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| One of our lap cats for winter company; Zappa |
THE WINTER OF OUR GENERAL DISCONTENT; NOT OUR UNDOING AFTER ALL!
THE LENGTHY RESPITE WE DON'T THINK WE NEED
I AM A ZEALOT, IN THE PURSUIT OF THE CRITICAL STUDY OF HISTORY. YOU WON'T RECOGNIZE ME BECAUSE OF HORNS GROWING OUT OF MY HEAD, OR BECAUSE I HAVE CLOVEN HOOVES POKING OUT OF MY RUNNING SHOES. SOME TIMES, IN THE REGIONAL SENSE, BECAUSE IT'S WHAT I KNOW BEST, I AM CONSIDERED A NOSEY BEAST, FOR POKING HOLES IN LONG-HELD THEORIES, AND PREVIOUSLY UNCHALLENGED DETAILS OF HISTORY. IF YOU DELVE BACK AS I HAVE, YOU'RE BOUND TO FIND INCONSISTENCIES. ACCOUNTS OF SOME NEWS EVENTS, THAT I REMEMBER BEING A WITNESS TO, DURING MY CHILDHOOD, IN BRACEBRIDGE, WERE OFTEN WILDLY INACCURATE, WHEN I READ ABOUT THEM IN THAT WEEK'S NEWSPAPERS. THINK OF WHAT THIS DOES TO THE HISTORIAN FIFTY YEARS LATER, TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHICH ACCOUNT IS CLOSEST TO THE TRUTH; AND WITNESSES HAVE ALL EXPIRED. THUS, HISTORY IS PURPOSELY CORRUPTED, BECAUSE OF OUT OF PLACE OPINION, ENTERING THE DOMAIN OF COMMUNITY NEWS. SOME FOLKS LIKE IT BETTER THIS WAY, AND I FEEL IT'S MY JOB, AT LEAST LOCALLY, TO DEBUNK AS MUCH OF THIS AS POSSIBLE BEFORE I'M GONE. LET'S JUST SAY, I'VE GOT MY WORK CUT OUT.
LIKE DR. WILLIAM DAWSON LESUEUR, THE CHAP WHO NAMED OUR TOWN (GRAVENHURST, AFTER THE TITLE OF A BOOK, BY WILLIAM HENRY SMITH), I HAVE FOUND MANY DISCREPANCIES IN THE WAY HISTORY HAS BEEN RECORDED; OR TAMPERED WITH TO UNFAIRLY DISTORT OR DISGUISE THE TRUTH. THERE WERE MANY REASONS WHY THE TALLY OF HISTORICAL EVENTS WERE OFTEN COMPLETELY OPPOSITE, CARRIED BY LOCAL NEWSPAPERS; WHICH HAVE BECOME IMPORTANT RELICS OF RECORDED HISTORY. THE POLITICAL PERSUASION OF THE PUBLISHER, CAN, AND HAS INFLUENCED THE OVERVIEWS OF IMPORTANT COMMUNITY, PROVINCIAL AND NATIONAL EVENTS. IF CALLING YOURSELF AN HISTORIAN, YOU DODN'T CROSS REFERENCE THE HISTORICAL INFORMATION, BEYOND THE EDITORIAL, YOU WOULD BE NEGLIGENT. I HAVE FOUND THIS TIME AND AGAIN, WHERE TWO COMPETING NEWSPAPERS, CONTRADICTED EACH OTHER, YET CITIZEN ACCOUNTS VALIDATED NEITHER ONE. SO IT IS NECESSARY TO ADOPT A CRITICAL APPROACH, EVEN AS A CIVILIAN, WATCHING THE MEDIA REPORTS, SOME MORE BIASED THAT OTHERS. LESUEUR, AN HISTORIAN OF CONSIDERABLE RELIABILITY, SCOLDED WRITER STEPHEN LEACOCK, FOR COMPOSING A POPULAR HISTORY OF CANADA, ON COMMISSION, AND NOT CHALLENGING THE STORY WITH ANY NEW AND INSIGHTFUL RESEARCH. LESUEUR COMPLAINED THAT ANOTHER BOOK, WHITEWASHING NATIONAL HISTORY, WAS A WASTE OF TIME AND MONEY; AS NO SIGNIFICANT INROAD, TO ANYWHERE IN PARTICULAR, WOULD BE BLAZED AS A RESULT OF YET ANOTHER HISTORY. LEACOCK COULDN'T HAVE CARED LESS WHAT LESUEUR BELIEVED, AND WROTE HIS TEXT REGARDLESS. TODAY, IN MY BOOK SHOP, I CAN'T GIVE THEM AWAY. LESUEUR, TO THE CONTRARY, WROTE A SCATHING REBUKE OF HISTORIANS, WHO HAD BEEN ABUNDANTLY GRACIOUS, FOR LONG AND LONG, TO THE CAREER OF FIREBRAND, WILLIAM LYON MACKENZIE, AN INSTIGATOR OF THE REBELLION IN UPPER CANADA. LESUEUR DISCOVERED QUITE THE CONTRARY, THAT MACKENZIE WAS A PAIN IN THE ASS TO OTHER REBELLION LEADERS, AND OFTEN CAUSED MORE TROUBLE THAN HELPING THE EFFORT TO ACHIEVE RESPONSIBLE GOVERNMENT. AS I'VE NOTED PREVIOUSLY, HIS GRANDSON, MACKENZIE KING, WAS SO ANGRY THAT LESUEUR WAS PICKING ON HIS GRANDFATHER, THAT HE DID EVERYTHING IN HIS POWER TO DISCREDIT THE HISTORIAN, EVEN TO THE POINT OF BLOCKING THE PUBLICATION OF THE BOOK HE WAS WRITING. PRIME MINISTER KING WAS WRONG. DR. LESUEUR WAS RIGHT TO QUESTION HISTORY, AND HE DID CHANGE HOW HISTORIANS HAVE LOOKED AT MACKENZIE EVER SINCE. THE BOOK WAS EVENTUALLY PUBLISHED DECADES AFTER LESUEUR'S DEATH. MACKENZIE IS STILL CONSIDERED BY MANY TO BE A FIREBRAND, BUT NOT QUITE THE PIVOTAL CHAP HE WAS CONSIDERED, ONCE UPON A TIME; BEFORE ALL THE FACTS WERE KNOWN.
IT IS WITH LESUEUR'S MESSAGE FIRMLY IN MY MIND, AND I'M NOT SORRY ABOUT THIS, THAT I HAVE AN UNYIELDING SENSE OF RESPONSIBILITY, EVEN AS A REGIONAL HISTORIAN, TO QUESTION THE RECORDING OF HISTORY. ESPECIALLY MODERN HISTORY, WHICH, THANKFULLY I CAN BE A WITNESS; AND NOT JUST A CASUAL VOYEUR. IT'S WHY, TODAY, I FEEL AN OBLIGATION TO QUESTION DETAILS OF WHAT IS HAPPENING IN BOTH THE CRIMEA, AND THE UKRAINE. NOT THAT I'VE CHANGED MY OPINION, ABOUT THE RUSSIAN INVASION, UNDERTAKEN IN THESE PAST TWO WEEKS; BUT RATHER, WHAT REALLY PROVOKED THE DRASTIC TURN IN HISTORY. HAS THE WEST BEEN PUSHING RUSSIA, WITH THEIR MILITARY ACTIVITIES IN EUROPE, DURING THE RECENT PAST? IS NATO TOO CLOSE FOR COMFORT? HAS RUSSIA FELT ENCROACHED-UPON ITSELF BY THE REST OF EUROPE, AND THEIR ECONOMIC UNION, OF WHICH UKRAINE WANTED TO BE A PART? HOW STRATEGIC IS THE CRIMEA, TO WHAT RUSSIA NEEDS TO DEFEND ITS OWN FUTURE? UNFORTUNATELY, WE DON'T GET THIS SIDE OF THE STORY. SO WE OPINE AWAY, MAKING ASSUMPTIONS, WITHOUT UNDERSTANDING THE PUSH AND SHOVE IN THIS PART OF THE WORLD, THAT HAS BEEN GOING ON THROUGHOUT HISTORY. NOT JUST IN THE PAST THREE DECADES. SO I THINK WE SHOULD ALL QUESTION, UNTIL WE ARE SATISFIED, WHAT WOULD LEAD RUSSIA TO TAKE SUCH A BOLD STEP, AND FACE WORLD CONDEMNATION, ON THE CUSP OF THE WINTER OLYMPICS. I AM NOT A GEO-POLITICAL EXPERT, BUT I WISH I WAS; BECAUSE I THINK IT WOULD BE A TREMENDOUS ASSET, TO BE THIS ASTUTE ABOUT THE STRESSES OF INTERNATIONAL RELATIONS. WE WANT TO BLAME THE RUSSIANS. MY GENERATION WAS BROUGHT UP THAT WAY. BUT FOR A GOOD PART OF IT, WE WERE ALSO MADE TO FEEL, THAT WE WERE THE ONLY TRUE KEEPERS OF DEMOCRACY. CONSIDER THE VIETNAM WAR. THE AMERICANS WERE INDUCTING CITIZENS INTO THE WAR EFFORT. CANADA WASN'T. WE WERE FREE. THUS, THOSE OF US OF MILITARY AGE, WERE THANKING OUR LUCKY STARS, WE WERE OF CANADIAN DEMOCRACY. THAT KEPT US SAFE. THINGS HAVEN'T CHANGED. SO MANY OF US, HAVE A POOR UNDERSTANDING OF RUSSIA, BECAUSE OF THE WAY OUR PARENTS TAUGHT US; AND SCHOOLS REINFORCED. SO WE DO NEED TO TAKE ANOTHER LOOK, BECAUSE THERE ARE OTHER SIDES TO THIS STORY TO EXPLORE.
SOME NEWS CASTS MAKE IT SEEM AS IF RUSSIA IS A WHISKER AWAY FROM INVADING THE WIDER UKRAINE. ON OTHER NEWS STATIONS, THE INTERNATIONAL CRISIS, DOESN'T EVEN MAKE IT INTO THE TOP TEN NEWS STORIES OF THE DAY. AT TIMES, THE WAY THEY ARE PRESENTED, ONE WOULD EXPECT THE SANCTIONS BEING LEVELLED, BY THE UNITED STATES, AND THE EUROPEAN UNION, WOULD BE THE SPARK FOR SERIOUS MILITARY RETALIATION. THEN THERE ARE OPPOSITE SANCTIONS OPPOSED BY RUSSIAN ON AMERICAN DIPLOMATS. A DIPLOMATIC BATTLE MIXED WITH MILITARY INTERVENTION, BUT STILL NOTHING THAT WOULD SUGGEST TO ALL OF US WATCHING, THAT IT'S TIME TO DUCK. I DON'T THINK ANYONE KNOWS WHAT'S COMING DOWN THE PIKE NEXT, EXCEPT THE TYPICAL MIX OF RHETORIC, THAT CONFUSES SOME OF OUR NEWS GATHERERS, AND ANCHORS, WHO PUT EMPHASIS WHERE THEY THINK IT SHOULD BE PLACED; NOT EXACTLY TRUE OR ACCURATE, IN RELATION TO THE SUBJECT "ACTUALITY," OF WHATEVER HAPPENED. INTERPRETATIONS ARE RUNNING AMUCK. SO I HOPE MINE ISN'T!
I LOVE NEWS BUT I HATE IT AT THE SAME TIME. IT'S THE SWEET AND SOUR OF MY EXISTENCE. OVER THE PAST COUPLE OF WEEKS, I HAVE BEEN UNUSUALLY RAVENOUS FOR BREAKING NEWS. I'VE ADMITTED IN THIS BLOG, THAT, FOR ME, IT HAS THE STRENGTH OF A MILD, BUT CONTROLLING DRUG OR ALCOHOL ADDICTION. I KNOW ABOUT THE ALCOHOL PART, BECAUSE IT WAS MY DRUG OF CHOICE FOR MANY YEARS. WHEN THE EVENING NEWS IS ON, AT BOTH DINNER-TIME, AND THEN BEFORE BED, THERE IS SILENCE IN THE HOUSE. I INSIST ON QUIET BY DECREE. SPOKEN DECREE. THERE'S NO PAPERWORK, OR A LEGAL NOTICE POSTED ON THE FRIDGE OR ANYTHING. I HAVE TO HEAR THE BREAKING NEWS. I CAN'T SETTLE DOWN WITHOUT KNOWING WHAT'S GOING ON. I'M ACTUALLY, AND WITH SOME CONTRADICTION, BETTER OFF KNOWING WHAT'S GOING ON, THAN BEING IN CONSTANT ANTICIPATION. THREE NEWS SHOWS A DAY, ON TELEVISION, AND NUMEROUS TIMES ON THE RADIO, THROUGH THE MORNING AND AFTERNOON, GIVES ME THE FIX OF ACTUALITY (OR INTERPRETATION OF ACTUALITY) THAT I NEED, TO SURF THROUGH THE HIATUS PERIOD. IF WE'RE HEADING INTO A NUCLEAR WAR, BY GOD, I WANT TO BE AMONGST THE FIRST TO KNOW. NOT SO I CAN RUN AND HIDE. I'D RATHER CATCH THE BASTARD IN MY ARMS, THAN TRY TO OUTRUN ITS EXPLOSIVE CAPABILITY. THIS ISN'T ANYTHING NEW FOR ME. BUT I AM MOST DEFINITELY A STUDENT OF THE DAILY NEWS, AND THE PAST MONTH HAS HELD SOME POIGNANT EXAMPLES, OF WHY IT'S IMPORTANT TO KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON IN THE WORLD. OR ELSE.
WHILE I'M A NEWS HOUND BY FAMILY TRADITION, THE RECENT INVASION OF THE CRIMEA, IN THE UKRAINE, BY NEIGHBOR RUSSIA, HAS REALLY RE-ANIMATED MY INTEREST IN WORLD POLITICS. MY BOOKS ON INTERNATIONAL AFFAIRS, DATING BACK TO THE LATE 1800'S, HAVE BEEN LARGELY NEGLECTED IN THE PAST DECADE, AS I FIND LESS AND LESS REASON TO CONSULT THEM FOR RESEARCH PURPOSES. WE HAVE A HARD TIME SELLING THEM AT THE SHOP, AND WITH A LITTLE SHAME, I'VE EVEN RECYCLED QUITE A FEW. LATELY, I'VE BEEN TRYING TO UNDERSTAND MORE ABOUT THE SITUATION OF THE CRIMEA, AND THE UKRAINE, AND WHY RUSSIA HAS DECIDED IT WAS THE PERFECT TIME TO LAUNCH AN INVASION. POST OLYMPICS? FROM GOODWILL TO BAD WILL IN A MATTER OF SEVERAL DAYS.
FORGIVE ME FOR WRITING THIS, BECAUSE NO MATTER HOW I TRY TO WORD-SMITH IT, TO DULL THE SHARP EDGES, I FEAR IT WILL READ PRO-RUSSIAN, WHEN IT COMES TO THIS PERSONAL OVERVIEW, OF THE LATEST INTERNATIONAL CONFLICT. BUT IT'S ALSO IMPORTANT TO BE HONEST ABOUT IT, AT THE SAME TIME, REGARDLESS IF IT READS A FEW TOE IMPRINTS OVER THE LINE. I DRAW SOME OF MY OPINIONS, FROM HAVING LIVED THROUGH THE FRIGHTENING MOMENTS OF THE CUBAN MISSILE CRISIS, IN THE EARLY 1960'S, AND THE COLD WAR FOLLOWING THIS. I'VE PAID ATTENTION TO RUSSIAN POLITICS EVER SINCE, AND I CLOSELY FOLLOWED THE UKRANIAN BID FOR STATE-HOOD IN THE EARLY 1990'S. ALL OF IT COURTESY THE MEDIA AND BOOKS. NOT FROM HAVING BEEN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE GREAT TRANSITION TO THE PRESENT UKRAINE. SO I'M NOT APPROACHING THIS QUESTION OUT OF IGNORANCE, BUT JUST NOT FROM THE SCHOLARLY ADVANTAGE, OF THE POLITICAL HISTORIAN; THE EXPERTS HAVING THE INTIMATE, DETAILED KNOWLEDGE. MINE IS AN HONEST BUT UNTUTORED OVERVIEW.
I REMEMBER SAYING TO SUZANNE, AFTER THE UKRANIANS WERE SUCCESSFUL DISPATCHING THEIR FORMER PRESIDENT, OUT OF THE COUNTRY, RECENTLY, THAT THERE WOULD BE A PRICE TO PAY, FOR THE WAY PROTESTERS WERE TEARING DOWN ALL SYMBOLS OF THEIR RUSSIAN-RELATIONSHIP OF THE PAST. AT THE VERY MOMENT RUSSIA IS HOSTING THE WORLD, AT THE 2014 WINTER OLYMPICS, THIS CIVIL UNREST IS RIPPING APART KIEV, AND THE PIVOTAL ISSUE, WAS A TRADE AGREEMENT IMPOSED BY THE FORMER PRESIDENT; THAT CANCELLED-OUT THE PUBLICLY ENDORSED TRADE DEAL WITH EUROPE INSTEAD. I UNDERSTAND THE DISENT OF THE UKRANIAN PEOPLE, HAVING THIS REALIGNED AGREEMENT SHOVED DOWN THEIR COLLECTIVE THROATS; BUT WHAT WE WERE WATCHING ON TELEVISION, OF THESE MASSIVE PROTESTS, WAS A CLEAR, SHARP, AGGRESSIVE SLAP TO THE CHOPS OF THE RUSSIAN GOVERNMENT. THE FACT THAT EVENTS COINCIDED, WASN'T AN ACCIDENT. IN MY OPINION, THAT IS! WHILE I SUPPORT THE UKRAINE, AS A FREEDOM-LOVING CITIZEN OF THE WORLD, MY KNOWLEDGE OF RUSSIAN HISTORY, AND THE COLD WAR, MADE ME FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE; WITH ALL I UNDERSTOOD, OF THE RECENT ECONOMIC IMPASSE BETWEEN COUNTRIES, THIS PROTEST WITH ALL ITS COLLATERAL DAMAGE, WAS NOT GOING TO END WELL.
WHAT I MEAN BY THIS, IS THAT, HERE, SITTING IN MY ARMCHAIR, IN SOUTH MUSKOKA, ONTARIO, CANADA, I COULD TURN TO MY WIFE, AFTER WATCHING THE HAULING-DOWN OF RUSSIAN SYMBOLS, ON PROMINENT DISPLAY, AS STATUES, AND THOSE MOUNTED ON HERITAGE BUILDINGS, IN THE UKRAINE, AND SHAKE MY HEAD ABOUT THE MISTAKE BEING MADE. RUSSIA WAS BEING EMBARRASSED IN FRONT OF A WORLD-WIDE AUDIENCE, ONLY A SHORT DISTANCE, FROM WHERE THE OLYMPICS WERE BEING HELD. I DON'T KNOW IF ANY COUNTRY ON EARTH, AND BACK IN HISTORY, WOULD HAVE FELT ANY DIFFERENT, IF FACED WITH A PARALLEL CONFLUENCE OF NEGATIVE INTERNATIONAL FOCUS, IN THE MIDDLE OF AN IMPORTANT, SUPPOSEDLY WORLD UNIFYING EVENT. WHO LIKES TO BE HUMILIATED? THE SCENARIO OF BACKLASH, WAS KIND OF INHERENT TO THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN THE COUNTRIES. CORRECT ME IF I'M WRONG. PLEASE! MAYBE THERE WAS A BETTER WAY TO REMOVE THE RUSSIAN SYMBOLS, SO AS NOT TO MAKE IT A HUGE SIGN OF DISRESPECT FOR RUSSIAN VALUES, AT A TIME, WHEN THE COUNTRY WAS, AFTER ALL, THE ULTIMATE WORLD HOST. INVASION? A LITTLE HEAVY HANDED?
I TOLD SUZANNE, "RUSSIA IS GOING TO PUNISH THESE PEOPLE WHEN THE OLYMPICS ARE OVER." IT DIDN'T COME FROM THE INFORMATION GARNERED FROM THE HISTORY BOOKS ON RUSSIA, OR FROM THE MANY INTERNATIONAL BOOKS I KEEP FOR POSTERITY. ALL IT TOOK WAS TAKING THE OBVIOUS, AND MIXING IN A LITTLE HISTORICAL ACTUALITY, OF WHICH I HAD LIVED THROUGH DURING THE COLD WAR, AND THE OUTCOME WAS OBVIOUS. I AM NOT ABLE TO PREDICT THE FUTURE BECAUSE OF ANY PARANORMAL CAPABILITY. FOR ME, IT WAS JUST WHAT WAS TO BE EXPECTED. I FELT CONFIDENT, THERE WAS GOING TO BE RETALIATION, EVEN A MILITARY ASSAULT, TO RESTORE THE FORMER PRESIDENT. I'M STILL PRETTY COMFORTABLE THIS IS WHAT RUSSIA WILL ATTEMPT IN THE FUTURE. THIS ISN'T ABOUT BLAMING THE UKRANIANS, BY ANY MEANS, BUT I THINK THE PROVOCATION WAS PRETTY INTENSE. IF I KNEW, AS AN ARMCHAIR VOYEUR, THAT SOMETHING BAD WAS GOING TO COME FROM EMBARRASSING RUSSIA, AT A HIGHLY SENSITIVE TIME, MANY UKRANIANS IN THE MIDST, MUST HAVE ALSO SUSPECTED THE SAME THING WAS GOING TO HAPPEN; OR EVEN WORSE. SO I WASN'T SURPRISED BY WHAT HAPPENED, JUST DISAPPOINTED RUSSIA COULDN'T HAVE HANDLED THE ISSUE THROUGH A LESS AGGRESSIVE CHANNEL OF REACTION; VERSUS INVASION OF THE CRIMEA. OF COURSE, THIS IS A NAIVE PERSPECTIVE, CONSIDERING THE CONFLICT BETWEEN THE TWO NATIONS HAS BEEN SIMMERING FOR QUITE A FEW YEARS, AND MAY HAVE HAD VERY LITTLE WHATSOEVER, TO DO WITH HAULING DOWN RUSSIAN SYMBOLS.
BEING TENSE? I CAN'T IMAGINE WHAT THE CITIZENS OF THE UKRAINE ARE FEELING NOW. I CAN'T IMAGINE HOW THE RUSSIAN CITIZENS, WHO ARE OPPOSED TO THE RECENT INVASION, ARE GETTING ALONG, SENSING THE IMPOSSIBILITY OF STOPPING WHAT HAS, TO MOST, GONE TOO FAR, TO NOE EASILY REVERSE. SO WHEN I RETREAT INTO MY GENTLER RELATIONSHIP WITH THE SEASONS, AND FIND MYSELF BECOMING GRADUALLY LESS TENSE, WATCHING THE SNOW CANOPY SHRINKING OVER THE GROUNDS OF BIRCH HOLLOW, IT IS THE MOOD OF CHOICE, YOU SEE, TO VIEW NATURE AS THE ONLY MASTER I ANSWER TO THESE DAYS. AFTER FIRST MEETING THE OBLIGATIONS OF BEING A HUSBAND AND FATHER, THAT IS.
ON THE SIDE OF WINTER, WE REGAIN OUR STRENGTH
Ah, the joyful brightness of spring, companioned by sun, azure sky and diamond-sparkling snow. This morning, I heard Aaron Copland's enchanting song, "Appalachian Spring," another of my sentimental favorites, at this time of the rolling year. Walking along the ridge of our neighborhood greenbelt, I can hear the faint trickling water, from the little bubbling cataracts, half-enclosed by the ice caves, along the myriad water courses, that snake through the lowland we call "The Bog." It is still too cold for a general melt, but in protected pockets of snowscape, the sun reaches an intensity, that breaks down the ice crystals, and sends water droplets seeping into the crevices, deep through the snow layers. The birds are noisy today, and there seem to be twice as many squirrels out this morning, as I've seen in the past couple of weeks. A new-to-the woods, red squirrel, found the birdhouse, on our front lawn, an interesting place to check-out for future accommodation. The blue jays are calling, and the old crows we've got to know so well, are complaining about something or other, and the tracks in the new snow from yesterday, wrap around several trees, and then cut across the flat of the bog, to the adjacent hillside. There are millions of tiny imprints, from all the inhabitants of this small forested area, just above Muskoka Bay, of the wider Lake Muskoka. It's warm in the sun, for the voyeur to stand a while longer, but alas, as work beckons, it is time to move on, to resolve the chores of the day. Pity. But rest assured, The Bog, and the subtle signs of transition, if you look closely and listen, are the chorus harbingers of gentler weather conditions coming soon. Since we moved to this neighborhood, back in the late 1980's, I have been a student of The Bog, and it has never once deceived me about these changes of season. For all of us who have suffered through this long, long winter, this should be exciting information; spring manifestations in The Bog, can not be stopped now, despite occasional days of cold and bluster. Come and listen, and watch for yourself.
There is an uncertain melancholy at this time of the year, because as much as we agree, winter was a particularly despicable partner, it is a season very much part of our social / cultural background. It is an important characteristic of our folk heritage, and it, in part, describes us as rugged Canadians, to be able to survive such weather-related onslaughts; blizzards, deep freezes and howling arctic winds. But even in its most rigorous assault, it is our time to reflect on our past and future. I've been a huge complainer this year, and have included some nasty overviews of winter, via these daily blogs. At the same time, winter conditions this year, have kept me inside far more than I can remember of years past. It kept me closer to the hearth, my old books at my side, the stereo so that I can enjoy my Mozart, Vivaldi and Copeland moments. As a result of this winter's harsh duration, I've read and re-read many more books than is usual, for the typical season's indoor hiatus. I've turned my desk chair around, so that I can look out over the yard, at Birch Hollow, and watch the highly anticipated spring transition. I have been writing out of my comfort zone, for much of the final quarter of the winter, and this is an important change in anchored habit and tradition. I'm a stickler for familiar things in the rooms from which I work, and lately, I've been changing this pattern quite a bit; especially when I write at the shop, in both the music studio up front, in the old Muskoka Theatre, and in a back room, now a second studio, where I have found the perfect 1960's couch to my liking. I've always worked from uncomfortable accommodations, of crappy, broken chairs, and beat-up old desks, because I was scared to make changes, due to a preponderance of superstitious belief (a burden my mother extended me); change could completely debilitate the creative process, and leave me floundering in pointless daydreams. So for decades, I worked in adverse conditions, on choice. Not because we couldn't afford a new chair, or a better desk for the computer. But due to the fact I was hopelessly insecure, about making these changes. I limp today, in part, because of incredibly bad posture while at work. Suzanne threw my old chair out one day, because I couldn't handle it myself. The emotional part that is; and when I had to toss it onto the metal recycling pile, at the landfill site, I got choked up. The desk has been changed too, but now it's used for something different. As soon as I got used to my new high-back armchair, and another antique leather chair, I use in the livingroom for writing jags, I limped a little less, and complained only half as much. I can write for a couple of hours now without tears welling in my eyes, from the back pain caused by reckless posture. Mine was the medical-textbook illustration, of "slouching."
Winter is the time for restoration, and rekindling, for body and soul. We might hate the routine of waking up each morning to a fresh blanket of snow, or evidence that there had been freezing rain over-night. This, duly noted by the fact the power has been out for hours, and it's getting cold inside. It's the traditional time that the country philosopher and the great bards used to resolve their turmoil from the rest of the year. It's the culturally significant time, when we find our inner strengths and resolved character, to use the time wisely and to our general advantage. Suzanne, kin folk of some of the earliest homesteaders, in this region of Ontario, acquires a huge quantity of wool from sales, all over our region and beyond; so that when the harsh weather arrives, and it's no longer pleasant to work outside, she will commence a four to five month knitting jag, that will, at its conclusion, produce enough socks, mitts and scarves, to outfit out family five times over, and leave some for the summer season at the store. It may seem weird, but Suzanne sells far more woolen wear in the summer, and fall season, at our Gravenhurst antique shop, than she does during the winter season. Her most popular mitt now, is the "fingerless" style, and it is one of the easiest for her to produce. So as the weather outside has been frightful, Suzanne has made an afghan, a huge pile of socks of all colors and consistencies, mitts, toques and scarves, and had time to fit in some valances for the front windows, and presently, some purses and aprons, which are at the experimental stage. While her pioneer kinfolk didn't make these home crafts for re-sale, Suzanne does, in my opinion, get her capabilities from family traditions; passed down from mother to daughter over many generations. So for our family, we always get into a homestead mode, after Thanksgiving, each year, and by the first of December, we will both have a massive number of projects to undertake, when the weather turns bestial. Some years, well, we don't get through half what we intended to, and that works okay as well. Suzanne can't wait to get into her gardens, and I've got lots of tree trimming to do when the snow cover diminishes. But we didn't have a bad winter at all, from a homestead perspective. Out and around, well, not so much. We have, you see, this beautiful view over The Bog, and day and night, it is a magnificently haunted dominion. As well, we have our resident cats to curl up on our laps, at hearthside; and it really is, a pretty gentle environs, to heal what needs to be healed, in preparation for a busy spring, summer and fall.
Ada Florence Kinton worried about loss of Muskoka woodlands in late 1800’s
Took exception to the woodsman’s axe
Since the mid 1990’s I have written frequently about a young lady by the name of Ada Florence Kinton. Following her death in the early 1900’s, her family in Huntsville, published the journal she had commenced before arriving in Muskoka, entitled “Just One Blue Bonnet,” most of the text devoted to detailing her work with the founding Booth family, and the world missions of the Salvation Army.
I found the softcover text one day in a second hand book shop, in the Town of Bracebridge. As I am an antiquarian and collectable book dealer, I couldn’t believe my good fortune, to be able to secure this biographical treasure, with many references to the outdoor experiences the young artist enjoyed in North Muskoka. What made her exceptional to me, as both an historian and a Muskoka heirloom collector-dealer, was that it offered impartial observations of building advancements in the region’s fledgling villages, particularly in Huntsville, where her brothers were already prominent businessmen when she arrived from England.
For the purposes of this blog entry, my interest is in her honest appraisal of how these communities were being constructed between forest, rock and water. Ada Kinton was an accomplished artist and teacher who was forced to come to Canada after the death of her father and the settling of the family’s estate. Her mother had died some years earlier. As she already had brothers and their young families in Canada, it was decided she should travel to the new Dominion, until she could make more secure plans for the future.
She arrived in Canada in the winter season and when she describes the lonely and bitterly cold journey to Muskoka, the final leg by horse-drawn sleigh, it’s obvious the adjustment from the old country to new was going to be long and difficult to heart and senses.
During this period in the newly opened District of Muskoka, Ada made many important observations about the living conditions, social and cultural observances, and advancements in civilized existence established by the new settlers to the community; some homesteads created in the English tradition inside and out. She wrote daily notes about what the community looked like, at work during the day, in gay regalia for special events, as witnessed in either full sunlight, or enhanced by the moonlight reflection off the newly fallen snow. What was striking for me was her many sojourns back into the woodlands south of Huntsville, where she sat for hours making sketches of the flora and fauna, some she describes in colorful detail. She would write for awhile, sketch for a time, and then pause to enjoy the many creatures she could see moving back and forth between birch and evergreen.
She makes numerous references to the forests in peril, and the ceaseless work of the loggers to reduce whole woodlots to stubble in a matter of days. It wasn’t simply to provide room for new buildings but rather to harvest the lumber for building purposes. The harvest of timber in Muskoka was becoming a huge industry in the late 1880’s with much timber being exported from the region to other important Canadian centres for milling and re-sale. Ada Kinton had some concern that these thriving forests were going to be toppled without any recognition of what purpose they serve the creatures within. Would they consume every wooded acre in the district?
Ada Florence Kinton saw the beauty in nature at a time when most settlers looked at trees as both a nuisance and a survival material. They could cut and mill it for their own homes, sell it outright, or use it for fuel in their fireplaces. There was always a good and honest reason for hacking down a tree; it was in the way of a future garden, it was worth money, and it wasn’t serving any other useful purpose. She despaired that there was no way of protecting this inherent resource. While some people vacationed to Muskoka to see these woodlands, the loggers raced against the clock to fill quotas for timber to the mill. Needless to say Muskoka communities were stripped rather bare in those early years, part by necessity to establish villages and farmsteads, the other because of plain and simple greed. It was a resource and there was money to be made. Now tell me what’s different today? Even though many folks continue to come to Muskoka to see our beautiful forests, trees still have that nuisance – value attraction that encourages their annual removal a/ to enhance the lake view and b/ to be sold off to build something or other….or burned up in a fireplace.
The honest, untutored opinion of Ada Kinton, in the late 1880’s, was that we were being reckless with clearing. Those who have little use for the pretty picture of nature, might argue, “what do artists know about anything; they just get emotional when they see a tree cut down.” What Ada Kinton saw was not only a beautiful vista in an enchanting region of the world but a critically important habitat for the creatures of the land. Something we forget about today when another wetland or woodland meets the developer’s mission of over-consumption.
On an unscheduled writing pause, I’ve just now come in from a walk down into The Bog, the charming greenbelt across the road from our home here at Birch Hollow. I can’t really describe the pleasure of being immersed in the heart of this amazing little habitat, surrounded by urbanity. There are deer tracks throughout the upper embankment of The Bog, and it has become a great distraction for our dog Bosko….our very own Deer Hunter. There are many Chickadees and Blue Jays flitting branch to branch overhead, and the squirrels have been chattering warnings to the dog since we touched the outside edge of the forest. The sunlight is dazzling off the newly fallen snow, and what began as a seriously cold day has matured in early afternoon to be most pleasant and inspiring. Ada Kinton would have celebrated this place as well, seeing and feeling its intricacies, its abounding life forms above and below. I would feel terror today to hear the start-up of a chainsaw, just as she feared the distant slash of the woodsman’s axe.
In the past few weeks of blog entries, as I’m sure you can read etched with frustration and annoyance, I’ve tangled with some members of local governance about what is in the best interest of Muskoka. As you can undoubtedly sense, the effort has been as fruitless and ignored as Ada Kinton pleas to spare the forest over one hundred years earlier.
When I look out over a perfect winter landscape with its plethora of inhabitants, all creatures great and small, above the snow mantle and below, I can’t help but wonder what catastrophe of man will be great enough in order for him to stop, and ponder awhile, if sacrificing nature for tarmac and urban sprawl all these decades has generated this most recent despair?
I confess to coming to these woods a lot in recent weeks to seek sanctuary from the urban philosophers and their condo aspirations; the commerce seekers, who know how to suck the last shiny penny from our coffers; the land sharks, the speculators who know we’ll buy the monstrosities they build. It seems so impossible that wisdom might prevail at some point, and a government official, an elected representative, just one, would rear up and say, “Enough, enough! We have consumed too much. We have abused our inherent duty to protect our environment. We must conserve and protect before we build one more strip mall, one more condo unit, one more box store.”
Alas, I am but a hopeless romantic, reared on the work of Washington Irving, who adored such natural splendors, enchanted forests and haunted waterways; Charles Dickens who lashed out against the urban sicknesses, and marveled at natural wonders……standing in awe at Niagara Falls having witnessed nothing as its parallel….just as I’ve adored the words of poet Robert Frost, these snowy woods and leaning birches reminding me of his stops along the way…..Wallace Stevens poem, “The Idea of Order at Key West,” where nature, the sea haunts eternal. Yes, I am mired in these antiquated thoughts of nature and its place in our lives. Yet I have no reason to seek escape from these naïve, outdated thoughts,…ones I have learned from sage authority, wise to the ways of life and times; nature and her seasons.
At the age of 58 this year, I’ve written about environmental protection since the mid 1970’s and I can’t look at my home community and find one woodland I was able to protect from urban expansion. Even when I tried (most recently) with a great sense of desperate mission (and dedicated companions), to save a century old parkland in urban Bracebridge, known as Jubilee Park (where I played as a kid), the fight was lost before it began. The open space where I used to take my wee lads to play, when I lived in that neighborhood, will soon be the campus of an Ontario university…..a place of higher learning. It’s just hard to understand, in this newly turned-on world to issues such as global warming and environmental well being, how we can still be so narrow focused, as to deem irrelevant, a little open space for the enjoyment of an old, well populated urban neighborhood. But it happened and those who tried to save it have no choice now but to watch as one vision of future prosperity is replaced with another.
There are some folks I hear tell, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the earth moving equipment, to gouge out and build upon this open space as soon as possible. I feel sorry for them, I really do, and I’d gladly offer them a walk in partnership through this open space at The Bog, if I thought it would soften hearts of stone.
I’ve spent too many years in this mission to promote environmental conscience to abandon it now. I’m only half sorry to have to tell my opponents in their mission to pave over Muskoka that I have no intention of dropping my protest, my pleas for conservation any time soon. While I can’t stop the determination of government to sell the public on the philosophy that “expansion is good, expansion means progress,” I can be a stick in the spokes whenever opportunity presents. While I’d like to see the citizens of Muskoka rally to the cause, I don’t really expect the cavalry will possess many more than the few committed souls who make it a matter of daily life, to guard the well being of mother earth.
You decide what will inspire the human spirit; my choice is a stroll through the woodland. Can’t find a parallel experience strolling through the strip mall!
Thank you for reading this blog editorial.
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