Edgar Chaps

Some weeks defy reason. They feature a series of events that reverberate in one‘s community, on the global stage, or affect one personally. It isn’t even that they are all negative. Some are brilliant, others less so, and then there are a couple which are curious, bizarre. This is one of those weeks.

All You Need is Love

Incidentally, as of this writing, it is the eve of Valentine’s Day 2026 (there is a plot twist coming later on). The Gregorian calendar smiles on lovers this year, with the big day landing on Saturday. Wonderful. One hopes that couples – young, old, straight, gay – will enjoy themselves. Maybe Cupid has a surprise in store for people not expecting to find love.

But what a journey to get to Saturday. 

Monday: The Oeuvre of Oscar Micheaux

In the United States, February is deemed Black History Month. It’s not really a thing in Canada, but as neighbours, we hear about it. As a happy subscriber to the Criterion Channel, a U.S.-based streaming platform for under-seen movies, festival darlings, and foreign fare, I spotted a “Celebrate Black History” category.

It offers a plethora of movies made by and about African Americans, but one filmmaker in particular caught my attention: Oscar Micheaux. I had heard of the name but knew little about his work. As it turns out, Micheaux is one of the first African American filmmakers, in addition to earning a reputation as an author and producer. Much of his output dates to the 1920s and 30s. Given that Criterion opted for a spotlight on his oeuvre, I clicked “play” on Within Our Gates, from 1920.

Albeit somewhat convoluted, it’s a rather engaging story about a woman who assists an elementary school director in a southern state by seeking private donations to avoid the institution’s closure. The importance of education, finding connections, and, of course, the ills of racism are broached. Then, in the final 10 minutes, the picture flashes back to the protagonist’s backstory, which reveals that her adoptive family was hunted down and lynched. What’s more, the heroine was a product of a bi-racial coupling between a Caucasian man who basically raped her African American mother. Yikes.

Tuesday: Carol Goes Off and Tumbler Ridge

Back to the office (work was from home on Monday). Whilst riding public transportation, I tend to read. 2025 was the year of the novel (mostly), and I’d like to make 2026 the year of the history/science/insert topic of choice book (mostly). I set aside Dostoyevsky’s The Idiot (sorry, friend with whom I’m supposed to be reading this at the same time) and cracked open Canadian journalist Carol Off’s At a Loss For Words (2024, Vintage Canada). 

Off tackles six English-language words, loaded words these days (democracy, woke, freedom, etc) and per chapter discusses their evolution and how people with political and economic influence have distorted them. It’s quite interesting, certainly revealing, but above all else sobering. There are controversial political movements in the world and, more disturbing, pretty much anybody can be seduced by them. No one is truly immune. This was my public transportation reading.

At the office was more training for a new role I’ll fill in the coming weeks with the same employer, which meant cramming and lots of listening. Then, on one of my breaks, I did what I often do: a brief check-up on the news. Oh no. The Tumbler Ridge shooting. A mass shooting. I’m thinking: “Is Tumbler Ridge in the United States? I don’t know that place.” No, Tumbler Ridge is a small community in northeast British Columbia. I barely understand what’s going on, but there is no time to read because I have head back to “class.”

Suffice it to say that reading the news on the way back home was shocking and deeply saddening. 

Wednesday: Blank

I genuinely don’t have much to say about Wednesday. It functioned as Tuesday’s hangover. More details about the tragedy in B.C., more training, and somehow still reading about how democracies around the world are morphing into autocracies, with portions of the concerned populations more than comfortable with said shift. 

Needing some escapement, I finished The Rest is History’s podcast series on the fall of Carthage. A city burned down, people were slaughtered, and mothers preferred killing their young rather than handing them over to the Romans. Okay then.

Did Manchester City at least fail to drop points? Nope. Easy 3-0 win over Fulham. Not that I had much hope for Fulham causing a surprise.

Thursday: Olympic Distraction and Solidarity

Every time I headed to the break room at the office, the television was on, showing Olympics coverage. Ah, yes, of course! The Milano Cortina 2026 Winter Games. I had forgotten about them. I very much enjoy sports, but one can only concentrate on so many. Confession: I know precious little about most of the disciplines featured at the Games, both winter and summer. 

But this being Canada, the one sport most people are familiar with is ice hockey. When any match occurred, the TV in the break room showed it. Women’s Team Canada, Men’s Team Canada, and I think I saw a few minutes of Italy playing Czechia. Yes, an Italian ice hockey team. 

The Olympics have not been on my radar for many years, but given the sort of week it was (again, for me and in the world), I genuinely didn’t mind seeing Macklin Celebrini score a goal. 

Leaving the office, I took a glance at the final score for Arsenal’s match versus Brentford. Could the lads cushion their lead atop the Premier League table after City’s victory on Thursday? Of course not. 1-1. In a matter of days, the Gunners’ lead has shrunk from nine points to four. 

Thursday evening proved forgiving. In a moment of darkness for B.C. and the country as a whole, Prime Minister Mark Carney not only announced he would attend a vigil on Friday in Tumbler Ridge, but the opposition party leaders were invited to join. All of them dutifully accepted. Heck, the leader of the Bloc Québécois offered his sympathies in the House of Commons in English.

Friday: Real Practice, Real Fatigue

Time for the real deal by speaking with actual clients of the company I work for. Quite the whirlwind day. No one expected perfection from me, nor was it delivered. To say nothing that it was merely to wet my feet, given that training isn’t even officially complete. 

Nevertheless, there were nerves at the start, and synapses firing all day to formulate responses to questions using lingo I hadn’t practiced prior. Despite some tumbles and forgetfulness, it was a solid day. 

By 4 PM (they mercifully allowed us a bit earlier than usual), I was gassed. Still, there was a little something I wanted to do, so I trotted a short distance to a location not far from the office. I may move in the not-too-distant future. I wanted to know on a nice summer day how long it takes on foot from this undisclosed location to work.

That done, I went to a store and picked up a book mentioned in Carol Off’s book that intrigued me (Standing Up to a Dictator, by journalist and Nobel Peace Prize Winner Maria Ressa), and finally made my way home. 

It should come as no surprise that I didn’t pull an all-nighter. A smidgeon of news, a quick update on the details from Tumbler Ridge, a little bit of F1 updates on a YouTube channel I’ve become a fan of (The Race), and then the eyelids got heavy.

Life Goes On

I started writing this on Friday evening, but couldn’t finish. Too tired, too drained, both mentally and emotionally. It’s now Saturday morning. 

The moral of the story is that life goes on. There are moments when we feel the need to stop moving and pay attention to something. We are compelled to. And yet, we all have our own lives. There are other things I didn’t even mention: the Quebec Liberal Party has its new leader, controversy surrounding the upcoming Gordie Howe bridge because of something something something Donald Trump, the Montreal mayor wants to audit bicycle paths, etc.

It’s good to pay attention to news, both big and small. It’s more important to move on with what affects us directly. I don’t believe in not paying attention. I know some people don’t, and, as I have written before, others can do as they please. I’m merely saying that I can’t do that. It’s the journalist in me. Despite the news, I still had to continue my training, do some real work with real clients, and felt compelled to check up on my dear Arsenal.

The world keeps on turning, despite how bizarre a week can sometimes feel.