WORKING WITH GHOSTS A GOOD DIVERSION FROM POLITICS AND TOWN FOLLIES
- SON ROBERT BOUGHT ME A GOOD BOOK - REMIND ME WHY I WRITE AT ALL!!!
When I graduated university, in Toronto, I eagerly returned home to Bracebridge, determined to spend the rest of my life in Muskoka. It was the only real mission-statement I’d anchored to, by that point, and as far as career, well, that was yet to be determined. I had a degree in Canadian history, which qualified me for nothing more than self-admiration, and bragging rights with school chums, hunkered down at the local tavern......talking about great expectations. We all had big dreams that’s for sure, and a big thirst. I drank like my hero Paul Rimstead, columnist with the Toronto Sun, and fellow hometowner. He and his sister had launched the famous Beatrice Bugle, as young adults, up near Falkenburg, north of Bracebridge, and Paul became a model for many local writers in waiting. I sort of figured the more I drank, the greater the likelihood my early free-lance submissions, to the local press, would reflect that sage aura of great wisdom...... of being old before one’s time.
Staying in Muskoka, wishing to work in the hinterland of Ontario, cost me my long-time local girlfriend, Gail, who adored her new life in Toronto. That and the fact I was a horse’s arse as a mate, and I over-drank, played too hard, was reckless and insensitive, and was pursuing a career that would destine me, and all who joined me, to endless misery and poverty. Gail was wrong about the misery. She was right to dump a guy like me. I’d have done the same thing but I was the bloke in question. I divorced myself many times in my mind, let me tell you. But the saving grace for me, was in the architectural embrace of an old mainstreet house, in Bracebridge, built by a doctor whose work for the region, I had greatly admired. I moved into the former house and medical office, built by Dr. Peter McGibbon, which looked out over Bracebridge’s picturesque Memorial Park, and the glowing marquis of the Norwood Theatre. To my left, when I stood out on the small balcony, over the front entrance, was the bell tower of the St. Thomas Anglican Church. One block over was Bracebridge Public School and Bracebridge and Muskoka Lakes Secondary School, both places contributing to my budding Muskoka appetite for knowledge. Afterall I did become a Bracebridge and Muskoka historian. In fact, the first, however small, meeting of the Bracebridge Historical Society, was held in Dr. McGibbon’s attic.....the place where I would write and write and write. It was the place I would also fill a thousand waste baskets with copy-paper that had two lines of print on them. As a fledgling writer, in a truly neat house, in a great location, I suffered greatly from writer’s stalemate. It would eventually end but the hours of frustration, staring at that huge white page in the typewriter carriage, very nearly drove me to quit altogether. Some folks might say.......and this would be unfortunate because?
This winter I ran into a similar period of inspirational shortfall. I don’t like writing mad, and I despise politics, and by general mis-adventure, I’d got caught up in last fall’s municipal election, working as an editorial / policy advisor for a local mayoral candidate. Made a mistake. Got so worked up I became unceremoniously addicted. The only way out of it was to force myself back into the realm of “my good old days,” writing about anything else......and I mean anything. I even wrote fiction.....which I despise, but to soften it, it was closely biographical. You can read this tome on the Haunted Muskoka site. This has happened before, so I began four other blog-sites as a means of letting off pent-up frustration. I can jump from blog to blog when the need for diversion dictates.
I have one entitled Muskoka as Walden (where I write my landscape pieces), a take off on Thoreau’s “Walden Pond,” and another about the Nature of Muskoka. I have one on historic cookery, believe it or not (on the hobby of collecting handwritten recipes), this one about Gravenhurst for the most part, and one on the Ghosts of Algonquin and Muskoka. I’ve been writing about ghosts for many years now, encouraged by my friend John Robert Colombo, one of Canada’s revered paranormal researchers, and the writer of many, many books on Canadian themes. After I’d contributed to one of John’s books in the 1990's, he suggested I begin to document my own collection of paranormal encounters. He agreed to write the opening column about Muskoka ghosts, for a lengthy series of feature columns I was preparing for The Muskoka Sun. So several years ago, feeling the need to write about something other than politics and current events, I started a biographical mission to properly record all our family’s encounters with the spirit-kind since the 1960's. As John had suggested, many years earlier, it can be an amazing experience, just jotting these stories down.....and he was quite right.
Son Robert, while on a recent business trip to Ottawa, with brother Andrew, found a copy of John’s 1999 book, “Mysteries of Ontario,” and because it had a picture of old dad, on page 53, he decided to buy it for the family archives. I had submitted information about my years living at the McGibbon House, and some of the paranormal encounters experienced during my years as writer-in-residence. It was haunted by kindly spirits. We have numerous copies of Barbara Smith’s book, of Ghost Stories of Ontario, from about the same period, that contains two of our family stories from two houses we had formerly dwelled. They’re not scary ghost stories but ones that were very real to us at the time. Son Andrew factors into one of the stories, of a wayward child, we named Herbie, who made late night visitations to his room at our Golden Beach bungalow.
I was pleased to get this copy of John’s book, which can still be found in bookstores, and online from vintage book dealers....Advanced Book Exchange, for example. I loaned out my signed first edition to another ghost hunter, and never got it back. Maybe one day.
If you have an interest in the paranormal, or in cookery heritage, what Walden Pond and Muskoka have in common, I’d be delighted to share my other blog sites. As for the McGibbon House, I will always hold a special place in my heart, for the house that gave me a lifetime in my chose profession. The haunting was a bonus.
Now my haunt.....and it is certainly a haunted abode with characters like the Curries, is Birch Hollow, in Gravenhurst......a place we are all glad to be!
WORKING WITH GHOSTS A GOOD DIVERSION FROM POLITICS AND TOWN FOLLIES
- SON ROBERT BOUGHT ME A GOOD BOOK - REMIND ME WHY I WRITE AT ALL!!!
When I graduated university, in Toronto, I eagerly returned home to Bracebridge, determined to spend the rest of my life in Muskoka. It was the only real mission-statement I’d anchored to, by that point, and as far as career, well, that was yet to be determined. I had a degree in Canadian history, which qualified me for nothing more than self-admiration, and bragging rights with school chums, hunkered down at the local tavern......talking about great expectations. We all had big dreams that’s for sure, and a big thirst. I drank like my hero Paul Rimstead, columnist with the Toronto Sun, and fellow hometowner. He and his sister had launched the famous Beatrice Bugle, as young adults, up near Falkenburg, north of Bracebridge, and Paul became a model for many local writers in waiting. I sort of figured the more I drank, the greater the likelihood my early free-lance submissions, to the local press, would reflect that sage aura of great wisdom...... of being old before one’s time.
Staying in Muskoka, wishing to work in the hinterland of Ontario, cost me my long-time local girlfriend, Gail, who adored her new life in Toronto. That and the fact I was a horse’s arse as a mate, and I over-drank, played too hard, was reckless and insensitive, and was pursuing a career that would destine me, and all who joined me, to endless misery and poverty. Gail was wrong about the misery. She was right to dump a guy like me. I’d have done the same thing but I was the bloke in question. I divorced myself many times in my mind, let me tell you. But the saving grace for me, was in the architectural embrace of an old mainstreet house, in Bracebridge, built by a doctor whose work for the region, I had greatly admired. I moved into the former house and medical office, built by Dr. Peter McGibbon, which looked out over Bracebridge’s picturesque Memorial Park, and the glowing marquis of the Norwood Theatre. To my left, when I stood out on the small balcony, over the front entrance, was the bell tower of the St. Thomas Anglican Church. One block over was Bracebridge Public School and Bracebridge and Muskoka Lakes Secondary School, both places contributing to my budding Muskoka appetite for knowledge. Afterall I did become a Bracebridge and Muskoka historian. In fact, the first, however small, meeting of the Bracebridge Historical Society, was held in Dr. McGibbon’s attic.....the place where I would write and write and write. It was the place I would also fill a thousand waste baskets with copy-paper that had two lines of print on them. As a fledgling writer, in a truly neat house, in a great location, I suffered greatly from writer’s stalemate. It would eventually end but the hours of frustration, staring at that huge white page in the typewriter carriage, very nearly drove me to quit altogether. Some folks might say.......and this would be unfortunate because?
This winter I ran into a similar period of inspirational shortfall. I don’t like writing mad, and I despise politics, and by general mis-adventure, I’d got caught up in last fall’s municipal election, working as an editorial / policy advisor for a local mayoral candidate. Made a mistake. Got so worked up I became unceremoniously addicted. The only way out of it was to force myself back into the realm of “my good old days,” writing about anything else......and I mean anything. I even wrote fiction.....which I despise, but to soften it, it was closely biographical. You can read this tome on the Haunted Muskoka site. This has happened before, so I began four other blog-sites as a means of letting off pent-up frustration. I can jump from blog to blog when the need for diversion dictates.
I have one entitled Muskoka as Walden (where I write my landscape pieces), a take off on Thoreau’s “Walden Pond,” and another about the Nature of Muskoka. I have one on historic cookery, believe it or not (on the hobby of collecting handwritten recipes), this one about Gravenhurst for the most part, and one on the Ghosts of Algonquin and Muskoka. I’ve been writing about ghosts for many years now, encouraged by my friend John Robert Colombo, one of Canada’s revered paranormal researchers, and the writer of many, many books on Canadian themes. After I’d contributed to one of John’s books in the 1990's, he suggested I begin to document my own collection of paranormal encounters. He agreed to write the opening column about Muskoka ghosts, for a lengthy series of feature columns I was preparing for The Muskoka Sun. So several years ago, feeling the need to write about something other than politics and current events, I started a biographical mission to properly record all our family’s encounters with the spirit-kind since the 1960's. As John had suggested, many years earlier, it can be an amazing experience, just jotting these stories down.....and he was quite right.
Son Robert, while on a recent business trip to Ottawa, with brother Andrew, found a copy of John’s 1999 book, “Mysteries of Ontario,” and because it had a picture of old dad, on page 53, he decided to buy it for the family archives. I had submitted information about my years living at the McGibbon House, and some of the paranormal encounters experienced during my years as writer-in-residence. It was haunted by kindly spirits. We have numerous copies of Barbara Smith’s book, of Ghost Stories of Ontario, from about the same period, that contains two of our family stories from two houses we had formerly dwelled. They’re not scary ghost stories but ones that were very real to us at the time. Son Andrew factors into one of the stories, of a wayward child, we named Herbie, who made late night visitations to his room at our Golden Beach bungalow.
I was pleased to get this copy of John’s book, which can still be found in bookstores, and online from vintage book dealers....Advanced Book Exchange, for example. I loaned out my signed first edition to another ghost hunter, and never got it back. Maybe one day.
If you have an interest in the paranormal, or in cookery heritage, what Walden Pond and Muskoka have in common, I’d be delighted to share my other blog sites. As for the McGibbon House, I will always hold a special place in my heart, for the house that gave me a lifetime in my chose profession. The haunting was a bonus.
Now my haunt.....and it is certainly a haunted abode with characters like the Curries, is Birch Hollow, in Gravenhurst......a place we are all glad to be!
WORKING WITH GHOSTS A GOOD DIVERSION FROM POLITICS AND TOWN FOLLIES
- SON ROBERT BOUGHT ME A GOOD BOOK - REMIND ME WHY I WRITE AT ALL!!!
When I graduated university, in Toronto, I eagerly returned home to Bracebridge, determined to spend the rest of my life in Muskoka. It was the only real mission-statement I’d anchored to, by that point, and as far as career, well, that was yet to be determined. I had a degree in Canadian history, which qualified me for nothing more than self-admiration, and bragging rights with school chums, hunkered down at the local tavern......talking about great expectations. We all had big dreams that’s for sure, and a big thirst. I drank like my hero Paul Rimstead, columnist with the Toronto Sun, and fellow hometowner. He and his sister had launched the famous Beatrice Bugle, as young adults, up near Falkenburg, north of Bracebridge, and Paul became a model for many local writers in waiting. I sort of figured the more I drank, the greater the likelihood my early free-lance submissions, to the local press, would reflect that sage aura of great wisdom...... of being old before one’s time.
Staying in Muskoka, wishing to work in the hinterland of Ontario, cost me my long-time local girlfriend, Gail, who adored her new life in Toronto. That and the fact I was a horse’s arse as a mate, and I over-drank, played too hard, was reckless and insensitive, and was pursuing a career that would destine me, and all who joined me, to endless misery and poverty. Gail was wrong about the misery. She was right to dump a guy like me. I’d have done the same thing but I was the bloke in question. I divorced myself many times in my mind, let me tell you. But the saving grace for me, was in the architectural embrace of an old mainstreet house, in Bracebridge, built by a doctor whose work for the region, I had greatly admired. I moved into the former house and medical office, built by Dr. Peter McGibbon, which looked out over Bracebridge’s picturesque Memorial Park, and the glowing marquis of the Norwood Theatre. To my left, when I stood out on the small balcony, over the front entrance, was the bell tower of the St. Thomas Anglican Church. One block over was Bracebridge Public School and Bracebridge and Muskoka Lakes Secondary School, both places contributing to my budding Muskoka appetite for knowledge. Afterall I did become a Bracebridge and Muskoka historian. In fact, the first, however small, meeting of the Bracebridge Historical Society, was held in Dr. McGibbon’s attic.....the place where I would write and write and write. It was the place I would also fill a thousand waste baskets with copy-paper that had two lines of print on them. As a fledgling writer, in a truly neat house, in a great location, I suffered greatly from writer’s stalemate. It would eventually end but the hours of frustration, staring at that huge white page in the typewriter carriage, very nearly drove me to quit altogether. Some folks might say.......and this would be unfortunate because?
This winter I ran into a similar period of inspirational shortfall. I don’t like writing mad, and I despise politics, and by general mis-adventure, I’d got caught up in last fall’s municipal election, working as an editorial / policy advisor for a local mayoral candidate. Made a mistake. Got so worked up I became unceremoniously addicted. The only way out of it was to force myself back into the realm of “my good old days,” writing about anything else......and I mean anything. I even wrote fiction.....which I despise, but to soften it, it was closely biographical. You can read this tome on the Haunted Muskoka site. This has happened before, so I began four other blog-sites as a means of letting off pent-up frustration. I can jump from blog to blog when the need for diversion dictates.
I have one entitled Muskoka as Walden (where I write my landscape pieces), a take off on Thoreau’s “Walden Pond,” and another about the Nature of Muskoka. I have one on historic cookery, believe it or not (on the hobby of collecting handwritten recipes), this one about Gravenhurst for the most part, and one on the Ghosts of Algonquin and Muskoka. I’ve been writing about ghosts for many years now, encouraged by my friend John Robert Colombo, one of Canada’s revered paranormal researchers, and the writer of many, many books on Canadian themes. After I’d contributed to one of John’s books in the 1990's, he suggested I begin to document my own collection of paranormal encounters. He agreed to write the opening column about Muskoka ghosts, for a lengthy series of feature columns I was preparing for The Muskoka Sun. So several years ago, feeling the need to write about something other than politics and current events, I started a biographical mission to properly record all our family’s encounters with the spirit-kind since the 1960's. As John had suggested, many years earlier, it can be an amazing experience, just jotting these stories down.....and he was quite right.
Son Robert, while on a recent business trip to Ottawa, with brother Andrew, found a copy of John’s 1999 book, “Mysteries of Ontario,” and because it had a picture of old dad, on page 53, he decided to buy it for the family archives. I had submitted information about my years living at the McGibbon House, and some of the paranormal encounters experienced during my years as writer-in-residence. It was haunted by kindly spirits. We have numerous copies of Barbara Smith’s book, of Ghost Stories of Ontario, from about the same period, that contains two of our family stories from two houses we had formerly dwelled. They’re not scary ghost stories but ones that were very real to us at the time. Son Andrew factors into one of the stories, of a wayward child, we named Herbie, who made late night visitations to his room at our Golden Beach bungalow.
I was pleased to get this copy of John’s book, which can still be found in bookstores, and online from vintage book dealers....Advanced Book Exchange, for example. I loaned out my signed first edition to another ghost hunter, and never got it back. Maybe one day.
If you have an interest in the paranormal, or in cookery heritage, what Walden Pond and Muskoka have in common, I’d be delighted to share my other blog sites. As for the McGibbon House, I will always hold a special place in my heart, for the house that gave me a lifetime in my chose profession. The haunting was a bonus.
Now my haunt.....and it is certainly a haunted abode with characters like the Curries, is Birch Hollow, in Gravenhurst......a place we are all glad to be!
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