Who are you?
Identity is a process, no? Quite briefly, then, the process has made of me a happy graduate of Bishop’s University and Brock University, a graduate of history programs in both cases. I am also a product of Cowansville, located an hour’s drive east of Montreal. (I may or may not resent the latter’s accidental proximity to my hometown; to quote Graham Chapman’s King Arthur, “’tis a silly place!”) When I am not making unnecessary references to British film culture, I work as reporter in and around Cowansville for The Record, Quebec’s only non-Montreal-based daily English-language newspaper. Of course, one would expect there to be only one of those. Next fall I will be pursuing doctoral studies in History at the University of New Hampshire.
What do you do for fun?
Through the better part of the last decade I have sought, in my spare time, to address the deficiencies of my formal education. The most glaring omissions are literary: only recently have I become acquainted with Dumas, Faulkner, Maugham, Swift, and Zola. While I cannot minimise the enjoyment of conversations and occasional (er, yes, occasional) mischief with some very close friends, the fun I take away from intellectual pursuits fulfils a deep, visceral need. Some people, in addition, have the luxury of visiting exotic locales all around the world; I immerse myself in philosophy and history and at times I build, quite discreetly, an extremely abstract world that suits only me. Thrust into an exotic setting I would find a way to escape to a plane of pure ideas… I am an odd duck.
What is your favourite community? Why?
I wish I could cite that ancient order of errant scholars who travel far and wide in the process of acquiring and disseminating knowledge – most universities have been and remain model United Nations by the diversity of their teaching corps. But of course, scholarly pettiness and intellectual pride have interceded, a sign perhaps that knowledge and wisdom are of two perfectly distinct species. My favourite community, then? I care deeply for my dear old Cowansville and its familiar faces, and the community I found at Bishop’s University, in Lennoxville, was beyond all expectations. In fact the sense of shared identity and mutual affinity at Bishop’s was unlike any other personal experience I might recall, and it taught me the many definitions of community. Yes, let’s say Bishop’s. ‘Tis a silly place as well as a sophisticated web of blooming individualities. (Perhaps should we consider putting that on the university crest.)
What is your superpower?
I am a committed seeker of knowledge, but my superpower would rather be that of expression. It is one thing to absorb, to amass information, and quite another to make sense of it, so as to ultimately share it without being redundant or reductive. While most superpowers must be used sparingly and with great caution, while literary inclinations are often misused and abused, I relish opportunities to harness language to thought, to put pen to paper, and offer a new vision, a new voice.
How do you use it to build community?
As a reporter for The Record, I use my pen to give expression to public trustees, small businesses, local community organisations, and concerned citizens. As an historian, I use my pen to give expression to ghosts – or so I would hope. I scour old, oft-dismissed documents and I find faint voices, rising, asking only to be carried forth into their future, our present. Readers need not worry; I have no interest in building a community of dead people… though I think I will have an advantage when the zombie apocalypse at long last strikes. Anyway, my point: community, like identity, is not a static fact, or a structure, but a process. Any present-day community exists in the past as much as it does in its acknowledged, tangible manifestations. Let forerunning voices speak, I say, and enlighten – in every sense of the word – the builders of today. Let there be a communion of the living and the dead in the interest of the former, a dialogue made only possible by the historian qua interpreter.
My Three Favourite Things About Patrick Are…
1. His favourite community! In spite of my incredible connection to – and powerful articulation-skills about – Bishop’s University, I’m not sure if I’ve ever heard the community described in such a perfect way: “‘Tis a silly place as well as a sophisticated web of blooming individualities.” Amazing.
2. Seeker, Amasser, and Expresser of Knowledge. Patrick seeks, amasses and expresses knowledge as a student of the most noble discipline in the humanities: History. He’s an Historian, too. The metaphor of giving his pen to ghosts is a great one. Patrick, for your noble pursuits of History – and your commitment to scouring the words of ghosts – I salute you.
3. So, He Made a Reference to the Zombie Apocalypse. I think that Patrick’s on to something with his idea of an Historian like himself colluding with ghosts to survive – if not lead – the Zombie Apocalypse. Pretty great. And this is all kinds of forward thinking genius.
- As told by John Horn
It may not exactly be “The House that Pain built“, but then the Olympic Village in Whistler is also not likely to appear as the last track on a Killing Joke-album. (And “The House that Pain built” of course is still MacKinnon Residence in Bishop’s University, Lennoxville, QC, but that’s a different story altogether). Still, Whistler has German athletes complaining, as German newspaper „Die Zeit“ reported yesterday. 
I still remember when my wife was first exposed to Canadian architecture in 2005 (talking about individual houses, now). It was up in Belvedere in Lennoxville, where a couple of friends of mine back from the old Bishop’s days were living in one of those little houses (the white one with the green windowframes to be exact). Involuntarily, as we pulled up the driveway, my lovely wife Silke alluded to Star Wars: “They live in that thing? They’re braver than I thought…”