“The Glue That Holds A Marriage Together”. By Henry Regehr

Yes, of course, it’s love.  But the honeymoon lasts until it suddenly ends, and every couple can remember the occasion that signaled the dawn of a new era, post honeymoon, and the beginning of a minor or major scuffle for control. It could be at any significant point in the relationship: the engagement, the wedding, the first shopping trip, the arrival of the first baby….  Charlie and Debbie were madly in love. The engagement time had gone swimmingly, the wedding was memorable, but half-way through the honeymoon in an idyllic dream place, it turned into a nightmare when the unstated issues bubbled to the surface.  Like everyone else, Charlie and…
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I’m Just A Little Kid. By Henry Regehr

On a cold prairie winter day, I was walking the long way home from my grade two class when a team of Clydesdales, pulling a farm box wagon on winter runners, passed me on the snowy road. To a small seven-year-old, these horses were massive creatures with broad backs, great muscled legs.  Just next to me were their huge plodding hoofs that left tracks as large as our dinner plates. I was awe-struck and frightened as only a small child could be walking beside these monstrous animals.  The tall, broad-shouldered farmer in the wagon had the horses in full control as he held the reins loosely and headed toward his…
Read More

“An Arresting Story”. By Henry Regehr

At two o’clock in the morning my wife announced that it was time to hurry to the maternity ward of St. Joseph’s hospital in Vancouver. Everything had been prepared, the overnight case was packed, the doctor had been called, the ’54 Bel Air Chev was gassed up and we were on our way. The quiet streets allowed us to make the trip with efficiency and we arrived in good time. My wife was gently led to the ward. At that time fathers were not allowed into the birthing rooms, and it was made clear that my presence would not be required for the next while. I wandered out, a bit…
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“No, Mr. Wishard…” By Henry Regehr

Bob Newhart immeasurably raised the public image of driving instructors when he unveiled his famous monologue about those brave souls who “face death in a thousand ways and never know if they will return home at night”. In 1955 I started my summer job, driving the famous white Joe Vine Diving School cars with their dual controls around Winnipeg, and Bob Newhart understood. “No, Mr. Wishard, you can’t make a left turn on this street”. I spoke quietly but tensely, holding my side of the dual steering wheel. “That is a one-way street”. “But the cop just made the turn”, he shouted back, still putting all his energy into trying…
Read More

“The Pain of Phantom Guilt”. by Henry Regehr

David and I met at Tim Horton’s where we had our regular coffee and every morning we compared notes about our activities and interests. He was a photographer by hobby and truck driver by profession. He had a lively sense of humor and a pleasant smile that spread easily over his bearded face. The conversation, on this particular Monday, now a long time ago, had been friendly and casual until he said, “I was saved at a Billy Graham Crusade meeting. Ever since then I have been plagued by feelings of guilt”. That got my full attention on that rainy day and we ordered another cup of coffee. “That is…
Read More

“The Glue That Holds A Marriage Together”. By Henry Regehr

Yes, of course, it’s love.  But the honeymoon lasts until it suddenly ends, and every couple can remember the occasion that signaled the dawn of a new era, post honeymoon, and the beginning of a minor or major scuffle for control. It could be at any significant point in the relationship: the engagement, the wedding, the first shopping trip, the arrival of the first baby….  Charlie and Debbie were madly in love. The engagement time had gone swimmingly, the wedding was memorable, but half-way through the honeymoon in an idyllic dream place, it turned into a nightmare when the unstated issues bubbled to the surface.  Like everyone else, Charlie and…
Read More

I’m Just A Little Kid. By Henry Regehr

On a cold prairie winter day, I was walking the long way home from my grade two class when a team of Clydesdales, pulling a farm box wagon on winter runners, passed me on the snowy road. To a small seven-year-old, these horses were massive creatures with broad backs, great muscled legs.  Just next to me were their huge plodding hoofs that left tracks as large as our dinner plates. I was awe-struck and frightened as only a small child could be walking beside these monstrous animals.  The tall, broad-shouldered farmer in the wagon had the horses in full control as he held the reins loosely and headed toward his…
Read More

“An Arresting Story”. By Henry Regehr

At two o’clock in the morning my wife announced that it was time to hurry to the maternity ward of St. Joseph’s hospital in Vancouver. Everything had been prepared, the overnight case was packed, the doctor had been called, the ’54 Bel Air Chev was gassed up and we were on our way. The quiet streets allowed us to make the trip with efficiency and we arrived in good time. My wife was gently led to the ward. At that time fathers were not allowed into the birthing rooms, and it was made clear that my presence would not be required for the next while. I wandered out, a bit…
Read More

“No, Mr. Wishard…” By Henry Regehr

Bob Newhart immeasurably raised the public image of driving instructors when he unveiled his famous monologue about those brave souls who “face death in a thousand ways and never know if they will return home at night”. In 1955 I started my summer job, driving the famous white Joe Vine Diving School cars with their dual controls around Winnipeg, and Bob Newhart understood. “No, Mr. Wishard, you can’t make a left turn on this street”. I spoke quietly but tensely, holding my side of the dual steering wheel. “That is a one-way street”. “But the cop just made the turn”, he shouted back, still putting all his energy into trying…
Read More

“The Pain of Phantom Guilt”. by Henry Regehr

David and I met at Tim Horton’s where we had our regular coffee and every morning we compared notes about our activities and interests. He was a photographer by hobby and truck driver by profession. He had a lively sense of humor and a pleasant smile that spread easily over his bearded face. The conversation, on this particular Monday, now a long time ago, had been friendly and casual until he said, “I was saved at a Billy Graham Crusade meeting. Ever since then I have been plagued by feelings of guilt”. That got my full attention on that rainy day and we ordered another cup of coffee. “That is…
Read More

“The Glue That Holds A Marriage Together”. By Henry Regehr

Yes, of course, it’s love.  But the honeymoon lasts until it suddenly ends, and every couple can remember the occasion that signaled the dawn of a new era, post honeymoon, and the beginning of a minor or major scuffle for control. It could be at any significant point in the relationship: the engagement, the wedding, the first shopping trip, the arrival of the first baby….  Charlie and Debbie were madly in love. The engagement time had gone swimmingly, the wedding was memorable, but half-way through the honeymoon in an idyllic dream place, it turned into a nightmare when the unstated issues bubbled to the surface.  Like everyone else, Charlie and…
Read More

I’m Just A Little Kid. By Henry Regehr

On a cold prairie winter day, I was walking the long way home from my grade two class when a team of Clydesdales, pulling a farm box wagon on winter runners, passed me on the snowy road. To a small seven-year-old, these horses were massive creatures with broad backs, great muscled legs.  Just next to me were their huge plodding hoofs that left tracks as large as our dinner plates. I was awe-struck and frightened as only a small child could be walking beside these monstrous animals.  The tall, broad-shouldered farmer in the wagon had the horses in full control as he held the reins loosely and headed toward his…
Read More

“An Arresting Story”. By Henry Regehr

At two o’clock in the morning my wife announced that it was time to hurry to the maternity ward of St. Joseph’s hospital in Vancouver. Everything had been prepared, the overnight case was packed, the doctor had been called, the ’54 Bel Air Chev was gassed up and we were on our way. The quiet streets allowed us to make the trip with efficiency and we arrived in good time. My wife was gently led to the ward. At that time fathers were not allowed into the birthing rooms, and it was made clear that my presence would not be required for the next while. I wandered out, a bit…
Read More

“No, Mr. Wishard…” By Henry Regehr

Bob Newhart immeasurably raised the public image of driving instructors when he unveiled his famous monologue about those brave souls who “face death in a thousand ways and never know if they will return home at night”. In 1955 I started my summer job, driving the famous white Joe Vine Diving School cars with their dual controls around Winnipeg, and Bob Newhart understood. “No, Mr. Wishard, you can’t make a left turn on this street”. I spoke quietly but tensely, holding my side of the dual steering wheel. “That is a one-way street”. “But the cop just made the turn”, he shouted back, still putting all his energy into trying…
Read More

“The Pain of Phantom Guilt”. by Henry Regehr

David and I met at Tim Horton’s where we had our regular coffee and every morning we compared notes about our activities and interests. He was a photographer by hobby and truck driver by profession. He had a lively sense of humor and a pleasant smile that spread easily over his bearded face. The conversation, on this particular Monday, now a long time ago, had been friendly and casual until he said, “I was saved at a Billy Graham Crusade meeting. Ever since then I have been plagued by feelings of guilt”. That got my full attention on that rainy day and we ordered another cup of coffee. “That is…
Read More

“The Glue That Holds A Marriage Together”. By Henry Regehr

Yes, of course, it’s love.  But the honeymoon lasts until it suddenly ends, and every couple can remember the occasion that signaled the dawn of a new era, post honeymoon, and the beginning of a minor or major scuffle for control. It could be at any significant point in the relationship: the engagement, the wedding, the first shopping trip, the arrival of the first baby….  Charlie and Debbie were madly in love. The engagement time had gone swimmingly, the wedding was memorable, but half-way through the honeymoon in an idyllic dream place, it turned into a nightmare when the unstated issues bubbled to the surface.  Like everyone else, Charlie and…
Read More

I’m Just A Little Kid. By Henry Regehr

On a cold prairie winter day, I was walking the long way home from my grade two class when a team of Clydesdales, pulling a farm box wagon on winter runners, passed me on the snowy road. To a small seven-year-old, these horses were massive creatures with broad backs, great muscled legs.  Just next to me were their huge plodding hoofs that left tracks as large as our dinner plates. I was awe-struck and frightened as only a small child could be walking beside these monstrous animals.  The tall, broad-shouldered farmer in the wagon had the horses in full control as he held the reins loosely and headed toward his…
Read More

“An Arresting Story”. By Henry Regehr

At two o’clock in the morning my wife announced that it was time to hurry to the maternity ward of St. Joseph’s hospital in Vancouver. Everything had been prepared, the overnight case was packed, the doctor had been called, the ’54 Bel Air Chev was gassed up and we were on our way. The quiet streets allowed us to make the trip with efficiency and we arrived in good time. My wife was gently led to the ward. At that time fathers were not allowed into the birthing rooms, and it was made clear that my presence would not be required for the next while. I wandered out, a bit…
Read More

“No, Mr. Wishard…” By Henry Regehr

Bob Newhart immeasurably raised the public image of driving instructors when he unveiled his famous monologue about those brave souls who “face death in a thousand ways and never know if they will return home at night”. In 1955 I started my summer job, driving the famous white Joe Vine Diving School cars with their dual controls around Winnipeg, and Bob Newhart understood. “No, Mr. Wishard, you can’t make a left turn on this street”. I spoke quietly but tensely, holding my side of the dual steering wheel. “That is a one-way street”. “But the cop just made the turn”, he shouted back, still putting all his energy into trying…
Read More

“The Pain of Phantom Guilt”. by Henry Regehr

David and I met at Tim Horton’s where we had our regular coffee and every morning we compared notes about our activities and interests. He was a photographer by hobby and truck driver by profession. He had a lively sense of humor and a pleasant smile that spread easily over his bearded face. The conversation, on this particular Monday, now a long time ago, had been friendly and casual until he said, “I was saved at a Billy Graham Crusade meeting. Ever since then I have been plagued by feelings of guilt”. That got my full attention on that rainy day and we ordered another cup of coffee. “That is…
Read More

“The Glue That Holds A Marriage Together”. By Henry Regehr

Yes, of course, it’s love.  But the honeymoon lasts until it suddenly ends, and every couple can remember the occasion that signaled the dawn of a new era, post honeymoon, and the beginning of a minor or major scuffle for control. It could be at any significant point in the relationship: the engagement, the wedding, the first shopping trip, the arrival of the first baby….  Charlie and Debbie were madly in love. The engagement time had gone swimmingly, the wedding was memorable, but half-way through the honeymoon in an idyllic dream place, it turned into a nightmare when the unstated issues bubbled to the surface.  Like everyone else, Charlie and…
Read More

I’m Just A Little Kid. By Henry Regehr

On a cold prairie winter day, I was walking the long way home from my grade two class when a team of Clydesdales, pulling a farm box wagon on winter runners, passed me on the snowy road. To a small seven-year-old, these horses were massive creatures with broad backs, great muscled legs.  Just next to me were their huge plodding hoofs that left tracks as large as our dinner plates. I was awe-struck and frightened as only a small child could be walking beside these monstrous animals.  The tall, broad-shouldered farmer in the wagon had the horses in full control as he held the reins loosely and headed toward his…
Read More

“An Arresting Story”. By Henry Regehr

At two o’clock in the morning my wife announced that it was time to hurry to the maternity ward of St. Joseph’s hospital in Vancouver. Everything had been prepared, the overnight case was packed, the doctor had been called, the ’54 Bel Air Chev was gassed up and we were on our way. The quiet streets allowed us to make the trip with efficiency and we arrived in good time. My wife was gently led to the ward. At that time fathers were not allowed into the birthing rooms, and it was made clear that my presence would not be required for the next while. I wandered out, a bit…
Read More

“No, Mr. Wishard…” By Henry Regehr

Bob Newhart immeasurably raised the public image of driving instructors when he unveiled his famous monologue about those brave souls who “face death in a thousand ways and never know if they will return home at night”. In 1955 I started my summer job, driving the famous white Joe Vine Diving School cars with their dual controls around Winnipeg, and Bob Newhart understood. “No, Mr. Wishard, you can’t make a left turn on this street”. I spoke quietly but tensely, holding my side of the dual steering wheel. “That is a one-way street”. “But the cop just made the turn”, he shouted back, still putting all his energy into trying…
Read More

“The Pain of Phantom Guilt”. by Henry Regehr

David and I met at Tim Horton’s where we had our regular coffee and every morning we compared notes about our activities and interests. He was a photographer by hobby and truck driver by profession. He had a lively sense of humor and a pleasant smile that spread easily over his bearded face. The conversation, on this particular Monday, now a long time ago, had been friendly and casual until he said, “I was saved at a Billy Graham Crusade meeting. Ever since then I have been plagued by feelings of guilt”. That got my full attention on that rainy day and we ordered another cup of coffee. “That is…
Read More