Rose's Cantina

A message from John Simpson: The support and love we are getting from family, friends and strangers is very overwelming to say the least. We love that and will never forget the love. Our daughter Ashley has been missing for over 18 months; others have been missing much longer.  At first, there was concern over the missing, then it died down to a dribble. Now, after 18 months of anguish, we get dozens of calls from the media -- papers, radio, Internet -- all with more concern about how things are.  After numerous walks and interviews, searching and researching, barbecues and golf tournaments, over these 18 months, we haven't given up.  Why did the media give up? Why did the community leaders give up? Why did our government and our police force give up? Why didn't they see the missing as a national tragedy? Why did we, as a whole, leave our friends and neighbours out there, lost, to fend for themselves. Why did we give up looking, searching, carin

Somewhere, in the killing field, the bones are coming alive. No amount of fire can destroy the DNA. Finally, our sisters will tell their tales, not using their voices, using their dry bones. There is no tree stump heavy enough, no hole deep enough, to keep them silent. Our sisters will finally tell their stories. Through their dry bones. Who will be listening?

There will be a gathering today at the Salmon River Store near Silver Creek, B.C. to protest the rising and alarming level of violence against women in the area. Protesters will meet at 11 a.m. with their drums, voices and fists to rage against the fact that six women have disappeared in their community in less than two years. “Calling all hand drums, women and men," reads a Facebook posting. "Let's be there to call on continuing support against violence against women." The protest comes during an horrific week in which more than 30 RCMP officers descended on the community to collect evidence at a farm near where my cousin Ashley Simpson disappeared along with the other women. For three days, the police scoured the farm and outbuildings as part of "an ongoing investigation" linked to recent charges against a person who threatened a sex worker with a weapon. The investigation led police to human remains at the site.  It may be weeks, o

This week, the RCMP descended upon a property in Silver Creek, B.C. not far from the area where my cousin Ashley Simpson and two other area women went missing in 2016. Word of the search spread like wildfire, as the RCMP set up a staging area in a local community hall. The cops were hard to miss with their backhoes and poles, as they combed every inch of the Salmon River Road property. Back in Niagara-on-the-Lake, the Simpson family heard about the search through the grapevine, and my cousin Cindy reached out to the RCMP. Other family members for Deanna Wertz and Caitlin Potts contacted the police as well. Nothing to see here, they were told. The search was completely unrelated to the disappearance of their loved ones. A man was arrested and charged with: disguising his face with the intent to commit an offence, intentionally discharging a firearm while reckless, uttering threats, careless use or storage of a firearm, possessing a weapon for dangerous purposes and pos

About two years ago, the doctors told Viggo Kanstrup he had inoperable liver cancer, and had a few months to live, tops. Viggo took it in stride. He'd been ill for a while, felled by a stroke, and then pneumonia while living in B.C. He was eeking out his days in a hotel, like some sort of Steinbeck character, playing a few jazz gigs, and spending his days in the library. Viggo had no expectation of forgiveness from his family. He had been involved in a couple of scandals over the years, and simply expected to "fade away," as he told me later. But the trajectory of his senior life changed, suddenly, when his son Erik arrived to scoop him up and bring him back to Ottawa. All had been forgiven, and he was welcomed home by his kids and second wife, Francoise, who adopted him like a stray pup. Like a lot of musicians I've known, Viggo took the "papa was a rolling stone" lyrics to heart. But now in his sunset, he was planted, and loving it. Viggo was