MY TOM THOMSON TIME OF THE YEAR

The autumn season has always been my most prolific time writing......and it was an equally inspiring change of climate enjoyed by Canadian landscape artist, Tom Thomson. As he found the autumn colors and contrasts, of light and shadow, and the drastic changes in weather, appealing for his art panels, I can feel this surge of interest rising as soon as harvest times rolls around. I have also paddled the Algonquin Lakes at this time of the year, and been captivated by the amazing landscape....the approach of a November storm-front, the early snow that sweeps down over the barren hardwoods and then there are the northern lights that Thomson always found so spirit-full and haunting.

Over the past several months I’ve set aside my landscape writing and concentrated on local politics. This is the first time in many, many years that I’ve sacrificed my forays into the woodlands, and the traverses by canoe through this amazing lakeland, to pay attention to the governance, past, present and future, of my, “Our” hometown. It was worth the effort of course, and overall, I was pleased with the election outcome. But now it’s time to set out my own art panels, you might say, and immerse myself back to the nature-watch I literally can not live without.

This town, and this modest homestead, at Birch Hollow, affords me so many wonderful opportunities to celebrate the lakeland. I hope this appreciation for the home region, is reflected in the content of what I compose. As Thomson was thrilled when someone would remark, for example, that his art panel on the Northern Lights, made them feel the bitter air of a lonely Algonquin night, it’s always good to find out that some reader has travelled with me, to some similar vantage point, to see and feel the true haunting of the lakeland.

As Robert Frost wrote, about stopping by the woods on a snowy evening, I too have a wanderlust on gentle winter evenings, to pause, momentarily, to celebrate a wonderful life, with friends, family and this ever-healing solitude.....just down the lane from the soft glow of lamplight in the homestead window.....that calls me back to hearthside.

I will occupy myself this fall and winter, exploring this amazing landscape, and please feel free to accompany this set-in-his-ways writer, travelling along old and familiar trails. Dress warmly. Liberate your imagination. We are now watchers in the woods.

NOTE: You can link with Ted’s other blogs, including his take on Muskoka’s “Walden Pond,” plus his Algonquin and Muskoka Ghosts blog-site. If you are a culinary zealot, check out his sites on Vintage Muskoka Recipes.....where he discusses the relevance of collecting “handwritten recipes.” You can connect with these sites through this blog-site and or by doing an online search of other business and professional links. You can also connect with “Curious: The Tourist Guide,” online, to read his most recent column on Ada Florence Kinton, a year long series in support of the Gravenhurst Salvation Army Food Bank.

THE FERMENTATION OF SOUR GRAPES -

IMMATURE CHEAP SHOT DEMEANING AND SHORT-SIGHTED

Hopefully the mayor elect for the Town of Gravenhurst, will laugh-off a sour grapes’ sucker punch, courtesy a local disgruntled media outlet this week. It was inappropriate in my opinion, as I’m sure many others felt, who may not have voted for the winner....but are fair enough to give the mayor-elect the opportunity of sitting at the head of the council table, for at least a couple of moments, before being accused of working for, and on someone else’s agenda.

The mayor elect, who bested the bunch, is cartooned as a puppet, being manipulated by the current mayor.....an editorial opinion that the “former” is going to control the “incoming!” My concern is how fast a mayoral candidate can change from putting the interests of Gravenhurst first, to disrespecting the majority of citizens who did vote for the alleged puppet on a string. More than doubling the votes on second place. Troubling moreso, is the portrayal of the mayor, as someone who does not have an opinion, independence, and the competence to lead without direction of the puppeteer. This is pretty strong stuff, not to mention the unintentional (I’m sure) connotation to a woman mayor, which could muster some outrage from the numerous women who were successfully elected this week, to serve our community.....as democracy, not as controlling interest, warrants. Or are they being controlled by puppeteers as well?

Usually editorial cartoons don’t bother me but the fact that the publisher was the second place finisher, in the mayoral race, makes this even more troublesome. Is this the attitude that would have made it to council had he been elected? The optics of this stink. It was an uncalled for, rude, editorial comment, that clearly demonstrates the unfair advantage that occurred many times during the election, when a publication was used as a battering ram to bang home a point.....on behalf of a vested interest. Who the editor is, well, that’s moot. The publisher is top dog and you don’t need a journalism degree to know that as fact! Editors don’t follow the publisher on mast-heads. Therefore....well, the editor answers to the owner. Content? I’ve never come across a publisher yet who admitted he didn’t have knowledge and over-riding authority about what runs and what doesn’t.

I would have expected, for the last print edition of this publication, something more memorable and heartfelt than hurtful.....to both the town and each member of the incoming Gravenhurst Council. To me, it’s a sad way to end, and as I was there in the beginning.....and for some time there-after, I do know how the dream unfurled.....and it was a pleasure to be a part.

To the Mayor-elect.....well, the majority of Gravenhurst citizens are willing to give you a wee bit more time on the job before we cast any opinions, one way or the other.

Good luck!

JUST ANOTHER DAY - IN “OUR TOWN”

Got the news, early on election day that a person I’ve known in the retail business for many years, had passed away on the weekend. I felt bad for the store clerk that morning, who was trying to tell me about her friend’s passing, the day before, tears welling up in her eyes......but a keen sense of decorum, trying to carry-on with business because, after all, it’s a job.....and there’s not a lot of room for emotion while tending a busy main street sale-counter with customers lining up and impatient. They’ve got no time to waste, you see. Time waits for no one. There are places to go and profits to make. Of course, how would they know. They weren’t just then, affected by the sense of tragedy and loss. Yet it just seemed, at that precise moment, that everyone should just stop for a moment.....to respect the person who occupied this same sales desk for more than a decade. It should have been alright in the almighty scheme of things, for the day to day business to just calm for a few minutes of kind reflection. Maybe the shop should have been closed altogether, so the folks here could mourn properly, and not have to trudge on with this over-burden of already burdened life. I left the shop feeling as I do in these circumstances that it just isn’t fair on any count,.....and as naive as I tend to be, it’s that mirror image of “Our Town,” where joy and prosperity, tragedy and sorrow, birth and death raise us in spirit one moment, and dash us into tears the next. This wasn’t a play. It wasn’t a Hollywood script. It was real. It was final.

An election has occurred. Candidates who won last evening’s vote are ecstatic, the losers wonder what went wrong. The pundits are stirring their coffees with varying clatter, and political hangers-on are anxious about having nothing more to do, no more rallies to attend, signs to erect, doors to rap upon. Present councillors will wonder how the world will turn without them, and the newly elected can’t wait to sit at the council chamber in the great hall, in the new town office. They will ponder being able to fulfill their election promises, and make mental notes about their first council pitches, and then meeting the press for their post election interview.

I don’t imagine many of those folks who do now, and who will shortly lead our municipal government, will give too much consideration to the former store manager who succumbed to illness. Afterall, it’s just part of this cycle of life and times.....that fills our hours with pleasure and success at the same time as it purges others of any kind of happiness or contentment. While some enjoy prosperity others suffer from poverty and constant need. As an historian, who has so aggressively pursued the work of William Henry Smith, who wrote the book “Gravenhurst,” the title from which we were named, I understand the philosopher’s argument, that in order to fully appreciate happiness, we must also endure the intrusion of sadness, or there is no means of comparison of emotion. Each time the intrusion hurts as much as it did the time before and the time before that!

I was reminded on this day of my own philosophy about “home town.” There were folks who reacted in kind immediately, and many others who have since offered assistance at this sad time. Looking out upon the town, it was bustling at the noon-hour. Mothers pushing strollers, teenagers hanging in groups swapping tall tales, businessmen in suits on a quest, heavy trucks, like tanks, moving south on the main street, toward the construction site disrupting the business community. Candidates were hustling about to yank down their election signs, some big, some bigger. They had no time. No time. An ever-turning world, you see!

There was however, this gentle, insisted-upon pause. Stolen moments from a busy world, to remember the person who used to meet me here every day.....once, and who was very much a part of the character, the soul of Our Town. When she first began working at the shop, she used to give my boys her own music memorabilia, because she knew they didn’t have a lot of spending money....and they’d appreciate the collectibles that she’d held onto herself for years. It meant a lot to her, to see them pleased by the act of kindness, and it impressed upon them, what kindness means in perpetuity to us all. I often chatted with her for one reason or another, and it was that strange commonplace you see, I very much adore, when everyone is in the place they should be. I have always feared.....loathed change. But as sadness is consumed by the rigors of daily life, and tears dry away eventually, and the pause ends as all pauses do, we will still miss those days of once....and that’s okay!

As I have held as mantra for so many years, it’s the difference between a town, a place to reside, and one that can truly be called a “home town.” It’s what I felt at the counter, with those co-workers, on that particular day that made all the difference to me, because it was a signature of a caring place and caring people....and they held special, a memory of someone they knew as both a colleague and a friend.

It’s what I hope our new council will embrace most of all, when they set out their definition of Gravenhurst for the future.....that they see the humbleness of home above all else, and the humanity that dwells within.....and they appreciate, when bandying about words like “progress” and “moving-forward,” that they come to the appreciation there is so much more to quality of life than business as usual!

Rest in peace Alice. Thank you for kindnesses bestowed over many years.

As time makes memories of us all, this pause ended, I said goodbye to my friend who had told me the news, and I ventured forth, my purchase under my arm, as is my habit after these visits to my favorite shop in Gravenhurst. Today the din of a small town seems too intrusive and disrespectful. There is almost disharmony but sadness won’t muffle the traffic, or stop the sun from breaking through the clouds, or the squirrels from chattering from barren boughs.

It’s just another day isn’t it. I’m just glad I’m home!

COUNCIL OKAY FOR FOUR ACTION PACKED YEARS

For those wise old bards and sage political watchers, debating the candidate qualities, in coffee shops all over town, admittedly, and nervously, there was a very real potential of achieving a dysfunctional council for the next four year marathon. There were personalities burdened by caustic opinions and agendas that may have done more harm than good over a long, financially burdened term of office. I’ve measured this out for most of the last two months and found that there were council configurations that would wage “personality warfare”, with the kind of vortex spinning away, that would suck up a lot of useful business time. This evening’s election results have offered us, the voters, a solid representation without too much compromise. It’s a council that I feel comfortable with, and there was a very real possibility, I was going to head to bed, this evening, for a husky bout of night sweats...... if votes had swung differently.

I’m truly sorry some very good candidates didn’t win but there will be other elections. I lost two myself, back in Bracebridge, so I know it will take a while to deal with the loss.

To one winning candidate, who I talked to frequently during the election campaign, I’m so very pleased your hard work has paid off, and look forward to your leadership on council, and can sense a mayoral run sometime in the future. Don’t be a stranger.

You all played a part in the functioning of democracy, win or lose, and we do appreciate the fact that you took so much of your personal time, to exercise your right to run for office. To John, I insist you take another shot at municipal politics. You do have what it takes. We need critical thinkers.....those who don’t stop educating, and challenging themselves.....and your turn will come. And I’m sure Mike will be ready, willing and able to work the corners for you.

This will be a conservative but interesting council with a few exceptions. I like the business acumen of some, and past municipal council / board of education experience, that should combine to make a good working council......on initial glance of course.....having just now heard the results.

The critics, like old chatty crows, sitting huddled in the gnarled (philosophical) tree above the council table, will study it all in the coming months, and make their critical assessments known.

You can count on it!

Best of luck.

NEVER A FAIR WEATHER FRIEND -

WHEN NOT IN A CANOE, OR ANTIQUING I’M RIGHT HERE - SO CALL

It can be said my blogs are a tad caustic. Like flying down a sandy “acid rain” influenced slide with a bare behind. In retrospect I wouldn’t have it any other way. The feel of grit on the hindy is invigorating after awhile. Aggressive? Hardline? True enough but only because you’re not used to criticism in this town, except on the streets. There’s lots of caustic stuff circulating daily, just not in the press. I worked in the media at a time when caustic was a sort of after-shave. The two newspaper rivalry was immense back in the 1980's, and the reporting staff were like pit bulls on every news source we ferreted out of hiding. Our respective publishers weren’t happy to get “scooped,” and I must admit being very fearful of press day, when we’d find out if the competition nailed us. It was pretty much a fifty-fifty split back then but the point was, you had to keep your teeth sharpened constantly and your will to succeed peaked. Getting that front-page byline, beneath a double-banked, bold faced (above the fold) headline, was better than sex. We didn’t have time for sex anyway. We were young, ambitious, fearless, and well, ruthless when it came to hunting for news. I suppose in some ways, it was an unhealthy obsession. It took me years to come down from that news-week frenzy to fill the paper. I’d easily write a dozen pieces each edition including sports. I even wrote caustic obituaries. “The old bugger lived a good life!”

This is just to footnote my zeal for staying on top of local news.....and at times being a wee bit ahead of the folks who work for the press. I measure them today, fairly or unfairly, by the way I grew into the business, and my apprenticeship with many talented newshounds, who drank hard, played hard and slept little. It sure as hell wasn’t because of the money. We were lucky at the end of the work week to have enough coin left for Friday night beer, at the local watering hole.....which by choice was Bracebridge’s former Albion Hotel, by the tracks, and the Holiday House, where the kindly innkeepers allowed us to keep a tab. A lot of news features got their spark from those late night howling sessions, like wolves, preparing for the next kill. And we’d get our reporting colleagues from the competition press, who often joined us after work, good and tight, and pump them for “off the record” information......which we would then exploit the next issue. So when I remind council hopefuls never to go “off the record,” it’s because there are betrayals as far as the eye can see.....and as the printed word reveals throughout history.

So when we left the table, on those nights, we left them with the bar bill, took their stories, and a few of us found their girlfriends to our liking......leaving with them while the poor bastards fumbled to pay the tab. When I talk about the good old days of reporting, let me tell you, we all lived a little like Paul Rimstead, a Bracebridge lad who made it big as a columnist with the Toronto Sun, in its first years of operation. We even had occasion to drink with Rimmer when he came home to officiate at a Herald-Gazette Rink Rats hockey game. He was our idol. Goes to show how rough we liked it back then.

When Suzanne and I got married, I still carried out the newsie credo. I insisted on booze, news and snooze. A few nights on the porch were spent reflecting on my lifestyle, and how Suzanne wasn’t onside with the excesses, I decided to conform everso slightly. When son Andrew was born, and had only just moved into a newly purchased home, Suzanne was making more money as a teacher, than I was as a lowly reporter, so it was agreed, as nuts as this seems, that I would become a “Mr. Mom.” That’s right. Here’s this irresponsible son-of-a-bitch, columnist, shit-disturber, now a feature editor instead, with a home office and a baby by my side, all the live long day. It was an amazing “no-choice” transition. I used to show up at news conferences and for personal interviews, wearing a snuggly, with a couple of bottles and rattles jammed into my pockets. Gradually my contemporaries stopped calling me for after-work bar socials, and the hockey team I founded in the early eighties, believed my maternal side had sucked the beast from my breast. And I started to turn down outings myself, preferring instead to remain home with Suzanne and Andrew. When second son Robert came along, a few years later, I was already house-broken in parenthood, and found reading story-books aloud was just as neat as tipping the amber brew to the beat of AC /DC, and the gyrations of the stripper, at the local watering refuge for work-weary reporters. I had more time to write and more fun generally. Suzanne didn’t lock me out any more and I stopped drinking out of boredom. It seemed I needed liquid courage more than I knew.

Here it is 2010 and I’m still working from my home office. While it is my third home office, this one now in Gravenhurst, I’m still the on-call Mr. Mom when Suzanne isn’t available. Instead of reading story books, now I’m a band roadie for the boys music business......as well as bringing them various food items from home when their coffers are a little light. When I get all retrospective, I can tell you honestly that marriage and family saved me from perishing like so many other writers, including Rimstead, because of the drink.

Professionally I dedicated myself to feature writing for a wide variety of publications, even in Iceland, where a series of articles I wrote was published in translation, back in the late 1980's. I have become a little gentler in my elder years but not so much that I can’t get caustic now and again when need arises. I’m not out to make headlines.....I’ve had those and felt good about the scoops. Now I pursue antiques mostly, art and antiquarian books and documents, and write what I want, when I want. My favorite book is still “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance,” and my favorite movie is “A Christmas Carol.” I’m a study in opposites, and an advocate for democracy to the exponent of ten.....and it is still my most vicious pursuit in writing and action.

I have talked to a number of candidates running for this year’s municipal election, here in Gravenhurst, and there are several councillors I really like.....because I see in them, a willingness to learn....a keen interest in enlightenment versus ignorance.....and a potential to help this council infuse logic and critical thought before making decisions that will change our community. I appreciate, more than anything else, that they were willing to discuss matters with an old fuddy-duddy of a bygone era of news reporting. Possibly they sense this old guy must be telling the truth, and not just opining out of boredom. Maybe there’s a wee respect for those who have experience in a quagmire of complexity and entrapments, otherwise known as local politics. I appreciate their wisely honed perception, that they could well be heading into the lion’s den with meat strapped to their thighs. Knowing what the next four years could bring....it’s a good analogy of real potential for disaster......especially, and as I have warned for several years now, the possible closure of South Muskoka Memorial Hospital as we know it. Yea, it’s going to be a tough haul.

The point I’m really trying to make here, is that while I’m too controversial to write in the local press.....and I’d offend advertisers up and down the street with my caustic reality checks, I’m always ready to help friend or foe in a pinch, deal with a local matter sensibly, proportionally, and carefully.....with the experience I possess from many hard years on the front line of local reporting. Arguably I’m more cuddly these days, having been softened as a Mr. Mom for so many years now, I don’t shy away from reaction when it’s required. I don’t sharpen my teeth any more but please don’t take this as a sign I’ve lost my capabilities to gnash onto something that’s not right, affecting my home town or region. I’ve offered folks of all stripes, easy access to a second opinion.....not because I’m an attention-seeker but because I know how a lot of stuff works and becomes dysfunctional, and I stay up on the news of the day, however soft and fluffy it is.....which is far too frequent....especially when there are important stories not being investigated.

Local politicians who find themselves lacking background on some historical issue, or are having a clarity problem with some aspect of government functioning, are always welcome to call or email. No charge. I’m not a fair weather friend. Whether we talk while paddling a canoe, hiking a trail, or sitting coffee in-hand, if you think I can provide some useful information from so many miles traveled, then we should definitely get together. And no I’m not a lobbyist. Unless it involves preserving The Barge, and maintaining the services of Fred Schulz. Then I’m indeed a lobbyist supreme.

Don’t forget to occasionally check my other blog-sites, including my Muskoka and Algonquin Ghosts site......yup, I’m also a ghost hunter. That all started when John Robert Colombo, one of Canada’s revered paranormal story-hunters, suggested my feature stories on Muskoka mysteries would make a great book. Instead of killing trees to publish a book, I’ve used cyber-space instead. On there you will find the story of “the death bed” I bought for my wife. No kidding.

ADA FLORENCE KINTON AND I HAVE A DATE THIS WINTER, IN SUPPORT OF THE SALVATION ARMY FOOD BANK

Since I began working for the local Muskoka press, back in 1979, first from a news desk at the Georgian Bay-Muskoka Lakes Beacon, in MacTier, up to and including my years with The Herald-Gazette, Muskoka Sun, Muskoka Advance, The Muskokan, The Examiner, The Banner, The Wayback Times and currently Curious; The Tourist Guide (online), I’ve amassed a rather significant collection of feature articles, some that ran over a few months, and several that ran monthly over a year. Point is, I’ve always got a bin-load of feature articles and local histories to update and re-write for today’s audience. If I was in a musical group, I suppose you’d say, “I’d be my own tribute band.”

There’s one biography I’ve returned to twice before, because I have a deep devotion to the subject. And I’m not really sure why. I’ve worked on many compelling and emotion-laden stories in the past. This one however, was as if I’d been touched by something divine......as one might expect from an audience with an angel. On the day when we found each other, she was alone in the corner of a book shop, and I was a writer without a muse. She was the subject of a 1907 book, entitled “Just One Blue Bonnet,” and I was the book collector with just enough coins in my pocket, to make this biography my own.

It was in part, you see, a regional Muskoka text, as a fair component was set in the Huntsville region, well before the turn of the century. As my job was to ferret-out good local histories, this looked like a gem. And it contained a personal journal regarding her stay in the district, with many observations about the settlement, the inhabitants, local customs and the hinterland surrounding the pioneer encampment, with accurate descriptions of the flora and fauna, and wildlife beyond. You might say Ada Florence Kinton, and I, were kindred spirits even though we were more than a lifetime apart.

Ada Kinton was a member of the Salvation Army, as referenced by the “blue bonnet,” and she wrote for the publication “War Cry,” when not working as a personal assistant to Booth family members, while on international missions. Before she was a member of the church, she was an accomplished artist and teacher, and as well, became a talented writer. She made many pioneer era sketches and paintings, while residing in Huntsville, with her brothers, who were amongst the early settlers and business founders in the hamlet. When she arrived in Muskoka, following the death of her father, in England, the transplanted Miss Kinton was deeply homesick, and worried about her future in a new and barren land.

The story, in a nutshell, is about devotion, sacrifice, and compassion. I visited her grave recently, tucked into an old, treed cemetery in central Huntsville, and felt a gentle comfort standing above her tombstone, as if she was pleased in spirit, her biographer had finally paid a visit to her final resting spot.....which was a beautiful plot in a quiet place, surrounded by family members, and despite the din of daily life in a thriving town, there was a prevailing solitude. She passed away, early in the 1900's, on a porch not far from this gravesite. In those final days, her sister helped her onto the porch, so she could watch the comings and goings of her adopted hometown. She had been greatly fatigued by her missionary work, and had suffered numerous debilitating illnesses, contracted in tropical climates. Ada was still a young woman but appeared much older and feeble, in those last days residing in Huntsville. Despite being in constant bodily pain and being weak from fever, she was contented with the days of her life, and the people she had come to know in so many walks of life. One would think that a great writer like Charles Dickens or Washington Irving, would have celebrated her as a character in one of their memorable novels, had she been known to them. Her work amongst the poor in England and Canada was legendary, and it was this compassion that drew people to her side, whether it was the destitute, the intellectual crowd, or her art students, looking for her leadership and advice. Many of her art school graduates, both in England and Canada, became highly accomplished painters.

This is just a wee introduction to a 12 part series of articles I’m now preparing for Curious; The Tourist Guide, which will run over the coming year. It is online so you can read it there if you can’t find the publication.....which is available at select shops in Muskoka and Southern Ontario. The column is dedicated to the Salvation Army’s Food Bank, in Gravenhurst, Ontario, my hometown.......and my hope is that readers will be inspired to make a food or cash donation to a food bank in their own community. My first column on Ada Florence Kinton will appear in the November issue, and there will be a special Christmas-themed column in December of course. You can access the article by searching “Curious; The Tourist Guide.” As I am writing this feature series, as an exclusive for this publication, it will not be published on my blog-site.

Please keep the Food Bank in mind this coming holiday season. They could really use your help......it’s the neighborly thing to do. The folks in need, well, they are our neighbors!

SHORT ELECTION NOTES - WHY NOT?

A number of years ago, while working on an anniversary of South Muskoka Memorial Hospital, and Bracebridge Memorial Hospital circa 1927, an invited member of the special committee, working on behalf of the Hospital Foundation, tipped me off that closure of the facility was a very real possibility. It was said to me as Hospital Historian at the time. I never forgot it, and have written numerous blogs and letters to the editor, of the local press, trying to relay the message that unless the citizens of South Muskoka are vigilant, and up to speed on every single issue regarding the financial shortfalls of the facility, a dire consequence could be the result of ignorance and apathy.

There have been all kinds of comments coming from hospital officials, back to the apparently negative press (the press gets blamed for a lot of stuff.....but seldom credited for keeping us on top of important issues effecting our community), over the past four years in particular that seem an awful lot like damage control and public relations mantra, so as to not affect the fundraising efforts of the hospital.....which was the latest argument to keep negative news about its future off the front page. I warned the press some time ago that a closure was not as far-fetched as hospital officials might have you believe. The problem here it that the “public’s right to know,” is being confused by some folks, with a protocol of “what is less-damning for us.....for you to know!” If the financial problems were in any way to affect the future operation of the hospital, even if it was of the smallest potential, why is it that management would feel this knowledge would be a public relations problem? Sometimes enlightenment secures folks with solutions. The real problem here, is when it’s finally revealed by time and research that our suspicions weren’t misguided, we wonder collectively why we weren’t told of this sooner......and why we continue to be treated as morons?

As I have written in this blog and in letters to the editor, the councils in our region, regardless of being a district representative, or town councillor, it’s time to get off the fence and commence paying attention, for starters. Towns in our region have been accommodating developers, wishing to build seniors housing all over the place, and making our region look real good to retirees from the rest of the province, when for at least part of this time, the future of the hospital here has been unclear.....except for the debt part. When we seek out development you can bet the economic development committees are flogging the fact we are well served by medical facilities. Is it negligence on our part then, that we have attracted so many seniors to our region, while knowing full well, services were going to be reduced for these same citizens in the near future? Did these committee flag this part of the brochure, and ad, “by the way.....don’t count on it!” Don’t think they wanted to rain on their own parade.

This is a provincial fight and it’s not the first or last time it will be a fight. Frank Miller, former MPP, and Health Minister of Ontario, and former Hospital Administrator Frank Henry, fought relentlessly to keep our hospital open. It will take a relentless fight to keep it open in the future.

South Muskoka Memorial Hospital was founded in 1927 as a memorial to those local citizens who gave their lives for our freedom...... It seems to me a worthy battle to push on with, to keep our hospital a memorial for many decades to come.

AS TO WHETHER AN EDITOR IS RESPONSIBLE TO PUBLISHER OR NOT?

In my years as editor with the local press, I was never, ever, above the publisher in management authority, when it came to demanding what went in the weekly paper. There wasn’t one edition that left our newspaper office that didn’t have the publisher, or the associate publisher’s approval.....or it simply didn’t get printed until addressed. Over the years I’ve had many editor - publisher disputes, some that very nearly cost me my job but I never once misunderstood the chain of command. And if I’m not mistaken, when there is a legal action against a publication, the publisher is in the mix regardless. Seeing as the publisher has to be able to defend the work of the editor and staff, because it is a basic protocol of responsibility..... of ownership, its representation, or simply as the spokesperson of the publication,..... an editor is not above a necessary control......even if that only means protecting the outlet from legal ramifications of one nature or another.....as well as protecting the business component for those with a vested interest.

As editor, I was told by two publishers, over my tenure, to write an editorial about an issue I didn’t agree. I agreed that it was the right of the publisher to insist on insertion of such an editorial opinion but not acceptable to ask the editor to support or author the piece. I wasn’t fired and I didn’t support the editorial when asked by readership. That was the right and privilege of the publisher to use the chain of command to run the newspaper. But there was no mistaking the reality, that if I had objected to the editorials running in “my” paper, and refused their inclusion, I would have been dismissed for basic insubordination by the boss.......only over-ruled by a board of directors if a larger ownership arrangement.

Just for your information.

ELECTION LULL - WHAT A NICE CHANGE OF PACE

LOOKING FORWARD TO ROY MACGREGOR’S NEW BOOK ON THOMSON MYSTERY

For the first time in the past month, this blog isn’t about elections or their kind....but it is about living and working in Gravenhurst, and as an historian, loving anything to do with Tom Thomson. I have great respect and admiration for the folks who write so poignantly about his work, his life and times, and what we’d be missing without his incredible contribution to today’s national identity. Thomson’s was a short life. And true enough, it did end in mystery. While I’ve been enthralled with his art work from childhood, when the school text books then contained some of his best known panels, I’ve been an admirer throughout my life. When I look out on the horizon above the lake, and see a typical late autumn sky, I think of Thomson. When I see vividly colored wildflowers in sunny patches, scattered in the woodlands, I recall how Thomson worked so mindfully to match the colors with what he witnessed in person. Whether it is the Northern Lights quivering in a late autumn sky, or an approaching spring storm, I think to myself, I bet Thomson would have been interested in this.

I knew well known Canadian author / historian, Roy MacGregor, was working on a new book about the mysterious death of Canadian landscape artist, Tom Thomson, who perished while traversing Algonquin’s Canoe Lake, in July of 1917. I corresponded with Roy over a few days, a couple of years ago, about work he was doing on the Thomson case. I’ve been a Thomson sleuth since the mid 1990's, when I acquired the 1970's signed first edition, of William Little’s “Tom Thomson Mystery,” from the Salvation Army Thrift Shop, here in Gravenhurst. As a matter of some irony, at the same time, I was reading the weekly installments in a local newspaper which was carrying a series of articles about Thomson’s demise, as written by long-time woodsman and Algonquin guide, Ralph Bice. Judge Little had only recently passed away, and this series of articles made a strong point of criticizing the author’s allegation Thomson had been the victim of foul play. He contradicted Judge Little numerous times, suggesting instead that Thomson was a poor canoeist and it led to his downfall. Bice, as well as a few others, have maintained Thomson, after a wee dram, simply stood up in the canoe, mid-traverse, and relieved himself, toppling down onto the gunnel where he smashed his head. Knocked-out, he sank to the bottom, and the rest is history.

I’ve been chasing this story ever-since and I’ve published numerous feature series on the case, in a variety of papers in Ontario, and that in part gave me a wonderful opportunity to chat with Mr. MacGregor, who I highly regard in both the writing industry in Canada, and for his research on the Thomson case.....which first surfaced for me in his largely fictional account....that brushed closely by the truth.....entitled “Shorelines,” dealing in part with Thomson’s romantic liaison just prior to his death. I offered a few bits and bobs of information, and have waited anxiously for the actual publication’s release, and the promised new information the text was supposed to contain. The biggest news for me, was that the skull, initially removed from a grave-site on Canoe Lake, where he was first buried after being pulled from the lake, was given a facial reconstruction by a leading forensic institution, and it appears as if the grave, (supposedly empty after an exhumation ordered by the Thomson family, later in July 1917) still has Thomson’s body within......or his twin as the reconstruction shows. This supports Judge Little’s theory, dating back to the 1950's, when he and three mates held an impromtu exhumation at the Mowat (Canoe Lake) Cemetery, and found that there was still a body buried in what was supposed to be an empty grave. When Little went to authorities and asked for the case of Thomson’s death, and final burial place, to be the subject of inquiry, the matter was intruded upon by many different sources, insisting the case be closed. With questionable forensic scrutiny, it was decided the skull belonged to a First Nations victim, the hole in the skull the result of some medical procedure, to reduce pressure on the brain.

Wow, this is really confusing isn’t it! What is exciting about the book, for this Thomson mystery fanatic, is that it somewhat proves William Little was right, when he claimed that the Huntsville undertaker, who had claimed to have moved Thomson from Mowat, to Leith, Ontario (near Owen Sound) via the train, had really only moved enough Algonquin earth to feel the weight of a newly deceased artist. I’ve pestered Roy about this, to no avail, but it sure begs now, that the Leith grave be the subject of a final investigation, to determine if that grave is empty. In the biography of Robert and Signe McMichael, who created the well respected McMichael Collection, of Kleinberg, entitled “One Man’s Obsession,” there is a reference, as related to a Thomson family source, to the metal coffin being opened by the undertaker, to satisfy Tom Thomson’s father.....who was then at peace that the plot would indeed contain the remains of his son. Now with this new forensic evidence that the skull was most likely Thomson’s, it is an even more poignant mystery now......because there was only one Tom Thomson, and there now appears to be two actual graves according to accounts new and old. Fascinating.

I ran it buy David Silcox, recently, well known in the art community, for having written “Silence of the Storm,” the biography of Tom Thomson, who has avoided the controversy of which grave is which.....and as he re-iterates, each time we chat about Thomson, the real importance is to value the art work he created during his life, which of course reminds me that we do tend to spend more time discussing the mysterious circumstances of his death, versus celebrating his wonderful art work he bestowed upon us.....now so proudly and affectionately part of our national identity for all these decades.

I’m torn between the issues, admittedly, yet in awe of the work of both men, Canadian historians, who have given us so much information on the life and work of painter, Tom Thomson.

This is the kind of material I work on most, here in my Gravenhurst office, when there’s no election bumping about!

A CHALLENGE TO A NEW COUNCIL - AWAKENING TO A NEW (OLD) REALITY

This morning I couldn’t abide the permeating aroma of chlorine in our water, and when it becomes this concentrated, such that I smell it just washing my hands, I won’t even have coffee....which by rights, in the process, should have steamed off at least some of the gas.

When I was covering District Council, back in the 1980's for the former Herald-Gazette, I was turned onto a story that had come from a southern Ontario hamlet, having problems with its water supply. Industrial contaminates were getting into the ground water and municipal source for community consumption, and causing a major panic, particularly because there was a food processing facility using the same water.....and potentially contaminating those who consumed the product.

I remember talking to the Chief Medical Officer of Health, for Muskoka, and asking about the routine tests on the water for contaminates that might have some cancer causing potential. I was told then, and I’m assuming it holds today, that while sampling is taken, the process is expensive and not done frequently. Maybe I’m wrong. The real issue is bacteria to stop another Walkerton tragedy. But as we’re finding out nationally, our water supply is full of contaminates, from cast off medication, to industrial waste, and there’s not much being done about it. It’s changing the reproductive capabilities of some species of aquatic life. It’s pretty scary stuff and while you’re trying to prevent cancer by eating correctly, it probably isn’t enough prevention. Add on to this contamination, the constant radiation bombarding us from every where, including our pockets and homes, and well, good luck in the future.

Issues of wireless internet will be affecting school officials and municipal authorities locally, at some point soon, as more national and international attention is focused on our self-inflicted atomospheric pollution. And it will come down to the grass roots level, where most rebellions have commenced in history, and these issues, while not as immediate as having to approve or deny the next zoning amendment, or minor variance, I do believe it will be an issue sooner or later, when a District councillor, representing our town, says to the Water Department, for example, “why does my drinking water taste like a public swimming pool?” And do increased amounts of chlorine cause any medical problems down the road? Why is the chlorine level bumped up at certain times of the year? Is there a sewage treatment problem and an ongoing contamination of our own water source? What are the ailments connected to a high level of chlorine treatment of the water......other than our white laundry getting really white?”

How many times in a given year, do you hear about someone being diagnosed with cancer? There are those who would say that asking such a simple question, is no way to conduct a survey of incidents of cancer, diagnosed throughout the country. This is true. But none the less, as random and unscientific as it is, doesn’t this troubling news in your family, neighborhood, community, make you wonder who’s next. While there’s always a guarded response, as to “Why me,” and “We just don’t know why and from what,” thinking about potential carcinogens that may be in our drinking water, every day of our lives, makes me ponder aloud sometimes, about our ability to ever come back from this natural destruction of the planet.

When we’re told “it’s safe,” to have or consume, by government standard, but there is conflicting evidence from the public, such as in the case of drinking water deemed safe, and wireless internet that is causing alleged maladies in some children, are we daft enough to wait ten years to find out just how much damage the experiment has done.......when, like cigarettes, the ill-effects were finally acknowledged but not before massive loss of life. With our various forms of high tech communications we use daily, young and old, that emit levels of radiation, (which over the long term could have adverse effects), what is most obvious to me, is that capitalism and its well being are infinitely more important, than whether or not we might get cancer some time in the future. And when we do, what was the cause? Radiation or the pollution of our drinking water?

Gravenhurst council hopefuls might look at a blog like this and say, “this isn’t what our job will be at a municipal level.” “What can we do to change society?” “Even if we explore more thorough testing of our water for carcinogens, what can we do to stop the contamination?”

As I began this series of pre-election blogs some weeks ago, my mission above all else, was to prove to everyone that power belongs to those who pursue enlightenment, knowledge and who are believers that education is an ongoing necessity of survival. Many gave up on the matter of ongoing education after high school. If you wish to be among the enlightened, I’m willing to bet that a matter as simple as water quality, is a question worth pursuing with authorities. Then taking that information garnered, and moving on to the next step of information discovery. You may be surprised, shocked, dismayed or possibly even relieved, in the process of such investigation. But once you know the truth, you’ll feel an amazing liberation. You might just consider yourself a lowly council member, looking at bylaws and amendments all the live long day but never dismiss the fact you are representing the good folks who live in this town, who are potentially becoming ill because of what occurs in this town. It may be a time when municipalities are going to stand-up to other levels of government, and demand these issues get the attention they deserve.....changes to be made accordingly.

Just remember the incredible work of citizens of the past, who without rank or social standing, took on major issues of international weight, and won, if only it was to inform us about something that was dreadfully wrong, and needed government action.

There are a few council hopefuls who have the idea being elected, to town council, is a means of getting a few extra bucks every month. There are others who have special interests and agendas to cultivate. Some have a sincere interest in making Gravenhurst stronger and more financially dynamic. And there are some who will be disappointed by how dull the process of local governance can be, day to day, sitting hour on end at meetings and conferences. Yet, if you appreciate any of the above opinions, truth is, the ambitious councillor who wants to make a difference, has a lot of room to wiggle. The protocol of following the mayor is okay in procedure but not as a matter of control.

As a reporter / editor for many years, I used to get so bloody mad that councillors always felt they had to hide or defer from our inquiries. Even when we did open up something, like the water quality issue, it always seemed to be such a pain in the ass effort, to get members to react with a sense of responsibility, to an undeniable problem we clearly identified.....not simply to sell papers but because we were all interested in the welfare of the place we lived. We just learned to push and push hard for action because otherwise, most of these issues weren’t important enough, to outweigh those same minor variances and re-zonings. What I know now, is that they simply wanted to do their job, and not hunt down extra responsibilities they hadn’t signed-on to perform. We used to argue back that, what does a council representative do in the case of a serious, widespread community disaster? Look it up in the municipal government handbook for councillors before reacting? Some circumstances require stepping outside the box. If you knew clearly, and with the contaminates listed on a civic document, that you were potentially risking cancer by drinking the town water, supposed to be safe for drinking, would you want your family to remain blissfully unaware, or would you be a vigilant campaigner for more information and warnings?

I don’t expect municipal councils will be able to kick the arses of those in higher government without consequence. It takes added effort and commitment. But when I hear these council hopefuls now, spouting off about “making change,” and “improving our community,” and all about their “dedication,” and “passion,” is this truthfully the spark of fire in the belly that demands of the elected representative, to push beyond the commonplace of council business, into the complicated realm of health and welfare issues that affect each of us hometowners 24-7? Think about these issues on the occasion of attending another ribbon cutting, or a grip and grin photo op for something or other.....and let conscience enter into it. Is this all there is? Is this what I ran for election to do?

I will not write any more on the subject of municipal elections before it is determined who will represent us for the next four years. My hope is that all successful candidates will come together, despite differences of opinion and agenda, and run our municipality responsibly, and without fear that enlightenment is a burden.....or that ongoing education is redundant. It is important for all of us here, to have respect for those who represent our interests......our health and welfare is as much in your hands, as any where else in this grand dominion. And don’t think that the voice of inquiry, or the mission of discovery is ever a waste of time and effort.....it is the reason we have cures for much of what ails us, with new discoveries ongoing. We appreciate the fact you have stepped forward to help us, and our hometown, deal with the future with the decisions of today.

MONEY PAID TO MAYOR AND COUNCILLORS NOT ENOUGH

As outrageous as the above statement reads, it’s absolutely correct and I challenge anyone to a debate who thinks differently. Not one like the all-candidates’ soupy “meet and greet”, which was too bland and social to be a pre-election aid for undecided voters.

I want to share a brief account of a mid-air conversation I had, with my friend, soon to be employer and Children’s Foundation head, Roger Crozier.....former all star goaltender with the Detroit Red Wings, the Buffalo Sabres and the Washington Capitals. When I began my association with Roger, mid 1990's, he was the head of facilities management, including development, construction and operation, for MBNA in Delaware, and throughout the United States. When a reporter, at a press conference, asked Roger if he’d like to be known, from his life’s accomplishments, as either a NHL goalie or a banker, Roger responded without hesitation. “That’s easy....a banker!” As a footnote, while Roger was indeed an exceptional goaltender, he battled nerves and nausea before games, and in his early years suffered from painful bouts of pancreatitis. He looked forward to the final buzzer more than the sound of the puck hitting the ice at the opening face-off. Admittedly, the reporter was a little confused, how a celebrated all star netminder from the original six, could put “banker” ahead of celebrity. Well, as one of the biographers who worked closely with Roger before his death, it was obvious, his association with MBNA was a union with even greater rewards, and more widespread satisfaction at what he was able to accomplish in a management capacity. He worked hard, more hours than he was required, to catch up and surpass the knowledge and experience he needed to excel, and help lead the company’s expansion requirements. Roger was a role model when I was a kid, and by golly, he was a role model as a banker.

Roger’s bank flew me to Delaware, with his mother Mildred, and lawyer-friend Jack Huckle, to attend an award ceremony for Roger, to be held at Longwood Gardens, in Pennsylvania, later that night. First I got a tour of the MBNA facilities, which staggered this Gravenhurst lad, and I was introduced to the aspects of the huge site developed and managed by the Bracebridge born former goalie. What I had known about Roger, to that point, was hockey, and only hockey, and that’s just what I’d been writing about in the local press. This was a different world and an enlightenment for a newshound, with gaping-open mouth for two days. The award ceremony, by I believe the Boy Scouts of America, was formal and lavish in every way, filled with corporate leaders, and the literal who’s who of business and local politics. Instead of having Eddy “The Entertainer” Shack slapping Roger on the back, after a Sabres game, and being mobbed by sports reporters looking for a headline to go with account of the win or loss, Roger was being pursued by business writers and the corporate elite, respectful of his building accomplishments.

After an amazing adventure, I had a chance to sit with Roger on the corporate jet cruise back to Canada. While he was disembarking in Cleveland that day, I had a wonderful opportunity to talk about the transition from athlete to contractor for, at the time, one of United States fasting rising banks. We talked quite a bit about the Muskoka communities, and as he was intending on pushing ahead with a new Crozier Foundation For Children, of which I was to be a part for the next 12 years, he wanted to know specifically about the support he might get on certain projects, from local mayors and councils.

It was kind of an unexpected question but one an enquiring mind, under the circumstance, would find a natural progression during such a conversation. “How much does a mayor earn in Muskoka, Ted?” he asked. He caught me off guard and seeing as I wasn’t on the front lines of the local press at that time, I answered that the amount would probably be well under $30,000 a year plus expenses. “You’re kidding,” he snapped back. “Then how do you attract the best people to run for mayor?” “What about councillors....how much do they earn?” I thought that number would be just under $20,000 (mid-1990's), plus expenses and mileage,” I answered the best I could. He just starred at me in disbelief. In his world you see, money attracted talent and that was a sound business investment...... to surround yourself with the best of the best. And while Roger appreciated the small town fiscal realities....., (he did grow up in 1950's, early 60's Bracebridge when the population was less that 3,000 souls), he argued that with such a small return for a term of office, this was severely limiting the people, (the talent pool) who could dedicate themselves to running the town. It was being left largely to those who owned their own businesses and retirees. I couldn’t really disagree, and although it had crossed my mind, as a reporter covering councils throughout the 1980's, it just seemed so much more obvious and restrictive when he mentioned it during the flight. His point clearly was that more money entices more experienced individuals to seek the council positions. No different than the municipalities trying to attract experienced staff to fill our their departments, and having to compete with larger communities, with bigger budgets, and of course, free enterprise, also looking to employ the all stars. Sometimes restraint, like making a policy to only accept the lowest submitted tenders, is as they say, penny wise and pound foolish.

As I risk ratepayer ridicule for suggesting we pay too little for our elected representatives, here in regional Ontario, it is obvious something is wrong with our approach. There are good and talented people sitting on the sideline because running for election isn’t worth it! Not everything comes down to doing it out of pride and passion. I will take experience and accomplishment ten times out of ten against passion and not much else. It’s not to suggest our candidates are unworthy of a chance...... because, of course, that’s democracy in action. It is to suggest that we are not attracting folks as we should, and at least part of it is low remuneration....the other is the four year term, which many can not dedicate themselves to, without seriously compromising their lives and enterprise.

Based on the demands we place on councillors and the mayor, they are not paid enough. I’m a frugal citizen and I hate paying taxes but I want the best representation available. This is the kind of investment in our future we need to be thinking about, before the next election in four years.

I will be true to my word and not endorse candidates via this blog. I was particularly impressed by one candidate who approached me after the meeting, with a sincere interest in how I felt about the meeting, and if it had accomplished anything to satisfy the “critic blogger.” I had to admit I was disappointed in the non-debate of the event, and while chatting, I noticed a whack of notes in the candidate’s hand that had been prepared in the event a real question and answer component broke out. Obviously disappointed there wasn’t more time to discuss, present, or debate much of anything, this eager and hardworking candidate had every reason to feel short changed. I was so pleased the council hopeful had taken the time to chat with me after the event. I wish I could have introduced this particular candidate to my friend Roger, who I think would have sensed the kind of business acumen and personal conviction, that truly does makes a team player move up through the ranks. Maybe he would have been a source of inspiration as well, proving the statement, “the price of success is always hard work.” We need more of that. A lot more.

Best of luck for the election. I mean it!

MEET THE CANDIDATES - A WET NOODLE AFFAIR BEST FORGOTTEN

Instead of a barn-burner debate, we got a high school election pitch. It was as soft as a T-Bone in a blender. Nothing to lead the candidates to commit anything more than “geez I promise I won’t screw up with your money.” Jesus, do you know how many times we’ve heard those canned responses. The questions at this evening’s fun-fest were ineffective and so non-inflammatory, the answers so vague and injected with election promises, that the only way a voter could have been stimulated is to have fallen asleep and hit their forehead on the person in front. The only positive was a full audience at the Opera House. Too bad nothing happened other than air was expended and it cost taxpayers money to have all the house lights on. I’ve been to more vibrant Christenings. The sponsors were probably delighted with the event and undoubtedly its outcome. I’m not sure what banked headline front-pager is going make the weekly news but at best....and I mean best, “a good time was had by all” at the community picnic without the food.

You would never know that this was a preamble event, a pitch to the electorate, to allow candidates to represent our multi-million dollar corporation. The event should have matched the seriousness of the election, and the grave situation we face with our deficit. Think about what it would take, if as a candidate applying to work for Donald Trump, if this was the test of endurance, competence, and counter-point. Well, how many do think would have been fired? A lot! I think there was a will on the part of candidates to let it all hang out but they didn’t get a chance to do anything more than sputter a few obtuse observations and outline several planks from their platform before the magic bell.

No speeches. No debate. There was a wholesome grip and grin, meet and greet, after all the pleasantries had concluded. Nothing of substance because the candidates weren’t put on the spot, by having to face tough questions, demanding something of an actual thought process and a critical, articulate response.....anything.

I think the candidates themselves should have kicked up a fuss, (and if need be, boycotted the evening social) demanding that they be able to present a short speech, introducing themselves and their platform, and then asked a series of general questions, before being sent bravely or cowering into the lion’s den, to answer questions from pissed off ratepayers (who were in attendance)......the ones filling the Opera House with their faces hanging out......lusting for the opportunity to make the event memorable, and accomplishing something other than “Good to see you again!”

Several candidates recognized my chagrin. Hands over my face. Head hitting the wall. Trying to imagine how, beyond this artificial safe-haven, real life can turn so ugly five steps out of this building.....when critically important issues are debated every day of the freaking year, with no holds barred....because that’s what we do. When there’s more debate on the street, the coffee shops, on the park benches, and in places of business, please tell me what this love-in represented in any scheme of things. There were two candidates who tried to make the “pageant of non-aggressive actions and reactions,” interesting, and “thanks for sparking things a tad.”

There is something wrong here and it showed its face at this meeting. Apathy. An unwillingness to appreciate that the soft touch on the part of the electorate, for the last seven years, is our fault. Not councillors. Not the Mayor. We let it happen. We accepted inefficient governance. And if the folks who attended this meeting, feel this week’s pre-election event was anything warmer than tepid, gads, are we screwed. Even they’ve forgotten what fire in the belly feels like.

The bottom line here is simple. The new Mayor and Council will know what it’s like to dance with stress.....dip with pressure, and realize sooner or later, the caress of pre-election didn’t prepare them for anything more than photo ops and ribbon cutting.......not the true responsibilities they will face shortly after being sworn-in. That’s unfortunate. There was an opportunity once.....but it was lost by ridiculous protocol.

DAVID BROWN SHOWED ME A LEARNING PATH THROUGH THE WOODLANDS

I never really knew how wonderful it was, to live across from The Bog, until someone told me. Not just anyone. An educator. A wilderness canoeist. A man who made his living from the environment of Ontario. A teacher known by thousands of youngsters and adults, who had benefitted from his special classroom, near Hamilton’s Botanical Gardens. I was his special student....a project I suppose. He liked to move the unmovable!

When I authored the biography of teacher/historian, Miles David Brown, back in 2000, I felt unfairly abandoned holding onto an old promise! Fate unfortunately got in the way of self imposed protocols. I never break a promise. My kids disagree but I’m talking professionally here. I wasn’t sure whether to shelve the project or carry-on to the best of my ability. Few had as many intimate conversations with the educator, in his final years, than Suzanne and I. If we wouldn’t write the book, who could practically fill-in and do justice to a project that would take a year to research and write,...... and most likely be a labor of love and respect, with nary a cent of profit. We certainly didn’t do this to make a profit. We did it as friends. Friends who initially were scared to tackle the life story of a man who was both complicated and contradictory. He was a brilliant man but eccentric. How would we represent all his characteristics properly, and not offend his colleagues and students, who really didn’t know just how strange Dave had been for years and years. (At the time of his death Dave had stuffed over 100,000 rare books and documents into a small Hamilton bungalow)

When Dave first asked me to write his life story, as an outdoor educator, I assumed he’d be around for the whole project. He had it all figured out including the cover-art. What I didn’t realize is that Dave was close to death when he hired me on. I went from being quite confident I could deliver a worthy biography, ghost writing for Dave, to the nervous lead author on a book left up to me to compile and design. While I never doubted Dave was looking over my shoulder the whole time, I confess it was one of the toughest writing jags I’ve experienced. Dave was a fussy, fussy man, and I had to make it right. Well, bottom line is, I sold out the biography and Dave haunts me quite pleasantly in memory.

Dave was a key component and motivating force in the Outdoor Education programs in Ontario, and his classroom in Hamilton, was filled with an absolutely amazing array of critters....some alive and in glassed containers, terrariums, aquariums and hundreds of preserved animals of forest and boglands. I met Dave as a fellow book collector, in the antique shop we used to operate in Bracebridge, and after only a few meetings and impromptu debates about Canadian history (which our shop was famous for), Dave became a regular house guest, on his many camping and canoeing forays in northern Algonquin Park. The boys couldn’t wait for Dave to pull into the driveway with his red truck and yellow canoe, heralding the arrival of natural goodies. Dave never came here without some natural oddities to show the boys. One day it might be rattles from a deceased rattlesnake ( Dave would harvest these from snakes killed on the road), to portions of moose antler broken in battle, lightning-fried wood, from damaged trees, so that our boys could see and smell what a bolt of electricity against wood could manifest. There was always a plethora of interesting items, from old woodstoves, logging chains, cant hooks, and pike poles in the back of that truck, harvested from the many waterways of Ontario, where Dave liked to canoe. Dave was a teacher 24-7, and he always had his students in mind when he came upon something peculiar, while traversing a lake, or portaging from river to lake. Thousands upon thousands of youngsters in this province learned about nature from David Brown. He was a nature guide, a television personality in Hamilton, an historian, and an amazing tutor to our family.

One day he showed up here covered in muck. “Fall out of the canoe Dave,” Suzanne asked our burly guest. “Come here,” he waved, as he ambled to the back of the truck. “See that log,” he questioned. “Check out that stamp on the end.” Sure enough it was an end cut with a lumber company stamp, of which he had a collection of Muskoka’s antiquated logging industry marks, of which this one was a J.D. Shier stamp. It was the bloody size of the log-cut that impressed us, and the fact he was able to wrestle it off the bottom of a bay, and haul it into the canoe by himself. And he paddled for an hour after that engagement. “I’m going to put this in the display cabinet at the education centre with some of the logging stamps I’ve got at home,” said Dave. He did it for the kids....and guests of the education centre who might be interested in Canada’s early logging industry. That’s the way Dave was. He was like a good billiard player thinking three shots ahead. (Dave’s wife was used to coming home to find turtles etc., in the bathtub, and boxes upon boxes of artifacts and books he’d found or purchased on his travels. He said she left him when he only had 30,000 books, and just a few cant hooks and logging chains in the livingroom.)

Dave, Suzanne and I, used to sit out on our front deck, overlooking The Bog, and he talked for hours on end about his many wilderness excursions. He’d take our boys Andrew and Robert on nature hikes through the lowland, and so patiently deal with their many questions about flora and fauna.....question dear old dad fumbled with, and mother had to consult her wildflower guidebook to answer otherwise. Dave knew it all. He could find snake skins and bear poop, and tell you when these natural events occurred. He’d show them the handiwork of the local woodpeckers, and draw their attention to tracks in the spring snow. I followed behind, in awe of all this wonderful man knew, of the bountiful and precious nature around us.

I’ve sat on this same deck with Canadian historians, experts in many fields, and there have been wine enhanced discussions about everything from World War and politics, to Muskoka’s old boats, boat builders and artists. I’ve debated the death of Canadian landscape artist Tom Thomson, with those close to the case, and found out Dave had particularly important information the Mowat grave was still occupied by the artist (contrary to accepted belief)......a story told to him by someone intimate with the Canoe Lake community of 1917. I went on to write three published feature articles, with a huge following, inspired in part from that front porch chat with the good Mr. Brown. He was a story bonanza for an eager columnist.

I sat out there for a wee bit this afternoon, and while a little chilly in the shade, it was a warming reconciliation, to feel Dave’s presence beside me again, lounging together, mortal and spirit-kind, looking out over what I find so amazing about this Gravenhurst neighborhood. He wasn’t a showboat of information, and he never force-fed conservation as a personal life mission. In fact Dave made money on weekends, chopping dangerous trees down for Hamilton customers. Dave realized that it was impossible to save every tree, every pasture, all the woodlands we knew as children, and even some of the wetlands we believe fragile. He was blunt and honest and I knew he was right. Yet he realized with a good science background, when destruction of nature had gone too far. Many times, before retiring to bedlam, Dave and I gave a final toast, to all the wee beasties that played upon the Moor, and the fairies that may have frolicked in the moonlight in the beck beyond the hillside.....the fairy rings, in evidence Queen Mab had been there the eve before. Science for Dave was a classroom protocol but his eyes told of enchantments far and wide, and Robert and Andrew listened intently, so as not to miss any of the drama on his woodland hikes.

Dave told me he liked our place.....very much enjoyed the view over this wild paradise in an urban package. I agreed. I’m so glad I wrote his biography. I’m so glad we spared this Bog for all the youngsters and their parents who enjoy trodding down its pathways today, in those marvelous adventures in contentment.....that have never ended for me!

OUR HEARTS GO OUT TO FRED SCHULZ AND FAMILY

When my mother died several years ago, outside of the immediate condolences from the nursing staff, of The Pines, in Bracebridge, we heard from our friend Fred Schulz, a short while later, kindly offering us any help we needed. In January of this year, Fred again was the first to extend his sympathy, and assistance to our family, when he found out my father had passed away that night. He was particularly sensitive to our sons Andrew and Robert who spent many hours with their grandfather since his wife’s passing. It meant a lot to them to see Fred coming to visit at their main street music shop. What began as a somber meeting always ended in good humor as is Fred’s trademark, making the best of an unfortunate situation. Life goes on. We’ve always known we could count on our friends in times of crisis but Fred has always been there for us regardless what the situation, time of day, or even if he had to postpone a prior commitment to help us out.

Now it is our turn, all of us, to extend heartfelt sympathy to a dear friend. Fred’s mother passed away peacefully on Tuesday evening, after a lengthy period of declining health. We wish of course, to share this message of sympathy, with all members of Fred’s family.

OUR FIRST DAYS IN GRAVENHURST - WE FELT AT HOME

Yes, it was a dark and stormy night. We had only been living here for a short while and admittedly we felt quite out of place. It’s what all incoming newbies face moving to a new home town. Nothing strange about feeling a tad out of place.

We had gone to a fundraising sale at the Anglican Church, and no sooner through the door, than the heavens literally opened. It was a monster storm that night, lasting more than three hours. Along with us were our two lads, Andrew and Robert, who were having a ball sorting through the collectable toys for sale, while Suzanne was browsing through the mountains of clothes. I found great entertainment checking out the boxes of books and old records. We didn’t want to leave that Friday night. Well, let’s just say, we couldn’t have left safely anyway, as our car was parked quite a distance away, and the storm was still raging outside. Feeling a little awkward, for staying around so long, we decided to pay for our purchases and give some wiggle room to the other customers. We’d stand up at the doorway and wait for a lull in the storm.

We visited with the Anglican Church ladies, we paid-up and prepared to leave. “You’re leaving? You can’t go out in that weather,” Mrs. Jones said to Suzanne.....backed by a chorus of “Come on, you can join us for dinner. We’ve got lots of food. May Lindsell just brought us another casserole.”

At first we thought it polite to thank them, and suggested “oh, we don’t want to impose.” Although it’s true the smell coming from their kitchen was absolutely wondrous. “Find a chair, now come on, you can’t argue with us. We only listen to what we want to.....and that is, you’re going to join us for a nice dinner, alright?” It was kind of hard to argue with this hospitality in God’s house.

While it thundered and poured down for the next hour, we had an incredible dinner with some amazing folks, as good-hearted as Suzanne and I had experienced in our lives. It came at a perfect time, because we were both a little homesick. Suzanne was from the tiny Lake Rosseau hamlet of Windermere, and I was from Gravenhurst’s long time sporting rival, Bracebridge. At a time when we weren’t sure we had made the right decision, to move to Gravenhurst, these ladies turned it all around for us. Of course we were home. We’ve only missed one Anglican Church sale since and that’s quite a stretch. We’ve remained friends with Muriel and David Jones from that moment, when she outrightly refused letting us go out into the storm. It was the seed of goodwill and neighborliness we’ve held onto all these years, through tough moments when admittedly we thought about moving elsewhere. Suzanne and I would walk back through memories and think fondly of how it all began. It was an over-riding issue, a sort of inspiration, when we began our fight for The Bog, and had so many other folks step up, with a parallel friendship between kindred spirits, caring neighbors, and so many other concerned citizens.

As residents of Gravenhurst, you undoubtedly have many similar stories to share. It’s what makes a town a hometown.....when good deeds are just normal interactions.....not out of the ordinary. It’s what our elected councillors will be representing in our community......and neighborliness has just as much place at town hall as on main street, side streets, your ballywick and mine. If there are fences to mend.....let’s do that, because that’s what makes us a competitive, ambitious, stalwart, dynamic.....fun loving place to live.

I’m a grumpy old fart let me tell you....of course you’ve probably figured this out by now, so the fact Gravenhurst at large, and I, have made a pact to live harmoniously here in South Muskoka, says a lot about our community’s willingness to forgive transgressions, and my ability to adjust and adapt to the traditions and situations that pulse through here, pumped by a big and generous heart.

ELECTION SO FAR HAS OFFERED ONLY A GENTLE GNAWING AND INUENDO

There are huge differences in opinions between local candidates, running in the upcoming municipal election. Don’t count on finding out just how deep and wide those divides are, because there isn’t a venue upcoming that will use debate as a measure of leadership competence. “Meet the candidates,” events, one scheduled this week, are interesting, santitized social encounters but establish very little, if you are interested in how the person you vote for, will be able to argue, negotiate, spar, wrestle with an array of developers, their lawyers, the feds, their latest mandates, and new provincial obstructions to bob and weave through. Wall flowers won’t cut it in our municipal challenges over the next four years.

The election action so far has been, at most, “a gentle gnawing of the shins,” and the observer who thinks the “gloves are coming off,” is grossly over-estimating the will to engage. And I believe there are many candidates who are bloody relieved they won’t have to face a hungry-for-blood audience, and rigorous debate from their competitors. Others have missed a great opportunity to advance themselves, in the eyes of electors, because they are highly aggressive debaters, who are used to fighting for what they believe. This is unfortunate because we absolutely require councillors unafraid of a little or a lot of heat at council meetings. Sitting back might be sensible for the warm-up period, to get used to the protocol, and to bone-up on council business, but if it becomes a habit, then the municipality is being under-served by their representative.

As for the gnashing of opinions, this is going to commence with the new council term, and the only way we’re going to find out who’s a worthy debater, and who should not have run for council, is to watch the proceedings. The horse is long gone before you shut the barn door but it’s what you get when good old-fashion election debates become little more than “meet and greets.”

I have selected my candidates of choice, and with the rest of my family, have already sent in our ballots. We sat together, as a family, and discussed openly the strengths and weaknesses of those we could vote for, and feel, by and large, will make no-nonsense, honest, business-like representatives. Even before this week’s “gnawing” spectacle, at the Opera House, we decided to weigh our decisions on personal encounters, our own debates with candidates over the past two months, and on our expectation of how these folks will do when debating flourishes on the council floor......which it will, I guarantee you. In fact, there are some combinations of council hopefuls that could fire-up the chambers to the kind of heat we haven’t seen around here in decades. And as I’m passionate about counter-point, debate, and a wee bit of sensibly proportioned “fury,” it could be a four year term completely opposite to the soft election campaign we’ve witnessed so far.

I don’t want to see blood on the knuckles out of this, or a council that can’t move-on after a little dust-up, but debate is healthy....rigorous debate is one dose better. It guarantees that the press must wake up from its slumber, and take note. That helps inform us. A passive council is a dangerous one for all of us.

In the lead-up to the election, I’m expecting that the councillors, who suspect they have a lead, will attempt to coast on their efforts to date. Folks like me will be disappointed. A few will try some theatrics to bring votes their way, and others will spend money on ads of self promotion, and decide to abandon the main street, person to person contact, they began with but decided the effort was simply too much work to maintain. I have a feeling most will cross their fingers and hope for a positive outcome. Several however, will take advantage of this laziness, and accelerate their mission to succeed. I’ve voted for these people.....the ones who don’t and have not rested the outcome on wishful thinking. Ambition shown now is ambition that will show later. From the majority of candidates, well, I’m less than impressed in 2010, and I can only hope, their performance as elected officials is more dynamic, than the run they’ve taken leading up to election day.

I won’t contaminate this blog site by naming those I have supported in this election. It isn’t fair to have this great pomposity of opinion about democracy and its virtues, and what makes good governance, and then rest all that on my candidates of choice. It’s not fair for them to be forced to carry all the burdens of responsibility I’ve etched here in cyber-space. I don’t want to jinx them from having a good term of office because they feel obliged to the prolific guy with time on his hands. It’s not like that. Like many of us frustrated voters, we just want to help with good governance.....not micro manage. If we had truly believed ourselves superior, then our names would be on that same ballot, just as the brave souls who face our scrutiny today.

CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS? VOTING FOR THE FUNNIEST CANDIDATE, UNIQUE SIGN

Happens every election I guess. Makes you cringe to think this is what our families fought for on the high seas and battlegrounds of World War! Voting for the funniest candidate, the most unusual, unique election sign, most peculiar name. I think the “mail-in” ballots may get the attention of the less than astute voters, who just like making marks on paper. It might explain, in some way, why there were so many ballots destroyed four years ago.

Our ears have picked up numerous stories about folks who have recently submitted ballots, voting for a candidate based on strange attractions......none based on the subject candidate’s ability to govern, but because their name, apparent sense of humor, antics, or sign made them standout as the best to govern. Makes you want to cry doesn’t it, especially when the majority of voters care very much about the weight of their actions, in determining what they most desire in local government. When I heard about someone voting for a candidate as a joke on the rest of us, I wondered aloud if he would have done the same novelty vote, if he had been forced to attend a polling booth instead.

We can’t afford this kind of attitude. But it does explain the growing apathy out there to elections and democracy itself. Wasting a vote is like a blood clot being set loose through our arteries, and the same folks voting with humor and anecdote as the incentive, don’t give a rat’s arse about wetlands, urban sprawl, services, and fiscal responsibility. It’s bloody scary because in a close vote these clownish pranks count. It’s a type of election vandalism that sticks around for four years, and screws up democracy at the same time. Why would anyone think it was good fun to purposely vote for a candidate based on the size and graphics of a sign. The sign doesn’t govern our municipality!

We heard about another voting family who said they would not support for a particular candidate based on their false assumption that this same person had brought in, almost single handedly, every bad thing the town had experienced since Moses. When it was brought to their attention this was not quite right, let alone fair, they cocked their collective heads, and reiterated, “Well, we can’t vote for him anyway.” Not based on fact but based on faulty logic. There’s a lot of that circulating out there and it’s a damnation.

Please educate yourself first. Don’t vote on assumption. Don’t vote as a lark. We really can’t afford this frivolity.

PRESERVING HERITAGE - AT A COST WE CAN’T AFFORD - GRAVENHURST AT THE CROSSROADS

If I had a chance, with what I know today, to go back to 1977, and re-assess priorities, I would not have made a foray to save Bracebridge’s Woodchester Villa and Museum, known as “The Bird House,” although I very likely would help establish, as I did then, the Bracebridge Historical Society. The mandate of the heritage group would be to construct a new, central, accessible, adaptable and efficient museum.

While this may seem blasphemous to all heritage site protectors, and conservators throughout the region and beyond, it’s more a revelation of honesty and fiscal responsibility, than representative of my own life as an historian. Visitors claim my house is a museum. I suppose it is in a way. I’m also an antique dealer, so I do surround myself with wonderful old pieces.

The problem faced by every historic-site stewardship, is the control of expenses, to keep the site upgraded. The over-riding problem, as it was when I was on the Board of Directors of the BHS, was finding enough money for staffing, programs, advertising, and upkeep, and it was a damnation to fulfill and keep accounting in the black. If it hadn’t been for government grants and various subsidies we begged for, the museum, although a wonderful credit to the community, and Woollen Mill founder, Henry Bird, who had it constructed as an octagon, would have never made it past the first five years. If it hadn’t been for the volunteers, it would have failed miserably in the first three years. The stress on those who helped open the site was enormous, just as it was to my wife Suzanne and I, who ran many programs throughout the year on pennies, out of respect for the magic of the site. We had to paint the building’s woodwork, and mow the lawn as if it was our own house. We had to cut costs dramatically before the end of the first decade. My family spent more time working around Woodchester than tending our own homestead. It’s the same story for many small museums and related historic sites that operate on tight budgets.

When I read about last year’s cave-in of the outside porch, built around the house, truth is, it was showing problems in 1989 when I did a stint as site manager. It should have been torn off and rebuilt years before the collapse. In 1989 we didn’t have the funds and that hasn’t changed a whole lot. My main contribution in my final years with the museum, was to divide responsibilities for the two buildings on the property, between the BHS and Muskoka Arts and Crafts, operating the Chapel Gallery, to offset costs and reduce management requirements for the previous volunteer board..... which resembled swiss cheese by 1989. I made the original phone call to an Arts and Crafts member, and within days there was an exploratory meeting, and the ball just never stopped moving from that point. The Gallery is still functioning effectively all these years later, so something went right. The museum has been a somewhat lesser attraction, and it was closed this past summer season due to the maintenance issue. I’m not at all sure if the BHS is still in existence.

Our whole family shared a lot of time at Woodchester Villa, and it was with great heartache when I decided it was time to step aside for a new generation of stewards and their ideas.

When I’m invited into any conversation, here in Gravenhurst, about built heritage matters, I am always guarded about my responses. While I see the same enthusiasm in their eyes, and sense the conviction about preserving heritage buildings, I can’t help but speak-out about some of the inherent dangers of saving the past at the jeopardy of future budgets. There was no way you could pre-budget Woodchester unless of course you had a spare hundred thousand dollars, just laying around for a rainy day(s). With heritage easements on the property, we had to follow a strict protocol of restoration, that would not detract from the period the building represented, even if it was a repair, such as a rain gutter, that would spare the physical integrity of the building. Everything cost more. And grants became tighter and more restrictive, and fundraising was a bust. We were competing against the hospital and every important charity, and it was a small community. There just wasn’t enough to go around.

Gravenhurst has one finely restored Victorian era site, the home of Dr. Norman Bethune, but if it wasn’t for Federal Government involvement, it would have run the same grant to grant obstacle course as Woodchester Villa. New and better designed museum facilities, such as Grace and Speed, in Gravenhurst, are by far the better and more efficient heritage sites. These are designed for the needs of the future. Restored historic buildings are remnants of the past which are always in need of upgrading, costing extreme amounts of capital annually just to hobble into the future.

This town is best known for the stewardship of the restored steamships, and we are known internationally for this wonderful Muskoka Lakes attraction. But this labor of affection could not have achieved its present successes, without the almost unbelievable dedication of citizen volunteers and kind benefactors, who were willing to invest millions in cash and sweat equity, to keep the RMS Segwun afloat. I was a reporter during its renovation, and I visited during many stages of the upgrades, to talk to those craftsman who had a staunch, unmoveable passion to see it steaming off over the lakes once again.

When it comes to deciding how we protect our heritage buildings, and sites, there is always the conundrum about how much will it cost, and is it worth the expense. In 1977-78, I was running into all kinds of opposition from some town councillors, in Bracebridge, like the ever-popular and profoundly sensible Frank Henry, also a former Administrator of South Muskoka Memorial Hospital, who offered the sage advice, that it would be better to construct new sidewalks for our town, than to get involved in a money pit like the Bird House restoration. While I argued vehemently against comparing built heritage with something as banal as sidewalk construction, before Frank passed away, I wrote a column in the local press, reluctantly conceding that, in this circumstance, he had been right and I should have listened. When the upper echelon of Bracebridge came out to join this effort, and fill out the ranks of the Historical Society, in those first few years, they easily over powered sensible voices like Frank Henry and council. We had become the tail wagging the dog, and we ultimately lobbied hard enough to get the project completed. Problem was, nobody thought about the way the museum would operate through the next decade, which was as important a consideration, as every detail of restoration, and every moment spent hunting for furnishing and artifacts to make it a full fledged museum.

This is a contentious issue and I’m sure to draw fire. Especially when, on one hand I openly demand restoration of The Barge, at Rotary Gull Lake Park. In the case of this Town asset, I’m not as concerned about its historic qualities, as the fact it is an important, and profitable entertainment venue that has fallen into disrepair. Truth is, I would be the first to vote for a total re-design of The Barge, with a full canopy (to keep performers dry), constructed to meet the needs of the next 50 years. While this may seem a spike in the heart of Barge supporters, it’s not as outlandish when all its present shortfalls are weighed against a more adaptable, state of the art installation, built for the needs of future performers and concerts. I must also footnote that the repairs needed presently, including the replacement of rotting boards, is simply a requirement of asset maintenance.....and this is one historic site that has never been a drag on town finances.

I speak from experience and those who may wish to direct a shot my way, need to upgrade their research and base what they think is a good idea, on new fiscal realities for the feds, the province, and the burdens facing the local ratepayers and citizenry, in general, in the wake of a recession. I could not support a municipally initiated restoration project today, knowing that many folks can’t pay their taxes now, and our local food bank is in need of greater support.

I had a nice chat recently, with a very well-spoken and keen council hopeful, for this month’s municipal election, and I’m sure he was puzzled when I said to him, “don’t get too hung up on history as a councillor!” Coming from a long-serving Muskoka historian, I may have even shocked myself with this blurt of honesty. History has its place, as a foundation. It has a host of precedents we can learn from, and improve our protocols for the future. It is now a time when history must be placed in perspective, as we upgrade our municipality for present, pressing realities that will only accelerate and become more cumbersome in the future. Our environmental progress, and maintaining infrastructure to keep pace with new development is absolutely critical, and getting caught up in the entanglement of history and tradition won’t improve the efficiencies, and limitations, we will all have to face on this planet. We need to be concerned about the present and future needs of our citizens, and gambles with our finances are unacceptable in this era of enlightement.

History shows us, we made many mistakes that cost us our environmental well being. We can’t afford to live in the past. I love history but I know it is an expensive burden to maintain, and one that in many cases, is a frivolous pursuit amidst many more pressing issues.

During a great debate, in the 1990's, about a large-scale renovation of the Opera House, it was asked, by a sitting councillor, I believe, whether it might not be more fiscally responsible to tear-down the present building and construct a new facility. There was outrage at the very idea the wonderful facility could be compromised in such a fashion. The criticism of spending money on renovation, to an old building, brought back a memory of what Frank Henry told me about money for sidewalks, when I wanted to spend hundreds of thousands on Woodchester Villa. What experience weighs in, is often what we don’t want to recognize, that at some point regardless of our emotional, cultural, heritage arguments, replacement becomes a necessary, sensible alternative. The needed, ongoing repairs to this cherished old building, even in the near future, will stagger some ratepayers and councillors, who may wonder aloud, if the tax burden to finance restoration of an under-used and money losing facility, is truly worth it. And the naysayers to spending any more money on the building, would herald once again, a huge citizen outcry and the formation of an action committee to spare it from the wrecking ball.

It’s just damn difficult to out-run inevitability. We are a small community and funding for projects like historical restorations are thinner and harder to get. And if a million dollar remake is funded, possibly again by public donation, how will this improve the operation of the site? Unless there is a wholesale commitment to change in all areas, not just in bricks, mortar and woodwork, it will only at best, be a lonely monument to good times past. This will be an interesting debate, should it arise one of these days, on the agenda of the local ratepayers, who keeping an eye on town spending, will have to make a landmark decision, as to whether to support the effort, or suggest, “we just can’t afford it.”

I will die as an historian dies. Respectful of those who laid down their lives raising our hometowns to meet the challenges of the decades. I will die a realist however, and acknowledge with eyes wide open that heritage just means everything’s getting older, and some things just can’t be saved, or don’t deserve to remain for an eternity.

LIVING WITH THE OUTCOME OF THE MUNICIPAL ELECTION

I have read, just recently, several comments in the print media, that suggest to me there are a few candidates interested in the eventual dispersal of some, as of yet, unspecified Town assets. And if elected would seek this method as a sort of fundraiser. Well, for me, that’s the initial rumbling of a quality of life situation we folks in the Calydor Subdivision have had to deal with before, when it seemed like a good idea to flog The Bog, our neighborhood wetland. In order to offset the costs of the new Town Hall etc., and the other municipal money-drains around the community, why not flog some surplus property. The Bog was very nearly on that chopping block, and we’re all very much aware of the potential it could come back for council consideration once more. And I know the response from several wieners of the former council, if re-elected, would sound something like, “Shit happens! Get over it!”

Due to spending beyond our ability to pay, like most Canadians these days, it seems so natural to start tearing away what we do own.....sort of like going to the pawn shop to get a few bucks to hold it together until payday. As soon as a council-hopefuls start money-raising by selling off what we own, as a municipality, I have big worries, and not just about The Bog. They know “shock and awe” part two, is ready to mobilize if necessary. And it can be deployed to protect other areas being indiscriminately sold off, to fund something we should not have afforded during this recessionary period. Taking the Town Hall away from the downtown was wrong, just as it was in Bracebridge.

One way to have bolstered our historic downtown, would have been to acquire the necessary land, over time, years, on the former town hall block, and build a new facility suited absolutely to government needs. The fire department would have gained space in the process. The Health Unit building could have been converted to the medical clinic. To think we couldn’t have spent a few more years in the old building, is absolute nonsense......and it’s an extension of this protocol of nonsense to then sell off assets because we over spent on something we didn’t need.

There is a “backwards - forwards” attitude of local governance, and I don’t like the idea of patching the “swiss cheese” budget because of excesses we didn’t ask for. While moving Town Hall from the downtown, to the other side of the community, seemed like a good idea to the majority, including to some of the glad-handers and sign-wavers now seeking re-election, it was a kick in the groin none the less, and at a time when the BIA could ill afford another set-back. And when they suggested, as much, in protest, they were effectively blown off as complainers, whiners and nostaligics, wishing to hold onto the past when the future holds so much potential. So why then should we, the supporters of home town values, folks who rather like our downtown as part of our future, side with any elected official who feels the best way out of the financial crunch, is to unload what we don’t need. Keep in mind, The Bog was on the list of what the municipality didn’t need once before....and look at how that ended.

While I sort of promised to knock off the pre-election jams a couple of blogs ago, reading the local press this week elevated my community activism. While it may just be talk, and it might refer to parcels of land that are of no serious environmental consequence, there is concern none the less, that in order to save their own arses, in the eyes of the taxpayers, they’ll make compromises today at tomorrow’s expense. Of course we need to be more mindful of our spending, especially when we’re not earning much from our prime assets at present. But in the first year, the new council needs to hunker down with the basics of restoring some town values, and responsible budgeting, and taking some advice from the very people who elected them.

Gravenhurst is at a crossroads. Many aspects of community traditions and values, dating back to the 1860's, have been altered and or watered-down out of disrespect, for what has always worked to keep this town progressive in its own way. While council may look at the downtown core, and the BIA as free enterprise only, it is still the heart of the community and its weakness is a mirror of the Town’s own shortfalls over the past twenty years. Every business area goes through changes and this is required to maintain any sort of business dynamic. But the neglect that has been shown by Council has demonstrated a clear lack of insight.......about how those who visit us annually interpret our well being, by the way we maintain our main business corridor. Moving the Town Hall was another whack from the proverbial wrecking ball that is transforming our community into strange, unrelated commercial pods instead.

Vote wisely.