CHRISTMAS IN MUSKOKA-

MORE LIKE ENGLAND, THAN THE CANADIAN WINTER WE EXPECT - BUT WE'LL SURVIVE THE WARMTH - AND BE INSPIRED BECAUSE IT'S MUSKOKA-THE-BEAUTIFUL

I STEPPED OUTSIDE THIS MORNING, CHATTED WITH OUR RESIDENT SQUIRRELS HERE AT BIRCH HOLLOW, AND REMARKED TO SUZANNE HOW MUCH IT FELT LIKE THOSE DAYS I SPENT IN ENGLAND……NOTTINGHAM IN PARTICULAR, PLAYING AROUND ROBIN HOOD'S LEGENDARY "SHERWOOD FOREST." THAT WAS IN THE SPRING SEASON, BUT IT FELT VERY MUCH LIKE THIS COOL, DAMP, ON-THE-VERGE OF RAIN KIND OF MORNING. I FOUND IT INVIGORATING THEN, AS I DO NOW, BUT AS FAR AS EXPLAINING IT…..I CAN'T. WRITERS ARE A STRANGE LOT THIS WAY. IT'S HARD TO IMAGINE THAT GRAY AND RAINY IS GOOD FOR THE CREATIVE ENTERPRISE. ESPECIALLY HERE IN MUSKOKA, WITH CHRISTMAS A MATTER OF ONLY WEEKS AWAY…..AND NO WHITE STUFF. NO SNOW BANKS. NO SLIPPERY ROADS. NO SNOWMACHINES. GADS! ALTHOUGH I'M NOT A BIG SNOW FAN, I KNOW WHAT IT MEANS TO OUR LOCAL ECONOMY. WE'VE GOT A MILLION SNOWMOBILERS OUT THERE, ANXIOUSLY WAITING THE SNOW-THAT-STICKS.

Back in the early 1980's, I was editor of the former Herald-Gazette, and it was a time of incredible rivalry between the newspapers of the day….in a small market area. It was a highly charged and exciting period, because it was at a time when every staff member was fighting hard for the home team. It made us far more competitive than if we didn't have a competitor trying to best us at every turn. On press mornings, when The Herald-Gazette and The Examiner hit the streets, let me tell you, both editors had to deal with the stories they didn't get….the news scoops that went to one paper but not both. I can remember my publisher being quite vocal about these shortfalls, while I had to defend reasons we missed stories, and how possibly we got sidetracked by the scoops that we did get…..that the Examiner didn't. But do you know, for all the stress of competition for the largest circulation, both papers were pretty fair examples of quality effort, both in composition and editorial…..and even down to the advertising department, there was an unbelievable amount of blood, sweat and tears, getting one up on the other paper……..most of us benefitted in so many ways because of the aggressive grudge-match between papers. If you honed your editorial skills then, you got the advantage of one of the best teaching environs in the province…..with the exception of course, being waged, as it is today, between the Toronto dailies.

One Christmas season, back in about 1981-82, I can't remember exactly now, but we had a serious lull in the action. It was like a schooner on the open sea, its sails without nary a breeze to stretch the canvas. Maybe we just surrendered and didn't know it, but it was the slowest period for news and feature-gathering I can remember. It was the winter that snow didn't arrive until well after Christmas. It was an English Christmas landscape, the old-timers used to tell me while out on the hustings. "I remember it during the war years young fella," a veteran might offer, seeing me wandering down the street, camera in hand, looking for any spot news for the front page…….or any other page, because the "pickings were slim to none." I may have even asked this gent to allow me the privilege of taking his photograph, and seeking a few printable quotes about the weather stalemate. No matter what our publishers wanted to see of captivating, paper-selling headlines, it was pitiful, and for weeks very little happened to change our fare. It's not like we were wishing for a fire or a major accident, a robbery or shooting, to give us some front page ink, but a reporter isn't worth much, kicking dust on a dry sidewalk, looking for breaking news……and there being not much more than tumbleweeds blowing in the wind.

At the same time, I was getting frustrated generally. I was broke most of the time, drinking my rent money because it made me feel good, and many of my associates were feeling exactly the same, and looking elsewhere to re-locate. It's like that in the news profession. Some success experienced is like cocaine. You know there's more and you have to get it! Reporters like the rush of getting a scoop, and being involved in big news stories. Although I didn't need breaking news to satisfy me, it was required if I wanted to keep my job. I at least had to keep pace with the competition reporters, and that's why we hit the tavern together…..just to shadow box about the news of the week……usually on press night, after the papers were "to bed" as it's referred when the pages are being printed. We tricked them a couple of times, when our paper was still in production, and we ran like mad from the hotel, to make a few phone calls, to copy their lead story. They did the same to us, at times, but bought us a round for our chagrin.

On this particularly rough patch, of "no news," we knew we had to get creative. Creative is not a good policy in the reporting profession, except if you're talking about approach, not invention of story lines. One afternoon, just after Christmas, John Black, Brant Scot and I, took off in the car, with the intent of coming home, later that afternoon, with some useable photographs and story leads. John was driving. Gravenhurst's John Black, was without doubt, one of the finest photographers I'd ever worked with, and having him driving us around was always an adventure. When he spotted something of interest, he'd pull over, grab his camera gear, and leap out of the car, and run (with camera swinging wildly) down into a field or bog, before we had a chance to inquire "why?" Photographers are like that, and this guy got some spectacular spot news and feature photographs during the years I worked with him. Brant Scott was both a good photographer, who had a keen eye for news-type situations, and a deep-seeded passion, for turning over all stones he was suspicious of, in his day, and I can't tell you how many times this guy saved the that week's paper……..coming up with award winning stories and amazing news photographs……to fill the large amount of white space I worried about each week. The front page in particular.

The competition between the publications was hard on us. But these were our training years in the industry, after all, and it was better for us than if we'd been working in a one-paper region. Yet we did find ourselves a tad tired, especially at this top of the year……the snowless Christmas season. So as the three of us kidding and story-spinning reporters, rambled down the backroads of Muskoka, looking for anything that would make a good feature photo, the bare hills and woodlands had a natural allure, of course, but nothing that stood out as a feature news flick. We travelled for miles and miles, and saw lots of old tractors and farm equipment, grassed over in the fields, some interesting barns and split rail fences, but the Christmas season demanded something more than a pastoral scene. After a dozen sharp corners, some steep inclines and deep declines over this Muskoka topography, we came over one hillside, and there it was……and we couldn't believe our good fortune.

In the hollow, beside a typical barn and out-buildings, was a frozen farm pond. Gads. And there was a hockey game going on, with local kids. It was a winter scene without the snow, that said so much about our region, and the will to undertake seasonal entertainment……snow or not. You know, we stood on that hillside for a long time, looking down on that truly Canadian landscape, with hockey players, and a few figure skaters, spinning in the small ice surfaces of the connected ponds. The sunglow was amazing, and we seemed almost mesmerized the the tranquility of it all. I can't say what it meant for them, although we have talked about it several times over the years, but for me it was the beginning of a new relationship with my home region. From being frustrated and anxious all the time, I found something that made it all calm and enjoyable. It was when I stopped to take a deep breath of this beautiful rural atmosphere, I was hit by a giant fist of truth and consequence…..that I had been ignoring, and sustaining myself with a city-crazy life;….. while at the same time, living in a place that should have been so much more restorative and inspirational. I mostly saw the inside of buildings, newspaper offices, municipal halls, board rooms, courthouses and, yes, the town drinking hole. I was outside only to traverse between work and recreation gigs. That's it! It was my own re-birth I think, as a human….. who had been an "oh so" hard living, hard drinking, always working…..always broke, soul-less member of the workforce. I worked at a job I liked, but didn't love because of the pressure to out-perform the competition…..every week. My wage wasn't enough. Nowhere close, to paying me for sleepless nights, and churning stomach, that had me popping antacid tablets like peppermints.

I don't recall how long I stood on that hillside, watching John, down below, take some photographs of the afternoon skaters. It was like something Norman Rockwell would have depicted, and it was both nostalgic and romantic. It was a personal discovery for me, that I needed to exit from news reporting. This is what I wanted to write about, and promote of our region. What I write today for my two favorite publications, "Curious; The Tourist Guide," and "The Great North Arrow," has its roots buried into that farm hillside, above the frozen ponds…..bathed by sunglow and human enthusiasm for life. It was the commencement of a relationship I've had with landscape writing, for thirty years. I'm not a painter, although it is one of my top ten wishes, but I can paint everso humbly with a few well chosen words. From that farmstead afternoon, in the midst of a most powerful image of winter in Muskoka, I have dedicated myself to my own freedom of the press, and launched my own campaign to tell others about what Muskoka has to offer…..the weary, but hungry spirit.

Brant and John knew that I only ever had one foot in reality, the other entrenched in the realm of vivid imagination……and they allowed me my folly. But we were good friends, and they were the best mentors I could have ever asked for, to help me, on this occasion of discovery, leave a discipline that was killing me……and not softly. By this curious manifestation, of which I can only now believe was providential, I lived to see 2011…….still taking those calming motor trips into the countryside, looking over each hill, and around each corner, for that remarkable discovery……that sets the spirit free in an adventure words can't possibly describe.

John Black and Brant Scott were my two closest friends back then…….before we started building our respective families. They were incredible journalistic talents, at a time when the competition was thick enough to hack with a hatchet. There wasn't much down time, and we were exhausted and frustrated by things we couldn't muster, or better stated, correct. I needed them more than they needed me, that's for sure. I might have been editor of the paper, but these chaps carried the weight. I was so excited to see John's pictures of the farm rink, and I think Brant and I both wrote columns about the afternoon outing. While they moved on to the next news challenge, and embraced competition, the seed was planted with me. I wanted a change. It took a while to figure it out, and I certainly didn't quit that month, or for months after this. But I knew my future was writing feature material, local history, and about things encountered by happenstance, along those marvelous winding roads of our Ontario hinterland. I look back today……well, I made the right decision, and I'm getting more requests for submissions each month. Still a poor writer but getting by!

Both Brant and John have had good careers and just as many exciting opportunities and highlights as I have…..but I don't believe they pay too much regard, now, to that afternoon hiatus, on a barren hillside…..overlooking an old farm…..waiting for winter to break over the horizon.

Having an English morning here, in Gravenhurst, is just as wonderful as ever. Just breathe in that invigorating air…….and take a wander in the misty woods…..along a winding path that leads to nowhere in particular…..but peaks the curiosity none the less.

It's Christmas time in Muskoka.

You can all see some of Ted's other Muskoka-themed blogs by doing an online search.