He Went Out on an Epic Wilderness Adventure. Only His Dogs Came Back. - The New York Times

When I first moved to Canada from Ukraine with my family, one of my most confusing experiences as a newcomer happened somewhere I never expected — Canadian Tire. It all started when I needed to buy a thermos for my son's school lunch. A friend suggested heading to Canadian Tire, but I couldn't understand why. I knew what "Canadian" meant, and I definitely knew what a "tire" was. So why was I being sent to an auto shop for lunch supplies? Did Canadians really buy soup containers at gas stations? Trusting my friend, I drove over expecting to find a garage. Instead, I pulled up to a massive department store selling everything from kitchen appliances and home essentials to sporting goods and car parts. Safe to say, none of my English classes had prepared me for what Canadian Tire actually sells. And as I explored the aisles, I quickly realized there was a lot more to this iconic Canadian store than its name suggested. The iconic storefront and auto centre entrance at Canadian Tire. Alona Vasylieva | NarcityTo be fair, Canadian Tire isn't lying about its name — it really does sell car parts and even has a full-service auto centre.

For a year and a half, event planner Ethan Gill has regularly donated plasma at a commercial donation centre near his home in Whitby, Ont., that was run by an international pharmaceutical company called Grifols. Plasma, a golden-coloured, protein-rich fluid found in blood, is used to produce life-saving medicines for patients with conditions such as a compromised immune system. Mr. Gill often went twice a week as one of the ways he gives back to his community, he said – and getting paid up to $70 each time, which he would not be at a Canadian Blood Services centre, was a perk, too. Open this photo in gallery:Open this photo in gallery:The Grifols plasma centre in Whitby, Ont., was open when The Globe visited this spring to learn about its screening and donation process. Shay Conroy/The Globe and MailOn a recent afternoon in August, he was hooked up to a plasmapheresis machine as normal, and donated nearly a litre of plasma. It would be the last donation he would make for the foreseeable future. Mr. Gill had no way to know it at the time, but behind the scenes, Grifols’s head office was dealing with an extraordinary situation.