Grand Bruit, my mother's birthplace, remains one of Newfoundland's most beautiful harbours, but now without a school, come September.
In the cool evenings of August, as the visitors get down to their last few hours spent home in Grand Bruit, the passage of many eras will compound again, as it has so many times before.
My mother was an alumnus of that school. My father taught there.
The metropolian world moves on. 'Equalization' is another profanity that will not brave the winterlude in Grand Bruit.