Latest Articles by Sarah Canice Funke
(Slightly modified from real life experience in order to make it more interesting. The spirit, however, has been thoroughly preserved.)
Scene: A small Dutch reformed church kitchen in southern Ontario. Two members of a singles' Bible study group putter about, trying to get everything ready for the imminent arrival of the rest. One of the women surveys the coffee machine and decides to get some coffee going. She takes down the coffee tin and scans the side for directions. All she can find is French. As in all things Canadian, the food labels are bilingual. The other woman notices her puzzlement and walks over.
Brenda: So, what's the problem? Can't read Canadian?
Sarah (delivers a glowering look): You're the ones who can't decide what language you speak!
I love these people.
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I've decided that I am not interested in "old school" music analysis anymore. "Old school" analysis reads like a play-by-play rundown of the music. I like commentary.
Less "Barrows died at second and Cooney did the same."
More "The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville Nine that day."
Although, I suppose you need to know why "a deathlike pallor fell upon the patrons of the game."
So I guess there's room for both.
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