CHRISTMAS IN GRAVENHURST -

THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO BE TRAMPLED BY REINDEER………LIKE GRANDMA, IN THE SONG, BUT THERE WAS A LESS CATASTROPHIC END RESULT

I WAS IN MY BACK YARD LAST EVENING, SORTING SOME RECYCLING FOR THE MORNING. I HEARD JINGLE BELLS. NOW HERE ON SEGWUN BOULEVARD, WE HEAR A LOT OF STRANGE STUFF IN THE NIGHT AIR, FROM RANDOM FIREWORKS, GUN SHOTS, OTHER SMALL EXPLOSIONS, OWL HOOTS, DEER GRUNTS, AND THE TRAIN HORN THAT ON REALLY COLD NIGHTS, SOUNDS AS IF IT WILL BE HITTING THE HOUSE. LAST NIGHT, THERE WAS JUST THE SOUND OF LIGHT SNOW HITTING THE TREE LIMBS AND THESE JINGLE BELLS. I THOUGHT, AT FIRST, IT MUST HAVE BEEN SOMEONE'S WINDCHIMES BUT THEY WOULD HAVE BEEN THE FIRST ONES TO MOVE ACROSS THE LANDSCAPE. THAT'S WHAT THE BELLS WERE DOING. GETTING CLOSER, AND CLOSER.

BOSKO WAS STARTLED TO ATTENTION, AND BEGAN TO GROWL, AS THERE WAS SOME SORT OF FOOTFALL ATTACHED TO THE JINGLE BELLS. JUST THE WAY THE PROPERTY AND LANDSCAPE FALLS AWAY FROM UPPER LORNE STREET, IT SOUNDED AS IF SANTA WAS PULLING THAT SLEIGH INTO THE WOODLOT BESIDE OUR HOUSE. BOSKO WAS POINTING AND SHE'S A LONG WAY FROM A POINTER. JUST WHEN I WAS GETTING READY TO MEET THE SLEIGH AND REINDEER AMIDST THE PINES AND POPLAR, I LOOKED ACROSS MY NEIGHBOR'S YARD AND SAW THE HORSES AND THE WAGON THEY WERE PULLING…..WITH RED LIGHTS ON THE SIDE. BOSKO DIDN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO. SHE'S NOT FAMILIAR WITH HORSES. BUT WHAT A MARVELLOUS SOUND ON A WINTER'S NIGHT…..AND SO REMINISCENT OF CHRISTMAS PAST…..WHEN THE SOUND OF SUCH BELLS WAS COMMON, JUST AS THE SOUNDS OF HOOVES ON A FROZEN LANEWAY. I STOOD OUT THERE IN THE COLD FOR A LONG WHILE AFTER, LISTENING TO THE SENTIMENTAL RINGING OF BELLS THROUGH THE DUSTING OF SNOW. I SURVIVED. NO OUT OF CONTROL REINDEER. BOSKO WAS STILL GROWLING IN THE HOUSE, AS I'M SURE SHE CONTINUED TO HEAR THE CLOMP OF HOOVES OVER THE LANDSCAPE. IT WAS NICE. A GRAVENHURST OF OLD.

JUST A LITTLE NOTE OF EXPLANATION:

FOR THE RECORD, AND IT IS QUITE IMPORTANT FOR THIS UNPAID CAREER HISTORIAN TO OFFER THIS CLARIFICATION, REGARDING MY INVOLVEMENT AS A RESEARCHER, IN MATTERS DEALING WITH THE NAMING OF OUR TOWN. IN THE LATE 1990'S I UNDERTOOK A LARGE RESEARCH PROJECT ON THE HISTORIC NAMING OF TWO SOUTH MUSKOKA COMMUNITIES, BY POSTAL AUTHORITY WILLIAM DAWSON LESUEUR……GRAVENHURST IN 1862, AND BRACEBRIDGE IN 1864. BRACEBRIDGE WAS TITLED, BY LESUEUR, AFTER THE NAME OF A BOOK, "BRACEBRIDGE HALL,' WRITTEN BY AMERICAN AUTHOR, WASHINGTON IRVING. GRAVENHURST WAS ALSO NAMED BY LESUEUR, AFTER A BOOK WRITTEN BY WELL KNOWN BRITISH POET, PHILOSOPHER, WILLIAM HENRY SMITH, ENTITLED "GRAVENHURST, OR THOUGHTS ON GOOD AND EVIL." JUST SO THIS ISN'T LOST IN TIME AND SPACE, IT SHOULD BE NOTED THAT, (LATE 1990'S) WHILE THE SMITH CONNECTION WAS CONSIDERED A POSSIBILITY, IT WAS STILL SOMEWHAT ENTERTAINED THAT LESUEUR, AS BRACEBRIDGE HISTORIANS HAD WRONGLY CLAIMED FOR MOST OF A CENTURY, SIMPLY BORROWED THE NAME GRAVENHURST…… ALSO FROM THE BOOK, "BRACEBRIDGE HALL," BY IRVING. AT MY EXPENSE, I DID THE RESEARCH WITH SEVERAL SCHOLARS IN THE UNITED STATES, AND SOUGHT ASSISTANCE FROM IRVING'S MUSEUM, AT SUNNYSIDE, IN NEW YORK, TO DISPROVE ONCE AND FOR ALL THESE CLAIMS BY BRACEBRIDGE AUTHORS. INDEED, IT WAS DETERMINED, GRAVENHURST WAS NEVER USED BY IRVING, AND IT DOES NOT APPEAR IN THE BOOK "BRACEBRIDGE HALL," AS IT WAS SAID TO EXIST. I PURCHASED A NEW COPY OF "BRACEBRIDGE HALL," AND OFFERED IT TO GRAVENHURST HISTORIANS TO READ FOR THEMSELVES, AND THE VERDICT WAS THE SAME. GRAVENHURST WAS NOT USED BY WASHINGTON IRVING, AND THEREFORE COULD NOT HAVE BEEN BORROWED FROM THAT BOOK BY WILLIAM DAWSON LESUEUR, WHEN IT CAME TO NAMING THE GRAVENHURST POST OFFICE. ALSO, GRAVENHURST WAS NAMED TWO YEARS BEFORE BRACEBRIDGE…..SUCH THAT IF LESUEUR WAS GOING TO BORROW THE NAME OF A BOOK, ME THINKS IT WOULD HAVE BEEN THE CASE GRAVENHURST WOULD HAVE BEEN CALLED "BRACEBRIDGE" INSTEAD.

TO ASSIST LOCAL HISTORIANS AND THE ARCHIVES COMMITTEE, OUR FAMILY FOUND A SECOND EDITION OF WILLIAM HENRY SMITH'S "GRAVENHURST," AT AN AMERICAN ANTIQUARIAN BOOK SELLER, AND WE, WITHOUT RESERVATION, PURCHASED A COPY, THAT WE WOULD LATER DONATE TO THE COMMITTEE. IN ADDITION TO THIS, WE DONATED A COPY OF A BOOK WRITTEN ABOUT THE WORK OF WILLIAM DAWSON LESUEUR, AND A PHOTO WE HAD PURCHASED, FOR USE, FROM THE NATIONAL ARCHIVES. I HAVE DOCUMENTED THIS IN A BOOK, CIRCA 2000, REGARDING LESUEUR AND THE NAMING OF BRACEBRIDGE, AS WELL AS IN NEWSPAPER FEATURE ARTICLES, OVER MULTIPLE ISSUES…..JUST FOR THE RECORD. EVEN ON THIS BLOG SITE YOU CAN TRAVEL BACK AND FIND ENTRIES ON THE WORK OF DR. LESUEUR, AND WILLIAM HENRY SMITH…..AS RECENTLY AS THIS CHRISTMAS SERIES. THIS WAS IMPORTANT AND LENGTHY RESEARCH FOR SUZANNE AND I, AND WE JUST WANTED TO STATE THIS FOR THE RECORD, AS IT DOES NOT APPEAR AS SUCH IN THE NEW GRAVENHURST HISTORY, RELEASED LAST MONTH…….OR MUCH ACKNOWLEDGEMENT OF THE IMPORTANCE OF WHAT LESUEUR, HAD PROVIDED IN LITERARY PROVENANCE, TO A CANADIAN HAMLET IN A BEAUTIFUL LAKELAND. I WILL TELL YOU HONESTLY, THAT FROM WHAT MY RESEARCH HAS FOUND OF WRITER WILLIAM HENRY SMITH, HE WOULD HAVE VERY MUCH FELT HONORED BY THE NAMESAKE HERE IN SOUTH MUSKOKA……IF HE HAD ONLY KNOWN.

THE WORLD STILL CARRIES ON - DESPITE THE CALAMITY, POLITICAL INSTABILITY, GOOD NEWS AND BAD, IT'S GOOD TO BE HOME…….I MEAN IT!!!!!

As a long-time current events junkie, I watch three major news reports each day. It probably adds up to three or four hours, depending if I stay up for local and regional news. On the car radio, I'm always tuning in to world news and business reports on the hour. I was brought up this way. My dad was a huge consumer of nightly news particularly, so you might say I'm carrying on a family tradition. My grandfather Stanley Jackson was just about the same, but his ear was pressed-up to an old radio in the parlor. War news you see. After the war, his interest in timely, relevant news became as much entertainment as listening to the other radio shows and music he adored. Point is, I some times feel a little over-loaded by news. That's when I come into my office and start tapping at this keyboard, almost as a stress reliever. Being hunched over my desk, has inspired some physical maladies over the years, but there's more good than bad coming from it, at least I think.

Everything I write these days, is anchored in the reality of the moment. I don't compose anything at all, while mindfully removed from what is going on at home, in the region, and beyond. I don't have the ability to separate myself in this fashion. Although world news doesn't show up in my copy by reference, it's there none the less, as I consider it as an influence of the moment, the hour, the day……and year. I don't feel it is honest of me, to write as if nothing else on earth matters. I'm not sure it will show up by reading between the lines, as I've never re-read my material looking for hidden meanings. But I know that my concerns are ingrained, and for that I don't need to look for hidden meaning….because it's there…..reflective of the mood I'm in, and just how optimistic or pessimistic I happen to be at the moment of composition.

Just moments ago, I watched news reports about the precarious transition of power in North Korea. Thinking about their missiles launched today, and the fact they likely have some nuclear warheads, makes one a little concerned about world peace. Watching the ravages of floods, seeing the results of crimes against humanity, the fall-out of war, suicide bombings and environmental catastrophes can't help but make an imprint on one's daily chores. There are those folks who can watch the news, as entertainment, and turn the radio or television off, and resume what they were doing before the lunch or dinner break. No harm, no foul, it's just life and death around our globe. I'm not so fortunate a news-watcher, and confess to being quite peaked by major events and dire predictions. With the European debt crisis and the looming recession here in Canada, by golly, it's enough to yell out the window, here at Birch Hollow, "I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it any more." I think that was actor Peter Finch, yelling out an office window, in the movie "Network." It was a great scene but you see, I'm not mad. If I do get mad, I might sit here and let it all come out in print…..just as I'm doing at this moment. I was a hippy in my youth, and I did believe that it was much more fun to "make love, not war." I've pretty much carried that on through life……as I remain a pacifist generally……and reasonably interested in having fun. All kinds. Just at a slower pace, so nobody gets hurt.

As a long-time news reporter and historian, the whole relevance of news appreciation, is not to fall with it…….but to understand its implications on our daily lives. I'm probably not going to lose sleep about the death of one dictator, giving rise to another, but I am going to ponder just how nervous it must be in South Korea and Japan, at the moment, anticipating that something is going to happen……and a peaceful transition is a good start to the new year. But as we don't live in a vacuum, in this wonderful life, we really do need to be aware of situations, from financial investment risks, to the perils of international travel, hiking through Iran, or protesting with Syrians looking for a change of government. These aren't sleep disrupters but they do require pearls of wisdom, from generations before, who had the misfortune of world war and financial depression during their waking hours. Most of us middle-agers and younger, can come to appreciate the etchings of history on our collective souls, but the distancing of the young in particular, from profound change, seems to me an unfortunate vulnerability that doesn't need to exist. I don't know how or if teachers today interject world events, the same as when I was a kid, but from what I do know, from my own lads having gone through the education system, it was woefully inadequate. I always insisted on regular news upgrades, for Andrew and Robert, so that if a teacher decided it was important to talk about a major world event, my boys were up to speed…..and could talk about the situation with some factual background. I worry that a lot of young people have a Neverland opinion about life in Canada, and that we are immune here from the disasters and calamities faced by other parts of the world.

I can sit by this window, overlooking the beautiful bog, for hours on end, and be fascinated by the way snow-flurries dance over the landscape…..the wind-tossed raspberry canes and lilacs in the front garden, the ones we transplanted from the windy shore of Lake Rosseau. I can look out across the moor, and think I see wolves running. I will at times, feel as if there is someone looking in, through my office window, and on other occasions, there might be a sudden, unexplained calm, where the only beat is the echo of the heart in my chest……against the purr of an old cat, curled onto my lap. All the emotions of the hour and light of the day, the visual evidence of the season, and its bluster, inspire this old writer to tap a little more, this afternoon, upon this keyboard just below the tips of my fingers. And on this occasion of the Christmas season, there is a contentment to be home, in this comfortable little abode, amongst the familiar inmates, who keep me company through the long days, and gentle nights by lamplight. When I might be prevailed upon to fear something or other, possibly influenced by what I have just heard on the old tube radio at my side, well, it will not curtail the merriment I'm enjoying at this moment, nor dull my appetite for Christmas cookies that I know have just now been pulled from the oven. But I will not surrender my awareness to the events around me, and distant, whether flood or armed conflict, protest or celebration, because it is imperative for me to know. I'd rather be informed, and sensory alert to breaking news, than find out, in a latent manner, I should have been paying attention instead of spinning stories.

I have often said to my wife and boys, that if I heard about a nuclear strike heading my way, that like actor Slim Pickens, in the movie "Dr. Strangelove," I'd rather wrap my arms around the warhead before it hits the ground, than be disintegrated running the opposite way. Cause you just can't run fast enough.

So before you judge the character here at Birch Hollow, as being predominantly blunt and painfully honest, as a matter of daily exercise, my own rationale for being informed…..is not to carry the weight of the world on old shoulders. Rather it is to resolve to live life as a precious reality, not to be frittered away as a result of basic ignorance……the mistaken belief we will live forever. When the news around us, every day, indicates clearly, just how fragile this mortal coil really is………and how close these calamities can come to our safe haven, as my grandfather used to say "Smoke 'em if you got 'em." He may have got that off General Patton. I don't know but it works for me.

Suzanne believes that I live for the moment. She should know. She's lived more than two decades with the writer-kind. No small feat. Yet she knows, from all our long, long talks, and even longer walks through the snowy woods, that I'm resolved to appreciate what I have been afforded, of this wonderful life, without ever feeling short-changed or hard-done-by because of, for example, some muscle pains and weakening eyes. She knows I will find something interesting to write about, from wandering about these forest trails, and find joy where others find an undeveloped piece of urban topography. She also knows, I would have been devastated, by any compromises made to this little Bog, when a few years ago the town entertained slicing it into residential lots.

It appears now as if the rain has begun to fall. I'm about to head outside with Bosko, for our afternoon constitutional. We may get a little wet. I can live with that. Bosko isn't quite as fond of inclement weather. To me, it's all part of the Muskoka experience.

Being informed, doesn't mean, you can not be of good cheer. Does it?