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On Sept. 16, 1996, Maj.-Gen. Brian Vernon retired, ending 32 years of distinguished service with the Canadian Forces. But at the end, his career was marked by controversy.

   The electric router screeches and whines as Paterson Ewen, wearing knee pads and ear protectors, crouches on top of his plywood "canvas" - four large sheets mounted together on wooden saw-horses - ready to start a new painting. "Like an athlete, you need to be keyed up," explains the London, Ont.

Even before his aides found the letter, David Collenette knew that his turbulent career as Canada's minister of defence was about to end.

Retired Hamilton restaurateur Max Mintz can still recall the two teenage boys. Following the death of their mother in 1956, David and Myron would often visit Mintz’s diner, the Chicken Roost, brought by their father, dentist Jess Scholes.

Kathy Reichs’s Montreal office looks like a typical government-issue cubicle, except for a few startling differences. Above the usual dun-colored filing cabinets and the nondescript desk, several human and animal skulls sit on shelves along the windowless walls.

Lucie Lacava sits on the parquet-wood floor of her small office poring over a box of treasured old newspapers. "Here are some real antiques," she says, gingerly removing a faded yellow 1952 copy of The Toronto Daily Star from a plastic bag.

Flush with its triumph in Cannes last May - where it won three awards including second place in the Grand Jury Prize - The Sweet Hereafter opens the 22nd Toronto International Film Festival (Sept. 4 to 13) this week.

If Atom Egoyan is hot stuff in the fire hall, perhaps it is official that he has finally made his mark in the mainstream. Not too many years ago, despite his popularity in Europe, Egoyan's name in North America was synonymous with cinema's art-house fringe.

Perhaps the best way to measure how success has changed Susie Moloney is to compare her trailers. In the driveway of her modest home on Manitoulin Island in Northern Ontario is a slightly decrepit, 4.5 m, blue and white trailer, with just enough room for two people to stand.

Mike Weir may be the latest Great Canadian Hope in men's golf, but he is not infallible. At the PGA Tour's Greater Vancouver Open in late August, the 27-year-old from Bright's Grove, Ont., had his high hopes dashed on the slick, undulating greens of Northview Golf Club in suburban Surrey.

She had defied death so often that when it finally came, even some of her closest followers at first hoped it was yet another false alarm.

He is a clumsy, neurotic, obnoxious, self-serving dolt, an Englishman with a child’s mind who is flummoxed by the most basic chores - getting dressed, driving, eating or navigating a public washroom. Mr.