IN THE PHOTOS ABOVE, "MASTER SCISSORS MAN," JOHNNY AHSOME, OF "TYPE SALON AND BARBER," TRIMS THE BEARD OF POTENTIAL MAYORAL CANDIDATE, "ME", DURING A ROADSIDE BARBERING EVENT, IN FRONT OF OUR MUSIC AND ANTIQUE SHOP, IN GRAVENHURST; HELD DURING SATURDAY'S "MAKE A SPLASH FEST" ON THE MAIN STREET. JOHNNY, AND WIFE, ALISSA, IN THE HOT SUMMER SUN, WERE CUTTING HAIR AT OLD FASHIONED PRICES, FOR A QUARTER PER SITTING, WITH MONEY RAISED, GOING TO HELP SUPPORT THE YOUTH NIGHTS PROGRAMS, HELD ON MONDAYS, AT THE GRAVENHURST OPERA HOUSE. CUSTOMERS OF THE BARGAIN CUT, AND TRIMS, WERE THROWING ADDITIONAL DONATIONS INTO THE JAR, BEYOND THE QUARTER COST OF THEIR HAIRCUT, TO ASSIST THIS WORTHWHILE RECREATIONAL INITIATIVE, JOHN HELPED INITIATE SEVERAL MONTHS AGO. THE GAMES NIGHTS, KNOWN AS "YOH DAYS" ARE HELD EACH MONDAY, FROM 3:30 P.M. UNTIL 7:30 P.M., AND ALL ARE WELCOME TO ATTEND. THERE IS NO ADMISSION.
THANKS JOHN FOR A QUALITY, OLD CENTURY BEARD TRIM, IN THIS FESTIVE JULY OF 2014. WHEN I AM ELECTED MAYOR, I WILL HAVE ALL MY BEARD TRIMS, AT THE QUICK AND SURE HANDS OF GRAVENHURST'S OWN, JOHNNY AHSOME.
SO, IF I WAS TO THROW MY HAT INTO THE RING, AS THEY SAY, TO RUN IN THE NEXT MUNICIPAL ELECTION, FOR ANY ONE OF A NUMBER OF POSITIONS, COMING UP THIS OCTOBER, WHAT "HAT" WOULD THAT BE? WOULD IT BE MY FORMAL, HISTORICAL, TRADITIONAL TOP HAT (THE MORE JOHN A. MACDONALD STYLE OF GOVERNANCE)? MY ADVENTUROUS, "SMOKE IF YOU'VE GOT 'EM," PITH HELMET, FOR THE INHERENT ADVENTURES OF PUBLIC OFFICE, OR MY USUAL, INFORMAL, BALL PARK CAP, WITH MUSTARD STAIN, I CAN'T GET OUT, TO BRING A LITTLE MORE RECREATION TO THE TABLE?
MY HERO NEWSPAPER COLUMNIST, PAUL RIMSTEAD, "RIMMER" ONCE RAN FOR MAYOR OF TORONTO, AND WAS DOING PRETTY WELL IN THE PRE-ELECTION POLLS, UNTIL IT STARTED TO LOOK LIKE HE COULD ACTUALLY WIN, AND THAT TROUBLED HIM. YUP, IT MIGHT JUST HAVE BEEN THE CASE, ONE OF TORONTO'S BEST KNOWN COLUMNISTS, WOULD HAVE TAKEN TOP-SPOT IN THAT YEAR'S MUNICIPAL ELECTION. EVEN THE BACKERS OF WHAT CAME DOWN TO A PUBLICITY STUNT, FOR HIS COLUMN, STARTED TO GET WORRIED WHEN HE LOOKED LIKE A SERIOUS CONTENDER. IF I RUN FOR OFFICE, IT WON'T BE AS A LARK, IN THE FINAL TALLY, BECAUSE I'LL BE SO DAMN MAD IF I'M FORCED INTO IT, JUST TO MAKE IT AN ELECTION, VERSUS A CORONATION, THAT BLOODY HELL, I MAY HAVE TO RULE WITH AN IRON HAND. GADS, I'M ALREADY THINKING LIKE AN ELECTED OFFICIAL, AND I HAVEN'T EVEN FILED NOMINATION PAPERS YET.
FRANKLY, THIS IS PRETTY MUCH A PARALLEL, AND YOU CAN QUOTE ME ON THIS, BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO RUN FOR POLITICAL OFFICE, IF THERE ARE OTHER WILLING CITIZENS OUT THERE, WHO HAVE FOUR YEARS TO INVEST AT TOWN HALL. IF I WON, FOR GOSH SAKES, I'D BE 63 AND A HALF YEARS OF AGE, AT POINT OF EXIT. I'D BE REALLY PISSED-OFF IF I WAS THEN TO DIE AT 64....MAYBE OF A PUBLIC OFFICE DISORDER OF THE NERVOUS SYSTEM. SO MY POINT IS, I'M TRYING TO ENCOURAGE THE CITIZENS OF THIS TOWN, WHO COMPLAIN CONSTANTLY, ABOUT THE POOR LEADERSHIP OF RECENT COUNCILS, TO STEP UP AND FIX WHAT THEY PERCEIVE TO BE WRONG. I INSIST ON THIS BEING AN ELECTION ALL AROUND, AND ESPECIALLY FOR THE MAYOR'S OFFICE. WE MUST NOT HAVE AN ACCLAMATION IN THIS ELECTION, AND CURRENTLY, THERE IS ONLY ONE CANDIDATE REGISTERED, AND THAT IS THE PRESENT MAYOR. IF IT COSTS ME A COUPLE HUNDRED BUCKS, TO STAVE OFF ACCLAMATION, I WILL DO THIS, IN PROTEST. THE PROTEST WILL BE AIMED AT ALL THOSE WHO GRIPE, BUT WON'T CHALLENGE STATUS QUO. I COULDN'T POSSIBLY WIN THE ELECTION, BUT IT MAY BE FUN NONE THE LESS, SAYING THAT I RAN FOR MAYOR AT LEAST ONCE IN MY LIFE.
SHOULD THE ELECTION BE A SPECTACLE? A DOG AND PONY SHOW? A CIRCUS SIDE-SHOW? AROUND HERE, WITH TOO FEW CANDIDATES, THE SPECTACLE WOULD BE ONE OF UNFORTUNATE APATHY, AND AS A TAXPAYER, I COULDN'T LIVE WITH THAT KIND OF COMPLACENCY, EVEN MY OWN. I WOULD LOVE TO INSPIRE OTHERS TO RUN IN MY PLACE, AND I AM WILLING TO STEP ASIDE FOR ALL THOSE WHO HAVE A BETTER CHANCE WINNING THAN ME. THE SAME FOR MAYOR. I WILL LEAVE IT OPEN UNTIL THE FINAL DAY TO SUBMIT NOMINATION PAPERS, IN THE HOPE, SOMEONE ELSE WITH SOME CIVIC PRIDE, WILL STEP UP AND CHALLENGE FOR THE TOWN'S TOP OFFICE. I WILL EVEN HELP THEM RUN FOR OFFICE. BUT IT WOULD BE A SAD, SAD DAY, IF WE COULDN'T MUSTER A REAL, OLD FASHIONED, MULTIPLE CANDIDATE ELECTION.
SO HERE I SIT, CAP IN HAND, WAITING FOR THE CHIPS TO FALL! AND I DON'T MEAN FRENCH FRIES EITHER.
NICK FERRIO AND TAMARA LINDEMAN "THE WEATHER STATION" - THE PERFECT BLEND OF MUSIC, FOR A PERFECT MUSKOKA NIGHT
APPRECIATIVE AUDIENCE AT ST. JAMES ANGLICAN CHURCH, IN GRAVENHURST, FOR THIRD CURRIES' "SESSIONS" CONCERT
TO BEGIN WITH, HERE IS THE NO-FRILLS, STRAIGHT-UP OVERVIEW, OF A WELL ATTENDED, WELL APPRECIATED, EVENING OF MUSIC, HELD IN HISTORIC UPTOWN GRAVENHURST.
FIRST WE, OF THE CLAN CURRIE, HAVE TO THANK OUR SUPPORTERS, WHO ONCE AGAIN, FILLED OUT THE PEWS, AND HELPED IN SO MANY OTHER WAYS, SHOW US THAT WE CAN RUN SUCCESSFUL, SMALL, INTIMATE CONCERTS IN TOWN, ON A BUDGET, WITHOUT COMPRISING THE ENTERTAINMENT VALUE. WE ARE KEEN SUPPORTERS OF THE INDIE MUSIC SCENE IN THIS COUNTRY, AND WE HOPE MEMBER MUSICIANS WILL CONTINUE TO FIND OUR CONCERT SERIES, A COOL RESPITE, FROM THE DAILY HUSTLE AND BUSTLE, OF THE URBAN ENTERTAINMENT SCENE. WE HAVE TO THANK OUR NETWORK OF INDIE SCENE MEMBERS, AND PERFORMERS, WHO HAVE NOT ONLY PLAYED A PART IN THESE SHOWS, BUT HAVE RECOMMENDED OTHER TALENTED PERFORMERS, TO JOIN OUR CONCERT PROGRAM, WHICH WILL OF COURSE, RUN YEAR-ROUND AT THE SAME WONDERFUL ANGLICAN CHURCH. WE COULDN'T OUT ON THE SHOWS WITHOUT THIS LEVEL OF CONFIDENCE, IN OUR ABILITY TO CONDUCT WELL ORGANIZED, RESPECTFUL, AND FUN SHOWS, THAT ADD UP TO GOOD VALUE FOR THE PRICE OF A TICKET. AFTER THE FIRST THREE SHOWS, LET ME TELL YOU; ANDREW AND ROBERT ARE EXHAUSTED, BUT ECSTATIC WITH THE INCREASING POPULARITY OF THE MONTHLY EVENTS. IT WAS A LITTLE WORRISOME TO START WITH, MOSTLY BECAUSE OF THE COMMITMENT TO THEIR MUSIC SHOP, DURING THE BUSIEST TIME OF THE YEAR, HERE IN MUSKOKA. EVEN LAST EVENING, THERE WAS NO BUDGET OF TIME FOR DINNER, BECAUSE NO SOONER HAD THEY SHUT-UP THE SHOP, THAN THEY HAD ROLLED OVER THE HARDWARE TO THE CHURCH, A BLOCK AWAY, TO BEGIN SETTING UP THE TECHNICAL EQUIPMENT FOR THE SHOW. IT'S PART OF THE TERRITORY, AND THE ENTERTAINERS ARE ALL FAMILIAR, AND PATIENT, WITH WHAT TIME IT TAKES TO SET UP SOUND EQUIPMENT, AND DO THE PREAMBLE SOUND-CHECKS, BEFORE THE AUDIENCE BEGINS ARRIVING.
THEY'VE HAD LOTS OF FOLKS STEPPING-UP TO GIVE THEM A HAND. WHAT THEY HAVE BEEN LOOKING AT, FIRST OF ALL, IS THE RESPONSE OF PATRONS, BECAUSE WE DON'T WANT TO PUT ON A SHOW, AND THEN HAVE THE PERFORMERS PLAYING TO A NEAR EMPTY ROOM. THESE ARE ALL THE PRESENTLY UNFOUNDED FEARS, OF RUNNING AN EVENT-TO-EVENT SERIES, HOPING THAT EACH CONCERT BRINGS IN A SOLID AUDIENCE, AND OUR PERFORMERS FEEL THE TRIP, TO GRAVENHURST, WAS A GOOD INVESTMENT OF TIME. SO THANKS EVERYONE FOR COMING OUT TO SEE THE SHOW, AND BEING PART OF A NEW CULTURAL LEGACY BUDDING MUSICALLY, IN SOUTH MUSKOKA.
OUR TALENTED INDIE MUSICIAN FRIENDS, NICK FERRIO, AND TAMARA LINDEMAN, WHO IS KNOWN PROFESSIONALLY AS "THE WEATHER STATION," MADE THE THIRD CURRIES' "SESSIONS" EVENT, AT ST. JAMES ANGLICAN CHURCH, IN GRAVENHURST, A HIGHLIGHT OF THIS BEGINNING SUMMER SEASON. NICK OPENED TO A MUCH LARGER CROWD, ON THE OCCASION OF THIS THIRD CONCERT, IN TWO MONTHS, AND HE IMMEDIATELY ENGAGED THE AUDIENCE IN HIS SMOOTH, PASSIONATE, BUT LIGHT-HEARTED, FOLK-COUNTRY SONGS, THAT CERTAINLY GOT THE ATTENTION OF HIS AUDIENCE; AND HE NEVER LET GO FOR THE REST OF HIS SET. THE SHOW WAS BEING TAPED LIVE, ON REEL TO REEL, LIKE THE GOOD OLD DAYS, AND AS TRADITION HAS ITS GLOW, IT ALL JUST FIT SO NICELY INTO A COUNTRY NIGHT, IN A BEAUTIFUL COUNTRY CHURCH. TALK ABOUT CHARM AND ENTERTAINMENT, AND A QUALITY EVENING OF MUSIC. TAMARA LINDEMAN, MUSICIAN, CANADIAN ACTRESS, AND ENGAGING PERSONALITY, WAS THE SECOND TO PERFORM DURING THE CONCERT, AND HER PRESENCE WAS BOTH COMPELLING, AND ENTICING, TO A SPELLBOUND AUDIENCE. ONCE AGAIN, THERE WASN'T A SOUND FROM THE AUDIENCE, OTHER THAN THE EVENTUAL APPLAUSE, AT THE END OF EACH SONG, AND THE SILHOUETTE OF HER STANDING, ON THE STEP, IN FRONT OF THE ALTER, AND THE ILLUMINATED STAINED GLASS WINDOW, WAS VISUALLY STUNNING, AS HER MUSIC WAS JOYFULLY INTRUSIVE. HER VOICE IS AS SOOTHING, AS A TINY, CRYSTALLINE CATARACT, IN A MEADOW CREEK, AND WHEN THERE IS A TRICKLING OVER THE ROCKS BELOW, SHE CAN CHANGE DIRECTION, TO COMMAND RE-FOCUS, ON WHERE THE MUSIC IS TRAVELLING NEXT. HER MUSIC REMINDS US OF A VIBRANTLY COLORED SOLITUDE, THAT CALMS AS IT INSPIRES; SHE HAS THE VOICE OF AN ANGEL, AND THE CARESS OF THE ARTIST-POET. NICK AND TAMARA, OF THE WEATHER STATION, WOWED US, PLEASED US, AND WHAT MORE CAN YOU ASK FOR, OF ENTERTAINERS. THANK YOU BOTH FOR BEING PART OF OUR CONCERT SERIES.
PREAMBLE EXPLANATION OF MY ON-SITE REVIEW
I have always made a habit, of not only making copious notes, but writing print ready columns, when, in the past, I have reviewed plays at the local theatre, open air shows, concerts at resorts, and other public events, that required a short-time-to-deadline overview, for the news outlet I was working for, on that occasion. So you might say, it's become a habit of occupation, carried on for almost forty years of writing, for some publication or other, to compose editorial material on-the-fly. In the case of this review of the Nick Ferrio, and The Weather Station concert, I wrote about what came immediately to mind, as inspired by the prevailing music provided by both performers. It is not your typical concert review, but it is, in its own way, a testimonial about how music influences us in our daily lives. No two overviews can be the same, and while you might find my take on the evening, way, way out there, consider it the folly of an old writer, who still considers his imagination, a resource to celebrate; and in my own way, I'm so very thankful, that it has not abandoned me after all these years of amicable partnership. If music makes you think of past events, or future encounters, and allow it to take you on an unfettered adventure, wherever it so inspires, well then, we are somewhat kindred spirits in this regard. So here now, is where this evening concert, in a most beautifully appointed heritage building, took me, quite willingly, for those several hours of my life. If it seems ethereal and reminds you of some transcendental occasion, in your past, or a poem you never quite understood, then we are both in for an odyssey of discovery. like automatic writing, of the paranormal-kind, I find these occasions spiritually liberating. There are no rules, except for time and the concluding period after the very last word. Now, you will have the last word.
I HAVE ONLY ONE APOLOGY TO OFFER IN THIS PREAMBLE TO THE STORY. I FORGOT TO THANK GOD FOR HIS KINDLY PRESENCE, IN THIS GENTLE AND CALMING PLACE, OF RED BRICK AND STURDY HEWN TIMBER, AS I QUIETLY SNUCK UP THE STAIRS TO THE UPPER BALCONY, OVERLOOKING THE ROWS OF PEWS AND ALTER, ITS BEAUTIFUL STAINED GLASS WINDOWS, BLENDING DAYLIGHT WITH OVERHEAD LAMPS, INTO AN INSPIRING, SOFT GLOW. I SNUCK INTO ST. JAMES ANGLICAN CHURCH, IN GRAVENHURST, ABOUT A HALF HOUR BEFORE THE DOORS WERE OFFICIALLY OPENED, FOR THE NICK FERRIO, AND "THE WEATHER STATION," CONCERT, FRIDAY EVENING, IN THE HISTORIC BUILDING, ON THAT PICTURESQUE, WOODED LOT, NESTLED COMFORTABLY ONTO THE BROADER, GOOD NATURED MATURITY OF HOTCHKISS STREET, A FEW STEPS FROM THE TOWN'S DOWNTOWN CORE. IT'S ONE OF THE FRINGE BENEFITS OF BEING THE FATHER OF THE SHOW PROMOTERS. I GET TO RETREAT TO PLACES LIKE THIS, AS THE CONCERT'S RESIDENT CRITIC, TO, AS THEY SAY, GET IN THE MOOD. THIS IS NOW THE THIRD SHOW IN THE RE-BOOTED CONCERT SERIES, WHICH ORIGINALLY BEGAN IN THE LARGE REAR ROOM, OF THE FORMER MUSKOKA THEATRE, WHERE SONS ANDREW AND ROBERT, HAVE THEIR VINTAGE MUSIC AND COLLECTABLE SHOP. LARGER THAN EXPECTED TURN-OUTS TO THE FIRST "SESSIONS" EVENTS, FORCED THE LADS TO SEEK A LARGER VENUE, ON A TIGHT BUDGET, THAT WAS CLOSE BY; AND WE DIDN'T FEEL LIKE JUMPING THROUGH HOOPS, AND PAY A MUCH HIGHER FEE, TO RENT THE OPERA HOUSE. THANKS TO THE CHURCH BOARD OF DIRECTORS, ANDREW WAS ABLE TO WORK OUT A LONG-TERM OCCASIONAL ARRANGEMENT, TO HOST CONCERTS HERE, IN ONE OF THE MOST CHARMING CHURCHES IN MUSKOKA. SO GETTING HERE A LITTLE EARLIER, HAS FOR THE FIRST TIME, IN THREE EVENTS, ALLOWED ME THE PRIVILEGE OF DRINKING IT ALL IN, AND LET ME TELL YOU, IT HAS BEEN A WONDERFUL RESPITE, BEYOND THE FACT THE GROUP HAS BEEN SHUFFLING ABOUT, BELOW ME, SETTING UP THEIR SOUND EQUIPMENT. AS AN HISTORIAN, I HAVE FOUND A LITTLE PIECE OF HEAVEN ON EARTH. HAVING WRITTEN COLUMNS FROM ALL KINDS OF CURIOUS AND INSPIRING PORTALS, IN THE PAST, EVEN FROM ROBIN HOOD'S SHERWOOD FOREST, IN NOTTINGHAM, ENGLAND, PENNING FROM A PUB BENCH IN THE HEART OF THAT TOWN'S "ROSE AND CROWN, " TO BEACHFRONT JOTTINGS, AT FLORIDA'S PONCE INLET, THEN TO THE CABIN OF "SEVEN PERSONS," THE MINIATURE MANSION I LIVED IN, ON THE SHORE OF LAKE JOSEPH, TO THE OFFICE OF BIRD'S WOOLLEN MILL FOUNDER, HENRY J. BIRD, TUCKED INTO A TIGHT CORNER OF THE OCTAGONAL WOODCHESTER VILLA, IN BRACEBRIDGE, TO THE OLD WRITER'S DIGS, AT THE FORMER HERALD-GAZETTE BUILDING, ON BRACEBRIDGE'S DOMINION STREET, I HAVE ALWAYS WELCOMED THE PLEASANT INTRUSION OF MY SURROUNDINGS, TO IMPRINT LIBERALLY ON MY STORIES, COMPOSED WITHIN, OR UPON!. THIS NIGHT AFFORDS ANOTHER REMARKABLE INTERMINGLING OF HISTORY, CULTURE, PEACE AND GOODWILL OF THE STORIED CHURCH, AND OF COURSE, THE GOOD COMPANY, OF OUR MUSICIAN COLLEAGUES, AND PATRONS, WHO HAVE MADE THESE EVENTS POSSIBLE, WITH THEIR GENEROUS FINANCIAL SUPPORT.
THE CROWD IS MUCH LARGER TONIGHT, THAN WE HAVE HAD FOR THE FIRST TWO, OF THIS PRESENT SERIES OF CONCERTS, AND I KNOW ROBERT AND ANDREW WILL BE DELIGHTED TO SEE SO THEIR MATES, FORMER GUESTS, AND HAVE THE CHANCE TO MAKE MANY NEW FRIENDS, AS THE INDIE MUSIC NIGHTS CONTINUE THROUGH 2014. IT'S JUST ABOUT CONCERT TIME. GUESTS AND PERFORMERS ARE ENJOYING A FEW MOMENTS TO CHAT, AND LOOK AROUND THE CHURCH, WARRANTING THEIR ADMIRATION. THERE HAS BEEN THE REMINDER, BY THE CONCERT HOST, ANDREW, THAT TONIGHT'S EVENT IS ABOUT TO COMMENCE. THE BEST IS YET TO COME!
PRESENTING NICK FERRIO - A COUNTRY STORY TELLER, WITH A SUBTLE FOLKISH INLAY
Forgive my indulgence, of seeing music. I've been making musical drama since I was a child. Concocted by what my mother, and teachers, used to call, the work of a devilishly over-active imagination. Which could be sparked to a state of electric reminiscence, for example, by even the tiny incentive of a static-interrupted song, playing on the radio, of our old sputtering Pontiac. Me, a ghost of my former self, looking out the car window, imagining scenes unfolding but in the actuality of that film-strip moment; picturing by choice, of a broken heart, the wee lass from school, I could never muster the first word, of that inItial greeting. So as compensation, I imagined what I desired most, travelling along with whatever song was playing. Tonight, Nick Ferrio's music, reminded me of those nostalgic travelling days, with my Dad, and some of those old relic memories of, what was then, an intimate theatre, when an inspiring song, once again, sparked my recollections. Indeed, of the family auto, that smelled so wonderfully old, even when it was new. There was something of an old soul in Nick's songs, that were a blend of country and folksong, like I used to hear way back, when, as my mother scolded, I should have only been looking forward. Still, I fall helplessly into the trappings of retrospective. I get a little misty-eyed, when I look up suddenly, from the back seat, of that rattling Pontiac, and swear that I can see the silhouettes of my mother and father, and the stretching, brightly illuminated open road ahead, in the framing of the car's windshield. My father having one arm folded out the open side-window, my mother trying to find the name, "Crystal Beach," on the unfolded rustling map, with a cigarette in one hand, and the other trying, without success, to hold the paper down on her lap, from the wind rushing in the open window. Yes, I am at the mercy of engaging music, and my imagination wanders quite out of control. How thankful I am, I didn't lose this gift in the throes of elder age. As I still allow myself the privilege of seeing music, and tonight, following along behind Nick Ferrio, is just good fun, in the low lustre of those sepia tone memories, I can't help waxing sentimental, because it's all I've got left, of what I always consider, had been my enchanted youth; when imagination was free of consequence, and fetters of what might be described as a normal life.
Nick's music fit poetically, from the lofty, rustic interior, of this church building; the bracing born of a Canadian forest. The resonance moving as a pulse, through the crossed timbers, and down upon an appreciative audience, in the essence of all time, and all places, that music bridges with a smooth tenderness. Sometimes, like the scenery witnessed through the window of an automobile, travelling from here to there, the music becomes a rich patina of thought, that doesn't need explanation, or critique. It is what it is, and we are pleased by the chance to be a part of its tradition, for even just a short blur of time and scene, that allowed us to be a part of this music theatre; because we are all, at this moment, seeing something more than just a performer on a stage, guitar in hand, song in performance. There is an aura, and we sense its electricity. But is this what Nick Ferrio expected as a review? Probably not. Once again, I offer an apology, for having left the beaten path, the helpless victim of career wanderlust. An energy that gets its energy from inspiring music, and tonight, Nick Ferrio was the catalyst of invention, and the enchanter of imagination. When I looked up, once again, from the back seat, it was Nick Ferrio, driving that blue Pontiac coupe. It was his arm hanging out the window, his guitar resting on the passenger seat, and I was glad to go wherever he was headed. The scenery was just as fascinating as ever. We were delightfully entertained, by a little bit country, a little bit folk, imbedded in a seamless show, that entertained us; fascinated those like me, who, make musical theatre, from the mix of reality and fantasy, and if an alchemist could make music, well, Nick turned our evening into gold. In a most casual and thoughtful presentation of old and new inspirations. Performed with a touch of humor, that assures the passengers, we're going the right way, so lighten up!
THE WEATHER STATION - PANDORA?
Letting the song speak for itself. It did just that, about places like Indianapolis, and sudden introductions, to places we know nothing about, as we wander along, looking for something familiar, to remind us of a home we understand; a commonplace sign or road name, or park that mellows out the sharp feelings, of being alone in someone else's city. This was Tamara Lindeman's introduction to the audience, already mellowed from the daily grind of work and schedule, by Nick Ferrio. For me, she pushed Ferrio into the passenger side, and took over the driving of that robin's egg blue Pontiac, that, well, for our family, always got the job done. Now there was yet another driver, and we were headed to New Brunswick, this time, to see the landscape at sunrise, and then again, as a treat, at sunset; the sparkling of the waterways, the surge of pride any traveller feels, discovering their own country, a mile at a time. Strange, how after a few miles, we feel we have been here before, yet it isn't possible. Is it? Such is the travelogue of the story teller, to make us feel that overwhelming sensation of discovery, and yet belonging. To then, soon after, convince us, as native sons and daughter, we have the essence of New Brunswick running through our veins, as much as we pulse with all the provinces and regions of the country. It is the etching of Tamara's songs, that we connect with the land, the places, the topography, the tides and the ripples on all the water, of all the ocean front, lakes and inlets, we come to stop beside, and gaze until we exhausted our eyes, and stretched our imagination.
The miles pass quickly, and the scenery changes subtly, at first; more vividly, and starkly, as time stretches from one reality to another, and I start to feel complacent, in this imagined car. All in an imagined motor trip, through a landscape of colorful houses, I half recognized, as part of my past. And mail boxes with names I knew, and then silhouettes of folks, in their yard, I was certain I recognized, as I might also, the faces and postures, of my own grandfather and grandmother. In some ways, The Weather Station's presence at the concert, was the way to rekindle in heart, in the nicest way possible, via a compassionate, lively melody, quite unexpected; and I didn't want to get out of the car, when Tamara, and Nick, eventually rolled the car to a stop, in order that I should reconcile, with the place of my yesteryear. I touched that robin's egg blue Pontiac, while standing at the rear, and slapped it as I used to, on those mornings in Burlington, when seeing my dad off, on his sales' calls, then working for the Weldwood Lumber Company; trusting this old car would, once more, protect him with safe passage.
So when I waved farewell to these two kind entertainers, on this summer evening, who gave me safe passage as well, I hit the old auto once more, in my folly of imagination, for extended good luck, and good wishes, that their travels too, would be safe.
It was a nice concert, said one of my colleagues, in the audience, following the last song of the evening. "It was, indeed, it was indeed." And then there was the encore, and it was, well, a fine way to share a last moment, of a fine concert, we all heard, and imagined in our own unique way. This final, gentle caress, of music on the soul, allowed me one final glimpse, of that Pontiac slipping around the corner, deep in the valley, on a turn toward the lake, and up the far hillside, where it would finally disappear in the haze of an oldtimer's fondest recollection. Of this reality, I am renewed. Bless you, Tamara Lindeman, of "The Weather Station."
Best wishes, Nick Ferrio and Tamara Lindeman.
FROM THE ARCHIVES
THE GOALTENDING, GLAZIER, MUSKOKA AUCTIONEER - AND WHAT A GOOD JOB HE DID
AUCTION GROUPIES LOVED HIS REGIONAL SALES - AND SOMETIMES AUTOGRAPHED HIS NHL PLAYER CARDS
ON PAGE 220 OF THE HOCKEY BIOGRAPHY, ENTITLED "SAWCHUK - THE TROUBLES AND TRIUMPHS OF THE WORLD'S GREATEST GOALIE," WRITTEN BY DAVID DUPUIS, AND PUBLISHED BY STODDART, OF CANADA, IN 1998, THERE IS A REFERENCE TO THE MAN I KNEW AS AN AUCTIONEER. OF COURSE, WHEN HE WASN'T AUCTIONEERING, HE MIGHT BE FOUND FIXING BROKEN WINDOWS; AS HE WAS AFTER ALL, A GLAZIER BY TRADE. HE WAS THE SON OF FORMER AUCTIONEER LES RUTLEDGE, OF GRAVENHURST.
"GOALTENDER WAYNE RUTLEDGE, ALSO PICKED UP IN THE EXPANSION DRAFT, REMEMBERS MEETING TERRY (SAWCHUK), ONE OF HIS IDOLS, AT THE GUELPH CAMP," NOTES DAVID DUPUIS. HE QUOTES RUTLEDGE AS SAYING, "HE SURE GAVE YOU THE COLD SHOULDER. HE WAS ESTABLISHED, NOT TRYING ALL THAT HARD AT CAMP, AND WE WERE ALL HUSTLING LIKE THE DICKENS. IF HE WAS AT A BAR, SAY, AFTER PRACTICE, AND ONE OF US OTHER GOALIES GAME IN, HE WOULD GET UP AND LEAVE, GO DRINK SOMEPLACE ELSE." HE ALSO STATED, "WE PRACTICED ON AN ICE PAD IN BURBANK, NORTH OF L.A. AND ALSO IN LONG BEACH. WE WERE TWENTY GUYS IN FIVE CARS, AND NOBODY KNEW WHERE THE HELL WE WERE GOING. THE DRESSING ROOMS WERE LIKE LARGE WASHROOMS WITH NO SEATS. BETWEEN PRACTICES, THE TRAINERS HAD TO DRY OUR EQUIPMENT ON THIS PATIO IN THE SUN. WE OFTEN WENT OUT TO PRACTISE IN STILL WET EQUIPMENT. IT WAS ALL POORLY UNORGANIZED."
AFTER TERRY SAWCHUK INJURED HIS ELBOW JUST BEFORE THE FIRST GAME, OF THE NATIONAL HOCKEY LEAGUE SEASON, THIS OPENED THE DOOR FOR THE NEWLY DRAFTED GOALTENDER. AS DAVID DUPUIS REPORTED IN HIS BOOK, RUTLEDGE REFLECTED ON THIS OCCASION, "JACK (KENT COOKE) HOSTED A MEDIA PARTY AT HIS BEL AIR MANSION THE NIGHT AFTER THAT LAST PRACTISE. ALL THE LAKERS (BASKETBALL PLAYERS) AND THE MEDIA WERE THERE. TERRY SHOWED UP WITH HIS ARM IN A SLING. HE KNEW THAT REGAN HADN'T SIGNED ME YET AND HE TOLD ME, 'YOU GOT 'EM NOW, KID. THEY HAVE TO SIGN YOU NOW. YOU'LL BE STARTING THE HOME OPENER.' JACK'S JAW DROPPED FOUR FEET WHEN HE SAW TERRY WITH HIS ARM IN A SLING." ACCORDING TO THE AUTHOR, "RUTLEDGE WON THE KING'S FIRST GAME EVER, BY A SCORE OF 4-2 OVER PHILADELPHIA. THEY BEAT THE MINNESOTA NORTH STARS AT HOME, THEN TIED BOTH OAKLAND AND ST. LOUIS ON THE ROAD. "AFTER OUR FIRST FOUR GAMES WHEN I HELD MY OWN , I THINK TERRY RELAXED SUBSTANTIALLY. I THINK UNTIL THEN HE FELT THE WEIGHT OF THE WHOLE ORGANIZATION ON HIS SHOULDERS, WITH THE MEDIA HYPE ABOUT HIM AND ALL."
WE WERE AT AN ESTATE AUCTION, HERE IN GRAVENHURST, BACK IN THE LATE 1990'S, AND WAYNE WAS EXHAUSTED BY THE END OF THE LARGE SALE. HE ADMITTED IT HAD REALLY BEEN A TOUGH AUDIENCE THAT DAY. I WAITED FOR A QUIET MOMENT, AFTER WAYNE HAD ENJOYED A POP AND A FEW MOMENTS TO TALK WITH FAMILY, HELPING OUT AT THE SALE. WHEN IT LOOKED LIKE HE WAS IN A RECEPTIVE MOOD, SUZANNE TOOK OUT TWO OF HIS HOCKEY CARDS FROM HER PURSE, AND GAVE ONE TO EACH OF OUR YOUNG SONS, ANDREW AND ROBERT. THEY SHYLY APPROACHED THE STETSON WEARING AUCTIONEER, AND WHEN HE SAW THEIR OUTSTRETCHED ARMS, WITH HIS HOCKEY CARD, WELL SIR, IT WAS A MILLION DOLLAR SMILE ON THAT PUCK BEATEN FACE. "CAN WE HAVE YOUR AUTOGRAPH MR. RUTLEDGE," ASKED ANDREW, WHO BROUGHT HIS OWN PEN FOR THE OCCASION. HE WAS SPEECHLESS AT THAT MOMENT, AND ADMITTED, "DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG IT'S BEEN, SINCE SOMEONE ASKED ME TO SIGN ONE OF THESE CARDS? OF COURSE I'LL SIGN THEM FOR YOU. I'M SURPRISED ANYONE AROUND HERE REMEMBERS ME AS A GOALTENDER."
WAYNE WENT ON TO PLAY IN THE W.H.A. WITH THE HOUSTON AEROS, AND HIS TEAMMATES INCLUDED HOCKEY LEGEND GORDIE HOWE, AND HIS SONS MARK AND MARTY. WITH THE AEROS HE WON SEVERAL AVCO CUPS, FOR THE LEAGUE CHAMPIONSHIP.
ONE OF MY FONDEST MEMORIES OF WAYNE RUTLEDGE, WAS WHEN I MET UP WITH HIM AT A SPECIAL FUNDRAISING DINNER, FOR THE BRACEBRIDGE CAPITAL FUND, HOSTED BY FORMER DETROIT RED WING GOALTENDER, ROGER CROZIER, A HOMETOWN LAD, WHO HAD PLAYED OPPOSITE WAYNE IN JUNIOR HOCKEY FOR MANY YEARS. IT WAS NEAT TO SEE THESE TWO VETERAN NETMINDERS SHAKING HANDS RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. I WORKED WITH ROGER AS A PUBLIC RELATIONS DIRECTOR WITH HIS NEWLY FORMED CROZIER FOUNDATION FOR CHILDREN, AND I NEVER MISSED A WAYNE RUTLEDGE AUCTION.
WAYNE'S AUCTIONS, LIKE HIS FATHERS, WERE ALWAYS A LOT OF FUN…..FULL OF MUSKOKA CHARACTER
AFTER AN INDOOR AUCTION, ONE SUMMER NIGHT AT THE BRACEBRIDGE AGRICULTURAL HALL, I SPENT A HALF HOUR WITH WAYNE, TALKING ABOUT HIS FATHER LES, WHO I WROTE ABOUT IN YESTERDAY'S BLOG (YOU CAN ARCHIVE IT, IF YOU HAVEN'T READ IT). WAYNE HAD A LOT OF HIS FATHER'S MANNERISMS, AND BLUNTNESS, WHEN IT WAS CALLED FOR. HE MIGHT HAVE COME DOWN OFF HIS AUCTION LADDER, WHICH HE SOMETIMES USED, IF THE SITUATION WARRANTED. HE WASN'T THE MOST PATIENT AUCTIONEER, AND HE MADE NO CLAIM AT BEING ANTIQUE SAVVY EITHER. HE LEFT THAT TO THE DEALERS WHO FILLED-OUT THE CROWD. HIS AUCTIONS WERE SMOOTH AND ALWAYS INTERESTING. HE HAD WONDERFUL SENSE OF HUMOR, LIKE HIS FATHER, BUT IT WAS DRY AND WELL TIMED. HE COULD MAKE YOU LAUGH BUT STILL HAVE A STRAIGHT FACE. YOU MIGHT THINK HE WAS ANGRY ABOUT SOMETHING, BUT HE HAD A FAMILIAR TWINKLE IN HIS EYE, THAT LET YOU KNOW HE WAS JUST TEASING-YOU. LES USED TO HAVE THE SAME TWINKLE, NOT TO BE CONFUSED WITH THE DARK STARE, HE COULD DIRECT AT A BIDDER WHO WAS GIVING HIM A HARD TIME. WAYNE WAS SO GOOD AT THIS JOB, THAT HE HAD QUITE A FOLLOWING, THAT TURNED OUT FOR EVERY SALE. BUT HERE'S THE THING. LOTS CAME BUT MANY OF THE REGULARS DIDN'T BID. THEY WOULD CONSUME MANY HOT DOGS AND SAUSAGES BEING COOKED UP, BESIDE THE CLERK'S TABLE, AND DRINK POP AND COFFEE BY THE GALLON, BUT TO THEM IT WAS A SOCIAL EVENT…..A CULTURAL EXPERIENCE. WHILE WE WERE THERE FOR BUSINESS REASONS, IT WAS STILL IMPOSSIBLE TO MISS THE AMBIENCE OF AN OLD FASHIONED COUNTRY AUCTION SALE.
Wayne was approachable as an auctioneer. I recall being at a sale in Huntsville, across from Riverside Public School, and having to ask his assistance, to move up several musical instruments, in the auction schedule. It wasn't an lame excuse to alter the order of the sale. We were supposed to be back in Gravenhurst by mid afternoon, but the sale was really dragging on. Once again, when he took a short coffee break, I asked him if it would be possible to move up the Regal Banjo, and two old guitars, within the coming half hour, so we could bid and leave. I don't like leaving bids for staff to relay, because on those occasions I've done this, the bids have never even been unfolded from the auctioneer's clipboard. This never happened with Wayne Rutledge, but I didn't want to take the chance. The bottom line is, we won the Regal Banjo, and Andrew was ecstatic. I thanked Wayne for his kind consideration of our request. What I never was able to tell him, God rest his soul, is that this was the first instrument Andrew acquired for his fledgling business, that later that day, would be officially launched. We would find out by mid-afternoon, that Andrew was eligible to attend a government young entrepreneur's course, starting in September. This is where he put his business plan together, and early the next year, he had his official paperwork complete. It would be close to ten years ago, that Andrew Currie's Music and Collectibles opened for business. He and his brother, Robert, who has his own business, operate a vintage music shop in the former Muskoka Theatre building, on Muskoka Road, here in Gravenhurst (opposite the Opera House). We have attached a small antique wing to the back of their businesses to fill out the wonderful old building. So it comes back to a terrific vintage banjo and a kindly auctioneer, former professional hockey netminder, and glazier (we can't forget that), and how sorry we are indeed, we can't share this reality with him today. The boys still proudly show his autographed hockey cards in their respective rooms, here at Birch Hollow.
Wayne was a hard worker and didn't let exhaustion dictate when the day was done. When the work was complete……then that marked the end of the day. Not a moment sooner. All us auction groupies watched his work ethic in full bloom, for so many years. So we did notice him starting to slow down, in the months leading up to his fatal diagnosis. It was devastating for family. It was devastating for his customers. Auctions in Muskoka would never be the same. Tomorrow I'd like to explain why we loved Wayne as an auctioneer. What did we get out of his sales, we couldn't get from any other auctioneer? And it was never just about stuff that we purchased. His sales were much more diverse than that, and so full of community and professional interaction. At times, even Wayne would get mad, and complain that the sales were turning into weekend socials…..picnics, instead of auctions. Well, it was a little of both. Suzanne, who used to hate standing around auctions for hours on a summer Saturday, very seldom ever complained, at a Rutledge event, because he made the sales interesting beyond what you folks may appreciate of typical country auctions. Maybe it was his hockey past, and the way he paid attention to the audience…..as he did when the hometown hockey fans cheered when he made an amazing save on an opposition breakaway. Maybe the audience had enjoyed a previous attachment to his father Les……who also had a solid following sale to sale. We'll explore that tomorrow, if you have the time to visit again. As a footnote however, I just want to make mention here, that seeing as this is my own biographical attempt, to recollect my years in the business, the mention in this regard, of Wayne Rutledge, is important because he was a huge influence in my buying and selling of antiques for those years. I helped him with his business, by bidding actively, and he helped me improve my attitude in business. If he could be calm, so could I. After all, we were both former goaltenders. I just never made the N.H.L. See you again for the completion of this little tribute to a former mentor-auctioneer-goaltender. See you.
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