorodriguez

A sample message from a writer could be:

To keep creating Canadian stories like the ones I write, the education sector needs to pay for the use of our work. The government needs to fix the Copyright Act.

The message is to be accompanied by a photo of a writer holding up one of their books. Like this:

Something a little different has come my way.

It’s an inquiry from the Dictionary of Canadian Biography to write a short biography of Mathieu da Costa.

For those not familiar with the name, Da Costa is the earliest known person of African descent—for whom we have a name—in Canadian history.

I have written about Da Costa before, and I am pleased to take this on for the DCB.

I think that was it.

Last Monday evening’s performance at Truro’s Marigold Cultural Centre by The Lincolns was almost certainly the end of a very long musical run, dating back to 1960.

And what a run it was, lasting more than 60 years. In its heyday, the band delighted audiences across the Maritimes throughout the 1960s.

Then, more selectively, there were periodic reunions starting in 1978, and occurring again every so often until last Monday, October, 18, 2021.

Of course, I’m sorry to see the end. Never before and never again will I ever have a book launch like that. But what a wonderful way for the band to go out.

Bravo, Lincolns!

Long live live music everywhere.