MAKING MEMORIES NOW - THIS IS WHERE WE WANT TO LIVE

I've written about this many times but you know, it deserves repeating. It's important to me, and it's just as important to our family. The fact I feel obligated to editorialize about the follies of local government, doesn't mean I disrespect each councillor. It's simply not true. I do however, unapologetically generalize, when I feel council has made a mistake in judgement, or acted in a manner ratepayers should be concerned. I know many councillors personally, and although we won't be sending each other Christmas cards again this year, doesn't mean we don't, on occasion, see (as they say), "eye to eye." What I'm looking for in a councillor, is one who occasionally breaks rank, goes a little rogue-like, and isn't afraid of berating his or her colleagues when it is deemed appropriate. I get mad when complacency rules the roost, because counter-point, and vigorous debate is what helps ratepayers feel they are getting their vote's worth. Debate is healthy. Complacency and compliance are good at times, crappy when it's not given its full range of benefits at the council table.

I've spent a lot of time outdoors since the spring, and much of that time has been observing the wonderful environs of our hometown. I wander the woodlands of The Bog, and I adore lounging with a picnic down at Gull Lake Park. I savor moments in our garden, and sitting outside and listening to the loons, the owls, the various critters of the night, and the haunting old sound of a steamship in passage along our lake. No matter how angry I might get about the way municipal government operates, or how much I personally disagree with some of their decisions, or lack of, I'm reminded on my outdoor ramblings, that I didn't move to Muskoka, or to Gravenhurst because of local politics. I moved here because it was perfect for my family. Perfect for the kind of life we wanted for our two boys. What we wanted day to day, at work and play, and just what we needed to fill our lives with the natural splendor of this powerfully restorative region on earth.

As a writer, I have benefitted greatly, from all of these hometown feelings. I'm stodgy and persnickety, stubborn and steadfast, and my opinions are shaped slowly and soundly, and seldom wrong as a rule. I like Gravenhurst. Even with some of the council antagonisms we share, nothing distracts me for long, about the truly splendid attributes we have here in South Muskoka. While at times it seems to be daunting trying to catch a break here, the truth is, there is a rejuvenation in progress, despite the downturn of the economy, that will bring Gravenhurst a renewal. You can't be in this kind of advantageous position on the Muskoka Lakes, and not reap the benefits of an expanding urban area in the south…..and paradise less than two hours north. As we have been influenced from the 1870's by tourism, we will see a spike of interest in the next decade that will facilitate much grander change, and re-development.

Maybe it seems like I'm always complaining. Well, in my heart it's a different story. I will never, at least voluntarily, leave this little town……that took us in as the "undecided," and convinced us, it was a home like no other. No regrets. We made the right decision to move here, and that's a statement I can make that has stood the test of personal and family debate for decades. Now if we can just get councillors to debate…..I mean really debate…..that would be great!

WHEN CHANGE IS PROFOUND, PROGRESS IS FRIGHTENING, AND THE FUTURE LOOKS BLEAK, THE OPTIMISTIC LEAD THE CHARGE

I was reading the local press this morning, as I do every Wednesday (the result of my own history in the local press, and respect for weekly press days), and found an article that my eldest son, Andrew, was quoted-in, regarding the removal of the old theatre marquis, that had adorned the front of his uptown Gravenhurst storefront for decades. He and his brother Robert, operate a vintage music shop in the old Muskoka Theatre building, and the marquis dates back many years. Andrew was quite upset it had to be removed, due to structural integrity issues, and he's been fielding many questions ever since its removal, some folks worrying that another devastating fire had occurred. We have suffered quite a few serious fires in our region in the past few years, so anything that looks like a fire's destructive path (as the wall section appeared, when the marquis was removed), gets folks talking and well, spreading mistruths. So Andrew and Robert have been setting the record straight as much as possible, and this week's Banner article explains the situation in more detail.

Andrew and Robert are traditionalists. They were brought up in a house that resembles a museum, and they spent much of their childhood, trailing behind dad, as I tended my responsibilities as manager of Bracebridge's Woodchester Villa (the Bird House). When not at a museum, or living in one, we visited many others. As well, they've been in the antique business, by association with us, for their entire lives. It's in essence why they pursue vintage music today. But they know change is inevitable, and they certainly know the importance of adapting to the "new normals" they're faced with constantly, running a business and working in the tech departments of local theatre / music venues. They know that they have no choice but to respect the improvements and changes of attitude in their industry. To miss this, would be the death knell of their business, that's for sure. It's one thing to surround oneself with items of the past, and to respect tradition, in their personal lives, and within the hometown they dwell, but there are changes that are and will occur, like the removal of the marquis, that are positive and necessary none the less. And while it appears to be a hardship to live with dramatic change, it is necessary to move-on regardless.

Since they were young lads, they've experienced a lot of changes in their hometown. Places we used to take them for treats are gone now. Some because the businesses failed and at least one, because it was consumed by an unfortunate fire. As they watch as the downtown / uptown, that they are so much a part, today, suffer from business changes, they still maintain an upbeat feeling about the improvements that will arrive in the future.

They have changed in many ways, these young traditionalists, and they don't see things quite as they did even a few years ago. They are no longer students of business and professional life. They've earned their stripes, and are not afraid of asserting their experience garnered. It makes a few of their mentors uncomfortable, when underlings start getting restless for change and improvement. Well, there's no going back. While they were both sorry to see the old marquis dismantled this past week, they know the improvements coming will herald a new look for the coming decade. Change doesn't have to be a feared reality. But those who can not accept change, or believe that every tradition must remain free of tampering, will suffer the consequences of stalemate. Our hometown is changing. Hopefully it will be the case that two young lads, who are reverent to the past, will take it upon themselves to be the architects of this evolution of home town.

FISCAL AUSTERITY A LITTLE ……WELL, VERY, VERY LATE

No matter how many times you read or hear about Canada's ability to weather financial storms, we have to endure one big enough and closer than the past recession, to test whether it is rhetoric or fact…….that we are in better shape to handle severe global downturns. I'm pretty sure, this national, and provincial claim of fiscal stability, gives some credibility to the argument our regional and town levels of government are just as rock solid as our federal and provincial partners. Maybe councillors can sleep well at night, on the realities of a huge debt-load, while most of us toss and turn about our own risk management and eventual retirement.

I grew up in a family, as did my wife Suzanne, where frugality and home economics were every day realities. It doesn't mean we were poor but it does mean our respective moms and pops had a keen sense for making ends meet, and using and re-using. Buying a new car? It was a peak of every decade. We went with clunkers for most of my childhood. I spent a lot of time pushing those same cars, so my dad could jump-start the engines. I think we were pretty average frankly, and Suzanne and I both knew what it was like to have a limited clothing budget. As for food, well, our families were talented in this department, and having lived through the Great Depression and the War Years, they had the capability of hunkering down with modest proportion, and stretching a food supply to an almost astonishing degree. We'd have a roast beef on Sunday, and be eating it in various forms until it was down to its last morsel by Wednesday or Thursday. Any leftovers after this went into the soup pot where, at the very least, the remnants would flavor the vegetables. That was our "Everything Stew," like the hobos in their jungle, down by the train station, used to cook up over an open fire. Anything that was left over, or could be reasonably added to a stew, except cereal, got tossed in for substance. I loved it. Suzanne will still make these same soups, not because we're broke, but because we both know a few basic survival skills, as passed down by true culinary experts.

The problems that arise from this latest economic calamity, is that many young folks, thousands upon thousands with huge financial obligations, and family responsibilities, have no idea how to be frugal. Many have spent so much money they didn't have, having buried themselves in credit card and rent/mortgage debt, when times were good, that they now have this huge bank of negative financial potential rolling over the horizon……headed right for them. And they have no place to hide. No way of getting out from under the debt-load without taking huge losses. And they don't know how to make an "Everything Stew," and if doesn't come in a microwave package, they don't know how to cook. They were never taught. The old Home Economics courses at high school, which became Family Studies, isn't helping prepare young folks for household realities, good and bad……so spending the little cash they have on a bag of potatoes, carrots or beets, isn't all that appealing if it involves any preparation, more than opening a door and punching a few buttons on a microwave.

I've always thought some of our councillors should take refresher home economics courses, so they could better understand what many of their constituents are facing day to day. If I boldly stated this to councillors up close and personal, undoubtedly many would be deeply offended, that a critic like me, would suggest they don't know how to make a "Hobo Stew." My point for suggesting an upgrade, is for them to truly appreciate that many of their constituents are of the most vulnerable, and that the food bank is necessary in our struggling community. Possibly, being a little insulted by my suggestions that they are woefully disconnected to household fragilities, in this town, and then huffing and puffing about Mr. Currie being "out of order……out of order….ridiculous, scandalous…..how dare you suggest we are of the ill-informed,"……….just maybe amidst their foot stomping and chair-leg kicking, one or two of these same town representatives might have a wee pinch of insight, that maybe, just maybe, they have lost touch with the true economic woes of the hometown.

Whether our council representatives feel insulted by my suggestion, that they are disconnected from the economic truths of their constituents, or angry about being told they need to upgrade their home economics skills, the economic perils facing them, not only on a local and regional level, but from the shock wave of fear and loathing coming from the global crisis, will either force our leadership to quit, or learn quickly new ways of economizing and recovering from record debt-loads. What our new town council, must have learned over the past year, is that being a big mucky-muck isn't all its cracked up to be, especially when you've blindly……and I mean blindly, assumed another council's unbelievable bungling. So if the global melt-down and defaults do pass this way, which I think is a good bet, we'll see what fiscal consequence is all about. Gravenhurst and our District are facing a debt-load crisis at about the worst time possible…..yet many of us have been warning about over-spending for more than a decade. Of course, we were "fear mongers" then, and we're fear mongers now. Sometimes fear mongers do hit the nail on the head.

As we have experienced in Gravenhurst for some time, there is a lack of confidence we can change our future with a few grants, curiously vague initiatives, and grandiose projects, that always seem to miss the mark, at least as far as inspiring citizens that all is well. Despite claims of positive action, and re-action to crisis, there has been a flogging of community pride and spirit for twenty of the past twenty years. To this point, most of us realize it will take a behemoth change in direction, and an immense wave of good fortune (some made, some found) to find our future as exciting and alluring as it should and could be with the right leadership. We are not seeing this at present. What we are seeing is the same superfluous attempts to pull a genie out of the bottle, chasing after nothing more than bandaid solutions to all that ails us. Like trying to stop a tsunami with a pail and scoop, it's about the least sensible thing, at present, to look at stimulating the main street business community, when a large component of the BIA zone buildings are up for sale……or are missing the result of failures, re-locations and past fires. The community at large is the main concern, and the stresses of the coming downturn on town services and ratepayers……some who haven't been able to pay their taxes comfortably for years. The elitist attitude I sense from council generally, is one that is about to come crashing down to earth, and it will have everything to do with a lack of insight about just how bad it is here now…….before the coming economic storm claims its first business or industry in our town. If a councillor, or two, should appreciate that the Bard of Segwun Boulevard makes some sense in his prognostications about the future, then possibly they will be the leaders in dialogue, to convince our local government that thin ice, and its precarious nature, will be a reality of business for the coming decade……and that they should all appreciate that some of us have been eating Poverty Stew (Everything Stew) for quite a while now, watching from the sidelines as our tax dollars are spent in stomach-churning excess all over the place.

Our Town has survived many, many downturns. And it will survive this one. Not well, or without casualties, having little financial room to spare. But it will take its toll on those who believe the fictions they perpetuate, in a government they see as all-powerful and resilient to change, no matter how inevitable. Nothing could sink the Titanic. Historians and visionaries know just how tough it will be…..especially those who prop themselves up on propaganda because it seems the most positive thing to spin these day. If our leadership in Muskoka and Gravenhurst doesn't respond to the impending fiscal crisis, which will erode their tax base without doubt, they are simply stated, "damned fools."

It may not seem like an emergency but it is! We are in bad shape to weather this storm. Many citizens are in financial peril. Many businesses are just keeping their heads above water. Investors are becoming fewer and fewer. Losses are getting bigger and bigger.

Fear mongering? Call it that if you wish. A few of us know it better, and more sensibly, as an honest plea for reaction, and a bid for safe passage for our vulnerable citizenry, who are already mired with personal hardships. What we do know is that the client list at the local food banks, will be hale and hardy for another few years. Will there be enough donations to meet demand? Council, as our leadership, needs to know what's going on in the real world…..the one that exists beyond the council chamber. As I've stated before, they absolutely need to know how important the local food bank is to the welfare of many of our families. As I've discovered, council isn't all that interested in unpleasant realities.

THE ECONOMY AND A SMALL TOWN IN A BIG REGION OF ONTARIO

I don't play the stock market, and generally, the only speculative activity I'm guilty of playing-at, involves my life-long interest in antiques and art. It's sort of part and parcel of being an antique dealer for the past two and a half decades. I've been dabbling in antiques since I was a kid but the "for-profit" business side didn't begin in earnest until the mid 1980's. Before this I probably lost more money than I made, as an antique picker. Looking back now, geez, I've survived a few dandy recession periods and haven't lost my investment value. The key reason. I am a bargain hunter. I buy low. And in some cases, I sell really high, as determined by auction. Sure, there have been some stinkers along the way, that I sold on a break-even basis. When I hear and read about the great losses being suffered by stock market investors, well, I can look at the paintings on the wall, the old books on the shelf, and the antique furniture I still possess, and heave a sigh of relief that my investment has substance. The only way most of my pieces will go down in value is if I sell them during a particularly bad time in the local market. Having investments you can live with, because they won't sell at the time, isn't so bad if you make a practice of purchasing what you like….and what you find appealing to the eye. Antique and art investing has its pitfalls like every other investment. Education is the safety net. Some folks just like to be closer to their investments than others.

I have a great deal of fear for young folks, if this latest news, of a double-dip recession is true. So many are in serious debt, with credit cards, lines of credit, car loans and mortgages. They don't have the experience needed to appreciate how devastating and long lasting a down-turn can get, and what they stand to lose. For many the stress of losing a job and missing payments….leading to repossessions, will seriously affect their family lives. There's nothing like money-issues, to turn family members against each other.

When my wife and I were kids, we were constantly reminded about austerity and what it had been like navigating the Great Depression. What have modern day parents done to educate their offspring, about the ruination caused by excess? Not much. What some youngsters spend on cell phone bills per year, is what my parents used to make in wages, over a year. And that was the 60's. Not the 40's, or 30's. If you knew the stats on the average cell phone bill, for the under twenty age group, I think we'd all be shocked at how irresponsible and frivolous spending has become. Debt isn't feared as it has been in my day, and the time of my parents and grandparents. And all the advisories of sage folks, who have remembrances of tough times, have largely gone unnoticed. Even by the governments that are supposed to look after our resources. The age of excesses is coming to an end, and if it isn't this year, it will be sometime soon. The reality check will be brutal, and the casualties will be many. And the client list at the local food banks will escalate beyond our capability of supplying.

I have written about this often in the past year. I'm particularly disturbed by the way our own town and district are spending money we don't have. I have grave concerns about the cut-backs we will all be forced to make, when it comes down to the actuality, our tax base is much less than it used to be….. and all that's needed to tip the scale is the decline of the real estate market, and the decreasing value of the real estate we've banked and leveraged so heavily upon. A pro-active town council will close the barn door now. And while there are projects I wish to proceed, there is a time when even the loyalist and untiring advocate, has to admit, we simply can't afford what comes down to an extravagance, when something else could work in a pinch. We are not prepared, in this town, or in this district, and it will undoubtedly mean many projects will have to be shelved, or left on the drawing board for another day.

Choices. If sinking isn't an option. Well, then swim and swim well.

THE CO-OPERATION OF COUNCIL - TO KEEP US UP TO SPEED - IS SENSIBLE TO ALL STAKE-HOLDERS

It is a problem with most governments these days. The desire to keep information on a "need-to-know" basis. And even then, it is a sanitized version of what is actually going on. To think that everything is decided around the council table is nonsense, and for anyone who has covered local government, the key direction of council isn't confined to what is negotiated or discussed at town hall. Ideas that blossom in coffee shop chats, and social event inter-action, can play a huge role in what comes forth for committee or council consideration. Democracy is well served this way, and some of the best ideas in history, didn't come out during routine meetings but arrived rather unceremoniously with a daydream, a vision, speculation, investigation and imagination about the things that can be implemented to meet an objective.

I could sit, as a reporter, all the live long day at a council meeting, or slurp coffee with a committee in discussion, but inevitably I knew by experience, the vast amount of work had been hammered out behind the scenes, and of this, I was not a part. There's nothing wrong with this, of course, and as far as transparency goes, generally it isn't worth too much ink on the news pages. There are however, issues and important decisions, that do arrive for council decision, that make citizens ponder where these opinions and directives came from in the first place.

The point is, transparency is never going to happen totally, and no matter how much we wish we knew more about how ideas and mandates were generated, and the sources related, we must relent that somethings will never be known regardless. What we are looking for is something and someone to take responsibility for hatching ideas, and directing traffic behind the scenes. Who is controlling the town, really? And what are the political interests of the few, who seem to have a vision for our town……and are acting upon it? When we ask for transparency, we know full well, we will never get the complete picture, and will have to settle for what we are able to gouge loose of the protective screen that shields governments, rightly or wrongly depending on the issues.

We just have to hope our local representatives understand the true positives of being forthright and sensible about what they are protecting, of inside information, and what we all need to know before we head any further out to sea with a leaky vessel.

A BUSY AND TOUGH PERIOD FOR GRAVENHURST THIS FALL SEASON

I warned a few council hopefuls, a year ago, that the next four year term of municipal government would be the most difficult in modern, if not the entire history of the town. And they looked at me as if I'd said the silliest thing I could, without being part of the stand-up cast of a comedy festival. Well, so far, there hasn't been much to laugh about but I've been pretty close to my prediction. I don't really care that they brushed me off, as being the doomsayer amongst their rallying supporters, and their unmistaken pride at winning a popularity contest…..because the election, unfortunately for ratepayers, was little more than this……, the point is, there's a lot of dire consequence coming up for these same councillors to handle. And no, I don't envy them. But it will clearly point out to them just how serious a situation it is, to be a town representative, above and beyond the grip and grin photographs, and special event presentations.

There are some serious reports that surely must be nearing completion, and a recreation centre on the brink of opening, and an efficiency report as well, we'd love to know more about. What most of us see, from the outside of local government, looking in, is a body in great need of shaping up. I trust the experts will let us know the inside scoop, at some point, seeing as we are paying dearly for it!

The problems with fire aftermath, and the for sale stats on the main street, and the ongoing construction, certainly makes the situation ever more dire, when there is still expectation some of the reports to be released, will show taxpayers have been thrown down a slide with a sandpaper surface. You need not go further than the new roof for the recently acquired and remodeled town hall. In the private sector, heads would have rolled for these same circumstances, that had us purchase a building with an inadequate roof……that would cost us hugely to make the needed upgrade repairs. Why do I suspect the "oops…..we should have caught that," syndrome isn't done yet? And I'm pretty sure councillors are aware that they are going to be facing a real challenge, when the new rec. centre officially opens, and the day to day operating situations, stress test a building that has had more than its share of controversy over the past few years. It could be embarrassing for not only council, but citizens generally, who have looked to council and staff to get this job done properly. We want the kind of facility that will make us all feel, and taxpayers across the province and nation, who have contributed via grants, we got a good deal on a quality facility. Nothing less. Or council, regardless of their teflon traditions, will have to face the music, and a trip of their own down a sanded slide. I'm not stating anything that isn't obvious or part of the job of being our representatives.

I have a great deal of faith in the citizens of this town and region. We are a hale and hardy lot, used to having our local governments spend our money like drunken sailors. We're used to making stands, and defending the integrity of our communities, when at times, controversy mires our good nature. What we do want…..no insist upon, is for council to take responsibility for its shortfalls……just as they bask when times are good……and ribbon cuttings, ceremonial hole-digging and tree planting get them on the front page of the local press. We want them to shoulder bad news, and make us feel proud of the team we selected to lead our town. The next six months will tell us clearly, if we made wise choices, or just made a decision based on popularity, not the ability to handle near-impossible situations, and inspire confidence for the rest of us…….that we will improve and correct…..not sidestep and defer responsibility as a means of coping with the pulse of negativity, we have experienced most recently.

I am an eternal optimist. I will never change. My trust is with good leadership. I want to believe we have that in our town. I really do. But admittedly, from past performances, and some lethargy getting things resolved, I do have my doubts this council will survive intact for another three years.

HELPING OTHERS WAS ADA FLORENCE KINTON'S THANKSGIVING

BY TED CURRIE

The brightly colored leaves of the hardwoods, that wreath the tall pines, and so nicely frame the wavering field grasses and sea of cattails down in The Bog, adjacent to our home, remind me now of Ada Florence Kinton's many vibrant paint boards, she created while staying in Muskoka, back in the late 1800's.

Although it was a scene out of Victorian times, and the locale was Huntsville, in north Muskoka, I can so easily imagine the young artist wandering these forest paths, and finding this place, at Birch Hollow, bathed in October's sunlight, a perfect place to sketch and watch sky and forest, wee creatures and the tiny crystalline waterfalls you can see tumbling down amidst the mounds of matted grasses. I can see her silhouetted against this harvest landscape, sitting on a fallen log, enamored with the diverse vista in front.

At this time of the year however, Ada would have gladly surrendered her artistic interests, to help the less fortunate, at a soup kitchen on the streets of Toronto, working on behalf of the Salvation Army. While she could have spent her life painting, selling her work, and being paid well to teach others, she opted instead to dedicate herself to helping mankind cope with distress. I think she would have approved of this year-long series of columns, being dedicated to the Salvation Army Food Bank, here in Gravenhurst, and food banks generally across the country. The pioneer artist, missionary, went on through her short life, believing in the unfaltering power of faith, and the healing capability of compassion. It was visible in her art work, and profoundly evident in her writing, both eventually being published in many issues of the Salvation Army's "War Cry," during the late 1800's.

One poignant reminiscence of Miss Kinton's dedication, comes from her longtime friend, and Canadian novelist, Agnes Maule Machar, who in 1907 wrote of sacrifice, the art career that ceased suddenly and unnecessarily. Miss Machar wrote of her friend, "The final step was not, however, taken without the sacrifice of many natural feelings and preferences. She used to say that her resolve was made during a particularly dull sermon and an uninspiring service. Her fist intimation of her decision, to the writer, was contained in a letter countermanding a request she had made about the sending of two small watercolor drawings to the Exhibition of the Ontario Society of Artists. After asking that they be 'not sent', she added, 'This is what I am going to do,' and in a few words stated her determination to enter into the work of the Salvation Army, relinquishing a competent salary and prestige (in the art community) for a humble niche in what she felt to be a great work, with a bare livelihood. and she had counted the cost."

"In the external features of the organization she entered, there were some things which were repellant to her naturally refined taste for dainty and beautiful surroundings, but where her conscience and judgement approved the general method - where her mind was fully and worthily occupied and her heart found full scope. She could dispense with adventitious advantages, and be happy in the simple life of the Army," penned her writer friend. "She was convinced that in it she found work more worthy of her highest capacities than in that of 'helping a number of young people to draw a little better than they otherwise might,' as she put it. Of this she was satisfied to the end - whether that work was found in its most self-denying form, in the humble 'Rescue Home,' for intemperate women (where she willingly submitted to much that was naturally painful and repelling), in the overflowing compassion which their hard case inspired her; or in the 'Refuge for Neglected City Waifs,' whose starved and stunted childhood was sad to see."

Miss Machar suggested candidly, "Few really appreciated either the rewards or the privations of her work; and her sensitive heart could not feel the unavoidable isolation from many former inmates (colleagues in art). From ordinary social intercourse, as well as from the gratification of some most innocent tastes, she was in a great measure, debarred, both by her engrossing occupations and by the necessity of wearing her uniform, which she would never discard except when on a country holiday. And a well-worn uniform it often was." This talented artist simply turned and walked away, feeling unworthy to belong to such a group any longer. Although we can conclude, from our vantage point, that she should have mustered the courage to participate, it was her character to concentrate on the interests so keenly felt, and that was, simply stated, the continuation of her relief work; not selfishly pursuing what, at the time, she mistakenly believed was frivolous art, that was helping no one but herself.

As an example, one of the most compelling and unfortunate circumstances in Ada Kinton's transformation, from art career to the work of a missionary, was summed up by Machar. "On one occasion, when she desired to hear a friend read a paper before a Women's Art Association meeting, in Toronto, she ventured as far as the door of the place of the meeting, but on catching sight of the fashionably attired assemblage within, her fastidious sense of the fitness of things overcame her courage, and she precipitately confessed without some natural tears. 'It seemed,' she said, 'as if I had caught a glimpse of a charming world, to which I once belonged, but in which I could no long claim a place'." Machar footnoted this quotation, by writing, "She said she felt like a 'speckled bird' when she did venture into such society."

Her eventual placement with the "War Cry," suited her very well, because she could adorn her feature articles, with art work of her own creation. It was the merging of all her talents, and her sense of humanity, and the voyeur of her life and accomplishment, feels some consolation that the talented artist, who felt she didn't belong side by side her artist peers, felt comfortable in her final years, expressing what had been for so long suppressed by her stalwart mission to help others.

"If you stood, on a summer night, somewhere among our lovely woods and lakes, in the softness and the hush of tender sundown, you would hear such melodious tumult from the throats of our countless song-birds, you might almost fancy that they had met in earnest consultation upon some question of burning interest but that their council had been broken up in confusion, with no agreement but to disagree, for each one to argue out his own ideas to himself, whilst the cat-bird, like some laughing yahoo, throws in a derisive 'mi-au.' But above all their sweet jangle, some persistent bird asserts himself, ever repeating, in accents of unutterable plaintiveness, his own clear phrase, whilst far through the echoing forest his wistful mate replies, in praise (so people say) of Canada. 'What is it that it sings?' the sun-browned children ask. 'Sweet - sweet - Canada,' thinks many a mother, with her cheek upon her baby's curls, as she listens in the doorway of her fragrant wooden cottage, on the margin of forest, where the graceful maples rest their branches on the shingled roof." "Sweet, sweet Canada, Canada, Canada, Canada." This was penned by Ada Kinton, shortly before her death, published in The War Cry.

As this series of columns on pioneer artist Ada Kinton, has been dedicated in her memory, to the Salvation Army Food Bank, here in Gravenhurst, please consider making a donation to a food bank in your own community, to help out at this festive time of the year. It will be greatly appreciated.

From our family, here at Birch Hollow, in Gravenhurst, Ontario, please accept our best wishes for a happy and contenting Thanksgiving holiday.

ADA KINTON WAS FASCINATED BY THE NATURAL SURROUNDINGS OF FRONTIER ONTARIO

By Ted Currie

The toughest day to day challenge for my mother, was to keep me indoors. I would have been outdoors through the night, if Merle hadn't been standing guard. My dad told me she truly slept with one eye open, suspecting I might try a daring, early morning escape. I loved exploring the small ravine, and greenbelt that embraced the sparkling length of Burlington's Ramble Creek, on its way to Lake Ontario. It was a glorious place for a wide-eyed kid, who never suffered from a lack of imagination.

I loved the seasons in that Burlington neighborhood, with its venerable chestnut trees on Torrance Avenue, and the pear and cherry trees on Harris Crescent, next to the market garden. But it was in that ravine, invigorated by explorations into all the magical places a watershed can afford, that reminds me now, of the treks into the woodlands by pioneer artist, Ada Florence Kinton, back in 1883.

When our family moved to Muskoka, in 1966, I carried my enthusiasm for the outdoors deep into the forests and lowlands around our new Bracebridge abode. I couldn't find anything that paralleled the valley of Ramble Creek but I did have so much more acreage to roam freely, in this rural part of the province. The Ramble Creek oasis, a more than worthy childhood haven, was in reality, only a couple of city blocks from Brant Street, the main business corridor. Point is, I grew up with a particularly ravenous appetite for outdoor exploration, and both places of my youth, offered enough adventure to satisfy this curious wanderlust.

As I was preparing for this latest installment, of the biography of Ada Kinton, I couldn't help myself from falling dreamily, helplessly into those wonderful childhood days, learning about nature by immersion. It's what, of nature, inspired Miss Kinton to sketch and paint what she adored about the Ontario wilds. From the busy streets of Victorian England, the hustle and bustle of London, Ada found herself wandering the narrow cartways and forest paths of pioneer Huntsville, in the northern climes of Muskoka. Having recently lost her father to illness, she was brought to Huntsville, by her brothers, Ed and Mackie, both local businessmen. She was later to become a missionary, working with the Salvation Army. But in that emotionally stirring spring of 1883, she spent considerable time pondering the future, and as it was, asking in prayer, what God had in store for her. In the meantime she looked after her nieces and nephews at the Kinton residence. Already an accomplished artist and instructor, in England, she put her experience to work, sketching the flora and fauna of this largely untouched wilderness.

Enjoying this beautiful August season, in Ontario, we have to take a little trip back in years, and season, (are you feeling a little colder?) to revisit Miss Kinton's fascinating journal, the one published following her death, by her sister Sara Randleson. It is now late March in the year 1883.

"Ed (her brother) is better (following the influenza). The doctor comes jingling up the hill in a cutter. It is like a perambulator on light runners. The sleigh proper is a long low box, shallow and close to the ground, and rough; the cutter has a row of bells. The swing from England is very popular today, Boyo (her nephew) repeats. 'Ting giddy,' and Frank's little plump feet in the red socks work vigorously. Sun going down golden again. River all snow, except a dark serpentine twist in the middle. Curious to see the way fields and garden are herring boned all over with the dog tracks, according to the vagaries of the canine mind. Feel sick with neuralgia - went to bed supperless."

She revisits the journal on Good Friday. "Bad night all round. No service - unlike English Good Friday. No noisy bank holiday folks in front of the window to watch. Now 'rows" to the police station. No almond trees in bud or blossom, no women at the corners with baskets of violets and primroses to sell at two pence a bunch. No South Kensington Galleries, and no Art Library to go to and read Ruskin and Longfellow. No paps at Cornwall. Why are things so nice when they are gone? Made a discovery. Can make delicately pretty Easter eggs by etching with common ink. Going to try paint brush tomorrow. (Easter Day) Afternoon, went for a long walk to Vernon Lake. Large clearings leave good vistas of distant hills and the bush and the bay and the lake. Thaw commenced. Snow soft, and melted slightly on surface." Later in the day she pens, "Large party off to tea. Tea table loaded with good things. Big bake on Saturday. The choke-cherry-jelly cake and cookies look so rich and golden, with the blue glass service. My room is quite a picture all the afternoon, when the sun shines. The glare of the snow is so bright that red curtains are always drawn but the light is so radiant that the place looks like a blaze of fire, and the pink roses on the chintz quilt, are like lumps of glowing coals; and as a foil against the rosy wood, big bunches of myrtle-green hemlock and tamarack. The hemlock has a habit of pointing the topmost branch always northward. Saw a squirrel in the woods, and one or two birds tempted out by the mild warm air. No other signs of life yet. Went to church. Large congregation. The Bishop preached eloquent, thoughtful sermons."

Sketching as much with her words, as pencil on paper, she wrote of the weather, "Tuesday, still snow. Mother Earth seems to have freshened-up her ermine robe to last a little longer this spring. Cold looking clouds over the horizon. Couldn't rest last night, so sat up and repeated (verses) of Milton, and gazed out at the bush and the snow-lighted sky, and thought of Milton's stars, 'that in their glimmering orbs did glow,' until sleep came at last. (Next morning) Dreary outside. Spent the chief part of the day down at the office, with my brothers, very quietly. Saw a new phase of the village. The post office and store. Funeral procession of a young man from Fairy Lake passed the window; about 15 sleighs following - chief mourners with large scarfs of some white material tied around the right arm. Mourning suits mottled and varied, none of the intense pomp and gloom of a London funeral. One man had a plug hat, a rare occurrence here."

"Sketched a view of the river disappearing in the bush, and the steamer 'Northern,' still sleeping (iced in at wharf). Not satisfactory. Try to paint instead or chalk tomorrow. Delicious light and shade on the snow all day, as bright and radiant as the petals of a jonquil, all over everywhere. Past six and sun not gone down yet. Imitation rainbow reflection under the bridge. The big bluff edged with faint purple and fringed with russet trees; pale peacock green and rosy sky, shadows delicate, fawn colored, all melting together into a sweet glow. River gradually breaking through the ice."

I think it would have been enchanting, to accompany Ada Kinton on her walks through and around this quickly rising pioneer hamlet. I think she may have enjoyed some of the travels I took, as a young lad, seeking out some of life's beautiful and tranquil places, in the haunted woodlands I was able to wander. As she saw landscapes she wished to paint, I have witnessed scenes I wished only to describe in written sketches. These sojourns in the relative wilds of Ontario, served us both well, I suppose, as dream-filled, wide-eyed adventurers, who endured indoors on the promise of our precious time out-of-doors.

This series of year-long columns, is dedicated to the Gravenhurst Food Bank, operated by the Salvation Army, an organization Ada Kinton supported for most of her young life. She most certainly would have endorsed the food bank program. Please support the food bank program in your own community.

As Ada Kinton celebrated the beauty of the hinterland, please take the time this harvest season, to take in the sights, activities, and special events planned in our regions of this beautiful province.