THINKING ABOUT MY TIME IN ENGLAND, AND WISHING I WAS THERE RIGHT NOW - AT THE ROSE AND CROWN
THE WEATHER IS MORE SUITED TO ENGLAND THAN A MUSKOKA WINTER
My dear wife confront me the other day, asking me rather abruptly, how many times in my hockey-playing days, I was hit in the face with the puck. Seeing as I was a goaltender for most of that time, I had to answer, "At least twice every game." How many times did you fall and hit your head on the ice, or get conked over the head with a stick. I had to think about that one for a couple of minutes, and the best I could do was described the occurrences as "frequent." Okay, then, how many times did your team-mates have to push you out the dressing room door, unclenching your fingers from the gate, in order to place you in the net for the start of the game." "Never," I replied with some indignation. "I wanted to play," I retorted. "I wasn't scared of getting hurt, if that's what you're getting at!"
"Do you know how many hockey players have had their careers ended by concussions, and broken bones," she asked. I do know that the number is a big one, but I never missed a game in decades because of an injury received in practice or a game. "Then as far as risk of life and limb, playing hockey has a high potential of injuring those who play the sport!" "Point being?" I asked. "Well, it seems to me that you risked your health every single time you stepped on the ice, ready to play a game, or participate in a practice. You've admitted to me that you were taking whacks to the noggin almost every game, amongst other hits that could have even proved fatal, if you got hit into the boards awkwardly." I couldn't argue with the good woman. "Well then why in the world would you be fearful of getting on a comfortable plane, with climate control, reclining seats, cocktails, and onboard meals, with only the very slim possibility you might hit some turbulence and have to use the air-sick bag?" It's the first time in my life, a comparison was drawn between the dangers of playing hockey and flying on a passenger jet. Nice try but it didn't change the reality, that I am a "kicking and screaming" type of reluctant flier, and I would sooner take a slapshot in the kisser than board an aircraft.
I have flown a few times to Florida, before winging it to England, and experienced the kind of turbulence, that curled my hair; when I actually had hair to curl. I'm a nervous passenger in a car, so it's not so much of a stretch, to apply it to being a wickedly nervous passenger on one of these football-field length aircraft, I see advertised on television. I have always had height issues, and that's standing still, looking down. Looking down at eight hundred miles per hour, would be the same but to the exponent of ten. I get along in this life quite well, not flitting here and there in the belly of the beast. Of course I have regrets, and there may be a day coming, when I finally decide that it is keeping me from an important destination, important to the rest of my life. Such as if I was to inherit, for example, a wonderful old country estate, like the one Squire Bracebridge owned, in the Washington Irving book, "Bracebridge Hall," and the only way of claiming it, was to appear in person. I could get on a plane for considerable capital gain, I suppose. A wee pint at the Admiral Rodney isn't quite enough to convince me to climb aboard the big bird.
It is a joke around here, meaning our Gravenhurst music and antique shop, with my lads, Andrew and Robert, that the old man is scared of flying. It's accepted fact, that I despise heights, to begin with, and really dislike having to climb into a coffin with wings. The last time I was on a jet was when I flew from Wilmington, Delaware to Cleveland, and then Muskoka, with Roger Crozier, who at that time was an executive with the American Bank, MBNA. Roger of course was an original six National Hockey League Goaltender, with the Detroit Red Wings, who later played with the expansion clubs, the Buffalo Sabres and the Washington Capitals. Roger was from Bracebridge.
In his playing days he also hated to fly, and often found alternate travel arrangements. I thought of all people, he'd understand, when I confessed to him that the reason I couldn't come down to see him in Wilmington, was due to my very real fear of planes and all they represent. He left the business of getting me on the plane to Suzanne, who pretty much shamed me, into climbing aboard the MBNA corporate jet, with Roger's mother Mildred, and lawyer, Jack Huckle, formerly of Bracebridge. I hated every moment of the flight, and aged a year for every hour it took to get to our destination. My fingerprints are probably still visible, gouged into the arm rests; which went a lot deeper when we hit turbulence ten minutes from the airport. It's not that the crew wasn't perfect and the plane magnificently safe, just that when you're frightened to fly, it doesn't matter how good, or opulent an aircraft; it's the fact that people like me know stuff happens which has nothing to do with the quality of pilot, crew or aircraft. We just get consumed by all the possibilities, that while ridiculous to frequent fliers, is hugely potential to me.
I wanted to rent a car for the trip home from Wilmington, but Roger talked me out it by saying, "Ted, do you think I'd fly on one of these jets that was going to crash," which, when I think about it now, was kind of strange logic. "The planes are expertly looked after Ted and our pilots are the best of the best," he said, with such a confident look on his face, that I immediately felt his assurances would be enough to get on board for the trip home. Of course, he didn't tell me on that day, that we were going to stop in Cleveland. I hate the take-off preparation, and as I know this is a dangerous part of the flight experience, it was adding an obstacle to my psyche; the protocol of the day I had bargained for at breakfast, when Roger, over a beautifully prepared breakfast, made flight sound as if the plane would be carried north by angels, holding onto each wing to guarantee its safe journey.
I know all the stats about how safe flight is, and that my chances of dying in a traffic accident are far greater. I've just become rather steadfast about enjoying life on the ground, and experiencing travel as my ancestors used to engage, being by foot in the stone age, by horse drawn cart as time went by, and then the horseless carriage. There are times when it does pain me to recognize that an ocean separates me from where I want to be, right now, at this very moment, with a pint of ale in my hand, and bangers and beans on my plate. Yes, I would either like to be at a pub known as the Rose and Crown, or the Admiral Rodney. I'm afraid that by time they build the bridge to Europe I will be pushing up daisies. I could opt for some sort of tranquilizer to settle my nerves on the plane, but it all seems like a lot of trouble, and emotional expense, just to sit in a pub and consume a few frothy beverages. I only drink a few beer each year now, so it's not like I would wish to get sloshed in one of these pubs. I can coast on a beer for hours and hours.
I think that one day, I shall work up the nerve to, once again, board one of those cylinders with wings, and take flight to jolly old England, where I would honestly like to spend the rest of my days. Well, it's where many of my family members came from in the mid 1800's, to settle in the Bay of Quinte area of Ontario. I think their gum wads might still be found in these pubs, stuck under the bar stools or table tops. I could sail over of course, but then I'm scared of being on a sinking ship. In sports, I was on a lot of sinking ships. The rain today reminds me of the late winter of 1974, when I did brave the trans-Atlantic flight, with the Bracebridge and Muskoka Lakes Secondary School Band, to play concerts in London, Nottingham and York. I was smitten with England and did not want to return home, which would have seriously compromised the band conductor, John Rutherford, who would have had a Dickens of a time trying to explain my absence to Merle and Ed, my parents. But I really did like the British experience, and I know that one day, based on some unexpected circumstance and benevolence, I will once again be winging it to my favorite place on earth (other than Muskoka). I want to go to Scotland and also sit in a pub. I don't drink much, but that's what I want to do.
I wrote the piece below, some time ago, about arriving in England, with the school band, and what we got up to, in short order, to make ourselves appear characteristically British; wearing peak caps, carrying umbrellas, and donned with London Fog apparel. I don't remember how they got me on the plane on those occasions, going and coming back, other than there were several young ladies I was love-sick about; which if anything, blinded me to the risks associated with crashing. Writing about King Richard I, this week, and the neat little folk art carving we found with his likeness, at a local antique venue, it's all just ganged up on me, to think once again, (at least twice a year I pine for England and Scotland) about braving the emotional battle, of getting on one of those giant birds, and whisking off to a place where my heart tells me, there is a greater purpose. I'm weird that way. Suzanne isn't afraid of flight so that's not an issue. But I'm too big to throw over her shoulder, or stuff into a suitcase. Here is a story that will have to suffice, today, as it is unlikely that by the time you're reading this, we will be in the middle of the Atlantic. Or in a raft in the middle of the Atlantic.
SOUVENIRS AND WHY WE BUY THEM. IT ISN'T FOR THE INVESTMENT VALUE. BUT SOMETIMES IT WORKS OUT THAT WAY.
WHEN YOU BROWSE THROUGH A THRIFT SHOP, A CHURCH FUNDRAISING SALE, SECOND HAND STORE, OR VISIT FLEA MARKETS AND YARDS SALES, I GUARANTEE YOU, SOMEONE'S TRAVEL SOUVENIRS WILL BE UP FOR GRABS. A LITTLE LESS ATTRACTIVE BECAUSE THEY WERE PURCHASED POTENTIALLY ON ANOTHER CONTINENT, OR OTHER PROVINCES, STATES, AND ON HOLIDAYS THAT YOU DIDN'T ACTUALLY DIDN'T GET TO ENJOY. THESE WERE PART OF SOMEONE ELSE'S TRAVEL MEMORIES, AND WHILE POIGNANT AT THE TIME, LOST THEIR LUSTER BECAUSE THE THRILL OF THE ADVENTURE IS A FADING REALITY. THERE ARE OF COURSE, SOME SOUVENIRS THAT MAINTAIN THEIR VALUE NONE THE LESS. THESE INCLUDE CULTURAL AND HISTORIC ART, CRAFTS, JEWELRY, HAND-MADE ITEMS OF CLOTHING, HATS, BLANKETS, RUGS, AND ADORNMENTS LIKE SHAWLS. THERE ARE MANY OTHER EXAMPLES. YOU CAN FIND THESE AT SECOND HAND SHOPS, PARTICULARLY CHARITY STORES, AND IF YOU CHECK OUT THE RACK WHERE THERE ARE BEDSPREADS, BLANKETS AND QUILTS, YOU WILL UNDOUBTEDLY FIND PRODUCTS FROM SCOTLAND, IRELAND, DENMARK, HOLLAND, BELGIUM, AND EVEN FROM SOUTH AMERICA, FROM WEAVING TO WOOLEN BLANKETS. MANY OF THESE PIECES WERE BROUGHT TO CANADA AS USEFUL HOUSEHOLD ITEMS……UNLIKE THE BETTER KNOWN DECORATIVE SOUVENIRS, LIKE CUPS AND SAUCERS AND WALL-HANGING PLATES, THAT APPEAR IN HUGE NUMBERS ALL OVER THE SECOND HAND MARKETPLACE. DESIRED ONCE, BUT MUCH LESS DESIRABLE ON THE REBOUND.
THE SOUVENIRS THAT ENDURE, ARE PRETTY MUCH THE ONES ABOVE, THAT HAVE PRACTICAL, FASHION AND GENERAL HOUSEHOLD USE. HAND CRAFTED ART PIECES, PAINTINGS, SCULPTURES, CARVINGS AND TEXTILE ART, LACE, WEAVING, TO RUGS, ARE THE KIND OF DECORATIVE SOUVENIR THAT HOLDS VALUE IN PERPETUITY, IN LARGE PART, BECAUSE OF THE HIGH QUALITY OF THE WORKMANSHIP. CERAMIC AND GLASS SOUVENIRS ARE OKAY, AND WE HAVE BEEN SELLING THESE HERE IN MUSKOKA, SINCE THE LATE 1800'S, BUT BECAUSE THEY ARE NOT STRICTLY FROM THE REGION WHERE THEY ARE AVAILABLE, THEY DON'T TEND TO BE THE MOST COVETED ITEMS AFTER THE ORIGINAL ON-SITE PURCHASE. I'LL GIVE YOU AN EXAMPLE FROM MY EARLIEST DAYS AS A COLLECTOR, AND WHAT SOUVENIRS I WANTED TO BRING HOME FROM ENGLAND.
IT WAS THE EARLY SPRING OF 1974. I WAS IN A BAND. A BIG ONE. IT WAS LED BY WELL KNOWN CONDUCTOR, JOHN RUTHERFORD, AND THE STUDENTS MAKING UP THE SENIOR TOURING BAND, WERE FROM BRACEBRIDGE AND MUSKOKA LAKES SECONDARY SCHOOL. I THINK OUR MOTTO WAS, "SEND SOME NOISE TO ENGLAND." I HAVE THANKED MR. RUTHERFORD MANY TIMES SINCE, FOR THINKING ENOUGH OF ME, AND THE BENEFIT AN OVERSEAS ADVENTURE WOULD DO FOR A BUDDING WRITER, TO HAVE INCLUDED ME IN THE SENIOR BAND THAT GLORIOUS YEAR. IT WAS DAMN CLOSE CALL YOU SEE. I HADN'T BEEN STRONG ENOUGH, AS A BARITONE PLAYER, TO THAT POINT, TO HAVE MADE THE CUT. I'D BEEN IN THE MUSIC PROGRAM FOR THE PREVIOUS FOUR YEARS. JOHN WAS DETERMINED, BY MY FINAL YEAR, TO SHAPE ME UP FOR THE BIG LEAGUE. IT WAS THE YEAR ABOUT SEVENTY BAND-MATES WERE GOING ON A PLAYING TOUR OF ENGLAND. THE DAY HE TOLD ME I WAS IN THE BAND, WELL SIR, I DIDN'T KNOW WHETHER TO LAUGH OR CRY, BECAUSE I WAS HAPPY, AND SCARED OUT OF MY MIND AT THE SAME TIME. AS JOHN POINTED OUT, "WE'VE GOT A LOT OF WORK TO DO TED." I COMPLIED. I WORKED AS HARD AS I COULD TO EARN HIS TRUST. I WAS NOT THE BEST, THAT'S FOR SURE, BUT I THINK JOHN KNEW I WAS COMMITTED TO IMPROVING MY PLAYING, CONCERT BY CONCERT. BY LETTING ME GO ON THAT LIFE-CHANGING ENGLAND TOUR, HE OPENED UP A WORLD OF OPPORTUNITY……AND I'M NOT REALLY SURE IF HE KNEW JUST HOW INFLUENTIAL HIS TRUST WAS, THEN AND ALL THESE YEARS LATER. HE MAY HAVE BEEN THE ONLY TEACHER, WHO FIGURED THERE HAD TO BE SOMETHING WITH THIS CURRIE KID, BENEATH THE HIPPY HAIR AND THE GENERAL ATTENTION DEFICIT. I WAS GOOD AT BOTH. I COULD HAVE GOT AN "A" IN PERPETUITY, FOR MY ABILITY TO ZONE OUT. I NEVER REALLY GOT BACK FROM WOODSTOCK, YOU KNOW.
AT THIS TIME, I WAS VERY INTERESTED IN WRITING, AND IN FACT, I WROTE A JOURNAL OF THE TRIP ON AIR CANADA STATIONARY, BOTH IN THE AIR, AND WHILE TRAVELLING ABOUT IN ENGLAND. I WAS ALSO A BUDDING COLLECTOR, AT THE SAME TIME, AND IT WAS A SOUVENIR BONANZA GOING THROUGH THE ENGLISH COUNTRYSIDE, STOPPING ALONG THE WAY FOR WEE VISITS…..AND PERFORMANCES. I DIDN'T BUY ANY ROYALTY MEMORABILIA, BUT I WASN'T ON THE GROUND MORE THAN A FEW HOURS, AND I'D BOUGHT AN UMBRELLA, AND A TWEED PEAK CAP. ALL THE LADS DID. IT WAS THE FUNNIEST THING TO LOOK AT THE BEFORE AND AFTER PICTURES, TO SEE HOW CANADIANS FIGURED THEY COULD BECOME BRITISH BY ADORNMENTS ALONE. THE GIRLS DID SOMEWHAT THE SAME, THOUGH I CAN'T BE SURE IF THEY BOUGHT UMBRELLAS TOO. A LITTLE EXPENSIVE, THIS ENTERPRISE, BUT WE WANTED TO FULLY CELEBRATE THIS IMMERSION INTO, WHAT SOME OF US RIGHTFULLY CALLED, OUR ANCESTRAL CULTURE. FULL ENGLISH BREAKFASTS AND BANGERS AND BEANS FOR LUNCH. ROAST BEEF AND YORKIES (YORKSHIRE PUDDINGS) FOR SUPPER. FOR THE SEVERAL WEEKS WE WERE IN ENGLAND, WE LOOKED FOR EVERYTHING WE COULD, THAT, IN OUR OPINION, REFLECTED BRITISH VALUES. IN FACT, WE ATE BANGERS AND BEANS A LOT, (I MEAN THIS….IT WAS LIKE A SCENE OUT OF BLAZING SADDLES, BACK AT THE UNIVERSITY DORMITORY) IN ADDITION TO CRUMPETS, ECCLES CAKES, AND WE ALL SUCKED BACK GALLONS OF TEA. AND WE ALSO THOUGHT IT WAS ONLY FITTING, WE SHOULD BE CLOAKED IN BRITISH-WARE. FROM SHOES AND PANTS, TO SWEATERS, TWEED JACKETS, AND AN ARRAY OF PEAK CAPS……MAKING US GENTS RATHER DAPPER, OR SO THE GIRLS IN THE BAND THOUGHT…..OR AT LEAST WE HOPED THEY THOUGHT! TWO OF THE YOUNG LADIES THOUGHT I LOOKED LIKE A YOUNG BENNY HILL. WHILE THE REST THOUGHT I WAS CHIP OFF THE MONTY PYTHON BLOCK!
WHEN WE TRAVELLED NORTH TO NOTTINGHAM, WHERE WE WERE SCHEDULED TO STAY WITH HOST FAMILIES, BAND MEMBERS STARTED BUYING AND COLLECTING AS MUCH LOCAL MEMORABILIA AS THEY COULD. I HAD A NUMBER OF INTERESTING EXPERIENCES THIS WAY MYSELF. THE FAMILY I WAS STAYING WITH, HAD A TICKET FOR ME, TO ATTEND A FOOTBALL (SOCCER) GAME, BETWEEN BLACKPOOL AND NOTTINGHAM FOREST. "BUT YOU CAN'T WEAR THAT SCARF TED, I'M AFRAID, OR YOU'LL BE CARRYING YOUR HEAD UNDER YOUR ARM," SAID MY NEW ENGLISH MATE. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN," I HAD TO ASK. "WELL, THAT SCARF YOU BROUGHT FROM CANADA, REPRESENTS THE COLORS OF BLACKPOOL, AND AS WE ARE GOING TO BE SITTING IN THE NOTTINGHAM SECTION OF THE STADIUM, IT WOULDN'T BE A GOOD IDEA AT ALL, TO WEAR THOSE COLORS…..UNLESS OF COURSE YOU WISH TO BE BEATEN SENSELESS." I'D BEEN READING UP ON THE OFTEN VIOLENT AFTERMATHS OF THESE BRITISH MATCHES, SO I CERTAINLY DIDN'T HAVE TO BE TOLD TWICE ABOUT SCARF APPROPRIATENESS. THEY GAVE ME A NOTTINGHAM SCARF AND A BEAT-UP OLD COAT. "I'VE ALREADY GOT A GOOD JACKET TO WEAR," I RESPONDED TO THEIR GENEROSITY. I WAS A LITTLE MIFFED WHY THEY WOULD WANT ME TO WEAR A COAT WITH SO MANY HOLES. "EXACTLY. YOU DON'T WANT TO WEAR A GOOD COAT TO THE GAME, BECAUSE YOU'RE LIKELY GOING TO BE IN THE MIDDLE OF A FIGHT, AND THIS JACKET HAS ALREADY BEEN IN A HALF DOZEN ALREADY." GADS, I WAS GETTING WORRIED. I'D GONE TO LOTS OF HOCKEY GAMES, AND WATCHED SOME FIGHTS BREAK-OUT IN THE STANDS, BUT FROM WHAT THEY WERE DESCRIBING, ALL FANS GET IN ON THE POST GAME SHOW. OH WELL, WHAT AN ADVENTURE.
WELL, I'VE NEVER BEEN TO SUCH A WILD AND WHACKY EVENT AS THIS SOCCER MATCH. THE FANS NEVER SAT DOWN THE WHOLE GAME. IN UNISON, LIKE A HUGE WAVE ON THE OCEAN, THEY MOVED THE TEAM COLORS TO THE THEME SONG, FOR THEIR SIDE, AND THEN THE OPPOSITION, WOULD COME BACK WITH A ROUSING RENDITION OF THEIR OWN. AND I'M TELLING YOU, IT WAS UNNERVING BECAUSE OF THE TIGHTLY WEAVED CROWD, AND THE FACT THAT WHEN THEY MOVED TO THE SONG, SO DID YOU (THERE WAS NO CHOICE IN THE MATTER). THE BLEACHERS SEEMED TO MOVE AT THE SAME TIME. WHEN THE GAME WAS OVER, I'D ONLY SAT DOWN FOR A COUPLE OF MINUTES IN THE WHOLE GAME, AND I WAS HOARSE BECAUSE OF ALL THE SINGING. MY MATE WARNED ME TO SING LOUDLY, SO THEY WOULDN'T SUSPECT I WAS A PLANT FROM THE OTHER SIDE, INFILTRATING THE OPPOSITION FOR SOME SORT OF SABOTAGE AT THE END OF THE GAME. MY GOD. THE END OF THE GAME. I FELT LIKE I WAS BODY SURFING OUT OF THAT STADIUM, BECAUSE THERE WAS NO STANDING AROUND, AND DEFINITELY NO POLITE "LETTING SOMEONE GET AHEAD OF YOU." I COULD SEE HOW SOMEONE COULD GET CRUSHED, AND HOW BLEACHERS COLLAPSE, WITH ALL THE SIDE TO SIDE SWAYING I'D EXPERIENCED. OUTSIDE, IT WAS VERY MUCH LIKE A RIOT SCENARIO, EXCEPT THERE WAS NO CAR OVER-TURNING OR FIRES BEING SET…..JUST PEOPLE RUNNING ALL OVER THE PLACE, WAVING THESE SCARVES WITH THE OCCASIONAL DUST-UPS BETWEEN FANS. MY HOST FAMILY KEPT US MOVING AS FAST AS WE COULD. NOTTINGHAM WON THAT DAY, SO WE WERE RUNNING ON POSITIVE ADRENALIN. NO NEED TO BURN ANYTHING, OR PUNCH OUT SHOP WINDOWS, I GUESS. POINT IS, I SPENT SOME QUALITY TIME, LATER THAT DAY, SHOPPING FOR NOTTINGHAM FOREST SOUVENIRS……BUYING MY OWN OFFICIAL SCARF…..WHICH I SHOULDN'T HAVE BEEN WEARING TO YORKSHIRE AND THEN BACK TO LONDON. MY CHUMS REMINDED ME TO ALWAYS BE AWARE OF THOSE IMPORTANT BRITISH SOCCER WORDS OF WARNING. "GET HIM!" SO FOR THE BALANCE OF THE TRIP, I TUCKED THAT SPORTING SCARF INSIDE MY JACKET.
THE MOST INTERESTING SOUVENIR STORY I HEARD, CAME FROM A STAFFER AT NOTTINGHAM CASTLE, WHERE, I BELIEVE, WE SAW THE STATUE OF ROBIN HOOD. THE TOUR GUIDE OFFERED AN APOLOGY ABOUT ROBIN'S MISSING ARROW. "THE AMERICAN TOURISTS KEEP NICKING-IT," SHE SAID. "SOON AS WE GET A REPLACEMENT, THEY TAKE IT AGAIN." IT WOULD BE KIND OF NEAT TO HAVE ROBIN HOOD'S ARROW, BUT I WASN'T GOING TO STEAL ONE. LATER THAT SAME DAY WE GOT A CHANCE TO MEET THE ACTUAL SHERIFF OF NOTTINGHAM. TALK ABOUT GRABBING UP THE SOUVENIRS OF THAT VISIT. IF IT WAS OFFERED TO US, EVEN BROCHURES, WE CLEANED OUT THEIR SUPPLY. PAPER SOUVENIRS MADE UP A MAJORITY OF MY COLLECTIBLES FROM THAT TRIP, AND I STILL HAVE MOST OF THEM TUCKED INTO AN OLD PHOTO ALBUM…..WHICH I CAN'T SEEM TO FIND IN MY CLUTTER OF LIFE'S SOUVENIRS.
I WAS PULLING BARK OFF TREES FROM SHERWOOD FOREST FOR GOD'S SAKE. WE STARTED TO RUN OUT OF MONEY SO WE GRABBED EVERY CONCEIVABLE FREEBIE. IT WAS AS SORT OF TEMPORARY INSANITY. I WATCHED BAND-MATES AT A LOCAL BAKERY, SAVING THE PAPER LACE, CUP-CAKE BOTTOMS FOR THEIR TRIP SCRAPBOOKS. WE MUST HAVE TAKEN TEN THOUSAND PHOTOGRAPHS OVER THOSE TWO WEEKS.
THE NEATEST OF THE PAPER COLLECTIBLES CAME FROM THREE SHOWS WE ATTENDED IN LONDON. MY GIRLFRIEND AT THE TIME, GAIL SMITH, AND I, ATTENDED THE OPENING OF THE MOVIE "THE EXORCIST," AND GOT MITT-FULLS OF WARNINGS BEING HANDED OUT BY NUMEROUS RELIGIOUS ORGANIZATIONS, TRYING TO KEEP US FROM GOING INSIDE. WE WENT IN. SCARED US PRETTY BAD, BUT WE MADE IT ALL THE WAY TO THE CLOSING CREDITS. WE ALSO HAD TICKETS (KEPT THE STUBS), AND SOUVENIR PROGRAMS, FROM THE STAGE VERSION OF "JESUS CHRIST SUPER STAR," AND THEN A CONCERT AT ROYAL ALBERT HALL BY THE LONDON SYMPHONY, I BELIEVE. WE MADE THE ROUNDS MANY TIMES OF PICADILLY CIRCUS, AND EVERY TIME I WATCH AUSTIN POWERS, I THINK BACK TO THE FUN WE HAD MINGLING WITH THE TURNED-ON CROWD IN THAT ELECTRIC NEIGHBORHOOD THAT NEVER SEEMED TO SLOW ITS PACE. WE GRABBED UP COASTERS FROM RESTAURANTS, A FEW MENUS WE SCOFFED AS KEEPSAKES, AND JUST ABOUT ANYTHING THAT WE THOUGHT WOULD REMIND US, OF THE HALCYON TRIP TO ENGLAND, THAT SPRING OF 1974.
EVERY NOW AND AGAIN SUZANNE WILL UNCOVER SOME RELIC OF THAT VINTAGE, AND ASK WHY I KEPT AN OLD CATCHUP-STAINED PLACEMAT, OR DRINK COASTER WITH WET RINGS ON IT, OR A DOG-EARRED PROGRAM FROM A SHOW SO VERY LONG AGO. I DON'T HAVE AN ANSWER THAT WOULD MAKE ANY REAL SENSE TO MY WIFE. WHAT MADE IT SO POIGNANT FOR ME, IN PARTICULAR, WAS THAT I HAD ACTUALLY MADE THE BAND THAT LAST YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL. MAYBE I WASN'T GOOD ENOUGH TO PLAY THE FIVE OR SIX CONCERTS WE PERFORMED BETWEEN LONDON AND NOTTINGHAM. I DON'T KNOW. BUT BECAUSE OF JOHN RUTHERFORD'S BELIEF I COULD UPGRADE, IF I WANTED TO GO BAD ENOUGH, I GOT THE CHANCE OF A LIFETIME. AS I HAVE NEVER BEEN MUCH OF A WORLD TRAVELLER, AND MOST OF MY MEMORIES OF 56 YEARS ARE OF NORTH AMERICAN TRAVEL, AND LOTS OF ROAD TRIPS IN THE HOME REGION, IT REALLY WAS EXCEPTIONAL FOR ME, AND THESE TIRED OLD SOUVENIRS STILL WORK TO REKINDLE LOST MEMORIES OF "TED CURRIE'S MOST EXCELLENT ADVENTURE."
A COUPLE OF TIMES, SUZANNE HAS STARTED TO READ THROUGH MY AIR CANADA JOURNAL, AND I'M QUICK OFF THE DRAW, TO LUNGE AT THE FADED DOCUMENT. IT CONTAINS SOME RATHER PERSONAL INFORMATION ABOUT THE LADIES I GOT TO KNOW OVERSEAS……AND INTIMATE DETAILS ABOUT DATING THREE GIRLS AT ONCE, WITHOUT ANY OF THEM KNOWING THE KIND OF CAD I WAS AS A YOUNG MUSICIAN-KIND. THEY FOUND THAT OUT ONCE WE GOT BACK TO CANADA. THE THIRD GIRLFRIEND WAS HOME IN BRACEBRIDGE, AND I'D PURCHASED HER AN EXPENSIVE CHARM BRACELET, AND SOME NICE SILVER CHARMS WITH BRITISH THEMES. AND BOTH LADIES I CHUMMED WITH, WHILE IN ENGLAND, ASSUMED I WAS GOING TO GIVE IT TO THEM AS A GIFT. I WAS LIKE LUCY RICARDO……I HAD A LOT OF 'SPLAINING TO DO!" I WASN'T REALLY A WOMANIZER, OR A DON JUAN, CASA NOVA, BUT HAVING A BLAST IN ANOTHER COUNTRY. I WASN'T ALONE. THAT TRIP STARTED MANY NEW RELATIONSHIPS, AND ENDED JUST AS MANY AT HOME. STUFF HAPPENS WHEN YOU'RE YOUNG OF HEART, AND A LONG WAY FROM HOME.
WHEN I'M OUT ON THE ANTIQUE HUSTINGS, I ALWAYS STOP FOR A BIT, TO ADMIRE THE INVENTORY OF SOUVENIRS FOR SALE, AND THINK BACK TO THOSE MEMORABLE DAYS ABROAD, AND WHAT THESE MUST HAVE MEANT TO THEIR ORIGINAL OWNERS…….ALSO HAVING THE TIMES THEIR LIVES. WONDER WHY THEY GOT RID OF THESE KEEPSAKES. AH, YES, THAT GETTING OLD THING. WHAT WILL MY BOYS DO WITH MY OLD ENGLAND JOURNAL? I BETTER DEAL WITH THAT ONE OF THESE DAYS.
AS A LITTLE SIDEBAR TO THIS STORY, I HAD A FUNNY INCIDENT THIS PAST OCTOBER, IN AND AROUND THE THANKSGIVING HOLIDAY. AS WE FREQUENTLY SELL SELECT ANTIQUE PIECES FROM THE BOY'S VINTAGE MUSIC SHOP, ON MUSKOKA ROAD, HERE IN GRAVENHURST, I SET OUT A DISPLAY OF CANADIAN PIECES UNDER THE STORE'S MARQUIS. ONE WAS A 1920'S VINTAGE UMBRELLA STAND WITH AN UMBRELLA TO GO WITH IT. NOW YOU CAN PROBABLY FIGURE OUT THE HOOK OF THIS ANECDOTAL MOMENT. BY GOLLY, I NEVER ONCE THOUGHT ABOUT IT, EVEN WHEN I PUT THE UMBRELLA ON THE STAND AS A SORT OF BUYER'S BONUS. ANDREW PHONED ME LATER THAT MORNING, TO TELL ME ABOUT SELLING THE STAND TO A LADY, ORIGINALLY FROM ENGLAND, TO USE IN HER HALLWAY AT HOME. "SHE DIDN'T WANT THE UMBRELLA DAD," HE SAID. "THE UMBRELLA," I REPEATED. "WELL THAT'S OKAY." "WHERE DID YOU GET IT DAD….THE UMBRELLA," HE ASKED. LIKE THE BELL OF BIG BEN RINGING IN THE OLD HEAD, I SAID, "THAT'S GOT TO BE MY OLD LONDON UMBRELLA." WHAT HAD HAPPENED, WAS THAT IT HAD BEEN PART OF MY PARENTS' ESTATE, SETTLED THE YEAR BEFORE, AND WE HAD BROUGHT THAT UMBRELLA HOME WITH SEVERAL OTHERS, MY MOTHER USED FOR BOTH INCLEMENT WEATHER, AND AS A CANE FOR HER WONKY HIP. BUT SEEING AS MY FATHER WOULD NEVER, EVER, EVER HOLD AN UMBRELLA (HE WAS AN OLD NAVY MAN, WHO BATHED IN RUM), (AND IT WAS DEFINITELY A MAN'S ITEM), I KNEW IT WAS THE UMBRELLA I HAD LEFT WITH THEM, WHEN I GOT HOME FROM ENGLAND. YOU KNOW, IT WAS IN PRETTY GOOD SHAPE TOO, AND I'D ALMOST SOLD IT AS A PROP IN AN OTHERWISE EMPTY UMBRELLA STAND. THE LITTLE BEND IN THE END, CAME WHEN ONE OF MY GAL PALS FOUND OUT ABOUT THE OTHER TWO, AND TURNED THAT UMBRELLA INTO A CLUB.
NOW IT HANGS BY THE FIREPLACE WITH MY OTHER CANES…..I HAVE WONKY HIP AS WELL, AND I THINK ABOUT THE GIRLS OF THEN……AND THIS WONDERFUL LADY NOW, AND JOHN RUTHERFORD, WHO OPENED MY WORLD TO THE MOST AMAZING ADVENTURES. SOUVENIRS. I LOVE THEM ALL, FOR WHAT THEY REMIND ME OF……MOSTLY GOOD TIMES.
TEDS TECHNICOLOR DREAMCOAT FROM THE EATONS CATALGOUE
A COUPLE OF YEARS AFTER SUZANNE AND I WERE MARRIED, SHE ASKED ME ONE DAY, WHILE TALKING ABOUT VINTAGE CLOTHING, WHAT HAD HAPPENED TO MY TECHNICOLOR DREAMCOAT? "YOU KNOW THE ONE YOU HAD IN GRADE THIRTEEN," SHE SAID, WITH AN EAR TO EAR GRIN. "IT WAS A NICE COAT," I ANSWERED. "I GOT A LOT OF CHICKS WITH THAT COAT," I RETORTED WITH MY OWN BEARDY SMILE. "YOU MEAN YOU DIDN'T LIKE IT," I CONTINUED. "I THOUGHT THAT'S WHAT YOU REMEMBERED ABOUT ME BACK IN HIGH SCHOOL." OH, I DID REMEMBER YOU FOR WEARING THAT COAT," SHE REMINDED ME. "I USED TO SEE YOU WALKING TO SCHOOL, WHEN WE'D GO BY ON THE BUS (SHE WAS FROM WINDERMERE). IT REALLY STOOD OUT AGAINST THE SNOW…..AND THE MUSKOKA RIVER, AND THE BUILDINGS AND THE TRAIN STATION. IT WAS A FASHION STATEMENT." WELL HECK, NOW I WAS STARTED TO GET OFFENDED. I TOLD HER STRAIGHT-UP. "LOOK, I PICKED THAT COAT OUT MYSELF FROM THE CATALOGUE." "SO WHO PICKS OUT YOUR CLOTHES NOW," SHE SHOT BACK WITH VIGOR. "YOU DO, BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT," I RETALIATED, LIKE SOMEONE WHO ACTUALLY KNEW WHAT HE WAS TALKING ABOUT. I DIDN'T.
IT'S TRUE. I HAVE VERY LITTLE FASHION SENSE. WORKING ON CROZIER FOUNDATION BUSINESS, SHE "BLACK SUIT" ME UP, WITH AN UNCOMFORTABLY STIFF WHITE COLLAR, AND AFTER THE MEETING, IF I'D SUDDENLY MET UP WITH THE GRIM REAPER, I'D HAVE BEEN COFFIN-READY. WHEN I ORDERED THAT MULTI-PATCHED, "TECHNICOLOR DREAMCOAT," I DIDN'T HAVE A LOT OF MONEY TO SPEND. MY MOTHER GAVE ME AN OPTION OF SHOPPING AT THE ECONOMY STORE, ON MANITOBA STREET, WHERE SHE WORKED, OR BUYING SOMETHING FROM THE CATALOGUE. I OPTED FOR THE CATALOGUE, BECAUSE YOU COULD ALWAYS TELL WHO HAD BEEN OUT-FITTED BY THE ECONOMY STORE. NO DISRESPECT TO THE STORE, BUT IT WAS THE CHEAPEST PLACE TO BUY CLOTHES IN TOWN. IF I BOUGHT A COAT THERE, YOU COULD COUNT ON AT LEAST ANOTHER TWENTY TO SHOW UP AT SCHOOL OF THE SAME DESIGN. SO I THOUGHT IF I BOUGHT FROM THE CATALOGUE, POSSIBLY AS OUTLANDISH AS THIS ONE, I WOULD BE THE SOLE POSSESSOR. WASN'T SO! NOT HAVING TWENTY SINGLE COLOR JACKETS IS ONE THING IN A SCHOOL. HAVING TWENTY TECHNICOLOR COATS, YEA, THAT'S A PROBLEM. BUT I JUST DIDN'T FEEL LIKE RETURNING IT, AND I WOUND UP WEARING IT ACROSS THE POND, DURING THAT 1974 BMLSS BAND TOUR. SUZANNE DIDN'T GO. THE GIRLS LOVED ME IN THAT COAT WITH MY LONGISH HAIR, AND BOYISH GOOD LOOKS….EXCEPT FOR THE BROKEN NOSE FROM PLAYING GOAL WITH AN INADEQUATE MASK IN THAT LAST BIG GAME BEFORE THE FLIGHT.
WELL ANYWAY, SUZANNE CAME RUNNING TO ME THE OTHER DAY, IN THE BRACEBRIDGE SALVATION ARMY, (FORMERLY THE HOME OF THE ECONOMY STORE), WITH GUESS WHAT? NOW YOU SEE, IN OUR BUSINESS, SELLING VINTAGE AND ANTIQUE ITEMS, THE FABULOUS TECHNICOLOR DREAMCOAT IS SOMEWHAT MORE ATTRACTIVE. SHE DIDN'T FIND MINE, BUT ONE OF THE COATS I WAS UNDOUBTEDLY COMPETING AGAINST IN 1974. THIS ONE, IF YOU CAN BELIEVE IT, WASN'T OUTSTANDING ENOUGH WITH ITS ARRAY OF COLORS,…..THAT SOMEONE THEN HAD TO SEW ON A HUNTING BADGE……. RIGHT ON THE SHOULDER THAT READS, "SUCCESSFUL MOOSE HUNT, ONTARIO MINISTRY OF NATURAL RESOURCES." PRETTY HARD TO MISS THAT SUCKER ON A SNOWY DAY IN MUSKOKA. I HAVE NEVER HUNTED, EXCEPT FOR ANTIQUES.
TODAY WE WILL REFURBISH THE COAT, CLEAN AND TIDY-IT-UP, AND PUT IT IN THE BOYS' MUSIC SHOP FOR SALE, AND LIKE OTHER RETRO PIECES, THAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN ABSURD IN THEIR DAY, IT WILL SELL. THEY CAN BE HOT COMMODITIES ON TODAY'S FASHION SCENE. IT'S LIKELY TO WIND UP ON THE BACK OF SOME GUITAR PLAYER OR LEAD SINGER, ABOUT TO PLAY THE ROGER'S CENTRE. WILL SUZANNE GET A KICK OUT OT THAT.
LET'S JUST SAY I'VE OUTGROWN IT. BUT I REMEMBER THE DAYS. I WAS DROP-DEAD BEAUTIFUL. I WISH I'D HAD IT AT WOODSTOCK.
JUST TO SHOW I'M NOT KIDDING, I'VE INCLUDED A LITTLE GRAPHIC EVIDENCE TO GO WITH THE STORY.
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