Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia where this history stuff took root.

An almost snowless bog.

From left to right, Sara Ciantar, Shawn Clarke, Andrew Currie, Robert Currie and James Bunton after a recording session at Currie's Music Studio in Gravenhurst

 A PREAMBLE NOTE TO TODAY'S BLOG: THE PHOTOGRAPH ABOVE, WAS TAKEN ON SUNDAY, OF A GROUP OF TORONTO AREA MUSICIANS AND MATES, WHO WERE RECORDING IN OUR STUDIO, DURING THE EASTER WEEKEND. THEY WERE WORKING ON A NEW CD AND VINYL PRESSING, FOR SONGWRITER, GUITARIST, SHAWN WILLIAM CLARKE, FOR RELEASE LATER THIS YEAR. WORKING WITH SHAWN IN THE STUDIO, WAS ACCORDIAN PLAYER, SARA CIANTAR; BASS GUITAR, DAVID GLUCK; JAMES BUNTON, RECORDING ENGINEER, AND PRODUCER, WITH PARTNER STUDIO OWNERS ANDREW AND ROBERT CURRIE. SOME MAY REMEMBER JAMES BUNTON FROM THE CANADIAN BAND, "OHBIJOU."


GIVING CREDIT WHERE IT'S WELL DESERVED - MY BRIDE HAS PARTNERED WITH ME ON EVERY HERITAGE PROJECT

A HONEYMOON IN THE EMBRACE OF AMERICAN HISTORY - A LIFE SPENT WITH ONE FOOT IN ANTQUITY, THE OTHER, WELL YOU NEVER KNOW!

     FOR A GUY WHO HAS BEEN WRITING ACTIVELY, SINCE THE FIRST YEARS OF UNIVERSITY, WHICH TODAY, MAKES IT FOUR DECADES LATER, YOU'D THINK I COULD ORGANIZE MY THOUGHTS BETTER; AND PREPARE A MORE TIME-LINED, SENSIBLY PROPORTIONED BIOGRAPHY. IF WE'VE TALKED TO ONE ANOTHER IN THE PAST, YOU WOULD REALIZE JUST HOW OFF-THE-TRACK I CAN DE-RAIL IN CONVERSATION. I COULD RATTLE THE DALAI LAMA, WITH MY UNEXPECTED DEVIATIONS, JUMPING FROM SUBJECT TO SUBJECT, BASED ON HOW EXCITED I AM AT THE TIME. WHEN I'M TALKING TO SOMEONE HERE AT THE SHOP, I WATCH FOR SIGNS OF ATTENTION DRIFT. SO WHEN I SEE THEIR EYES GETTING GLAZED OVER, AND A PUZZLED LOOK ON THEIR FACE, I KNOW IT'S TIME TO RE-CAP THE HIGHLIGHTS OF THE ORIGINAL CONVERSATION. I SUPPOSE I WRITE LIKE THIS AS WELL. WHAT CAN I SAY. I'M A FIRECRACKER. I GO OFF IN ALL DIRECTIONS AT ONCE!
    OF COURSE, IT'S NOT REALLY WHAT I'M DOING WITH THE BLOG, TO INK THE ULTIMATE CURRIE BIOGRAPHY, BUT I KNOW IT READS THIS WAY. ALL MY WRITING PROFESSORS LET ME KNOW, BACK THEN, (AS WITH OTHER STUDENTS) THAT I, (WE) SHOULD WRITE ABOUT WHAT I, (WE) KNOW BEST. IF YOU WANT TO WRITE ABOUT SOMETHING YOU'RE UNFAMILIAR WITH, THEN THE TASK AT HAND, IS TO RESEARCH THE SUBJECT UNTIL YOU ARE QUALIFIED TO OFFER AN OPINION. IT'S WHY I'M ALWAYS READING SOMETHING OR OTHER. CONSIDERING THAT MY FIRST PUBLISHED COLUMN WAS ABOUT ANTIQUES AND COLLECTABLES, IN THE SPRING OF 1978, IN THE FLEDGLING BRACEBRIDGE EXAMINER, I HAVE NEVER REALLY TAKEN A BREAK FROM THIS FIELD OF INTEREST. WHAT I BEGAN WRITING ABOUT, WITH A GREATER SENSE OF PURPOSE, WERE THE MANY HAPPENSTANCE HISTORY-RELATED ADVENTURES, THAT I WOUND-UP GETTING INVOLVED IN, WITHOUT ANY REAL APPRECIATION WHAT THAT ROUTE WOULD INVOLVE, OR LEAD TO OVER TIME. BUT I HAVE ALWAYS HAD MY PEN READY, TO DOCUMENT THE EXPERIENCES; WHETHER IT WAS A WEEKLY COLUMN ABOUT REGIONAL AUCTIONS, OR A COLUMN ABOUT "FOUND TREASURES" GATHERED-UP ON THE YARD SALE CIRCUIT. I'VE NEVER RUN OUT OF MATERIAL THAT'S FOR SURE; AND I'M EAGER TO GET OUT THERE ON THE HUSTINGS THIS SPRING. I'LL SOON BE GIVING THE PLAY BY PLAY, FROM AN INSIDER'S POINT OF VIEW, AS TO WHAT KIND OF TREASURES HAVE BEEN MADE AVAILABLE BY OUR AMICABLE YARD SALE HOSTS.
    WHEN I GET INVOLVED IN SOME HERITAGE PROJECT, WHETHER IT WAS RUNNING A MUSEUM, OR REPRESENTING A PERMANENT COLLECTION ON DISPLAY, I'VE COPIOUSLY DOCUMENTED THE EXPERIENCES. LITERALLY, FROM THE TIME SUZANNE AND I BEGAN DATING, WE HAVE BEEN INVOLVED IN ONE HERITAGE / ANTIQUE COLLECTING ADVENTURE AFTER ANOTHER. SOME OF IT HAS BEEN FUN, AND QUITE A FEW SLIGHTLY MORE PRECARIOUS. ONLY SUZANNE CAN TELL YOU HONESTLY, WHAT IT'S LIKE BEING MARRIED TO A CHAP, WHO CAN'T STOP SEEKING OUT NEW PROJECTS; EVEN WHEN THE OVERLAP MEANS WE CORRUPT THE PROGRESS OF THE ADVENTURE IMMEDIATELY IN FRONT. IT ALL GETS DONE, BUT THE COMPLICATIONS CAN GET PRETTY CRAZY. SUZANNE HAS ASSISTED ME GREATLY, BY SCHEDULING MY INTERVIEWS AND MEETINGS, AND TIMES WHEN WE HAVE TO LOOK AT ESTATE COLLECTIONS, FOR POTENTIAL PURCHASE. POINT IS, POOR SOUL, SHE HAD LITTLE IDEA, WHEN WE GOT MARRIED, JUST HOW IMMERSED IN THESE PROJECTS I COULD GET; AND HOW MUCH MY EXCESSES COULD COMPROMISE THE FAMILY HOME. WHEN I SUGGEST IN AN OFFHAND MANNER, THAT MY WIFE'S A GOOD SPORT, IT REALLY DOES DIMINISH THE TRUE DIMENSION, OF THE SUPPORT SHE HAS ALWAYS PROVIDED OUR HERITAGE ACTIVITIES.  
     WE WERE MARRIED IN SEPTEMBER. WE COULDN'T TAKE TIME OFF UNTIL MARCH BREAK. WE'VE BEEN COMPROMISED FOR VACATION TIME EVER SINCE. SO WE HAVE BECOME THE MASTERS OF STAY-CATIONS BY NECESSITY. SEEING AS WE'RE BOTH HARDCORE MUSKOKANS, IT'S NEVER BEEN A DISADVANTAGE STAYING AND PLAYING IN GOD'S COUNTRY. THERE WAS A TIME HOWEVER, WHEN I THOUGHT DIFFERENTLY. I HAD THE ITCH TO TRAVEL. ALL OVER THE PLACE. MOST OF IT WAS INVESTED IN ALGONQUIN PARK, AND THOSE ADVENTURES WERE OFTEN ENOUGH TO TAME THE WILD BEAST WITHIN. CANOEING WITH ROBERT AND ANDREW WAS WILD AT THE CALMEST OF TIMES.
     I REMEMBER SITTING IN THE COLONIAL WILLIAMSBURG TAVERN, THINKING TO MYSELF, THIS IS WHERE I WANT TO BE FOREVER. NOT JUST FOR A COUPLE OF HOURS, OF FINE DINING, IN THE MIDST OF 1700'S RE-ENACTMENT. I WANTED TO SIT FOR HOURS, WEEKS, MONTHS, WITH A QUILL PEN, A FONT FULL OF INK, AND A JOURNAL, WRITING ABOUT MY EXPERIENCES OF BEING A MODERNIST, YET ONE WILLINGLY TRANSPORTED BACK TO ANOTHER GRAND PERIOD IN HISTORY. I SAT THERE, FIDDLING WITH MY FORK, AND SIPPING AN ALE FROM A PEWTER MUG, CONCOCTING A PLAN TO HIDE-AWAY HERE, WHEN THE VILLAGE CLOSED; AND RETURN TO THIS PORTAL THE NEXT DAY, ON INTO INFINITY. MY HEARTSTRINGS WERE BEING TUGGED, BUT IT ALL SUDDENLY WENT SILENT, THE VIOLIN, THAT IS, WHEN MY NEW BRIDE KICKED ME IN THE SHIN SO HARD, I HAD TO BEND OVER TO SEE WHAT RIGOR OF HISTORY, HAD INJURED MY PERSON. A GHOST OF A COLONIAL CITIZEN? THEN I LOOKED UP AT THE RED FACE OF MY WIFE, SITTING ACROSS FROM ME, WITH MENACING FINGER WAGGING IN MY GENERAL DIRECTION; AND OH DEAR, WHAT HAD I DONE? IT WAS AS IF I HAD JUST, WITHOUT SAYING A WORD, DEFINED WHAT OUR LIFE WAS GOING TO BE LIKE TOGETHER. SHE COULD CLEARLY SEE, BY MY ABILITY TO SLINK AWAY INTO MIND-SPORT, THAT I WAS SHARING MY HEART WITH SOMEONE, OR SOMETHING ELSE. I DID WHAT ANY NEW HUSBAND WOULD DO UNDER THE CIRCUMSTANCES. I TOLD HER I WAS PLANNING TO TAKE HER SOME PLACE ROMANTIC, FOR THAT NIGHT'S DINNER; POSSIBLY SOMEWHERE OVERLOOKING THE OCEAN, WHERE WE WOULD HOLD HANDS AND TALK ABOUT OUR FUTURE FAMILY.
     SUZANNE HAS ALWAYS KNOWN THAT, AS A MATE, I WAS GOING TO BE DISTANT AT TIMES. SHE DIDN'T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT MARRYING A SKIRT-CHASING HUSBAND, WHO WOULD COME HOME LATE AT NIGHT, WITH LIPSTICK ON HIS NECK. BUT THERE WAS TREPIDATION, BEING PARTNERED WITH SOMEONE WHO COULD BE SO DISTRACTED BY HISTORY, THAT, WHO, IN SECRET, WOULD MAKE ARRANGEMENTS TO HAVE FREQUENT LIAISONS WITH PLACES OF HERITAGE, AND ALL THE WORLD'S RELATED ANTIQUITIES. IF AT THAT POINT, THE CURATOR OF COLONIAL WILLIAMSBURG, HAD SAT DOWN WITH US, TO TOAST THE OCCASION OF OUR VISIT, AND THEN WELCOME US TO LIVE THERE AS PART OF THE RE-ENACTMENT STAFF, I HONESTLY WOULD HAVE DONE JUST ABOUT ANYTHING TO CONVINCE MY YOUNG BRIDE, TO QUIT HER TEACHING JOB; AS I WOULD HAVE HAPPILY ABANDONED MY NEWSPAPER EDITORSHIP, TO START A NEW RELATIONSHIP WITH THIS AMERICAN HERITAGE COMMUNITY, IN THE BEAUTIFUL STATE OF VIRGINIA. BUT I WOULD HAVE HAD TO MAKE THE LIFE-CHANGING DECISION, AS TO BEING SINGLE AGAIN, OR HEADING BACK TO MUSKOKA, AND CARRYING ON WITH PLANS FOR OUR FUTURE FAMILY. OF COURSE, THERE WAS NO OFFER TO STAY, AND SEEING AS I COULDN'T AFFORD YEARS OF DAILY ADMISSION, AND I WAS OF COURSE COMMITTED TO MY WIFE, WE RETURNED TO MUSKOKA. IT WAS FROM THAT POINT, SHE BECAME MY PARTNER IN HERITAGE ADVENTURES; MY CHARMING RESEARCH PARTNER, AND EXHIBITION CO-ORDINATOR. AND THIS HAS TAKEN US ALL OVER THE REGION, FROM CANOE LAKE, IN ALGONQUIN PARK, RESEARCHING THE DEATH OF ARTIST TOM THOMSON, TO THE DEVELOPMENT OF HISTORIES THAT HAVE CONNECTED US WITH THE UNITED STATES AND ENGLAND; SUCH AS IN THE CASE OF THE TOWN OF BRACEBRIDGE, BEING NAMED AFTER A BOOK WRITTEN BY WASHINGTON IRVING; AND THE TOWN OF GRAVENHURST, BEING NAMED AFTER A BOOK WRITTEN BY POET / PHILOSOPHER, WILLIAM HENRY SMITH. SHE WAS AT MY SIDE, FOR HUNDREDS OF EXHIBITS, AND SPECIAL HERITAGE EVENTS, WHEN WE JOINTLY MANAGED, BRACEBRIDGE'S WOODCHESTER VILLA AND MUSEUM, AND THEN THE BRACEBRIDGE SPORTS HALL OF FAME.
     THE REASON I'M WAXING NOSTALGIC, THIS MORNING, WRITING TODAY'S BLOG, IS THAT I FOUND THREE SENTIMENTAL ITEMS AT BIRCH HOLLOW, WHILE SPRING CLEANING, THAT REMINDED ME OF THAT COUNTRY TAVERN, AND THE DAYDREAM I HAD, WHEN IN REALITY, I SHOULD HAVE BEEN PAYING ATTENTION TO MY BRIDE. IT WAS OUR HONEYMOON. IT WAS DAMN COLD IN VIRGINIA BEACH, DURING THAT WEEK, SO THERE WASN'T GOING TO BE ANY SWIMMING IN THE OCEAN. WE DID SWIM SEVERAL TIMES IN THE HEATED INDOOR POOL, OF THE OCEAN FRONT HOLIDAY INN. MOSTLY, WE TRAVELLED TO HISTORIC SITES, AND DID SOME ANTIQUE HUNTING IN NORFOLK. BUT THE BEST PART OF THE HONEYMOON, FOR ME (I'VE NEVER ASKED SUZANNE WHETHER SHE FELT THE SAME) WAS WHEN WE PASSED THROUGH THE GATES OF COLONIAL WILLIAMSBURG, WHICH IMMEDIATELY BECAME MY SPECIAL PLACE ON EARTH. IT'S ALWAYS BEEN ONE OF MY FAVORITE STORIES, TO RECALL THE AMOUNT OF PATIENCE SUZANNE SHOWED, TRYING TO GET ME TO COME OUT OF THE VILLAGE PRINT SHOP, WHICH BECAME MY HEAVEN ON EARTH, EVEN FOR THAT SHORT PERIOD OF TIME. SHE THREATENED DIVORCE CASUALLY, IN A POLITE WHISPER, WHEN ON THE TENTH ATTEMPT AT RECOVERY, I STOOD THERE, IN THAT TRANCE CAUSED BY PRINTER'S INK; TO BE FINALLY ENCOURAGED BY PRINT SHOP RE-ENACTORS, TO FOLLOW MY WIFE OUT THE DOOR, AS THEY DIDN'T WANT TO THINK A MARRIAGE ENDED IN THEIR PLACE OF EMPLOYMENT.
    SUZANNE HAS BEEN A GOOD SPORT THROUGH IT ALL. AND BY THE WAY, THIS WAS BACK IN THE EARLY 1980'S, AND WE'RE STILL TOGETHER. SO WHEN I FOUND A BOOKLET ON "BOOKBINDING," THAT I PURCHASED AT COLONIAL WILLIAMSBURG, WITH THE RING FROM MY BEER MUG STILL VISIBLE ON THE FRONT COVER, A BIT OF FRAMED LACE, AND A 1770'S PUBLICATION OF A FRENCH PLAY, IT ALL CAME FLOODING BACK. MY WIFE HAS BEEN A SAINT, TO HAVE PUT UP WITH MY EXCESSES; NOT MY STRING OF GIRLFRIENDS, WILD BINGES WITH BOOZE, OR MY LATE NIGHTS WITH CRONIES. INSTEAD, I HAVE, WITHOUT APOLOGY, HAD MANY AFFAIRS WITH HISTORY, AND THEN WRITING ABOUT IT, FOR WELL MORE THAN A FORTNIGHT.
     I OFTEN MENTION SUZANNE IN THIS BLOG, AND I EXPECT IT READS AS IF SHE IS MY SIDEKICK, MY FOIL, THE ONE WHO APOLOGIZES TO THE NEIGHBORS WHEN I START CURSING, AFTER WHACKING MY HAND WITH A HAMMER; THE KINDLY HOMEMAKER AND HOME-CRAFTER WHO KEEPS US IN A SORT OF BAKERY-GOOD'S PARADISE, AND WHEN IT GETS COLD, WARMING US WITH KNIT SOCKS, AND MITTS, ALL THE LIVE LONG DAY. SUZANNE, A CAREER TEACHER, HAS BEEN MY PARTNER IN LIFE AND, WELL, HISTORY. FROM OUR FIRST YEAR, OF MARRIAGE, WE BEGAN OUR HERITAGE PROJECTS. ALL BY IMMERSION. WE WERE ALMOST FORCED TO LIVE AT WOODCHESTER VILLA, BECAUSE OF DEMANDS AND FINANCIAL LIMITATIONS ON THE BRACEBRIDGE HISTORICAL SOCIETY. WE WERE THE STAFF. I EVEN HAD TO ASK MY MOTHER TO HELP OUT PART-TIME, SO THAT WE COULD KEEP THE DOORS OPEN. WHEN WE ASSUMED CURATORIAL TASKS AT THE BRACEBRIDGE ARENA, FOR THE HALL OF FAME EXHIBIT, WE WERE ON CALL CONSTANTLY, ESPECIALLY IF THERE WAS SOME BREACH OF THE SECURITY SYSTEM; AS SIMPLE AS SOMEONE ACCIDENTALLY HITTING THE GLASS, AND SETTING OFF THE ALARM. HOW KIND A PARTNER HAS SHE BEEN? ONE MORNING WE GOT A CALL FROM ARENA STAFF, THAT THERE HAD BEEN A FLOOD OF WATER, THAT HAD SEEPED FROM AN UPSTAIR'S WASHROOM, DOWN THROUGH AN ADJOINING WALL, INSIDE THE CASE. IT WASN'T JUST ANY WATER. IT WAS WATER THAT OVERFLOWED FROM A TOILET, AFTER SOMEONE HAD STUFFED A BUN INTO THE DRAIN OF THE BOWL, AND THEN FLUSHED. PEOPLE KEPT FLUSHING ALL THAT NIGHT. THE HALL RENTAL, FOR WHATEVER FUNCTION IT WAS, MAY HAVE BEEN PROFITABLE FOR THE TOWN, BUT WAS A DEFICIT FOR US. WHEN WE GOT THERE, THERE WAS WATER IN IRVIN "ACE" BAILEY'S SKATES, AS WELL AS ROGER CROZIER'S GOALIE SKATES. ALL THE VINTAGE PHOTOGRAPHS HAD TO BE TAKEN FROM THE FRAMES AND DRIED BY HAND, AND AIR, OVER THE NEXT TWO WEEKS.
    I SAID TO SUZANNE, AS SHE WAS HOLDING "ACE'S" SKATES, WITH THE WATER STILL RIPPLING INSIDE, THAT IF SHE LIKED, WE COULD GET HER SOME NATIONAL RECOGNITION. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN," SHE SAID, POURING OUT THE TOILET WATER FROM ONE OF THE SKATES. "WELL, IT WOULD BE OF NATIONAL INTEREST TO CANADIANS, TO KNOW THAT YOU ARE HOLDING ACE BAILEY'S SKATES FULL OF TOILET WATER. MAYBE IF I TOOK A NEWS PHOTOGRAPH, THE TORONTO STAR WOULD RUN IT ON THE FRONT OF THE SPORTS SECTION." ALL I HEARD IN RESPONSE WAS, "OH NO YOU DON'T!" WITHOUT RAISING A FINGER, SHE MADE THE SAME GESTURE WITH HER HAND, THAT SHE AIMED AT ME, DURING OUR LUNCHEON IN THE WILLIAMSBURG TAVERN. SHE HAS HAD A MARRIAGE-LONG RULE. "DON'T TAKE MY PICTURE!" "YOU CAN REFER TO ME IN YOUR BLOG BUT DON'T YOU DARE RUN MY PHOTO, OR ELSE!" SO ON THAT DAY, IF I HAD SENT A PHOTOGRAPH OF MY DEAR WIFE, WITH A PAIR OF CONTAMINATED HOCKEY SKATES, FULL OF TOILET WATER, I WOULD HAVE HAD LOTS OF TIME TO VISIT COLONIAL WILLIAMSBURG; BECAUSE I SURE AS HELL WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN LIVING AT HOME.
    TO SOME OF MY READERS, THE EXPLOITS I'VE WRITTEN ABOUT SEEM ABSURDLY MODEST, TO WARRANT REGULAR MENTION. POSSIBLY THERE ARE OTHERS, IN THE FIELD OF ANTIQUES AND HISTORY, WHO WOULD ACCUSE ME OF EMBELLISHING STORIES, TO MAKE US SEEM MORE ACCOMPLISHED IN THE PROFESSION THAN WE CAN RIGHTFULLY CLAIM. THERE ARE STILL OTHERS, UNDOUBTEDLY, WHO CAN SAY WITH SOME CONFIDENCE, THEY HAVE A SPOUSE JUST LIKE ME; AND CAN PARALLEL WHAT IT'S LIKE TO ROAM GOD'S HALF ACRE, WITH AN OBSESSIVE-COMPULSIVE MATE, WHO HAS A WAY OF TURNING THE MOST BASIC ENTERPRISE OF ADVENTURE, INTO A CIRCUS OF OVER-LAPPING, UNANTICIPATED EVENTS OF THE "STRANGE-KIND." SUZANNE KNEW THIS WELL BEFORE WE WERE MARRIED. ONE AUTUMN AFTERNOON, I TOOK HER TO THE OLD SETTLER'S ENCAMPMENT KNOWN AS "JERUSALEM," NEAR HIGH FALLS, NORTH OF THE URBAN AREA OF BRACEBRIDGE. THIS WAS CONSIDERED "OLD JERUSALEM," THAT HAD BEEN BUILT BY THE PEACOCK FAMILY IN THE LATE 1800'S. I FOUND IT MANY YEARS EARLIER, WITH A HIKING PARTNER, BRUCE WHITE. SO I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE NEAT, CONSIDERING SUZANNE'S FAMILY ROOTS IN THE PIONEER TIMES OF MUSKOKA, TO HIKE BACK THROUGH THE WOODS, TO VISIT THE REMAINING LOG CABIN.
     ON THE FIRST TRIP INTO THE MUSKOKA WOODLANDS? WE GOT HALFWAY THERE, WHEN WE HEARD GUNSHOTS. THERE WERE HUNTERS IN THE WOODS, AND WE STARTED TO FEEL LIKE "THE HUNTED." WE HAD TO MAKE A HASTY RETREAT BACK TO THE ROAD, BEFORE WE WERE MISTAKEN FOR DEER. THE SECOND TIME, IN THE SPRING OF THE NEXT YEAR, AS NEWLYWEDS, WE ATTEMPTED TO VISIT THE ABANDONED HOMESTEAD FROM THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION. ABOUT TWO MILES INTO OUR LOVELY WALK, SUZANNE POINTED OUT TWO BEAR CUBS WADDLING UP THE HILLSIDE TO OUR RIGHT. "LOOK TED, AREN'T THEY CUTE?" BUT THEN WE LOOKED AT EACH OTHER, EYE TO EYE, AND SAID, AT ALMOST THE SAME MOMENT, "OH CRAP, WHERE'S MOTHER?" WELL, WHEN WE LOOKED TO OUR LEFT, WE SAW MOVEMENT BELOW SOME BORDER PINES, NO MORE THAN FIFTY YARDS AWAY. NOT A GOOD PLACE FOR INTERLOPERS TO BE STANDING. THAT FIFTY FEET COULD BE TRAVELLED, BY AN ANGRY MOTHER BEAR, IN ABOUT TWENTY SECONDS IF THAT LONG. SO WE DID WHAT WE HAVE HAD TO DO MANY TIMES DURING OUR MARRIED LIFE. BACK AWAY SLOWLY WITHOUT MAKING A FUSS. OR A SOUND. AS WE WERE ABLE TO BACKTRACK, TO ADD ANOTHER FIFTY YARDS BETWEEN US, THE MOTHER RAISED ITS HEAD TO SEE WHERE THE CUBS WERE SITUATED. WE WERE STILL MOVING BACK TOWARD THE ROAD, AND OUR CAR. WE KNOW, FROM THE WAY IT WAS ACTING, WITH HEAD IN THE AIR, THAT IT HAD PICKED UP ON OUR SCENT, AND IF WE HAD WAITED THERE A LITTLE LONGER, BEFORE MAKING A DETERMINED EFFORT, THE BEAR WOULD HAVE ATTACKED US. WE WERE IN EXACTLY THE WRONG POSITION TO MEET A BEAR AND CUBS. AS WE TURNED TO RUN DOWN THE HILL, WE SAW THE MOTHER BEAR RUNNING ACROSS OUR PATH, AT EXACTLY THE PLACE WE HAD BEEN STANDING ONLY MOMENTS EARLIER, TO GET TO THE CUBS. "WELL, SO FAR, OUR LIVES HAVE BEEN INTERESTING TED," SHE SAID, WHITE IN THE FACE, AND ON THE FLY DOWN THE HILLSIDE. IT WASN'T LONG AFTER THIS, THAT WE NEARLY DROWNED DURING THE MUSKOKA SHIELD CANOE RACE, WHEN WE FLIPPED OUR CANOE IN THE RAPIDS NEAR MUSKOKA FALLS. WE WERE IN THE RACE TO CELEBRATE THE HERITAGE OF THE MUSKOKA RIVER. IT'S HOW THESE THINGS START, AS A GOOD IDEA, AND THEN GET WHACKY BEFORE ALL IS SAID AND DONE.
     LIKE THE TIME SUZANNE AND I, AND THE BOYS, GOT CAUGHT IN A SUDDEN, EVIL WINDSTORM ON CANOE LAKE, AFTER WE HAD ENJOYED A PICNIC ON HAYHURST POINT, WITHIN ARM'S REACH OF THE MEMORIAL CAIRN TO ARTIST TOM THOMSON. THOMSON OF COURSE, IS ALLEGED TO HAVE DROWNED IN CANOE LAKE, BACK IN THE SUMMER OF 1917. AFTER WE HAD OUR PICNIC, ANDREW AND I TRACED ON THE BRONZE LETTERS OF THE MEMORIAL INSCRIPTION, MOUNTED ON THE CAIRN, AND AS IF WE HAD UNLEASHED THOMSON'S SPIRIT, THE LAKELAND TURNED INTO ONE OF HIS TURBULENT-LOOKING STORM SCENES. BY TIME WE GOT BACK TO THE CANOE LAKE STORE, WE WERE SHAKING, BECAUSE OF THE CONDITION OF THE LAKE. THERE WERE OVER-TURNED RENTAL CANOES ALL OVER THE LAKE. IT HAD BEEN SO SUDDEN, WITH WHITE-CAPS WERE SPLASHING OVER THE GUNNELS. AS WE HAVE QUITE A FEW YEARS OF CANOEMANSHIP EXPERIENCE, WE KNEW HOW TO HIT THE WAVES, AND THE WIND, BUT MANY CANOE NOVICES, WERE SENT OVERBOARD. I OFTEN WONDERED, AS A THOMSON RESEARCHER, IF TOM WAS TRYING TO SEND A MESSAGE THAT DAY, WANTING THE MYSTERY OF HIS DEATH TO BE SOLVED. MAYBE HE THOUGHT I WAS THE CHAP TO DO THIS FOR HIM. WAS IT THE CASE OF ACCIDENTAL DROWNING, OR WAS HE MURDERED? ONCE AGAIN, WHEN WE SAT IN THE BEACHED CANOE, SUZANNE YELLED BACK TO ME AT THE STERN, "WELL, THAT WAS ANOTHER FINE MESS YOU GOT US INTO." IF I WAS TO EVER WRITE A BOOK ON THE SUBJECT, OF HOW I NEARLY BECAME A CASUALTY OF DIVORCE COURT, ABOUT A THOUSAND TIMES SINCE SUZANNE AND I GOT MARRIED, IT WOULD BE SUB-TITLED, "BELIEVE IT OR NOT!" IT WOULD BE TWICE THE SIZE OF "WAR AND PIECE." BUT REST ASSURED IT WOULD BE TRUTHFUL. SUZANNE WOULDN'T AGREE OTHERWISE. SHE WOULDN'T WANT OUR MARRIED LIFE TO BE RELATED AS "FICTION," WHEN SHE CAN ATTEST TO IT ALL AS ACTUALITY OF MARRYING A GUY LIKE ME.
     I CAN APPRECIATE WHY SOME MIGHT FEEL THIS NEPOTISM STUFF IS BOAST-FULL. BUT HONESTLY, HOW MANY ACCOMPLISHED FOLKS YOU KNOW, IN THE PROFESSIONAL SENSE, ARE WILLING TO HIGHLIGHT AND FOCUS ON THEIR FOIBLES AND MISADVENTURES, AS IMPORTANT PARTS OF THEIR BIOGRAPHY. ALL OUR ADVENTURES AND SO-CALLED MISADVENTURES, FROM THE BEGINNING, IN ALL KINDS OF HERITAGE VENTURES, HAVE BEEN FUN IN THEIR OWN WAY, AND HAVE ENHANCED OUR FAMILY CHRONICLE. LIKE THE TIME I PURCHASED ABOUT FIFTY MODEL PLANES, SOME BEING VERY LARGE (ACTUALLY MEANT TO FLY), AND HAD TO TAKE MULTIPLE TRIPS FROM BRACEBRIDGE TO GRAVENHURST, STUFFING THEM INTO OUR FEATHER-LIGHT AUTOMOBILE; "THE FESTIVA!" I BOUGHT THEM FOR THE BOYS, SO ON EACH OF THREE TRIPS, THE BOYS WERE THERE TO HELP MOVE THEM. IT WAS A PRETTY FUNNY SCENE. THEN THERE WAS THE TIME WE PURCHASED OVER ONE HUNDRED VINTAGE DOLLS FROM A SHOP IN MIDLAND, AND COULD ONLY TAKE ONE TRIP BECAUSE WE ONLY HAD ENOUGH MONEY LEFT FOR FUEL ONE WAY. IT WAS THE MOST EMBARRASSED YOUNG LADS COULD GET, WITH THEIR PARENTS, AS WE LOADED THEM IN, ALL AROUND ROBERT AND ANDREW, FOR THE TRIP HOME. THEY BOTH PRAYED SILENTLY, THAT WE WOULDN'T GET STOP AT A POLICE SPOT-CHECK. IT LOOKED LIKE A SCENE OUT OF "E.T." WITH TWO LITTLE FACES PEERING OUT FROM A SEA OF NICELY DRESSED DOLLS. LET'S JUST SAY IT'S NOT ONE OF THE FONDEST MEMORIES OF OUR ANTIQUE DABBLING.
     AT TIMES, HONESTLY, I WILL SIT BACK AND RECALL SOME OF THESE HERITAGE MOMENTS, AND ACTUALLY QUESTION IF THESE EVENTS REALLY HAPPENED, OR HAD I JUST READ THEM IN SOMEONE ELSE'S BIOGRAPHY. NOT THAT THEY WERE FULL OF DARING AND EXCITEMENT, OR WERE EVEN MODERATELY EXCEPTIONAL. BUT IN A WAY, THEY WERE ALWAY FASCINATING IN THEIR OWN WAY AND CIRCUMSTANCES. SUZANNE DIDN'T KNOW TOO MUCH ABOUT MY BACKGROUND WHEN WE MARRIED. I WAS A BIG FISH IN A SMALL POND, AT THE TIME, BEING EDITOR OF THE COMMUNITY PRESS, AND WE ENJOYED LIVES OF MINOR CELEBRITIES DURING THIS TIME. BUT IT WAS MY YOUTH THAT FORGED THE ADVENTURER-SIDE, THAT SHE FOUND OUT ABOUT AFTER WE WERE MARRIED. I HAD BEEN A CRAZY, WILD, UNPREDICTABLE RAPSCALLION FROM THE TIME MY MOTHER LET ME LOOSE ON THE NEIGHBORS, UP AT ANNE NAGY'S BURLINGTON APARTMENT. HARRIS CRESCENT AND THE LAKESHORE COMMUNITY OF THAT TOWN, KNEW ALL ABOUT "THAT CURRIE KID," AND THE DAY HE AND RAY GREEN, CLIMBED TO THE TOP FLOOR OF THE UNFINISHED TORRANCE TERRACE APARTMENTS; AND COULD BE SEEN HANGING OUT THE OPEN FRONT OF THE STRUCTURE, AT ABOUT THE EIGHTH FLOOR, TOSSING BITS AND BOBBS DOWN ONTO THE ROOF OF THE HOUSE BELOW. JUST LIKE I'D BEEN A REGULAR VISITOR OF THE OLD MANOR HOUSE, THAT HAD BEEN THERE BEFORE THE WRECKING BALL OF PROGRESS. I HAD DEFINITELY CELEBRATED THE OLD AND THE NEW IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD. DO YOU KNOW WHAT? I WAS SIX YEARS OLD. AND, I WAS ABLE TO EVADE THE FUZZ, WHILE RAY WAS NOT SO LUCKY. WE HAD A COUPLE OF OTHER CRONIES WITH US, AND THEY GOT BUSTED. THEY NEVER RATTED ME OUT, AND THAT WAS NICE. SO WHEN I WRITE ABOUT BEING AN OBSESSIVE LITTLE BUGGER, ABOUT HISTORY AND ADVENTURE, WELL SIR, IT'S NO LIE. HOW HAVE I LIVED THIS LONG? I'LL LET YOU ARCHIVE BACK, WHEN YOU HAVE SOME FREE TIME, TO MY BLOG ABOUT MEETING WITH MY GUARDIAN ANGEL, DURING A SERIOUS ILLNESS; AND HOW BEING SPARED THEN, HAS BEEN A PROBLEM TO HEAVEN EVER SINCE.
     "I'VE BEEN YOUR GUARDIAN ANGEL, BUSTER," SUZANNE WHISPERS IN MY EAR, AFTER READING THE PARAGRAPH ABOVE, JUST NOW, WHILE SNEAKING A PEAK OVER MY SHOULDER. I HATE THAT.