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Michael Major
Michael Major on a recent hunt — Picture by Michael Major

I’m a bit of an odd character

Six bloody times typing out a synopsis to let all of you know who I am. The previous attempts didn’t quite hit the mark and failed to capture my unique nature. I think that I was finding it difficult to speak about myself, and the character I play in my life story, or perhaps I simply do not temet nosce.

I can’t keep re-writing this forever, so here is what I think you should know about me.

What is it that brings me here?

While it is myself that hammers on a keyboard and scribbles in notebooks, truth be told, there is…

Photo by Diana Parkhouse on Unsplash

A personal research project turned into so much more than I bargained for.

Never say, “At least it can’t get worse,”

Photo by KIMO on Unsplash

The cabin appeared abandoned, but after watching the building for a quarter of the day, he still was not sure. No smoke from the chimney, no vehicles, no muddy boots outside the door. These days that was not unusual, those who remain are masters of concealment.

The sun would set in a couple of hours and it was decision time.

The far too light pack and agonizing empty stomach decided for him. Hunger wasn’t enough, the threat of what darkness brings is what pushed him to start moving.

Rising from the ground he held the pistol grip of the rifle…

Starting with the pillows

Photo by Quin Stevenson on Unsplash

My wife for far too many years endured shiftwork as a registered nurse. As she had our children, she took on an increasing volume of night shifts which helped with arranging childcare.

Pulling back to back night shifts while pregnant, and chasing after a very active three-year-old, is enough to make anyone value slipping into a perfectly made bed. These days, her shifts often see her returning home well past midnight to be up at seven to shepherd the kids to school.

What I think it comes down to is that the road to slumber is paved with pillows, a…

You can say a lot with a single word

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History is a potpourri of famous one-liners, far too many to list here, but there is little doubt that some of the greatest episodes of badassery come from single-word answers given to very serious ultimatums.

When I sat down to write this, two examples jumped out and demanded to be recognized. A quick explanation and description are not enough to understand why these two words carry such weight as to affect the course of history. …

Don’t call me middle-aged

Photo by Author

I’m a little over a month away from forty. The problem is that my male brain still thinks that I’m twenty. My body, on the other hand, is not afraid to remind me of how old it is.

This story is not some rant about how getting old sucks, and I’m not going to lament the grinding gears of time as I speed headlong into the brick wall of a mid-life crisis. I’ve never been one for complaints.

Truth be told, the steady march of the years doesn't concern me, and I’d rather be approaching forty than twenty. I have…

The Dutch know a thing or two about how bad things can be.

Photo by Immo Wegmann on Unsplash

I’m sick and tired of the complaints about how bad 2020 was because they are often coming from those who sat at home watching Netflix, drinking far too much, and spending way too much time in their own echo chambers. Then there are the people who whine about wearing masks, lockdowns, protocols, or who try to seek out every possible loophole to selfishly carry on however they wish.

Don’t get me started on the weak-minded anti-maskers gullible enough to believe that a global pandemic, whose death toll is fast approaching two million souls, is fake or somehow a government conspiracy.

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Not all heroes wear capes or walk on two legs

Who is the hero of this classic tale? Who is it that the Whos owe a debt of gratitude for saving Christmas? Is it Cindy-Lou Who?

No, it is not…

Inside of my shadow box — Photo by Author

A personal perspective from a peacekeeping veteran and writer

Since I…

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The Story of a First Fish

“Hey everybody! I caught a fish!” He exclaimed beaming with pride and enthusiasm.

A few hours earlier we sat at home eating breakfast. With my wife pulling a twelve-hour day shift, I pondered what mischief myself, and my exuberant three-year-old, could get ourselves into that…

Michael Major

Freelance writer, avid outdoorsman, husband, father, and a proud veteran of the Canadian Armed Forces

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