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From the archives

Behind the Lines

Two depictions of the Great War

Rocket Men

It’s going to be a long, long time

When Suppertime Came

We still don’t know why the Fitzgerald went down

Without Great Seriousness

My tadpoles, my goldfish, and I

Kyle Wyatt

Nearly twenty years ago, not long before I headed north to make my home in Canada, I was named an admiral in the Great Navy of the State of Nebraska. The elaborately designed commission, which hangs framed on my office wall, puts me in charge of various “officers, seamen, tadpoles and goldfish,” who are commanded to obey any orders I might give. That piece of paper is among my most cherished possessions.

To be made a Nebraska admiral is to be awarded the landlocked state’s highest civic honour — equivalent to the Order of Ontario or the Ordre national du Québec, though more lighthearted and without the post-nominals. The tradition goes back to 1931, when the Democratic governor Charles W. Bryan (younger brother of the better-known William Jennings) went on vacation, leaving the Republican lieutenant-governor Ted W. Metcalfe in charge. Metcalfe, whose father was the last military...

Kyle Wyatt is the editor of the Literary Review of Canada.

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