Unfortunately they are both dead wrong. Canada was generally settled from east to west and the first settlers, both French and English, arrived in Nova Scotia on the east coast. Judge Thomas Chandler Haliburton was a novelist who rivalled Dickens in popularity in his time. He described seeing the students at King’s College (incidentally my alma mater and Canada’s oldest university), playing “hurley on ice” when he was a young student around 1800. Apparently the soldiers at Fort Edward in Windsor, Nova Scotia observed the lads at play and adopted this stick-ball-on-ice game as a diversion from military duties. This is the earliest literary reference to any game resembling hockey in Canada.

Author Thomas Raddall, a renowned Nova Scotia historian, describes how the British military took the game along the St. Lawrence River and Great Lakes. They still relied on the Mi’kmaw, the so-called “Dartmouth Indians,” to provide the required sticks for the game. Indeed early hockey equipment was almost all of Nova Scotian provenance.

A survey of the Wikipedia entry on ice hockey claims the first organized hockey game was played on March 3, 1875 in Montreal, Canada. Before jumping to conclusions, however, one should note that the game in question was instigated and coached by Nova Scotia-born McGill University student James George Aylwin Creighton, who brought hockey from Halifax’s Dalhousie University to Quebec in 1872. The first game was played under “Halifax Hockey Club Rules,” suggesting that perhaps the game saw some currency in Nova Scotia before ever gracing the Victoria Skating Rink in “la belle province.”

The claim by Captain James Sutherland that organized hockey was born in Kingston, Ontario in 1886 was invalidated when it was discovered that the game in question was played with sticks produced in Nova Scotia by master Mi’kmaq native craftsmen. When this was pointed out to Captain Sutherland he graciously conceded that ice hockey must have been first played in Nova Scotia. In fact hockey was introduced to the Royal Military College in Kingston by Cadet Roddy McColl from New Glasgow, Nova Scotia in 1884. Thus ended the “Kingston Myth.”

The oldest hockey rink still in existence is the Stannus Street Rink in Windsor, Nova Scotia, built in 1897. Hockey sticks dated from circa 1800 have been retrieved from ponds around the province.

Uniforms and insignia of the Windsor Swastikas;
the name and uniform changed quickly with the advent of WW II.

Today you can visit Thomas Chandler Haliburton’s home in Windsor, now a provincial museum and home of the Windsor Hockey Heritage Centre. Have a look at the fascinating display of hockey memorabilia. Then drop by and see Long Pond, where King’s College students played the world’s first hockey games over two centuries ago!

For further information, visit:
Birthplace of Hockey 
Haliburton House Museum

Photo Credits

All Photos By George Burden – All Rights Reserved

Haliburton House
Uniforms and insignia of the Windsor Swastikas; the name and uniform changed quickly with the advent of WW II.
Long Pond, the site of Canada’s first hockey games
Stannus Street Arena, Canada’s oldest extant hockey rink
King’s College hockey gear
Early women’s hockey uniform
Early hockey trophy donated by Starr Mfg. Co. in Dartmouth
Early goal tender’s stick

It’s Wednesday afternoon, and you all know what that means. That’s right! It’s time for a random list!

Okay, so that’s not a thing. But it should be a thing. The Wednesday Afternoon List thing. Can I get a WOOT WOOT if you’re with me?

This week’s list is — drum roll, please…

How Halifax is Different than Victoria

When you move to a new place, it’s the little differences that can really mess with your head. Like when I lived in Germany and couldn’t find fresh milk anywhere, or Whitehorse, where wine was $4 a bottle and vegetables came pre-bruised and mouldy.

These are some of the things about Halifax that are just plain strange.

1) Bus stops don’t have a red line on the curb. You actually have to look up and see if there’s a tiny little Bus-Stop sign on the telephone pole. And don’t get me started about the quality of both the transit service and their documentation (schedules, maps, etc). Forget about it! It’s almost enough for me to seek employment with the transit company, just so I can make it all better. I said almost.

2) Hockey. It doesn’t exist out here. When people go to pubs it’s to talk to friends. Not to get drunk and yell obscenities at flat screen TVs. How weird is that? Perhaps it has something to do with all the games starting near midnight, thanks to there being no teams in our time zone.

3) Despite the absence of hockey, Sidney Crosby is EVERYWHERE. Books. T-shirts. Posters. Cardboard cutouts in the vegetable section of the grocery store. It’s like he’s a local fella or something.

4) Tim Hortons dominates the coffee industry. Though Starbucks is starting to show its little green heads here and there. For those east coasters, please note that the opposite is true on the west coast. If you’re walking down the street and you happen to notice there isn’t a Starbucks in sight then you are most likely dreaming and can start to do cool dream stuff, like take off all your clothes and run around trying to fly while screaming I AM THE DARK KNIGHT!

5) 500ml containers of buttermilk are not available in the dairy section of respectable grocers.

6) Most respectable grocers have a liquor store in the same building. This = awesome. It totally makes up for the lack of conveniently sized buttermilk cartons.

7) Postal workers are crazily, insanely nice. Not that those in Victoria aren’t nice. They are the normal amount of nice one would want from someone working in a post office. The ones here are so over-the-top helpful and genuinely sweet that I leave feeling like I have a new BFF and should expect an invitation to meet their families any day.

8) People don’t give me a hard time for not working. Unlike some of my Victoria friends. Yes, DAVID, I’m talking about YOU.

9) Sushi is waaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyy too expensive.

10) At the majority of respectable dining establishments, coffee is included in the price of your breakfast. This is enough to make me want to live here forever.

Photo Credit

Me & Sidney Crosby by Sarah Gignac

Sidney Crosby (Feature Photo : Elliot from Castro Valley, California, USA

This article was first published in Raggedy Threads in November 2010.

Choosing to live on a Caribbean Island offers many obvious benefits — soft white sand beaches, crystal clear blue sea, lush tropical foliage, and sunrises and sunsets beyond compare. Then there is a benefit that I was pleasantly surprised to encounter—becoming a member of the Roatan Global Village. It’s proving to be small town living at its best.

Now admittedly, small town living has its downsides too, anonymity is not an option. It can be said that if you are on the east end of the Island and sneeze, by the time you drive to the west end (at most 37 miles away) people will ask if you have pneumonia. But that kind of everybody-knows everybody-else’s-business (with exaggerated details) happens in any close knit community.

The bonus to the small town living feel on an Island in the Caribbean Sea is that we share our differences. I came from Canada with an understanding of snow tires and toques (that’s a knit winter hat), maple dip donuts and Tim Horton’s coffee. And by the way — as you chuckle to yourself—I say, “out and about” not “oot and aboot.”

I now count among my friends fellow Roatan(ian’s) who have come to call Roatan home from just about every country you could name. We all brought our cultural habits and preferences, and, okay, so I too giggle at how others pronounce words compared to me.

We, the members of the Roatan Global Village spend a lot of time together—somebody is always calling a meeting—whether it is to cheer on each other’s sports teams (unless of course our home country is a contender) or celebrate each other’s holidays and traditions. We come together to support common causes, and to praise accomplishments.

We band together for friends in need, and to mourn the loss of others. And if there isn’t a specific reason to have a meeting, we’ll get together just because!

And I’m happy to report that as a member of the Roatan Global Village, I now know that; shrimp are stimp, conk is how you pronounce conch, and tomorrow/next week/a month from now/maybe never, is pronounced mañana!

Photo Credits

All photos © Genny RossBarons. All Rights Reserved.

Since I could not play sports, I had to focus more time on something else. So for the past two months it was not too difficult for me become easily distracted by something I hold very dear to my heart: The Stanley Cup Playoffs!

I write this on the weekend after the Chicago Blackhawks defeated Philadelphia Flyers four games to two to win their first Stanley Cup in 49 years. Now, even though my Oilers were eliminated from playoff contention in early November (I exaggerate, of course; it was more like late December) I still enjoy watching playoff hockey from middle of April until the middle of June. Sure many people will argue that hockey has no business being played after the snow melts and the weather begins to warm up, but I could watch and play hockey all year round!

Many of my friends from Simon Fraser University,  some who have gone on to supplement their degrees with Masters or Doctoral degrees, and some who have gone into medicine or law, claim I could have done any of these things if I had not had the distraction of sports such as football, tennis and hockey.

Comments like the ones above often lead me to imagine what my life would have been like if I had not missed so many study sessions in April and May because I was too concern with the Stanley Cup playoffs. I probably could have taken a summer semester or two to get my GPA up since there was not much to watch. But then I would be too busy playing tennis or baseball.

I just enjoy the intensity of playing and watching sports. Seeing the players make the big plays, score goals and make saves gets me motivated to participate as well. When it comes to sports, I want to be in on the play and in control during the most critical times of the game. It is such a rush to score a late goal to tie the game or prevent an opposing team from scoring when they are using every last ounce of strength getting the tying goal. Sure my studies mattered and I accomplished them to the best of my ability, but I would never trade the work/life balance I have for any other career.

I often kid with my friends and family that if I wasn’t so involved in sport I would probably have a study room instead of a “Man Cave.” And instead of wearing hockey jerseys and eating nacho chips around the house, I would be wearing a sports jacket and smoking a pipe (An old friend of mine has actually made me promise that when my novel is published my publicity photo has include me smoking a pipe, or at least holding one.).

But this is all a pipe dream (pun intended), as you are reading about a person who has used a vacation day for work or skipped classes on every American Thanksgiving for the past 10 years so I can watch all of the football games being played that day!

So the answer I often give to friends is that everyone has his or her own journey and interests and I chose mine with no regrets. I have a great job, a good family and I enjoy my life to the fullest. I guess that’s all that is really important.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I must attend to my PlayStation 3 and finish my Dynasty Season for NHL 10!

Photo Credit

Unique lamp by Harri Koskinen for the Design House Stockholm

It’s full-on hockey mania these days. Playoffs, playoffs, PLAYOFFS! And how better to celebrate with a little animation?

The Sweater, by Sheldon Cohen , is adapted from a short story by Quebec writer Roch Carrier (who also narrates this film). In a rural Quebec village the whole town celebrates the Montreal Canadiens, and all the boys proudly sport the #9 jersey of Maurice “Rocket” Richard. One boy’s life is nearly ruined when he is accidentally sent the jersey of the Toronto Maple Leafs. SHOCK! GASP!

The story takes place in the 1940s, was written in the 70s, and the film was created in the 80s. Even today hockey fans everywhere can enjoy the trials and tribulations of the young fan and his ill fated jersey.

oehttp://www.nfb.ca/film/sweater/

What do you think? Send us a comment with your film review.

Photo Credits

“The Hockey Sweater” Book Cover

I’ll tell you why in a second.

First, let me say that I am continually amazed at the commitment and dedication men can have for their sports. Not all men, granted. But I have met many a men who have done what I consider absolutely ridiculous things, all in the name of Sport. More specifically (because I am in Canada here, and it is playoff season), Hockey. I will now pause to see if I can think of one single woman who would make the list.

….talk amongst yourselves….

Nope. Not a one.

Let’s get back to these guys. These crazy, intense guys. I was told this story shortly after the 2002 Winter Olympics in Salt Lake City, Utah. Canada and the US were battling it out for the hockey gold. This acquaintance was so swept up in the hockey mania that he and some buddies decided to drive down and try to get tickets for the gold game. It was so last minute that they couldn’t get any time off work, or put any planning into it at all. They just jumped in a car, and made the 1,500 km drive from Victoria, BC to Salt Lake City non-stop.

They get there, spend who-knows how much money on scalped tickets, watch the game, then get back in their car and drive the 1,500 km back home.

While driving home through the Rockies (after having been up for probably a good 48 hours straight) my friend swears on his life that he saw a large, purple, cartoon dinosaur emerge from the trees, cross the road, and disappear into the brush on the other side.

Yes, folks. He was so incredibly sleep deprived that he was hallucinating giant cartoons. This was the point in the trip where he decided it would be a good idea to pull over and let someone else drive.

I met this other guy who spent a lot of money (no, I don’t know how much, but enough that it caused a pretty major fight with the wife) for a seat from The Montreal Forum when it was gutted and changed into a mall. A broken seat that had been ripped out of concrete and was of no use to anyone.

And then there’s my good friend — we’ll call him “Frank” (because that’s his name. Frank, I am SO calling you out on this). Last week he was at the bar with a friend, watching game 5 in the Montreal/Washington series. Montreal had lost three of their previous four games. So it really looked like Washington was going to kick their ass in game 5 and win the quarter finals.

Frank, a Canuck’s fan, turned to his buddy, who was still cheering for Montreal, and said:

“If Montreal pulls themselves out of this mess and wins this series, I’ll shave my head!”

What happened?

Montreal won game 5. Then they went and won game 6. Frank started to sweat.

I walk into a pub right at the end of game 7. You know what happened. Even if you don’t follow hockey, you darn well know that Frank was doomed to lose his hair. That’s just the way it works.

I like to think of myself as a kind, loving individual who is supportive of her friends. But right now all I can do is giggle maniacally at Frank’s plight. I mean, come on dude! If you have taught me anything it’s that you DON’T TEMPT FATE! Especially during the playoffs. May your shiny, soon-to-be sunburned scalp be a lesson to you and all the other insane-o hockey freaks out there.

A lesson in what? I’m not sure. But there’s some value or moral buried in the chunks of your fallen hair, my friend.

I’m normally a Canucks girl, but suddenly I find myself also rooting for Montreal. Go Habs Go!

Photo Credits

Sculpture “Our Game” by Edie Parker © Wikicommons

Dinosaur © Flickr

Go Habs Go! © Flickr

As my daughter stood there, smiling expectantly in front of the television blocking my view of the hockey game, the answer came to me in a flash — I swept her up in my arms, gave her a kiss on the cheek, sat her in my lap and told her, “Our religion is Hockey. We’re…Hockeysians….”

“What?” she blurted, in a bewildered, incredulous way, as if I had just performed a stupid but passable magic trick. My daughter rolled her eyes at me and stomped off, like always, shaking her head and muttering to herself.

I was raised going to Sunday School, receiving the Eucharist and attending Midnight Mass every Christmas (the choir was always awesome). Since the age of 13 I haven’t given my religious leanings a second thought, because for the longest time I didn’t think I had any. I have completely turned away from anything that even remotely resembles organized religion because I believe it’s all an elaborate sham. I don’t believe in God of any sort, and I certainly don’t buy into any folklore regarding flora spontaneously combusting or anybody rising from the grave.

Organized religion has always left me cold, as the most notable ones like Christianity, Judaism, Hinduism and the like all have checkered pasts, dealing with mind control (Confession), Holy Wars (The Crusades and anything to do with the West Bank or Golan Heights), and bizarre, outdated dietary restrictions. Even Buddhism has its drawbacks, as I understand that the pursuit of Enlightenment is key, but can never truly be reached — and I just don’t want to try that hard for some ethereal goal.

I consider myself relatively intelligent, so you can imagine my amazement — and perhaps my exasperation — as I realized that Hockey is truly the most hallowed thing in my life.

The correlations between the National Hockey League and Christianity (as I’m most familiar with Christianity) are many:

• Christ walked on water — Hockey players glide over it.
• Christianity has Prophets like John The Baptist — Hockey has Gretzky, Lemieux, and Bobby Orr etc.
• During moments of duress, Christians and Hockey fans alike pray for a favorable outcome.
• Christianity has the Holy Grail and other religious artifacts — Hockey has the Stanley Cup.
• Christianity has zealots like Jerry Falwell and Billy Graham — Hockey has Don Cherry.
• Christianity has (sacred) wine — Hockey has (I’ll have another) beer.
• Christianity has an Old and New Testament — Hockey has the “Original Six”, and then expansion.
• Christianity has Confession — Hockey has the Penalty Box.
• Christianity has an elected figurehead, The Pope — Hockey has Gary Bettman.
• Christianity has The Jesuits, trying to convert people away from their natural culture and religion. Hockey has Gary Bettman.
• Christianity teaches us to be meek, and to accept our disappointments — I’m a Canucks fan.
• Christians congregate (in church) and pass a “collection” plate to raise money — Hockey has “collector”cards (and Pay-Per-View).
• Christianity has sacred holidays and a “Holy Day” every week — Hockey has Double-header Saturdays and The Playoffs.
• The most sacred Christian place is Vatican City, which is located in Italy, not the Middle East where Jesus is said to have lived — likewise, the Hockey Hall of Fame is located in Toronto.

Even with a list of comparable attributes between Hockey and one of the world’s most followed religions, I profess that Hockey has, and maintains, a purity that Christianity can never touch: nobody kills in the name of Hockey. Sure, some idiots riot when their team loses (or even when they win) but nobody has ever been crucified, stoned to death or targeted unfairly in any way because they’re a Hockey fan.

Hockey fans love the game because of the skill it takes to play, and the fact that it’s one of the toughest contact sports around. Face it, Hockey is one of the most entertaining sports there is — has anyone really felt the same way about religion? If so, what number did they have on their jersey?

Christians believe that Christ will come again. Hockey fans know that Sidney Crosby is already here…and the next “The Next One” will eventually replace him and hopefully be drafted by the Vancouver Canucks, because it will take a miracle for them to ever win the Stanley Cup.

Photo Credits

“Sidney Crosby Wallpaper”

“Jesus is My Coach” Catholic Shopper

“Stanley Cup” Hockey Hall of Fame

In my house now, having unceremoniously ditched my books into a corner, I grabbed the phone and started dialing numbers. Keith, Jimmy, Tom, Chris, Barry, Ian and Greg. I was in luck; they were all home and more importantly, they were all keen for a game.

I quickly changed into my road hockey garb of jeans and a hockey jersey over a sweater, found my gauntlets, special road hockey stick, skinned black tennis ball and my dad’s snowplow-style shovel. The footwear was thick socks and Adidas, and my trusty tuque to keep my head warm. Jimmy and Keith were bringing nets and goalie pads.

I ran the two blocks to Keith’s house and then we walked another 50 feet or so to our special corner of the globe. The end of Keith’s street was a 150 foot long piece of road that had yet to have houses built on the still unsold lots. It was 150 feet of virgin asphalt! No cracks or bumps, just a perfectly flat playing surface that now had a few inches of fresh snow on it. Using our shovels at just the right angle, we plowed the snow off, leaving the slightest bit of snow that would compact quickly under our feet into slick white ice. We placed the nets, picked captains, then picked teams. It was all settled now, except for one thing. Who was going to be Jean Béliveau?

Being Jean Béliveau carried a certain weight to it. The man won the Stanley Cup ten times, and was an all-star 14 times. When he retired in 1971, he was the Canadiens’ all time leader for points, second all time for goals scored and the NHL’s all time leading playoff goal scorer. I have watched hockey going on 46 years now and to me, he is the very best stick handler I ever saw play the game.

But it was much more than his skills and statistics that defined him. He played the game in the same way he always carried himself as a human — with elegance and grace. At all times a gentleman, he was the ultimate team player, always placing the team’s needs ahead of his own and, as captain, leading through that example. No small wonder that the team was so successful under his watch. Not only was he loved by Canadiens’ fans, he was admired and respected around the league by his competitors and by their fans as well.

As a kid, he was my first hockey hero. Somehow, being Jean Béliveau made you a better road hockey player. You had to play like a sportsman; no hacking or slashing your opponents. You had to play with class! At 6 foot 3 inches, he was one of the tallest players of his era. Since I was a good head taller than all my friends, it only made sense that I should be Jean Béliveau! As I recall, that argument only worked some of the time.

By now, you’ve guessed I’m a Habs fan. As I write this, they are in the playoffs against the Washington Capitals. As always, Béliveau, now 78, is in the stands to watch his beloved team play. Not so long ago, he was in the hospital recovering from a stroke. I know that a great many people prayed for the man who is also affectionately known as “Le Gros Bill.”

Throughout his life, he has accomplished so much. Always looking for ways to help others, in 1971, he established the charitable Jean Béliveau Foundation, which he transferred to the Society for Disabled Children in 1993. In 1994, he was offered the position of Governor General of Canada, which he declined in order to be with his daughter and two grandchildren who were in the midst of dire need at the time.

Béliveau has been knighted by the National Order of Quebec, made a Companion of the Order of Canada (Canada’s highest civilian award), and been honoured with his portrait on a Canadian postage stamp. A Canadian Pacific Railway station has been named in his honour and and he was given an honorary Doctor of Laws degree by McGill University.

I found the following video on YouTube. It’s part of a series called The Legends Of Hockey. Definitely, this series will end up on my shelf. As you watch it, if you have never seen Jean Béliveau play, you will see a remarkably graceful hockey player. What you will also see is the degree of respect and admiration that everyone has, not just for the great hockey player, but for the great man, Jean Béliveau.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oiTj4zcSpn8

Learn more about Jean Béliveau at Wikipedia

Photo Credits

Jean Béliveau Statue – Creative Commons – Wally Gobetz

Road Hockey – Creative Commons – Magalie L’Abbé

Thumbnail of Hockey Net – Creative Commons – Helsinki10