JACK TURPLE, who lives alone in a shack at Upper Kennetcook in the rolling hills of Nova Scotia, is sixty-nine and nearly blind. On fine days he sits outside in the sun, humming softly to himself and listening to the brook that babbles past his door and thinking of the fun he had when he was a husky young lumberjack.By IAN SCLANDERS18 min
• • • and two bright young Canadians named Harry Verner and Gus Weinstein do the rest. From space ships to bottle warmers, they handle the lion’s share of this country’s lively premium businessBy ERIC HUTTON18 min
As a girl Jenny Butcliart liked to go up in balloons but she came down to earth and planted one of the world's finest gardens in a quarry near Victoria when her husband agreed to dig his cement farther back into the groundBy MAC REYNOLDS15 min
For thirty years a hilarious yet serious game of hide-and-seek has bemused the villagers and the law on Ontario's Long Peninsula. Hundreds of cases of whisky came bobbing ashore from a foundering ship and where it went. nobody knows — that is hardly anybody knowsBy BOB COLLINS, BOB MANN15 min
Don’t talk about Fort William and Port Arthur as a single unit or they’ll run you out of town. Look at Charlie Cox. Might have been mayor of both places if he hadn’t used that naughty word “amalgamation”By TRENT FRAYNE15 min
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