CHRISTMAS IN GRAVENHURST-

I KNEW WHAT A PAWN SHOP WAS - I JUST NEVER IMAGINED OUR BUSINESS HAD BECOME ONE - SORT OF

Honestly, I'd reached my thirties without ever once having entered a pawn shop. I knew about them, had passed by them on hikes in downtown Toronto, but as far as visiting one…….I thought it would be like something from the movie "Lost Weekend," and that I'd have to be in an alcohol-induced frenzy, to chase up a few more bucks for booze. Actor Ray Milland, a fictional writer-kind, tries to hock his typewriter for some liquor money in that same movie. I know this was a ridiculous Hollywood generalization, and today's Pawn Shops are run pretty much as normal retail with a twist. You see I didn't quite understand the nature of the business, until my own business wound up being asked to serve the same purpose.

In the early 1990's, we had an antique shop in uptown Bracebridge, below a popular framing shop. That was a saving grace for us, because we had the benefit of their customers, who also poked through the antique collection we had in our basement shop. I had been the victim of down-sizing and budget restraint on several fronts, and the business was going to get my undivided attention. It was that or close it. So while Suzanne worked, I looked after our boys in the tiny main street shop. I was Mr. Mom the Antique Dealer. It was awkward, difficult, but at the same time, a chance to be with my lads through the day. I had always been a Mr. Mom, from only a few months into Andrew's life. As I could write and manage a small staff, somewhat from home, just down the street from The Herald-Gazette office, and it was convenient to the school, less than a block away, I learned early how to juggle it all.

After Robert was born, we decided to open a small antique business on Manitoba Street, with friends from The Herald-Gazette. What a mistake. And when the writing and small broadcasting gigs dried up, I was glad and nervous at the same time, about being in the antique field, because I knew it was one of those businesses that did well when the economy was stable. Considered more than just a little frivolous in less prosperous times. Unless of course you were into major investment pieces. We were just a tad above junk shop when it comes right down to it. We had nice country pieces and very many old books, but overall we couldn't compete with most of our antique contemporaries in Ontario. The problem was that when my writing job ceased so did my partnership with our newspaper friends. We had to go it alone. Talk about scared to death. I couldn't afford to die.

In good times, we had fun, just as we do now with that same business enterprise. But then, geez, it was like being on the middle of a golf course with a thunderstorm overhead, and a lot of electricity-conducting materials close at hand. What had been fun, and a successful little second hand shop, became a pressure-cooker let me tell you. Add to the gloomy economy, the fact I'd lost my long-time writing positions, and we'd just purchased a car and a new house. What bone heads we were, and I admit it over and over to our boys, who experienced the whole nine yards of it, as youngsters. We went from having a strong income, being able to afford some frills in life, to having lotteries each month to determine which creditor got paid. But we got ourselves into this mess by over confidence in the economy of the day. Despite warnings about a looming recession, we went on a spending binge. It would have been okay if we could have sold our house, but that didn't pan out. It lost about $20,000 in value shortly after we purchased the house, and it would be a decade before we could actually breathe a sigh of relief, the value had increased. By the grace of God, and I mean this, the bank didn't ask us for more downpayment, to adjust to the lower property valuation. If we'd been asked for another dime, this house would have been a "walk away."

As we had our own burdens, that we shouldered without most knowing about, even in our family, we were so naive about such things, that we had no real understanding how everyone else was faring in the same recession. It came like a tidal wave. Sure, it started slowly. We went from two to five people wanting to sell us antiques and collectables each week, steadily to two to five people each day. We needed the inventory, and we had set aside money to purchase for the shop but we had no plan to lay-out a thousand bucks a week. After a couple of months, we just ran out any available cash, and even when we turned folks away, they'd come back every week to see if we had changed our minds. We had many of these people beg us to give them whatever we could afford……because they didn't have money for food that day, or enough cash to buy gas for their car to get home. One woman, who was out of gas, and money, asked me for $20 for a gold ring, and when I said "I'm sorry, I only have a few dollars in my till," she started to cry, took off a second ring, put it on the desk, and said anything, even five dollars would buy some lunch. I gave her about $18.00, which was all I had in my change box, and before I could hand her back the rings……and offer the money as a gift, she was gone. You know, I kept those rings in that tin box for the rest of the time we were in that location, and Suzanne still has them set aside. We felt horrible. She disappeared so fast, I couldn't get the rings back in her hand. I want you to know, because it's important, that I would never have asked for this kind of payment. As folks helped us when we were broke, we committed ourselves to helping where we could.

It just kept getting worse. We were asked to pawn thousands of pieces…..from the spectacular to the modest…..and although we did lend money to friends in dire straits, we never pawned anything. This was a time when there were no pawn shops locally, and the word got out that Birch Hollow Antiques would buy your old stuff. It was crazy. I turned away more people trying to sell me things, than the number of actual customers each day. But it was when you'd get asked to come and look at antique items, someone had stuffed into the trunk of their car, that you had that eye-opening experience, about modern day economics. I can remember, on one occasion, going out to a car (which was often the case with large items and quantities), that in my estimation, was also the primary residence. It was seeing the young kids in that car, and the valueless items in the trunk, that ripped my heart out of my chest. It's true that I often bought things I didn't want, just to help out a bit. It could only be a "bit" because I was also worried about feeding my own kids. It was like the Grapes of Wrath, and I began to hate the second hand business, because it presented misfortune like I'd never been exposed previously. That was my problem, and like Ebeneezer Scrooge, I needed to see this, experience it, and resolve to deal with whatever was presented. Sometimes it was just giving these folks, down on their luck, a willing ear, to explain their circumstances. Once you could get past their tears, and your own, when you heard about homes being foreclosed, and bare cupboards at home, you could offer some moral support at least……letting them know the person they were talking to, wasn't too far off their own situation. Strangely, that meant something…..because they didn't feel I was looking at them from some lofty economic height. It was in earnest, my period of greatest learning about recessions, and the havoc they cause to the trusting, hard working souls who believed the economic cycles were nothing to get fearful about.

Of all the circumstances I dreaded, for me more than my visitors, was when an old work colleague, or long-time friend, would arrive with items in tow, asking for a temporary loan. I have always valued friendships and I worried constantly about the tests of this relationship. The same folks who had bought rounds at the tavern, and lunches in the good times, and had bestowed so many kindnesses in the past, were standing in front of me, with that look of desperate expectation…….that our relationship might warrant some financial relief. Turning friends away was brutal, and made me sick to my stomach. It would always happen on days when I'd make fifty dollars, and be asked to shell out a hundred, to buy their family heirlooms, and realizing there was no milk in our own fridge, and gas was low to get back home to Gravenhurst. Right out of the pages of Dickens, it was the Christmas season that this was all so profoundly felt, on both sides of that sales desk. I felt it was my obligation to help my fellow man, and I did the best I could; and they hoped against hope, that I would be generous at Christmas…..as it was the tradition of goodwill and charity that prevailed upon the hearts of mankind. When there's noting in the till, and I operated on most days with no float for change, and the bank doesn't want to see you at the wicket, the only goodwill I had, was to take the time to chat, and console, and cry with them if necessary. The people staring at me, with an old clock, some chipped crystal, or their grandmother's lace table-cloth, had possibly just lost their homes to the bank……many had lost their jobs on the cusp of the Christmas season. Some were looking to trade some odd pieces for old toys and books for their own kids. Even up to Christmas Eve, they kept coming, hoping to get a few bucks to tide them over. I didn't have it. Well, I did once, and it cost me money for our own Christmas treats for Andrew and Robert. A fellow came in, two days before Christmas, and had a few items that he said had belonged to his mother. He had no place to live, no family that wanted him, no money for food. Just these few trinkets that while neat, were not of any significant value. I paid him more than the items were worth because he seemed like a good chap who needed even a small break to get along. Then, just as I was closing, on Christmas Eve, he arrived at the door, and simply asked if I could loan him twenty dollars or so, as he hadn't enough money for food. I gave him a hot coffee, we chatted for awhile, I gave him what I could, and we shook hands at the door. Yup, it was snowing and blowing, and it was as if Dickens had just then written the backdrop into the Christmas story. What I'd done, to Suzanne's chagrin, was cut our budget down to the bare turkey and some fixings. We had a few more presents to pick-up but that kind of fell through. But we had food and shelter, I said to myself. Then I felt bad for the rest of the holiday, that I hadn't invited this same man for a home cooked meal. I used to do that a lot, and Suzanne was quite comfortable setting another place for dinner. It's what our families did, during the Depression…..my grandmother having made their house a regular stop for hobos and travelers during the 1930's. There was always a pot of stew on the stove, to help ease someone else's distress.

For about three more years, we saw this unfortunate recessionary condition increase, and it was only when we decided to close the shop, and sell instead through antique sales and shows, that in those final months of mainstreaming, the stream of sellers began to slow down. The only way we coped generally, was that we offered to sell their items on consignment, which I'm happy to say, worked good for both sides. If they could give me a few weeks, and with reasonable customer flow, I could actually make them more money, than if I had purchased the pieces over the counter. We took twenty percent and it all worked well for the period of time. I will never forget the experiences, and the boys are pretty clear about those days (as they stood beside me at the counter), and have a good insight about the precarious economy of the times. They come by their wisdom honestly, and they don't over-extend themselves or rely on banks to finance their retail enterprise.

It's going to happen again, and they'd tell you there is clear evidence, on street level, that many folks are selling off heirloom and otherwise important pieces, to stay afloat. We wish we could help everyone, but it's obvious now, our most abundant resource is sage advice, understanding and compassion……and we certainly appreciate, from experience, what it's like to be in a financial pooper. There's no shame it in whatsoever, and as survivors of downturns….we can honestly look back and feel a sense of pride, we regained our stride by hard work and re-investment in our community…..and knowledge that good neighbors are any hometown's greatest resource.

Our own experiences, and appreciation of financial disadvantages, did lead us to launch our support for the Salvation Army Food Bank, here in Gravenhurst. This is our fifth fundraiser at the Opera House, I believe, (although we did perform several times at the Senior Citizens Centre), for the Food Bank, and we really hope you will come out on Saturday, December 10th, and offer a wee donation, to help others at this festive time of the year. We all benefit from this act of kindness. And although we wish we could say the Food Bank was no longer needed, we're realists, and we know the Salvation Army is going to face an increasing demand for assistance, and we want to help deal with that situation…..the best we can…….and that will be with music…..with a lot of help from our friends, and music students. If you can't afford a donation….we want you to attend anyway, as our treat for Christmas…..and there's no nicer, warmer, more neighborly place in our town….than the good old main street Opera House.

Thanks so much for your help in the past.

I will offer future profiles of performers planned for that concert evening, which by the way, will again be under the seasoned, well respected direction of Master of Ceremonies, Fred Schulz……a traditional relationship we are proud to carry on each year.

You can get more information on the event, drop off a corporate sponsorship or make a donation before the show, at Andrew Currie's Music, on Muskoka Road, across from the Opera House.