What Is The Delay At The Opera House?

FOR THE LOVE OF GRAVENHURST - SPEAK UP OR ELSE

THE FUTURE IS CALLING

     IT'S THANKSGIVING. I HOPE EVERYONE HAS GIVEN THANKS, AND ENJOYED THE OCCASION CELEBRATING THE HARVEST, OUR HOMES, OUR TOWN, AND WELL, OUR DAYS YET TO COME. HERE'S A PREAMBLE TOAST TO THE GOOD LIFE HERE IN GRAVENHURST, MUSKOKA. CHEERS EVERYBODY.

     I HAVE A BLOG JOTTED DOWN IN LONG HAND, THAT I WROTE SEVERAL DAYS AGO, WHICH IS ACTUALLY IN THE CATEGORY OF A "TOO-WORDY" FOOTNOTE,  REGARDING A BLOG SEVERAL WEEKS AGO. IT'S NOT A HOLIDAY WEEKEND COP-OUT FOR A COLUMN, WHICH SHOULD BE ABOUT PEACE AND GOODWILL ON EARTH. BUT AS MANY TIMES AS I PUT IT ON THE SHELF, FOR ANOTHER DAY…..A MORE SUITABLE OCCASION, IT KEEPS BECKONING ME WITH AN UNREASONABLE SENSE OF URGENCY…..AS IF TELLING ME, YOU SEE, THE EDITORIAL SIMPLY CAN'T WAIT. MUCH AS IF SOMETHING IS HANGING IN THE BALANCE. IT'S POIGNANT FOR ME, BECAUSE I'M OUTSPOKEN AND EDITORIALLY AGGRESSIVE ABOUT THE SUBJECT OF HOW OUR TOWN FARES FROM THE INSIDE OUT. THERE ARE A LOT OF PRESSING ISSUES FACING THIS TOWN, AND I WISH TO BE MORE CONFIDENT THAN I AM AT PRESENT, THAT THINGS ARE AS SOLID AND STEAMING-AHEAD, AS THE GOOD MAYOR HAS PRESENTED FOR PUBLIC CONSUMPTION. ON THE OTHER HAND, A FEW OF US HARD-TO-PLEASE CONSTITUENTS, ARE NOT SURE WHAT TO MAKE OF IT ALL. WE GET SUSPICIOUS WHEN WE SEE WORK STOP AT THE OPERA HOUSE, FOR NUMEROUS DAYS, WHEN OUR MUSKOKAN GOOD SENSE, TELLS US THERE IS SNOW ON THE WAY, AND AN UNFINISHED ROOF THAT SHOULD, BY THE TIME IT BEGAN IN EARNEST, BE NEARING COMPLETION. WHAT WE SEE IS A PIECE OF PLYWOOD PATCHING, AT THE PEAK OF THE ROOF, A BUCKET FULL OF DEBRIS, AND NO WORKERS ON THE SITE EVEN ON RECENT SUNNY DAYS. HOPEFULLY, WE WILL FIND THE ANSWERS TO SOME BASIC QUESTIONS, IN THE BANNER THIS WEDNESDAY.

     AS I HAVE OPINED MANY TIMES OVER THE YEARS, TO LITTLE REACTION, WE TEND TO, AS CONSTITUENTS OF THIS COMMUNITY, MAKE THE RECKLESS ASSUMPTION, THAT OUR MUNICIPAL GOVERNMENT, WILL REPRESENT OUR BEST INTERESTS, ALL OF THE TIME. WE DEPEND ON THIS BEING TRUE. YET WHAT ARE OUR BEST INTERESTS ANYWAY? EACH RESIDENT HAS A RIGHT TO THEIR OPINION. WHEN DOES IT BECOME CONSENSUS? HOW MANY FOLKS HAVE TO BAND TOGETHER TO MAKE A POINT, AND HAVE AN IMPACT, ON A GOVERNMENT DIRECTION, AND PUBLIC POLICY? IT MAY BE IMPLIED BY THE OATH OF OFFICE, THAT SWORN-IN COUNCILLORS SHALL WORK IN THE BEST INTEREST OF RESPONSIBLE GOVERNMENT, BUT WHEN IT COMES TO ABSTRACT CONCEPTS SUCH AS FLAG WAVING AND CHEERING, FOR THE HOME CLUB, IT'S NOT REALLY THEIR JOB. ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT IS USALLY PAINTED THIS WAY, AS A TOWN BOOSTING COMMITTEE REPRESENTING THE TOWN'S "OPEN FOR BUSINESS" STRATEGY, BUT IT'S NOT TO BE CONFUSED WITH CHEERING ON THE LOCAL HOCKEY CLUB, AGAINST RIVALS. IT'S BUSINESS, NOT A SHOW OF PASSION, OR LOVE FOR GRAVENHURST. IT'S A CASE OF "WE WANT YOUR INVESTMENT….HOW CAN WE HELP YOU." IT'S ALL RIGHT, BUT IT'S NOT FROTHING WITH SENTIMENT, ABOUT PRIDE AND HOMETOWN VALUES. IT IS WHAT IT IS. A MATTER OF BUSINESS. AND HONESTLY, FEW OF US EXPECT THAT COUNCIL SHOULD DEMONSTRATE THIS "WE LOVE GRAVENHURST" THING ANYWAY, BECAUSE IT ISN'T THE HALLMARK OF GOOD GOVERNANCE, THE WAY WE EXPECT THE TOWN TO RUN. BUSINESS IS THE TEN OUT OF TEN, BECAUSE WITHOUT IT, WE'D SWING BACK TO HAMLET STATUS. THERE IS HOWEVER, A GROUP OF CONSTITUENTS, THAT WOULD ARGUE IT IS THE ONE ASPECT OF MUNICIPAL GOVERNMENT THAT IS MISSING……AND SHOULD BE A PART OF THE FOUR YEAR EXPERIENCE. THE "RA RA," OF PASSIONATE APPRECIATION OF HOMETOWN VALUES. THIS ISN'T TO SAY THAT PRESENT GRAVENHURST COUNCILLORS MIGHT BE SECRET BRACEBRIDGE LOVERS, OR ADORING FANS FOR ORILLIA, BUT THAT THERE IS A DEFINITE SHORTFALL OF INTIMACY, REGARDING THE WAY WE SHOW OUR FEELINGS FOR OUR HOMETOWN THESE DAYS. IT WASN'T ALWAYS THIS WAY.

WE NEED TO BE IN THE LOOP - AND HERE'S WHY

     In the good old days, town ambassadors like Hugh Clairmont, would have been standing in the doorway of the mayor's office, demanding an answer about the state of the Opera House roof….to take a contemporary issue, for example. As the hugely passionate, wild-about Gravenhurst citizen, he was, Hugh would have been all over this issue, and knowing how staunch he was about getting answers, he wouldn't have left that doorway without getting a satisfactory (to his news sense) answer. Not just an amusing anecdote, spun to create the fog of politics. A real, worts and all answer. As a columnist, we would have found out all about it, because he took it seriously, this public's right to know aspect of a vibrant democracy. He paid attention to what was going on around here, and he had a nose for news, do doubt about it. Well sir, I miss citizens like Hugh Clairmont, because we're missing important stuff happening right in front of us, and apparently we've lost the will to ask why. There isn't anyone of vintage, who would deny that Hugh Clairmont loved his home town. All the Clairmonts are proud of their legacy in Gravenhurst, and the leadership they've provided over many decades, in so many different capacities. When we moved to Gravenhurst, in 1989, I gambled pretty safely, that any place that would be graced by a character like Hugh Clairmont, would be a good place to raise a family. I wasn't wrong. I tell him that, every time I pass his tombstone, at Lakeview Cemetery……with the typical greeting we used to exchange in life. I miss Hugh because he was huge when it came to our town's identity, and it's coming and goings, and he kept a lot of folks on their toes, who might have done something adverse, if he hadn't been there to report on current events. He was a watchdog as much as he was a citizens' advocate. If he sat on a fence at all, he was more on our side, than the politicians' point of view. When he talked, I listened. He was savvy about the most intimate details of how this town has grown and matured over the years….simply because he paid attention when others let things slide. I'm telling you, Hugh would have been penning a pretty meaty column, about the reasons we have an unfinished roof at the Opera House, with nary a word from the Mayor, on why oh why, we are tempting winter to bury it with snow.

     We are treated to many amusing anecdotes these days……seemingly clever covering statements, that depict us as a worthy ship upon stormy seas, pushing forward, and conquering what needs to be conquered. It is all very allowable under the requirements of the Municipal Act, to be evasive, non-transparent, facade-building, and noncommittal, always pushing dates of reckoning further and further into the future, such that when we finally arrive there……we forgot the question, and what was supposed to be the outcome. You see, hale and hardy folks like Hugh Clairmont, and many more from his vintage, would have set these modernists straight, regardless of the facades and protocols they may wish to hide behind. They lived at a time, when you weren't frightened of bad press. You were frightened instead, of losing the allegiance of your friends, and fellow homeowners. The word transparency never had to be used, as a promise to constituents, about the role of a new council. It was not something that had to be proclaimed. It just was. It doesn't mean that some things weren't deemed sensitive, or confidential, but just not so much. As we stare at the odd shape of the long overdue repairs to the Opera House roof, and the lack of a work force to continue the repairs, are we to suppose, the information is confidential, such that we shouldn't be looking up, and noticing untended problems. This is the way we feel frankly, that even if we were to ask, there would be a spin on it, to make it look a lesser evil, than what we, as voyeurs, see as a troubling turn of events. As I didn't read anything about this in The Weekender, where a notice from the mayor could have been published, regarding the news of the work stoppage, and the closed Opera House, instead, we are left with what our senses tell us about a partly finished roof. Would any councillor be surprised, that we have noticed this, and wish to ask some questions? Would town staff be shocked to get phone calls, asking what's going on with our main street jewel? It sure seems that our representatives, are carrying the "I can't provide that information" thing, way too far, for our own good. But it is the general apathy here that lets them get away with it……to the point, they feel successful, at slipping by yet another problem that just might have caused us some concern. No, it's not like the old days, and we are less informed because of it….and I can't find anything positive about this present situation. Fobbing it off on the rules of office, is just silly, waste of energy b.s. We own the Opera House, in case they are unsure about this, and we need to know why things are at a standstill. Plain and simple. If the press doesn't phone them…….here's an idea……phone them.

     Sure, maybe I am old fashioned, and a relic from another era. There is a lot of nonsense these days about what the public can handle, and what they shouldn't know about, and how it is all quilts together to make a pretty picture, under its warm and cozy length and breadth. But underneath, there's an interconnecting of situations and important information, that we aren't entitled….and in the end, the final harvest, we are expected to pay for; either in cash from taxes, or fallout from yet another staff person walking, or being led out that town hall door. Council has sown these seeds, that have created dissension and mistrust. They have no one to blame but themselves…..not bloggers like me, or those who vent frustration in letters to the editor. It is all proportional to the way council dodges and darts having to give reasons for the decisions they make, that are very much influencing the future of this town…..whether we know it or not.

    The Opera House is on the main street of our town….right in the heart of BIA country. Even the tourists were looking up at the patchy roof of the Opera House, and asking what the problem was, and would it be closed for long…..or for good. Speculation thrives on such things…..so don't blame me for asking for clarification. While councillors haven't opted to meet the public in a suggested mid-term Q. and A. session, which is no surprise, I can only hope they don't feel this way, about the urgent necessity to inform us, about the problems encountered, fixing the roof of our historic and landmark Opera House. This would be the proverbial straw, on the old camel's back.

    There are already council candidates mustering for the municipal election in two years' time. One might expect there will be some sharp criticism to come, for perceived shortfalls of this present council. So if councillors are feeling a little pursued and roughed-up by negativity, they should start opening up to constituents now……certainly if they plan on seeking a second term. Just a suggestion from an historian who has seen this all before…..and reported on the fall from grace, of politicians, who forgot all about, the truly fickle will of the people…..when their goodwill and support is taken for granted. The way council handles news about the Opera House, will very much be a case in point. I want to be impressed by their willingness to share what they know……with the people who share its ownership. This is the public's right to know. Plain and simple.

     Thank you for joining me today. I value your interest and respect in freedom of speech. I may be a curse to some…..but my wife likes me. Please visit again soon.

A Few Familiar Ghosts Over For Thanksgiving

A LITTLE THANKSGIVING SPIRIT CAME TO VISIT - A PLEASANT HAUNTING IN KEEPING WITH THE SEASON

STAYING HOME IN GRAVENHURST WITH THANKS

     I WAS AMBLING, WITH A LIMP, AS IS NOW MY TRADEMARK "SEMI-STRIDE," LATE LAST EVENING, WITH BOSKO (OUR CANINE COMPANION), AND I HEARD A STRANGE RUSTLING COMING UP BEHIND ME. BOSKO STOPPED, LOOKED BACK, BUT DIDN'T FIND ANYTHING WORTH SNARLING AT, SO TOOK THE OPPORTUNITY TO SCRATCH A FLEA.

     IT'S NOT UNCOMMON FOR A WEE CRITTER TO DART OUT OF THE BOG, AND IF YOU WERE TO SIT OUT, ON A FRONT VERANDAH LIKE I DO MOST NIGHTS OF THE WEEK, YOU'D WITNESS A LARGE NUMBER OF RESIDENT ANIMALS, THAT CALL THIS SMALL FOREST AND LOWLAND HOME. IN A ONE HOUR STRETCH, YOU MIGHT SEE OUR NEIGHBORHOOD FOX……A BEAUTIFUL LOOKING CREATURE. YOU COULD ALSO SPOT A COUPLE OF FAT RACCOONS THAT KEEP-ON KNOCKING OVER MY GARBAGE PAIL; A RATHER MYSTERIOUS COYOTE THAT WILL ONLY EVER TRAVEL DOWN THE CENTRE OF THE ROAD, AS LONG AS NOTHING IS COMING…..OR SUDDENLY, IF OBSTRUCTED, JUST DART INTO THE BOG. IT WON'T TROT ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD, OR THE GRASS FRINGE. IT PREFERS THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD LIKE A LOT OF MY FRIENDS THESE DAYS.

     IF YOU'RE PATIENT, AND JOIN ME FOR A CUP OF TEA AND A SCONE, YOU ARE LIKELY TO WATCH A RABBIT WHIP ACROSS OUR LAWN, A LONE WOLF…..AND YES, ON MOONLIT NIGHTS, A BEAR CUB, MANY DEER, AND A GNARLY OLD MOOSE THAT SHOWS UP TO DINE ON OUR GARDENS. HE LEAVES HUGE CRATERS FROM THE HOOVES. IN THE DAYTIME, THE SCENE IS OVER-RUN BY CHATTERING, AND LEAPING SQUIRRELS, CHIPMUNKS, PREPARING FOR WINTER, AND OH SO MANY FEATHERED FRIENDS, WHO HAVE BEEN DINING AT OUR FEEDERS FOR YEARS. IT'S A WONDERFUL BONUS OF LIVING IN MUSKOKA, AND HAVING SOME NATURE NEARBY. OF COURSE, AS RELATES TO THE BOG, IT'S PARTICULARLY SIGNIFICANT BECAUSE WE NEARLY LOST IT A FEW YEARS AGO, WHEN THE TOWN STARTING PAWING THROUGH THEIR ASSETS, TRYING TO RAISE FUNDS FOR A NEW TOWN HALL. IN ORDER FOR THEM TO HAVE FULFILLED THEIR INTENT, I WAS GOING TO HAVE TO DIE FIRST……AS IT WAS ONLY GOING TO HAPPEN OVER MY COLD DEAD BODY. THE ABOVE PARAGRAPH SHOULD ADEQUATELY IDENTIFY WHY THIS AMAZING LITTLE PRESERVE HAD TO STAY…….AND COUNCILLORS HAD TO GO!

IT'S NICE TO BE HOME - AND GRAVENHURST IS IT!

     As far as the rustling coming-up behind me, it was an unusual, twisting current of wind, like a small tornado, that intruded on the calm scene, right up to my foot, and then actually danced around me, and went on up the street. Bosko sat and watched it pass by, but didn't see any necessity to get territorial, with what could only be viewed, in dog terms, as a simple, run-of-the-mill manifestation of the atmosphere. It was a little blustery at the time. I had this same thing happen to me once before, when Suzanne, the boys and I were living at the family cottage on Lake Rosseau, at Windermere, only months before moving to Birch Hollow, here in Gravenhurst. A small swirl of wind, raising dust and leaves in its path, came right down the adjacent hillside of the cottage property, and actually brushed over my toes on the first step of the verandah. I thought it might have been Suzanne's mother Harriett, who had passed some years earlier, checking up on whether I had done all the chores Suzanne left for me. A ghost of the woman I knew. Could it be? As I am not generally scared of ghosts and the paranormal, I addressed her as "Harriett," and assured the whirlwind, that I was keeping the cottage property spic and span, and that she need not worry about her daughter or grandchildren. The tiny tornado disappeared over the rock hillside, and presumably lost some steam declining the steep embankment to the water's edge. Was Harriett reconnecting with her son-in-law at Thanksgiving, which was one of her favorite times of the year? The rotating wind didn't speak to me. It didn't have to. Have you ever had anything like this happen to you…….and then questioned silently……I wonder if that was someone I knew in life? There are a lot of enchantments at this time of the rolling year. If it's true that those who have crossed over can communicate with the living, well, there will be guests for Thanksgiving dinner. And my mother may hit me in the back of the head, for using a boarding-house reach to get the last hot roll.

     Harriett and I were both writers and hobby artists, and before she passed away, we wrote a book together, entitled "Legend of Tall Pines," and the front cover photograph, was taken exactly where the funnel of wind wound down the slope toward the water. We were kindred spirits, Harriett and I, and poets who never quite achieved the status of Robert Frost…..though we wrote a lot about stopping by the woods on snowy evenings, and about venerable birches, painted in autumn hues. So if Harriett had also decided to visit us here at Birch Hollow, it would be in keeping with her vigorous traditions of the past, to celebrate Thanksgiving to the fullest. She may have just been checking up on her son-in-law again, making sure I was keeping the homestead up, and looking after her daughter and grandsons, as she had before. Or, was it just a little gust of wind that crossed my path. Harriett by the way, and her husband Norman, both died around Thanksgiving, and son Robert was born just after the holiday. Suzanne thought her stomach woes were the result of too much turkey, but it was Robert wishing to exit.

     I truly enjoy the autumn season in Muskoka, and specifically in Gravenhurst, and I might sit out on this front verandah of ours for most of the evening…..with either the warm comforts of a Bird's Woollen Mill blanket (made in Bracebridge), or one of the buffalo robes that were once used in a cutter crossing the Muskoka snowscape, circa the 1880's. I've got a second one in case you ever come over, and develop a chill. I've sat out in the middle of a winter storm, beneath one of these robes, and felt pleasantly warm.

     When I think back to how close this adjacent forest and lowland, came to being sacrificed by town council, several years ago, it still makes me quiver at the possibility. It's such an amazing in-town sanctuary, and there isn't a season that I'm not enthralled by what if offers the voyeur, whether it is the parade of resident animals and birds, or just the picturesque qualities, of autumn leaves and later, the mantle of December snow upon the bank of evergreens. I am thankful it was spared by the town, after they began paying attention to the large number of citizens, from all over the community, who rallied with us, to stop the chainsaw massacre.

     I know well, how holidays like Thanksgiving, can be compromised by sadness, depression and marred by tragedy…..turned almost hatefully into a "special occasion best avoided." Because of the sad patina of old memories, many wish to hide away from its recognition, preferring it to be just another day of an ordinary week. There are sad recollections for us, as well, and there are moments at Thanksgiving dinner, when Suzanne's eyes will well-up, missing the presence of her father Norm Stripp, who for so many celebratory dinners sat at the head of the table….my father and mother at the back, with the mischievous lads beside. Norman would show up each Thanksgiving, as a tradition, with his 1954 blue Chrysler New Yorker. I've even known Suzanne, to startle at times, believing she has heard the rumble of the old car, hitting the limestone of our lane…..and looking out the window, despite knowing full well that Norm passed away many Thanksgivings ago.

     But despite our mindful lapses and inherent sentimentality, and the pangs of nostalgia that can bring us all to unnoticed tears, we still resolve to enjoy the togetherness of remaining family, and share the truly good and happy feelings…..of being thankful for all the prosperity we have been afforded for our labors; and how we have been so kindly, and richly influenced by the many kindred hearts, we have known through our collective lives.

     Ours will be a modest celebration, enjoyed in the humble embrace of a tiny home, on a small forested lot, above this scenic lowland of which I adore, in the spirit of bright goodwill. We will delight at the arrival of a golden brown Tom Turkey to the table, and we will say a little prayer, acknowledging our happy home, and expressing our thanks for another bountiful harvest. We will at the end, have to push ourselves back from the table, each of us vowing to never eat another morsel. Before our Thanksgiving holiday has run its course, and we have basked in the warm glow at hearthside, we will raise a toast to all the spirits in our company, with fond memories of parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and significant others, who have passed. None of us in the bosom of Birch Hollow will feel haunted by bad memories…..because we refuse them entry. Ghostly intrusions may explain why the organ will play a few notes on its own, or why a candle, amongst many others, suddenly extinguishes, as if blown out by someone directly in front. There may be a rapping on the door, which is usual at our house, with no one seeking entry. Steps on the floor, the sound of a turning door knob, noticing a flickering light, the sudden, unwarranted scent of spring flowers where there are none, and the sensation of a hand being placed on your shoulder, is what we expect of such a timeless gathering of cronies young and old, living and deceased. No witches though, but they'd be welcome none the less. A little rustling of the leaves behind us, as we take our after-dinner walk, is nothing to be surprised, or startled about. It's what we did with all our guests, so it's fitting and somewhat amazing, that they're still up for a good walk, them being on the other side and all.

     Thanksgiving is as much about today….the now, as it is about the past. It evokes poignant memories of the way it used to be, and the gathering of cheerful folks, awaiting the emergence of the festive supper, the cranberry sauce, and then the pumpkin pie. It was to die for!  And some did. We are never truly alone, you see, whether you believe in the paranormal or not. So who's coming to dinner anyway? Well, if the spirits join the festivities, don't worry. They'd don't need a lot of room, and they eat…..lightly.

     We should all be thankful we live in such a wonderful country, province and district, and be grateful for another prosperous harvest. Happy Thanksgiving from our family here at Birch Hollow, in Gravenhurst, Ontario.

     Thank you for visiting today. Please come again. I always enjoy your company. We have a lot of laughs don't we? Without you, it's just a black collection of words on white. You make them into a story. And that's good for you and I. See you soon.

Thankful This Season To Reside In Gravenhurst

THE ETHEREAL EXPERIENCE OF OUR GREAT OUTDOORS - AT HOME HERE IN GRAVENHURST, ONTARIO

AT THANKSGIVING…..WHAT A DIVINE HONOR TO RESIDE IN AN EARTH-SIDE PARADISE

     IF MY WEATHER-ETCHED TOMBSTONE WAS TO READ, SIMPLY, BLUNTLY, THAT "HE LOVED THIS TOWN; HE ADORED THIS REGION; HE DIED A HOPELESS ROMANTIC, A FAILED POET, AN ASPIRING PHILOSOPHER, THEN MAY HE REST IN PEACE…..A WRITER OF MODEST ACCLAIM WITH BIG PLANS."

     OF COURSE, IN ORDER FOR MY FAMILY TO AFFORD SUCH A MONSTROUS TOMBSTONE, TO CONTAIN THIS RATHER BULBOUS EPITAPH, I WILL NEED ONE ABOUT SIX FEET TALL, WHICH MAY BE AGAINST EXISTING CEMETERY RULES. THEY'D HAVE TO SEEK A MINOR VARIANCE, OR A BYLAW FORGIVENESS. I'VE ONLY GOT ENOUGH MONEY SAVED UP NOW, FOR A SMALL CEMENT SLAB AND A WEE DECORATIVE SHRUB. I'D LIKE TWO, BUT THERE'S ONLY ENOUGH CASH FOR ONE, AND IT HAS TO BE ON SALE. I MIGHT EVEN HAVE TO MAKE THE SLAB MYSELF. AH, I'M JUST KIDDING. 

     AS I'VE ALREADY PUBLISHED THESE WORDS ONLINE, VIA THIS MEMORIAL BLOG BEFORE THE FACT, I SUPPOSE INSISTING IT BE CHISELED ONTO MY GRAVE MARKER WOULDN'T BE NECESSARY…..MAYBE EVEN A TAD REDUNDANT, PARDON THE PUN ON DEATH AND DIEING. INSTEAD I COULD CUT DOWN THE EXPENSE, BY SIMPLY HAVING ENOUGH WORDS ON THE TOMBSTONE, TO DIRECT ENQUIRIES TO MY FAMILY….WHO LOVE TALKING ABOUT ME (NOT), OR CONTAINING JUST THE PERTINENT INFORMATION……."JUST GOOGLE ME," AND LET CYBERSPACE DO THE REST. THIS WORKS AS LONG AS CYBERSPACE REMAINS HEALTHY……AND DOESN'T DIE PREMATURELY.

     THE POINT OF ALL THIS PREAMBLE NONSENSE, OF WHICH I AM FAMOUS (IF FOR NO OTHER REASON), IS THAT I WANT PEOPLE, HERE, THERE AND EVERYWHERE, TO KNOW THAT THIS WRITER….THIS HOME BOY, LOVES HIS COMMUNITY AND THE MUSKOKA ENVIRONS, MORE THAN HASTILY OR EVEN THOUGHTFULLY PENNED WORDS, CAN ACCURATELY REFLECT. OF THIS I'M SORRY TO SAY, I FAIL MISERABLY WHEN IT COMES TO DESCRIBING THIS MAGNIFICENT REGION, WITH THE POETIC MASTER-STROKE IT DESERVES. THERE'S AN ETHEREAL SIDE TO ALL THIS THAT HAUNTS ME IN PERPETUITY……SUCH THAT WHAT I SEE AND FEEL, ESCAPES ME WHEN I SIT DOWN HERE, TO TELL YOU HOW MANY GHOSTS I SAW OUT THERE…….WANDERING THE WINDING TRAILS WITH ME. THESE HAUNTED WOODS ARE HARD TO DESCRIBE…..ESPECIALLY IF I WANT YOU TO BELIEVE THE STORY I'M SPINNING.

HAVE A GREAT THANKSGIVING IN MUSKOKA

     It's when I take a wander in these profoundly enchanted woods, along some winding, leaf-strewn path, that I am not nearly the wordsmith I fancy myself……sitting alone in my abyss of self-absorption. But it will never be said of me, that I didn't try my level best, to perform the impossible; writing about the good graces of nature. A project I have endured, and suffered with, in self doubt, since I sought refuge here in the late 1970's, fleeing the city life and its rigors, on the vulnerable mind and body. It was killing me, and not slowly. In retrospect, I don't think I would have lived this long, if I had remained in the urban jungle. I would have need that gravestone much sooner, and the words would have been painfully blunt. "The city killed the poor man."

     Driving through the District this past week, on several antique hunting adventures, I have at times, been mesmerized by the haunting beauty of the painted autumn countryside…..the hazed-over pastures, and misty woodlands, and the mirroring lakes and black ribboned streams, that at subtle bends in the course, turn silver in the direct sunlight through the remaining canopy. As I motor slowly along these nicely treed lanes, my favorite being the Muskoka Beach Road, I try to compose some meaningful overview, that I might pen eventually into a travel piece for my favorite regional publication……"Curious; The Tourist Guide." I often feel overwhelmed by the landscape, as Canadian artists, like Tom Thomson and A.Y. Jackson might have sketched, sitting in one of these heavenly alcoves, of spiraling-down leaves, and the blotching sunlight, dancing in the wind of the perfect autumn solitude. Is it fair to claim this then, as a heaven on earth. There is nothing more confounding to an artist, that to be immersed in this art as nature, and feel it an utterly impossible mission, to represent what is witnessed…..sensed, believing that to fail, would be, on a parallel, to fail God, as the ultimate creator.

     Being in the middle of these painted woodlands, of such epic light and shadow, the halos of sunbeams, bending across the pasture, does inspire thoughts beyond the mortality that beats in one's chest, and always evokes a stirring sensation of poignant spirituality……if only your own. Looking up at the azure sky through the wreathing of hardwoods and pine, into the great beyond, under which we bask in our mortal sojourn. To describe this place, this provocative feeling of freedom, as if just now released from all of society's fettering, the shackles being cracked open, and tossed aside in a great iron heap. The limits to our vision have been removed, so that we can see eternity for what it is…..no longer elusive and forbidding. Boundaries are no longer for keeping us in, but guiding us away from preconceived notions. Staunch opinion, that sculpted our prison, crumble away, and turn to dust upon the fallen leaves of this new autumn season. If only I had the eloquence of pen, to poeticize this remarkable feeling of re-birth within nature, such that all other statutes and bylaws are suddenly revoked, and equally turned to dust, of needless pages, in needless books. Time is open, and there are no appointments.

     I could stand here, in the Muskoka forest, long enough to root, before I could ever feel truly comfortable as its spokesperson. I could never be as precise and insightful about all the glorious details of such a precious, thriving place as this; where a myriad of life forms dwell in the shadows of moss covered stumps, and decaying old logs turning to soil, fringed by tired, brown ferns, touched by the latest frost to penetrate these woodlands. I can't help but feel small and insignificant amidst the bounty of nature. The writer-kind is a voyeur, trying to find the words to explain what, in reality, requires no explanation. Just the passion for discovery, without even the slightest need for more creative enterprise, than to engage the imagination…..set free to wander paradise at will.

     As many times as I might try to interpret, as folly, the natural environs, where our hometown is settled, I can only ever offer a tiny, biased overview, that if it is in this inspirational bosom of countryside, that I will die one day, then I will pass this mortal coil, with pleasant memories of what has been……my contented life, in this grand old world.  If my epitaph in review, had to be reduced again, on account of budget, it will suffice to read, "God, he loved Muskoka….nuff said!"

     Have a walk through paradise this Thanksgiving weekend. Visit some of your favorite places. Old haunts you remember from childhood. Former homesteads, fondly recalled neighborhoods, main streets you used to amble, and the sand lots where you used to play. Most of all, please celebrate the good graces of the Muskoka hinterland……and the character of our little town in its midst.

     We will be enjoying our Thanksgiving Tom Turkey here at Birch Hollow, in the Town of Gravenhurst……a place we are so thankful to reside.

     Thank you for joining today's blog. Feel free to visit any time. Just pull up a chair to the hearth, and we'll chat. Happy Thanksgiving.

The 24 Hour Adventure as a Newspaper Columnist

MY STINT AS A GRAVENHURST COLUMNIST A TWENTY FOUR HOUR RELATIONSHIP - "IT'S NOT YOU IT'S ME!'

THE CURMUDGEON WRITER IS HARD TO GET ALONG WITH - BET YOU'RE NOT SURPRISED. THE GHOST OF MY MOTHER WAS JUST SHAKING HER FINGER AT ME!

     I REMEMBER DRIVING UP WELLINGTON STREET, IN BRACEBRIDGE, ONE EVENING ABOUT THIS TIME OF YEAR, AND SEEING THIS TINY WOMAN GESTURING WITH HER FIST, IN THE FACE OF A TEENAGER ON A BIKE. SUZANNE WARNED ME THAT THERE WAS A FIGHT GOING ON, AT THE TURN INTO MY PARENTS' APARTMENT. THE LADY WAS PRETTY ANIMATED, AND SHE HAD ONE HAND ON HIS FRONT FENDER, AND THE OTHER COUNTING OUT, FINGER BY FINGER, THE REASONS THE KID HAD ERRED IN JUDGEMENT. "WHO DO YOU THINK IT IS," SHE ASKED. "I'VE NEVER SEEN THE KID IN MY LIFE," I ANSWERED. "NOT THE KID ON THE BIKE……THE LADY WAVING HER FIST AT HIS CHEST," SHE SHOT BACK, SENSING THAT WE WERE GOING TO GET INVOLVED IN THE DISPUTE, BECAUSE THEY WERE STANDING RIGHT WHERE I HAD TO TURN INTO THE DRIVEWAY. SUZANNE WAS STARING INTENTLY, AND EVEN PUT HER GLASSES ON TO GET A BETTER LOOK, AND WHAT WE WERE GETTING INTO. AS I SLOWED THE CAR DOWN, I TURNED SLIGHTLY TO MY RIGHT, TO ADDRESS MY GIRLFRIEND GENTLY AND WITH A SORT OF PRE-EXPLANATION APOLOGY. "AH, THAT'S MY MOTHER WITH HER FIST CLENCHED." THE STORY GOES THAT, EVERY NIGHT, THIS TEENAGER WOULD RIDE HIS BIKE OVER THE LAWN OF THE TRIPLEX, AND IT WAS KILLING A SMALL CEDAR THEY HAD PLANTED, AND MAKING A CLEAR TRAIL ACROSS THE YARD.  "WE'VE TOLD HER TO STOP DOING THAT, BUT IT DOESN'T DO ANY GOOD."

     BY TIME WE GOT TO THE TURN, MERLE (A PINT-SIZED VERSION OF TONY SOPRANO), HAD LET THE WEE LAD LOOSE, AND BY THE LOOK ON HIS FACE, IT WAS LIKELY HE'D THINK CAREFULLY BEFORE CUTTING ACROSS THE YARD AGAIN. MERLE WAS NOT ADVERSE TO HIDING BEHIND THE SHRUBBERY, TO MAKE A SURPRISE LUNGE. IF YOU BACK-TALKED HER, SHE HAD A MAFIA-LIKE SENSE OF HONOR, AND TO BETRAY A DIRECTIVE, WAS TO ENGAGE IN A LONG, VICIOUS BATTLE. "IS SHE CRAZY," SUZANNE ASKED. "NO, SHE'S JUST MERLE." I SOMETIMES FELT I SHOULD APOLOGIZE FOR MERLE'S OUTBURSTS, WHICH CARRIED ON, BY THE WAY, RIGHT TO THE PINES. THE NURSES CALLED HER "MERLEY," AND THEY KNEW THE DANGERS OF CROSSING HER. SOME POOR OLD GUY GOT INTO HER ROOM FOR AN UNSUPERVISED VISIT, AND EVEN THOUGH CONFINED TO A BED, SHE STARTED THROWING THINGS AT HIM. IT WASN'T THAT MERLE WAS A VIOLENT PERSON, BUT SHE WAS DETERMINED TO HAVE HER CAKE AND EAT IT TOO. SHE WASN'T THE WARMEST MOTHER, AND NEVER ONCE SAID, "I LOVE YOU SON," BUT BY GOLLY, WHEN IT CAME TO "YOU LITTLE BUGGER," OR "GET BACK HERE YOU CHRISTER," WE MORE THAN MADE UP FOR THE CUDDLY STUFF, WITH VAST AMOUNTS OF DAILY COMMUNICATION. SHE CAME FROM A FARM FAMILY, AND HER FATHER WAS A RUGGED, HUGE HULK OF A MAN, WELL KNOWN IN THE CITY OF TORONTO FOR HIS HOUSE BUILDING PROWESS. HE EVEN HAS A STREET NAMED AFTER HIM, NEAR JANE STREET AND BLOOR, KNOWN AS JACKSON AVENUE. MANY OF THE OLDER HOUSES WERE BUILT BY STANLEY, WHO WAS ALSO AN ACCOMPLISHED VIOLINIST.

     MY GRANDMOTHER BLANCHE, RAISED A LARGE FAMILY THROUGH THE DEPRESSION, INCLUDING FEEDING THE HOMELESS WHO CAME BY THE HOUSE, AND SHE WAS KNOWN AS A FIRECRACKER, WHO WAS, AT THE END, ABOUT THREE AND A HALF FEET TALL…..BUT WIREY. IN HER DAY, IF ANY OF THE FAMILY OR GUESTS GOT A LITTLE TOO JOVIAL, OR RUDE, SHE'D SMOKE 'EM WITH A LONG WOODEN SPOON SHE USED IN HER SOUP POT. MERLE AT THE END OF HER LIFE, WAS THE MIRROR IMAGE OF HER MOTHER. FEISTY? I DIDN'T EVER CHALLENGE MY GRANDMOTHER, ALTHOUGH I TOOK SOME POT SHOTS AT MERLE, BUT SHE COULD RUN AND LEAP LIKE AN OLYMPIAN. WHENEVER I HEAR ABOUT "SCRUFF OF THE NECK," IT REMINDS ME OF MY ENTIRE CHILDHOOD. MY MOTHER WAS THE ENFORCER AND ED WAS THE PROVIDER. HE SELDOM IF EVER RAISED HIS VOICE AT ME. MERLE, WELL, IT WAS KIND OF A CONSTANT IN OUR NEIGHBORHOOD. OF COURSE, ALL OUR GANG'S MOTHER-KIND HAD EQUAL BELLOWS, THAT COULD BE HEARD ABOVE THE DAILY TRAIN HORNS, AND EVEN THE TOWN FIRE SIREN. MERLE WASN'T MEAN. SHE WAS A BIG BELIEVER IN PROTOCOL AND INTEGRITY, AND SHE REMINDED ME ABOUT TWELVE TIMES A DAY….."DON'T YOU BRING SHAME TO THE FAMILY NAME." MEANWHILE, MY DAD COULD BE IN A BAR ROOM BRAWL, AND COME HOME WITH BLOODIED KNUCKLES, BUT HEAVEN FORBID, I SHOULD TAKE A SHORT CUT THROUGH A NEIGHBOR'S TOMATO PATCH.

THE FRUIT DIDN'T FALL FAR FROM THE TREE

     You can't imagine, how many times I feel justified, in tight circumstances, saying, "I was brought up that way!" If I'm feeling the need for a few extra words of explanation, I might add, "I'm sorry, if I offended you…..it was the way I was brought up." Not to belch or break wind either…..because Merle was a polite freak, and if she knew what cuss words I was dropping in my hockey games at the local arena, she'd have soaped my tongue right out of my mouth. To the positive side, and the one attribute I have always admired, God bless her freakish anger, was that she had an immense pride in her family…..worts and all. She never told me, she was proud of my accomplishments, and I did have to ask her never to come to the arena again, because of the heckling of players. On our team!  When my coach asked me one game, who the lady in the stands was, who had been calling me sieve, because of the weak goals I let in, I said, "Oh that's just my mother." "Then please ask her to stay home for the next game," he advised…."or you're going to be benched." So here I was going to be benched for having a mouthy parent, but I was good to go even though I let in eleven of the fourteen shots on net. Merle was a character. And so am I. I often apologize to my wife for being such a odd duck, and letting my eccentricities get the better of me. It happens a lot. Not in haste. I'm very committed to protocols, and it comes partly from Merle, but mostly as a result of Merle. I overpower a lot of people with my enthusiasm, and responding re-coil, and a goodly part has to do with the intensity by which I pursue projects, whether researching, writing, or antique hunting.

     I had a friend come over to the shop the other day, for a social visit, and I unloaded my political philosophies like a truck dumping a massive, deafening load of construction debris. The poor soul never had a chance. I get carried-away, as my mother used to quip, on the brink of me doing something really bad, like swinging from tree top to tree top in the Bamford's evergreens, up on Bracebridge's Alice Street. Yet when I take an oath of friendship, I'm committed to our relationship forever. If however, the protocols are maintained to my satisfaction. Yea, I'm king of a jerk this way. Still, I'd take a bullet for my friend, if the need arose. It's the same for all my mates, even past acquaintances, who occasionally show up for no particular reason…..but are always welcomed back into the fold. If you were to ask Suzanne about my iron-clad rules of conduct, she'd probably start with the same opening, as this blog, referencing the first time she met my mother. "He's a fierce protector of the family name," she'll claim. "If you want to stay on his good side, just be a friend, and he'll remain loyal forever." "Kind of a stupid bastard isn't he," some ask. Those who do know me well, will of course recognize this rigid adherence thing, and that even one perceived event of disloyalty, will bring the cards crashing down. What an odd duck Mr. Currie is………but is he a nice guy, through all that bluster and protocol stuff? "Maybe," answers my wife, who has a theory, that the writing profession has played a huge role in my standoffish ways, and rigorous intensity.

    When I began writing professionally, I knew my life was changing. I realized that my editorial privilege, could be revoked suddenly, profoundly, and tragically. As I loved my writing career as much as you can love anything, I had to be a copy master. There were times, when the paper's advertising count was way down, and our staff of three writers and a part time photographer had to double and even triple our output, often in the final twenty four hours before deadline. I learned that intense concentration was my best friend, in these circumstances, and I cost myself a lot of relationships with girlfriends because of the all-work-no-play thing, the lack of the jovial, jolly gene, and way too much booze. You know, I was a pretty good drunk, because just before I fell into my jug of draft, I'd remember Merle's concern about dishonoring the family name. I made sure I wasn't sitting at the stripper's table, when I was about to pass out. I only did this a couple of times. The media was my greatest joy, and my most damning source of stress. Merle liked the fact I was editor of the weekly newspaper (one of two), and I heard her brag once, that "he gets free concert and theatre tickets."  She was so excited one day, when I told her I'd just interviewed Bob Baun, of the old, great Toronto Maple Leafs. Merle was a huge Leafs fan, and Ed was a die hard Montrealer. Made for some interesting family moments. But she sure loved Bob Baun, who scored a Stanley Cup winning game on a broken leg. If she'd been at that press conference with me, I know Merle would have given the man a huge hug and kiss, on account of that winning goal. Even if it was years earlier. It didn't matter to Merle. One day I came into our antique shop, and she had a hold of Frank Mahovolich, and refused to let the poor guy go, until he'd given me a personal autograph. She got three for herself. Frank just came in to see the antiques, and got ambushed. I enjoyed meeting him, that's for sure. Merle knew all his statistics.

     So what's all this stuff about Merle have to do with the shortest newspaper stint in my thirty-five year career. Well, it has to do with my rather rigid grasp of protocol, especially in the editorial department, that creates problems for me. I'm like the supernatural creatures from the new television show, "Grimm," when I feel my work has been compromised. I don't blame editors for doing their job. I blame myself, for being unable to bend the way some in the news profession, might prefer. I qualify their opinion of my delinquency and curmudgeon-like attitude, by backing away quietly and gently from disagreements over the editorial integrity of my submitted copy. It's not as if I'm a stranger to compromise, but at my time in life, it's just not one of those meat and potato issues, I had as a young struggling writer, who had to put up with all kinds of upper management directives I didn't approve……but couldn't object to for reasons of family security. After all these years, I guess I'm the silhouette of that person, holding onto a kid's bike, demanding satisfaction. Merle shouldn't have done it, and I suppose I should be a softer, gentler writer-kind, who won't fuss-up because of an editor's justifiable prerogative.

     The bottom line, is that I have decided, to kill my own column in The Banner, that was to have run monthly over the next year. I'm persnickety to a fault, but it is a fault I have lived with for many years, and as the character spice, of thousands upon thousands of published pages. Some would say I have thin skin, and I would say, "it's thinner than most." A few would chortle, "He wears 'irritable' on his sleeve," and I would say, bravo, you know me well." Maybe a publisher out there, who has benefitted from my prolific attributes, at this keyboard, will retort with a playful snort, "The guy writes like a typhoon blows……and some of the stuff is pretty good."

     I am an acquired taste. Even those close to me realize this. I adore writing, and the papers I write for currently, and this amazing little blog, that tonight will topple over 25,000 hits, since I began writing daily eleven months ago. I'm shooting for 30,000. Cyberspace is a good place for me. I am the editor of my domain. If you think I write long, and meaty copy, bless you for noticing. If I write a few paragraphs, out of all this verbiage, that actually inform and titillate at the same time, then bully for me…..and bully for you. I have achieved my objective of writing for both recreation and continuing education.

     I have not had a huge falling-out with the editor of the Banner…..should that be the gossip on the street. We shall remain colleagues and friends. I have discovered the truth…….that I really have reached a stage in my profession, that I can claim honestly, 'I wouldn't belong to any organization that would have a guy like me as a member." While I might not be glaring out at you in newsprint, I will still be here in the outer limits of information sharing…….and I'm happy about this resignation of a lifetime's wonder and speculation……I am indeed, my mother's child.

     Thanks so much for joining me today. Please come back and visit any time. There's always another seat around the hearth.

The Strange Dance With Your Own Jaw

TMJ IS AN EASY DIAGNOSIS - LIVING WITH IT, NOT SO EASY

LEARNING TO ACCOMMODATE THE DISORDER IS A HARD PILL TO SWALLOW - BUT YOU CAN GET ALONG WITHOUT ANY PILL AT ALL

     I HAVE MET TMJ, (JAW DISORDER) SUFFERERS, WHO COULD NOT BELIEVE THAT A MISSHAPEN CONDIAL IN THEIR JAW HINGE, COULD CAUSE THE VARIED SYMPTOMS THEY WERE EXPERIENCING. THEY UNDERSTOOD THE HEADACHES, DIFFICULTY OPENING THEIR MOUTHS, ON BAD DAYS, AND THE WAX BUILD-UP IN THEIR EARS, AS THE JAW HOT-SPOT IS CLOSE TO THE EAR CANAL. AS FAR AS THE OTHER SYMPTOMS, SUCH AS DEPRESSION, PANIC ATTACKS, TUNNEL VISION (OR BINOCULAR PERSPECTIVE), AND LIGHT HEADEDNESS, THEY WERE DOUBTFUL THAT A JAW DISORDER COULD STRAY THIS FAR FROM HOME…..AT THE HINGE OF THE TINY CONDIAL. THESE CONDITIONS SEEM PRECARIOUSLY CLOSE TO THE SIGNS OF MUCH MORE SIGNIFICANT MEDICAL PROBLEMS, LIKE A STROKE, HEART ATTACK, AND HIGH BLOOD PRESSURE. SO PUTTING THEM TOGETHER WITH TMJ SEEMS A TAD DANGEROUS. WELL FOLKS, I'M LIVING PROOF THAT AFTER ALL THESE YEARS AND ALL THESE SYMPTOMS, RAGING IN MY BODY, I HAVEN'T SUCCUMBED JUST YET. I THOUGHT THE SAME, IN THE EARLY GOING, AND DID WHAT I BELIEVE WAS THE RESPONSIBLE THING…….HAD THEM ALL CHECKED OUT, TO ELIMINATE POSSIBILITIES. THE SAME AS I WOULD RECOMMEND TO ANYONE WHO BELIEVES THEY ARE SUFFERING FROM TMJ LIKE SYMPTOMS. IT HELPS TO RUN A CHECK ON YOUR JAW, AS I EXPLAINED IN A PREVIOUS COLUMN, SO YOU CAN MOVE ON, IF YOUR JAW DOES CLANK AND CLICK. I'M NOT SAYING YOU DON'T HAVE TMJ JUST BECAUSE THERE'S NO FLAT SIDE ON YOUR OVERWORKED CONDIAL, BUT IT IS PRETTY MUCH A STANDARD, BY WHICH IT IS DETERMINED. YOU CAN ALSO CHECK, IN FRONT OF A MIRROR, TO SEE HOW YOUR MOUTH OPENS AND SHUTS. IF IT IS OVER TO ONE SIDE, MORE THAN THE OTHER, IT IS DEFINITELY SOMETHING THAT IDENTIFIES A WEE PROBLEM WITH THE HINGE……AND COULD BE IRRITATING THE NERVES IN THAT AREA OF THE HEAD.

     

TMJ SURVIVOR REACHING OUT

     As I am a lot of things to a lot of people, some good and some bad, my pride and sense of success today, is in part related to my own survival against the beast……the TMJ I was partnered with in my early twenties, that has been my constant companion ever since……I guess you could say we're inseparable. But by the same token, we've learned to get along. I try to cease and desist hurting my jaw with tough meat, and jaw breakers, minimize stress, know how to divert my attention from antagonistic situations to serenity now, and avoid having some person smash me in the face. When I can't stop getting pissed off, and I run into a piece of athletic beef, and I fall into an argument with an adversary, I have a subsequent "standing" agreement with TMJ. I'll take the pain for the crime. All I ask in return, is patience from my affliction, trusting that when I calm down, the symptoms will gradually be reduced. There have been times, you know, when I was almost glad to have TMJ, because it has always made me over-think situations, and circumstances, and frequently it seems to provide fuel to the whole "devil's advocate" thing. I have actually paid attention to what my jaw warns me, is a potentially dangerous situation, and on several occasions, has even stopped me from making an offer on three houses, that if we had purchased them, would (as we know today) have cost us a fortune in repairs. At the time, they looked great. I don't know why this happened, but for all intents and purposes, the clenching set-off alarm bells, even for Suzanne, who was inspired to do a little extra research. We made the right decision by not making offers. Maybe TMJ increases sensory perception. I do know, by experience, that a bad jaw and stiff neck as a result, will give me the craziest dreams in technicolor. When my jaw is fine, the dream is in black and white. The splinting that occurs in this part of the jaw, due to the irritation, I'm presuming, must cause some strangulation of the nerves and blood vessels in the region. I'm not a doctor, so don't take this suggestion as the truth. I've had it so bad, at times, that I've been dreaming while awake. Not good for driving, and I'd hate to hit any of those pink elephants I've witnessed.

     The nasty part of TMJ is if you have this in concert with some other serious malady. The TMJ is always the less serious medically, but a real problem emotionally. Most of the doctors I spoke with, years ago, about TMJ, paid little or no attention to the emotional feelings, that I felt were proportional to the jaw disorder. The more research I did, the more I learned about this confluence of physical and emotional side-effects. There were many other folks, with similar conditions, experiencing almost the same collateral symptoms, from what should only have been, in painful physical terms, the result of misshapen condials. I used up a lot of medical time in those early years, trying to prove my sanity was fine…..but the TMJ experience was crappy. It took years to put it all together, thanks to my researching-obsessed wife, Suzanne, who helped me through a crisis. I had to do the same for her, when she was diagnosed with the same disorder, a few years later. She got it from tending the injured "me."

     I have never taken any medication to reduce the discomfort, and aches and pains associated with TMJ. I'm proud of that. Some would say I'm awfully dumb, not to mitigate these symptoms. I know that if I began taking them regularly, I would become a junkie in short order. I had to stop drinking for the same reason. I wanted to know what my excesses in daily life, were doing to my physical and emotional well being. If I had to have my leg amputated, I would show a lot less hubris, and beg for as much pain relief as possible…..and ten percent more. TMJ demands an honest relationship. I wouldn't know what damage I was causing, if I was taking pain medication. Like the old hockey and football players, who had their leg injuries frozen, so they could finish the games……but were causing additional damage. I want to know what's going on at all times, and I regularly use meditation and sensible proportion to bring me back to an acceptable level of discomfort. Dr. Michael Lynch, of Bracebridge, one of the finest doctors I have ever known, told me to manage my condition, by understanding what aggravates it in the first place, and recognizing that us mortals must contend with pain and discomfort through our lives. Some sooner than later. His advice. Get on with life, and stop dwelling on the problem. And it's true, without doubt, that when I obsess about TMJ, at least once a week, it will aggravate to a level nine out of ten. Just by dwelling on the discomfort. Dr. Lynch put me straight, at a time when I was keen on feeling sorry for myself. I couldn't have got better advice from any one else…….and it has served me in good stead.

     If you have missed the first two blogs on this subject, please archive back to Monday. I know there are folks suffering with these symptoms, unaware they have a serious jaw disorder. In my case, more and more of our friends and work colleagues, were telling my wife in the early going……"Yup it's all in his head." They were right. I just needed to know where in my head. I wasn't suffering a mental breakdown, but admittedly, the symptoms of TMJ were beating me into submission. I couldn't stop worrying about what was wrong, and each second of worry, was complicating TMJ. It was most definitely a vicious circle, where the symptoms were circulating back to where they were being generated…..and there didn't seem to be any way of changing the flow. As soon as I began studying all the details from the journals of fellow sufferers, and took some good medical advice, my world got a lot brighter…..and I learned that there is no better way to live life……than cheerfully, despite conditions that might work the mind, in the opposite direction.

     If you suspect you have a problem yourself, no matter what your age, (as it happens in young people as well), get it checked out, by either a family doctor, a dentist, or a chiropractor. Your choice. But do get it checked. The knowledge of the disorder is considerable, so when you find out you have been dancing with TMJ, then you can learn how to keep from stepping on its feet……if you know what I mean.

     Thanks so much for joining today's blog. Please visit again soon.

NOTE:

     I HAVE INCLUDED A SHORT ARTICLE I WROTE FOR THIS WEEK'S GRAVENHURST BANNER, REGARDING WILLIAM HENRY SMITH, AND THE NAMING OF OUR TOWN IN THE YEAR 1862. THERE WAS A SECTION OF MR. SMITH'S WRITING OMITTED FROM THE COLUMN, THAT I WOULD LIKE TO CORRECT, IN THIS BLOG, AS IT IS IMPORTANT TO THE OVERALL INTEGRITY OF THE STORY.

THE STRANGE MATTER OF A NAME AND A POET

A WRITER WE SHOULD GET TO KNOW

     One hundred and fifty years ago we became linked, as a community, with a British author. The reason? We can only speculate. Was it good for our community?

     This is the question lingering a century and a half later! The historian dealing with actuality, fact and truth, can only answer, "No!" It is accepted as historical reality, but nothing that would warrant particular recognition, let alone celebration for the honor it was supposed to represent.

     "As I pass the meadow, I lean upon the gate that opens into it. I see a little child, almost an infant, toddling alone in the high grass. The tall buttercups have outgrown the child; they and the ox-eyed daisies shut out from its view that neighboring cottage which is home; the child has lost its way amidst the flowers it had come to gather, knows not where to turn in this jungle of soft grass."

     The preceding paragraph was written by British author, William Henry Smith, who wrote about the commonplaces of life, in the book "Gravenhurst; or Thoughts on Good and Evil," published in 1862, shortly before Canadian postal authority, William Dawson LeSueur borrowed the title, as a suitable name for the hamlet post office, previously known as McCabe's Landing. LeSueur, also an historian and revered literary critic, rejected the citizens' choice, and instead honored the author, and the subject of the book, by affording this undeclared tribute to our fledgling community.

     I'm willing to bet, you didn't think about William Henry Smith this morning, finishing your corn flakes. I'm pretty sure his name didn't come up at coffee time, or amongst swimmers gathering around the new town pool. In the fall of 1862, after the post office was official opened, with a McCabe as the first postmaster, no one stopped for too long, to contemplate what the name meant. There were a lot more pressing issues, than to try and figure out the complex nature of William Dawson LeSueur. So life went on, and the matter of a name "mattered not!"

     "I hear a plaintive cry of distress. Another child, some two years older, I guess, runs to its aid, caresses, calms it; leads it back to the cottage home of both. How prettily it protects. How proudly! Seeing that this older one can look above the grass."

     Referencing the literary work of William Henry Smith is just not important to contemporary Gravenhurst. We can get along pretty well without referring to his book in most circumstances of each day. It's not as if this long deceased author can improve the local economy, or make municipal politics more palatable to the taxpayer. It might be a fact of history, that we were named after his philosophical tome, about the "commonplaces" of life, but the connection has been deemed, for long and long, unnecessary and irrelevant to our modern existence.

     "You perceive that the little fond and sympathetic, and imitative creature has learnt that tender care from their common mother; you note with a smile the already complex, sentimental (sense of power mingled with love) revealed in that protection; you observe how soon the thread of life, and even where it is silken soft, is spun of pain and pleasure; you know more over, that beneath the thatch of that cottage, to which these children hand in hand are walking, there beats some true and tender mother heart."

     Five minutes after reading this column, the name William Henry Smith will fade like the summer season, and the 150th anniversary that was never celebrated. I don't expect there will ever be a street, road, country lane or drinking fountain named in his honor. How ridiculous it would be, to think that a local restaurant would launch the William Henry Smith, corn beef on rye sandwich, for the benefit of tourists to our town, wishing to know more about our heritage. I doubt very much whether the town would fund a brass plaque, with an inscription, to screw onto the back of an existing park bench, that would acknowledge he ever lived, or that his book gave us our name, which we have used very well ever since.

     Maybe some future council, and an up-and-coming historian, will one day agree on a proper, official way to recognize the literary provenance we have been so generously afforded; but to this point opted to brush upon, only lightly at best.

     If you are interested in reading the book we are named after, you can do so by clicking on "Google Books," and typing in the name and author; "Gravenhurst; or Thoughts on Good and Evil," by William Henry Smith.

TMJ and Me, So The Story Goes

IT SEEMS LIKE A MALADY THAT COULDN'T POSSIBLY ACCOUNT FOR MULTIPLE SYMPTOMS ELSEWHERE

THE TEMPORAL MANDIBULAR JOINT DISORDER ODYSSEY - EVEN A PAIN IN THE ASS

     ONE SPRING EVENING, I WENT OVER TO MY PARENTS APARTMENT, IN BRACEBRIDGE, JUST FOR A SOCIAL VISIT. I DIDN'T HAVE CABLE AND I LIKED THE NEWHART SHOW, SO I MADE MY SOCIAL OCCASIONS COINCIDE WITH THE SHOW. NICE GUY EH? I REMEMBER SITTING ON THE COUCH, ABOUT HALFWAY THROUGH THE SITCOM, AND ALL OF A SUDDEN, GETTING THIS WEIRD FEELING, LIKE I WAS IN A TUNNEL LOOKING OUT. IT'S VERY DIFFICULT TO EXPLAIN, BUT MAYBE "USING BINOCULARS," IS A BETTER DESCRIPTION. WHAT I DIDN'T REALIZE, AT THAT MOMENT, WAS THAT MY TMJ (JAW DISORDER) WAS PARTICULARLY IRRITATED DURING THAT WORK WEEK AT THE NEWSPAPER OFFICE, AND ON MY MOTHER'S COUCH, I WAS PUTTING MY HEAD BACK AGAINST THE CUSHION…..A DEFINITE "NO-NO" FOR THOSE WHO HAVE A JAW PROBLEM. WHAT THE JAW DOES, SEEMS TO INSPIRE THE NECK INTO A MUSCLE SPASM, WHICH IS THE LITTLE GIFT THAT KEEPS ON GIVING.

     WITH WHAT WAS HAPPENING TO MY VISION, WHICH WAS MORE A FEELING, OR PERCEPTION OF A PROBLEM THAN AN ACTUALITY (I WASN'T VISION IMPAIRED - IT JUST SEEMED THAT WAY FOR A MOMENT). BY PUSHING AGAINST THE TENSION IN MY NECK, I WAS CREATING A SENSATION OF LIGHT HEADEDNESS, WHICH I CAN RE-CREATE ANY TIME TODAY, SEEING AS MY NECK IS ROUTINELY STIFF. THAT PARTICULAR NIGHT, I SUFFERED MY FIRST FULL FLEDGED PANIC ATTACK, AS A RESULT OF BUDDING TMJ. I WAS SCARED TO DEATH. I'D HAD SOME PANIC MOMENTS, WHICH IN THE NEWS BUSINESS WAS NORMAL FARE, ESPECIALLY AT DEADLINE, BUT THIS ONE WAS OUT OF THE BLUE. I HAD KNOW IDEA WHAT CAUSED IT, AND IT WOULD BE YEARS, A MARRIAGE AND OUR FIRST CHILD, BEFORE I FIGURED IT OUT. I CAN REMEMBER THIS OCCASION AS IF IT HAPPENED THIS MORNING. HAVE YOU HAD SIMILAR PANIC ATTACKS? WHEN MERLE ASKED ME WHAT WAS WRONG, I TOLD HER I HAD A TOOTHACHE INSTEAD. I REALLY DIDN'T KNOW WHAT WAS HAPPENING TO ME…..BUT IT WASN'T PLEASANT.

     THE PROBLEM FOR ME, WAS THAT I WAS ALSO DRINKING HEAVY AS A WRITER / EDITOR, AND TO GET PAST THE DIFFICULT MOMENTS OF THIS UNKNOWN AFFLICTION, I DRANK MORE…..AND AT TIMES THE PROBLEM SEEM TO DECREASE. IT WAS DEFINITELY A MIND OVER MATTER SITUATION, AND IN ESSENCE STILL IS, AFTER ALL THESE YEARS. I CAN MAKE IT WORSE BY GETTING MAD AT A NEIGHBOR, WHO INSISTS ON CUTTING MY LAWN AND FERN COVER. I HATE WHEN THAT HAPPENS. THE DRINK DULLED IT FOR QUITE A WHILE, EXCEPT WHEN I SOBERED UP. THE FIRST STEP THROUGH THE NEWSPAPER OFFICE DOOR, I COULD FEEL THE TIGHTENING OF THE MUSCLES IN MY NECK. I WOULD START CLENCHING MY JAW, AND GRINDING MY TEETH BEFORE THE FIRST MEETING OF THE DAY. ONE OF THE SIDE EFFECTS, THAT REALLY BOTHERED ME, WAS MY PENCHANT FOR CONFRONTATION. IMAGINE HAVING A BAD HEADACHE, LIKE A MIGRAINE, WITH ALL THOSE RELATED SYMPTOMS, BUT…….MINUS THE PAIN. I WAS LEFT WITH THE IRRITABILITY. HEADACHES WERE A SMALL PART OF THE TMJ EXPERIENCE FOR ME. BUT WHAT YOU WOULD EXPERIENCE AS A MOOD, BECAUSE OF A HEADACHE, I GOT IN SPADES. SO THE FIRST JERK AROUND THE CORNER OF MY OFFICE, MAKING SOME RIDICULOUS DEMAND ON MY TIME, IN A JAM-PACKED DAY'S AGENDA, GOT ME FLYING OFF THE PROVERBIAL HANDLE. ANGER WAS THE MAJOR DEBILITATING ISSUE IN THOSE EARLY TMJ DAYS, LEARNING HOW TO COPE WITH WHATEVER CHANGES WERE OCCURRING IN THAT DAMAGED PART OF MY BODY. MY EMPLOYERS WERE STARTING TO WONDER IF THEIR EDITOR WAS LOSING IT. SO WAS I. SO WERE THE YOUNG LADIES I USED TO KEEP COMPANY WITH BACK THEN, BECAUSE I COULD TURN NASTY FAST, AND DRIVE THEM HOME ABOUT FIVE MINUTES AFTER OUR DATE BEGAN. BUT I DID START SUSPECTING IT WAS THE BOOZE MORE THAN ANYTHING, CONTRIBUTING TO THE LONG TERM NASTIES…..AS IF I WAS IN SOME SORT OF PERPETUAL HANGOVER.

YOU'VE GOT TO BE PREPARED TO SUFFER TO GET BETTER

     TMJ is a master of disguise, for many other things going on in the body. I'm not a medically trained writer, just a sufferer, who has had TMJ as an unpleasant mistress for many decades, and it very nearly ruined my career, my marriage, and my life. The fact that it can make the whole human experience a daily misery, if you have the affliction…….you need to research it as far as you can, to see if anything you might be suffering from, ties into other known TMJ spinoff situations. I've had this explained to me many times, how the muscle spasms, and natural splinting work, on the jaw, as it would if you broke your arm……the swelling in the locale stopping the damaged area from movement. I've had chiropractors show me how, by pressing certain areas of my jaw, through my mouth; actually affecting the strength of my legs. By golly, I couldn't believe how TMJ in full bloom, could fan out into so many distant areas of the body…..to make spin-off back issues turn into a walking dysfunction. It's one of those conditions that doesn't confine itself to the creation of a jaw-ache, a headache or irritated ear drums. You may have these symptoms arise in one hour, working in dastardly harmony, to make it a whole life-experience. The confluence of TMJ spin-off is the real a-hole of the damaged jaw condial. You get hit with multiple symptoms, and if you don't know about TMJ, and it never comes up in a medical examination, you are going to be in for a lot of disappointments, trying to get a proper diagnosis. This is what…..excuse the pun, makes us nuts……because so many times, you don't get the answer that would at the very least, give you a starting point to deal with the condition…….that by the way, doesn't get better, unless you are willing to take a chance on surgery to correct the condial…..which because of its small size, and heavy-use demand, offers a less than certain outcome. Answers. That's what we need. Tell us we're not losing our marbles, and that TMJ can explain a lot of the sensations we're experiencing.

     The first significant reality of the TMJ lifestyle, is to appreciate fully, that anxiety makes it worse. Always! There are no exceptions!  Which is a drag by the way, if you are in anxious situations the result of employment or there are worries on the home front. Worrying about a nasty boss is bad, but having to deal with a divorce or sickness in the family, will put a sufferer into orbit. There is no shortcut to mitigating the ongoing irritation, unless you are prepared to make some serious changes, in order to deal with life's unpredictable qualities and quantities. 

     My first serious reckoning with this work related impact on my jaw, came one day when I was making myself a coffee at The Herald-Gazette. It was early in the day, and to that point no one had thrown me a curve, or set out a hoop to jump through. Just the usual obstacles. Like story suggestions we didn't need or want. One of my overseers yelled from down the hall, "Ted…..I'm glad you're here……I have a bone to pick with you."  Even today, if somebody mistakenly says that to me, I will let them know I don't respond to bone analogies.

     As he approached in the hall, with a determined step, I began to tighten up as if rigor mortice was setting in somewhat prematurely. My jaw was clenched like a bear trap, my heart was pounding in my mouth, and there was already a throbbing pain shooting up my neck, to the skull that might have blown apart at any moment. He had a ridiculous complaint about a story we had run in the paper that morning, and wanted to bend my ear with his misinformed conviction we had got the whole thing wrong. Truth was, he was wrong. This happened a lot. But the collateral damage was already done. Having my arms folded across my chest, I held on to the spirit within, that wanted to give him a thrashing for starting my day off badly. You know, without his knowing it, he made me suffer by immersion, and from this I learned, there was no way I could continue working in the office day to day. He may have saved me from having a heart attack on the job, or hurting someone else. It heralded the decision to advance my freelance relationship with the newspaper and its sister publications. Although I changed papers a couple of times, I never went back to in-house editorial work. I even looked after two kids as Mr. Mom, without a hitch. I enjoyed that job.

     Suzanne saw a big difference in me, the moment I was appointed feature editor, and got to work on The Muskoka Sun, with Bob Boyer. Bob was demanding but I never minded the work load for either publication. I just didn't like the baloney part. Bob was a straight shooter, and as long as I filled the white spaces of the publication, with readable copy, all things were good and equal. Previously, I would come home from work, at lunch, and instead of talking to my wife, I would mow the lawn. Or shovel the snow off my lawn. I'd do this three or four times a week, because I found that physical work took my mind off my editorial responsibilities. Exercise and meditation are great for TMJ. But the lawn suffered its own collateral damage from TMJ.

     Over the years, I found ways of clenching without grinding my teeth. I could actually stiffen my face in a sort-of clench, without my jaw being closed. I seemed to be a beggar for punishment. Suzanne one day, after a particularly bad couple of days, opened my desk drawer, and showed me five or so Bic pens I'd use for handwriting my editorial copy. "Look at these Ted……look at the ends…..see what you've done to each one of them," she lectured. "You've bitten the ends off each one of them," she said, while holding them close so I could get a good look. Let me put it this way. Visible on four out of the five, was the ink cartridge, protruding beyond the broken-off plastic covering. They were like that because my teeth weren't sharp enough to gnaw through the thicker, heavier type of plastic. I was shocked to see this. I knew I was crunching them, but I never really studied what my jaw had been destroying, while I was pondering my next paragraph. "I can't imagine that you've done your jaw any good, eating these pens," she added. There was the smoking gun I guess you could say. They were my teeth marks. But why the hell was I doing this? I shouldn't have worked so long in front-line news. I might have spared my jaw somewhat, by going freelance years earlier.

     There are TMJ sufferers who are fearful about their futures. I understand their concerns. I had a lot of sorting-out to do myself. I chose to listen to people with good advice, and I removed certain aspects of stress that were beating me down. I have always been a happy and prolific writer, but there was a period with the newspaper, that I truly hated entering that office door each morning. It was time to stop the damage. Bit by bit I made life changing improvements, and although it wasn't enough to stop-up TMJ symptoms, it was my beginning-over that's for sure. The damage to the condial couldn't be undone. Day to day irritation could be mitigated. I was pleased with even small reductions in the headaches and neck stiffness. It required a lifetime commitment however, and getting mad meant increased suffering.

     Tomorrow, I will let you know how, after all these years, I've learned to manage TMJ and enjoy life. Thanks for joining me today. Please visit again soon.

Crazy Days, Crazy Nights Living with TMJ

THEY THOUGHT I WAS CRAZY, AND I KNEW I WAS HALF WAY THERE - TEMPORAL MANDIBULAR JOINT DISORDER (DYSFUNCTION)

AN ODYSSEY I COULDN'T HAVE UNDERTAKEN ALONE - I KNOW IT NOW

     I HAVE WRITTEN ABOUT MY EXPERIENCES WITH TEMPORAL MANDIBULAR JOINT DISORDER (DYSFUNCTION), (TMJ) SEVERAL TIMES IN THE PAST FIVE YEARS, USUALLY AT ITS PEAK OF AGONY, IN THAT WEEK, THAT MONTH, THAT YEAR. WHEN IT IS BEATING ME DOWN, I SOMEHOW FEEL LIBERATED FROM ITS FETTERING BY WRITING OF MY EXPERIENCES WITH THE "WONKY JAW SYNDROME," THAT SO MANY LIVE WITH, BUT MISUNDERSTAND. AFTER HEARING ABOUT, AND KNOWING PEOPLE TODAY WHO SUFFER TERRIBLY FROM THIS PHYSICAL DAMAGE TO THE TINY CONDIALS OF THE JAW, CAUSED BY DAILY EATING, EXCESSIVE CHEWING, FACIAL INJURY AND STRESS, I FELT IT WAS TIME TO UNFOLD THE BIOGRAPHY I SELDOM OFFER FOR PUBLIC SCRUTINY. BUT BECAUSE THERE ARE PEOPLE READING THIS, OR WHO MIGHT READ IT ON REFERRAL, WHO ARE SUFFERING FROM MALADIES THEY DON'T UNDERSTAND, AND FEELING AS IF THE MEDICAL COMMUNITY, FRIENDS AND FAMILY, SENSE IT'S "ALL IN THEIR HEAD," THIS LITTLE PERSONAL HISTORY OF LIVING WITH TMJ MIGHT HELP A PERCENTAGE OF THESE CONFUSED AND INJURED FOLKS.

     FIRST OF ALL, AND THIS MUST BE UNDERSTOOD BEFORE WE GO ANY FURTHER. I AM NOT MEDICALLY TRAINED. I AM NOT AN EXPERT IN RESEARCH INTO THE DYSFUNCTIONS OF BODY PARTS, AND I MAKE NO CLAIM TO BE ABLE TO OFFER A CURE FOR WHAT AILS YOU. ALL I CAN RELATE, IS WHAT I HAVE EXPERIENCED SINCE MY EARLY TWENTIES, AND HAVE LEARNED TO MANAGE DAILY UP TO AND PAST MY FIFTY-SEVENTH BIRTHDAY. PLEASE DON'T TAKE MY REVELATIONS AS GOSPEL, OR AS A MEDICAL FACT. IF IT GIVES YOU REASON TO QUEST FURTHER, BECAUSE YOU BELIEVE YOU MIGHT HAVE A JAW DYSFUNCTION, THEN THIS IS A POSITIVE STEP…….BECAUSE MANY FOLKS ARE JUST LEFT WITHOUT HOPE, POPPING PILLS THAT THEY THINK WILL HELP. YOU CAN'T REPAIR THE CONDIALS BY MEDICATION. AT THE EXTREME EDGE, IN MY MIND, IS SURGERY TO MAKE A CORRECTION TO THE JOINT. SOME MAY CHOOSE THIS ROUTE, BUT I HAVE OPTED AGAINST, PREFERRING TO DEAL WITH THE STRESS THAT MAKES IT WORSE. IT'S THE TRUE TO LIFE "SERENITY NOW!"

FROM A BASIC KNOWLEDGE OF WHAT MAKES TMJ A LIFE-CHANGER

     The TMJ dysfunction mimics a lot of other conditions and ailments, including the sensation of, "I'm going crazy and I don't know why." As I have studied this condition extensively, and spent a lot of time in doctors offices in the early going, it was a Bracebridge dentist, and then a local chiropractor, who both saved my sanity by helpful degrees. After several years of suffering a wide array of mood swings and a lengthy period of depression, on the suggestion of my mother, I went to visit the family dentist. All because of a newspaper clipping tacked to the notice board in his office. It was a medical feature article about TMJ, those who suffer from it, and the reasons it often goes undiagnosed. It caught my attention, because if memory serves, there was at least one Hollywood actor, who had even sought psychiatric treatment for what turned out to be this same wonky condial. He had been hit many times in the face, as a young actor, and serious but previously undetected damage had occurred, and worsened over time. The symptoms were wide ranging, but the point of the article, was to explain that the significant cluster of nerves and blood vessels in this important area of the jaw, at the condial, can  when damaged and irritated, cause collateral impact to the sensory region. It can cause everything from headaches to jaw aches, the inability to open the mouth, and certain other perception problems that only the medical community can explain. I'm a sufferer, not a doctor. But you know, just reading that information, explained so much of what I had been experiencing for years, without knowing a jaw problem could cause such diverse reactions. I had been tested to see if I had a brain tumor, it was so bad. I thought because I was in a high stress editor's job, it was more in my head, than I wanted to admit. I thought it was likely, early in my writing career, that I would have to quit the job I loved. When I wrote several days ago about my intensity at the typewriter, and the job, well……it contributed in part to this dance with TMJ. The article led me to research the condition, which is caused in part, by damaged condials, that don't rotate smoothly when the jaw is opened and shut. The uneven movement causes unspecified damage to the nerves and tissue in proximity, and there's not much chance for it to heal……..especially if you don't know you have the condition. Even talking for me, made it much worse, and the days of eating toffee were over. As a kid I must have eaten a million black balls. Crunched them! Jaw breakers. I blew a lot of allowance money hurting myself. My mother was worried about my teeth not my jaw.

     As I explained the other day, if you place a finger in each ear (not from one hand of course….cause that would hurt), so that you are snuggly in place, and when you move your jaw up and down (several times), and feel a less than smooth movement, as if there is a damaged portion, there is reason to investigate further. Let's just say that instead of a round condial, which should make for a smooth movement, yours had what could be described as a flat side. While the jaw still moves, it is rough movement, even making a clicking sound to your ears. If your ears are sore, remove your fingers. Actually, there are times when the TMJ dysfunction also affects the ears, and for me, it causes the production of much more wax build-up, which early on, I had to go to our doctor to get unplugged. As the injured and dysfunctional area is right at the base of the ear, having this creaking, thumping condial, can have consequences you wouldn't be aware of……except as part of the same weird feelings you've been having……undiagnosed. On a day I'm having a bad event, possibly because I slept on my side, or had a saddle-like piece of meat the night before, my perception is as wonky as my condial. Not dizzy. A little light-headed. You bet. Did I mention, that part of the collateral damage, has been a stiff neck since my early twenties. My boys got away with a lot of mischief off to my side, let me tell you. I've become a "whole turning kind of guy," ever since……so to greet you coming from behind, I have to do a body twist instead. Suzanne, my wife, has the same affliction, so I know what I can get away with at her side, before she can swing around fast enough to bust me.

     It's not a funny affliction folks, but it pays to have a sense of humor about it, none the less. I'd rather laugh than cry, but at times, I've done both minutes a part. The problem for me, in the mid 1980's, was that very few doctors had dealt with cases like mine, and if it hadn't been for the dentist and chiropractor, the madness would have continued for many more years. I was x-rayed for sinus problems, a nose issue (broken many times as a goalie), eye problems and early on, they seemed concerned I had a tumor. Then, for something completely different, I had about eight teeth removed, because that was seen as a contributing problem. I was taking sinus medication, I got new glasses, and had some gaping holes where teeth used to sit. Nothing seemed to change my physical maladies. Add to this the joy of panic attacks at the most ridiculous moments. I remember a bad one, while I was holding Andrew, outside a Bracebridge bank, while Suzanne made a withdrawal. I was consumed by this invasive heart pounding, disorienting state of the union, and all I could do was hang onto the wee lad, for as long as the ride lasted. In a year of outrageous turmoil, I must have had two hundred panic attacks, that left me exhausted and frightened. One day, while I was walking with Andrew up Quebec Street, to the old Herald-Gazette office on Dominion Street, I had another substantial attack……and it came at a time when I was pissed-off enough, that I stood my ground, became courageous, protected my son with a bear hug, and made a declaration. "Give me your best shot you bastard." My affliction didn't like my attitude. From that moment on, I started taking action about what would soon be diagnosed as TMJ. It was the TMJ tunnel experience that sparked these panic attacks. When my neck and jaw were badly stressed from working at a typewriter, hand writing (as I used to write at least half my editorial copy), or tending a child who literally ran before he walked, my vision seemed to be from down a long tunnel out onto the world. The Mr. Mom thing was a big stress load for a guy who had lived an irresponsible life to that point. I even gave up drinking. Cold turkey. I dreaded Suzanne going back to work the next morning, and it kept me up most of the night. Aggravation and worry makes the TMJ sufferer, touch the fiery bowel of hell, and if it's not a debilitating headache, it's confusion, out of place anger, and a feeling of depression……..that frankly, is more of a physical feeling than emotional. TMJ exhausted me, and by time Suzanne came home to relieve me of child-watching, I just sat expressionless staring at the television. Suzanne had every reason to think I was losing it entirely.

    Seeing as our son was only a few months old, and my problems were worsening……and I had to be a Mr. Mom at the same time, while continuing my writing assignments, I was worried my parenthood was going to be very short-lived. When my mother arrived at our Ontario Street house one morning, with news about an article she had read at the dentist's office that morning, regarding the symptoms of TMJ, I remember racing up to the office to make my own notes. Finally, somewhat of an explanation, about why I was feeling so far in left field most of the time.

     Now for me, I must footnote here, that as a kid I took a lot of blows to the face. From errant footballs, fastball pitches that curved into my face, fists from the school yard bully, which were switched from side to side to mitigate bruising, and a lot of hockey pucks bouncing off my plastic mask. Do you chew gum? Here's an idea. Stop. Through all my team sports, gum was the choice to transfer anxiety. I used to chew wads of gum in net, and playing baseball well into my teens, it was the safe version of the tobacco used by the pros. So it's not like I didn't deserve what happened to me in my early twenties. Now add on to that, the fact I worked in a fast paced, hugely demanding, understaffed newspaper office, and began my jaw clenching in earnest, back in those less than halcyon days. When the bosses were near, my neck was frozen stiff and the headaches were pounding.

     After learning more about TMJ, my dentist fit me with new plastic teeth and a splint, to stop me grinding my teeth at night. Well, I'm pretty sure this is what I did at night, but the real clenching came during the day time, and there was no way I could function like that……and in fact, I clenched even more with the splint, and that was devastating. My teeth were leveled, and the splint adjusted, but it didn't matter a hoot. Then I went to a local chiropractor, and on to another in Orillia, who as a duo, made my life dreamy. This isn't an advertorial for the chiropractic profession, but by golly, those lads made me understand a simple reality. TMJ was a complicated disorder, that responded to relaxation, and aggravation. With my family physician, Dr. Lynch, we worked out a dandy treatment for my TMJ problem. It was based on the "Smarten up, and stop dwelling on it" scenario, that put me back in the driver's seat. I had a choice of mellowing out, changing my employment away from what annoyed me daily, and enjoying life by sucking up the discomfort, and making the best out of a physical actuality. There was no bid to use surgery as a solution. This was a mind and emotion control exercise, and like a pain medication, I had to employ my body's own resources, to make lasting improvements. It worked.

     The condials never heal, with the program I have followed. Over the years, the wear becomes more substantial, and TMJ a little more invasive than it has been since my early twenties. I have some spin-off situations, attributed to muscle spasms in the neck, contributed to, by the whacky stuff going on in my condial zone. And when damp weather is coming, it gives somewhat the same discomfort as someone suffering from arthritis. But the real improvement, the medical community afforded me, came with the ultimatum, that suffering hinges on the ability to cope. So cope I did! I often wonder about other folks who quest for what ails them, and fear, like me, it is an emotional disorder more so than physical. They must get so disheartened to be told time and again that medical investigations have turned up nothing. I wonder as well, about those people who are being treated for depression, and anxiety, but have never been checked for the TMJ disorder, which doesn't take up too much examination time. When you get TMJ partnering with other ailments, it can seem a hopeless situation from which to recover.

     The problem is, that TMJ can contribute to many symptoms and feelings, that at first glance, shouldn't play a part. Why would a jaw disorder, cause the sensation of depression, or trigger vision and hearing issues, or the momentary occasion of confusion and disorientation? Why does it lend itself to fueling panic attacks? All those questions unanswered, led my wife and I on a lengthy fact-finding adventure. Until that morning my mother gave me hope, I'd just about given up on.

     I am only an expert in TMJ because I've lived with it for more than twenty-seven years. Suzanne has had it for about twenty years. She has benefitted, because I had the information in hand, that helped her cope with the few panic attacks she had in the early stages, until the dentist and doctor validated her connection to TMJ.  It was no party to go to, that's for sure, but there was strength in numbers. I have talked to people with phobias, that have been proportional to TMJ injury……some who refused to leave the house, for fear of being stricken with a sudden panic attack. People who are diagnosed as mentally ill? I'd personally like to know, if TMJ is always ruled in or out of these medical investigations. Even in my own early years, TMJ was almost a trendy new thing to research, but it was considered more of a headache producer, than depression contributor.

     I'd like to tell you a little bit more about the way I have dealt with TMJ over the decades. It hasn't been pretty, but I've survived. There were days, let me tell you, when I honestly contemplated drinking myself to death. If it hadn't been for Suzanne and wee Andrew, who I adored, I might have opted to slide drunkenly out of this mortal coil……..it was that bad.

     Please join me again, for a bit more information on TMJ. There is lots of information published online, if you wish to investigate further. See you soon.