Angels And A Pleasant Task: Christmas in Gravenhurst, Muskoka

Muskoka Lake – Muskoka Beach Road

 

A beautiful late November afternoon on the shores of Lake Muskoka along the Muskoka Beach Road.   A cold breeze and a nip in the air signals a change of season and Christmas around the corner.    Photos by Fred Schulz.

ANGELS AND THE LIFETIME-JOB GIVEN A GUY LIKE ME

I COULDN'T QUIT WRITING EVEN IF I WANTED TO - 

   I'M A FULLY COMMITTED WRITER. BET YOU DIDN'T SEE THAT ONE COMING. I KNOW THIS BECAUSE OF ONE HUGE, NAGGING FLAW IN MY CHARACTER. I KEEP WANTING TO QUIT. THAT'S RIGHT. THERE ARE A FEW SELF-REFLECTIVE MOMENTS, WHEN I WANT TO STOP THIS DAILY CHORE, AND GIVE MY CREATIVE SPIRIT AN EARLY RETIREMENT. AFTER ALL, I'VE BEEN WRITING MUCH LONGER THAN SUZANNE TAUGHT SCHOOL. I'M WORN OUT. EXHAUSTED. THERE ARE TIMES I PLAN AHEAD FOR A WRITING JAG, AND I GET STAGE-FRIGHT. IMAGINE THAT? I'VE BEEN WRITING PROFESSIONALLY SINCE MY EARLY TWENTIES, AND I'M STILL GETTING WEIRD ABOUT THE POSSIBILITY, I WILL SIT AT THIS KEYBOARD, AND FAIL MISERABLY. THE BLANK PAGE SYNDROME. I WON'T BE ABLE TO TYPE ANYTHING MORE THAN THE TITLE, AND EVEN THAT WILL REQUIRE AN HOUR OF WORDSMITHING. SOMETIMES I'D RATHER DO ANYTHING ELSE. MAYBE PAINT PICTURES. REFINISH FURNITURE. WANDER AIMLESSLY. SUZANNE SAYS I DO THIS BEST OF ALL. SHE FEELS IT NECESSARY TO KEEP ME IN GAINFUL PURSUITS, AND THAT WHEN I GRIND MY TEETH OUT OF USELESS ANXIETY, I AGGRAVATE MY JAW DISORDER. THAT'S NEVER GOOD. THEN I GET REAL MOODY. WITH THIS MINDSET, I WILL NEVER VOLUNTARILY SIT DOWN TO WRITE. I WILL ONLY HUNKER DOWN AT THIS KEYBOARD, IF I'M IN A GOOD AND POSITIVE MOOD. I MIGHT WRITE A CRITICAL ESSAY, OR A SCATHING IDICTMENT OF LOCAL POLITICS, BUT I'M CHEERFULLY TUNED AT THE TIME. THAT'S MY MORTAL RULE. WHOEVER, OR WHATEVER ENTITY PULLS MY STRINGS ALL THE OTHER TIMES, BEING CHEERFUL IS THE COMMON RULE I WON'T BETRAY. IF ITS MY GUARDIAN ANGEL PLAYING THE BOSS, IT DOESN'T MATTER. I NEED GOOD CHEER AND POSITIVISM IN ORDER TO GET PAST THE TITLE AND BYLINE PART OF COLUMN-WRITING.

     EVERY PERSON WHO PLAYS AROUND WITH THE CREATIVE PROCESS, WHETHER AS A HOME-CRAFTER, A MUSIC WRITER, CANDLESTICK MAKER, POET, SCULPTOR, ILLUSTRATOR, FICTION WRITER, OR INTERIOR DESIGNER, GETS TO A POINT IN THEIR CAREERS, WHEN THEY BECOME SCARED OF STALEMATE. THEY'RE STAGGERED BY THE THOUGHT OF STATUS QUO INVADING THEIR LIVES. BOTHERED TO A FRENZY WHEN THEY CAN'T APPLY THE FIRST BRUSH STROKE TO THE PAINT BOARD, OR STOP IN THE MIDDLE OF A SEWING JAG, SUDDENLY BECOMING UNSURE OF THEIR CAPABILITY, OR THE WORTHINESS OF THE PROJECT AT HAND. THE CREATIVE PROCESS IS CROWDED BY "WHAT IFS," AND THAT IS THE INTERNAL CHALLENGE OF STAYING COMMITTED TO SOMETHING YOU ENJOY. OFTEN WE GET FRUSTRATED TO THE POINT OF QUITTING, BECAUSE WHAT WAS FUN, HAS BECOME MORE LIKE WORK THAN A PAYING RECREATION. I LEARNED A LONG TIME AGO, TO BATTLE THROUGH DOWNTURNS, BECAUSE THEY HAPPEN FOR A REASON.....POSSIBLY A MATTER OF SELF EXAMINATION WILL REKINDLE THE FIRE, AFTER A BRIEF REFLECTION OF PURPOSE. I NEVER LEAVE A COLUMN (BLOG) UNFINISHED, EXCEPT TO GO TO THE WASHROOM. I WON'T EVEN INTERUPT THE PROCES, TO HAVE A SANDWICH, ALTHOUGH I HAVE BEEN KNOWN TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF A COOKIE THAT PASSES MY WAY, FROM SOME GENEROUS SOUL NEAR BY. "DON'T YOU DARE GET COOKIE CRUMBS IN THE KEYBOARD," SUZANNE WARNS, INTRUSIVELY BRUSHING COOKIE PARTICLES FROM MY BEARD AND SHIRT. "IF CRUMBS GET THROUGH THE KEYS, INTO THE ELECTRONICS, YOU WON'T BE WRITING ANYTHING TODAY," SHE ARGUES. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN....WE DON'T HAVE ANY PENS AROUND HERE, OR PAPER?" "YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN," SHE WHISPERS IN MY EAR, AS A FINAL WARNING, TO MAINTAIN THE LAPTOP WE GAVE HER AS A RETIREMENT PRESENT. SHE'S QUICK TO REMIND ME, "I'M JUST LOANING YOU THIS, YOU KNOW." 

     AT LEAST ONCE A MONTH, I GET THE URGE TO RETIRE FROM WRITING. HALF THE TIME IT'S BECAUSE I'M ANGRY ABOUT SOMETHING THAT MAY NOT EVEN BE CONNECTED TO AUTHORDOM. OTHER TIMES, IT'S BECAUSE I'M SIMPLY OVER-TIRED AND FRUSTRATED BY THE SUCCESSION OF CIRCUMSTANCES, AND EVENTS, WE ALL HAVE TO DEAL WITH DAY TO DAY. THERE ARE SITUATIONS WHEN I TRULY BELIEVE, I'M GOING TO BE FOUND, WITH MY HEAD ON THE KEYBOARD, SENDING LIFE-PARTING MESSAGES ONTO THE SCREEN; LIKE "I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN WHEN TO LEAVE WELL ENOUGH ALONE." I'VE NEVER RUN INTO A CREATIVE PERSON YET, WHO DIDN'T CONCUR, THAT THERE ARE TIMES WHEN CRAFTING ANYTHING, BECOMES AN OVERWHELMING OBSTACLE. IT JUST HAPPENS. THERE IS NO SELF-HELP MANUAL, THAT TELLS YOU HOW TO GET OUT OF THE FUNK. BUT ANYONE WHO HAS ENDURED THE DOWNTURNS, APPRECIATES THE IMPORTANCE OF THE CLICHE, ABOUT "FALLING OFF THE HORSE." IT'S TRUE. YOU HAVE TO GET RIGHT BACK ON, AND FORCE THE ISSUE. IF I WAS TO ALLOW A SHORTFALL OF INSPIRATION, TO THWART ME FROM PURSUING WHAT I ADORE, THEN I'D BE WELCOMING MISERY FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE. "GO WRITE SOMETHING," SUZANNE WILL BARK AT ME, IF SHE SEES ME GRINDING MY JAW, WATCHING TELEVISION, OR READING A BOOK. AFTER ALL OUR YEARS OF MARRIED LIFE, SHE KNOWS WHEN I'M "PINING FOR THE FJORDS," TO BORROW A LINE FROM MONTY PYTHON, AND THE FAMOUS PARROT SKIT. I CAN BE A REAL PAIN IN THE ASS, IF I DON'T HAVE MY DAILY WRITING TIME. JUST LIKE MY MORNING OATMEAL. SUZANNE ISN'T FOND OF THE CRANKY OLD MAN, RESTLESS IN HIS CHAIR, LOOKING AS IF, AT ANY MOMENT, HE'S GOING TO START SMOULDERING FROM TOO MUCH ENERGY RESERVE. "GO AUTHOR A BOOK OR SOMETHING," SHE BLURTS, LOOKING UP FROM HER KNITTING, ANNOYED BY MY RESTLESS TAPPING ON THE BACK OF HER CHINA CUPBOARD.

     WHAT DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH AN ANGEL ENCOUNTER AS A CHILD? WELL, FOR ME, AT LEAST, I HAVE ALWAYS HAD THIS STRANGE SENSE, THAT I WAS SPARED IN THIS MORTAL COIL, TO CREATE SOMETHING INSIGHTFUL. IF IT READS AS STRANGE AS IT SEEMS TO ME, THEN I'VE MADE MY POINT. BUT MORE IMPORTANT, IS THIS CURIOUS FACT. I HAVE NEVER ONCE IN MY LIFE, HAD THE KIND OF WRITER'S STALEMATE, THAT WOULD FORCE ME TO ABANDON A PROJECT MIDSTREAM, AS A RESULT OF FRUSTRATION, OR A LACK OF MOTIVATION. IT HAS NEVER HAPPENED, ALTHOUGH I FEAR IT MIGHT ONE DAY. I KNOW WHEN I START A WRITING JAG, I WILL FINISH WHAT I NEED TO, BEFORE I QUIT FOR THE DAY. FOR MANY YEARS, I JUST ASSUMED IT WAS PART OF THE LIFESTYLE I HAD PICKED UP IN THE NEWS BUSINESS. A NEWS STAFFER WOULD EXPECT TO BE FIRED, NOT BEING ABLE TO WRITE TO A TIGHT DEADLINE FOR COPY. I DIDN'T WANT TO LOSE MY JOB, SO I REFUSED TO ALLOW SUDDEN STAGE-FRIGHT TO GET IN THE WAY. I COULD WRITE A FRONT PAGER, OR AN EDITORIAL FOR THE OPINION PAGE, IN THE MIDST OF AN OFFICE SCRUM, AND GET IT RIGHT. SO I HAVE ALWAYS CREDITTED THAT DECADE-LONG EXPERIENCE, FOR GIVING ME THE TOOLS TO MANAGE WRITING SUDDEN, UNEXPECTED BLOCKS. BUT I FOUND THIS WASN'T QUITE TRUE.

     EVEN AS AN EARLY TEEN, I WAS WRITING ALL KINDS OF STUFF. MY FAILING WAS FICTION, AND POETRY. I LIKED BOTH, BUT IF EVER THERE WAS A BLOCK, IT WAS WITH ANYTHING INVOLVING FICTION. IT'S STILL THE SAME TODAY. IF I WANT A WRITING STANDOFF TO OCCUR, I WILL SIT DOWN AT THIS KEYBOARD, AND ATTEMPT TO WRITE A SHORT-STORY. I WILL BE ABLE TO DO IT, EVENTUALLY, BUT I WILL SUFFER DEARLY FOR THE EFFORT. IN THE YEARS SINCE I LEFT THE NEWSPAPER BUSINESS, BUT CONTINUED TO WRITE ALMOST DAILY EVER SINCE, I HAVE A MUCH DIFFERENT OPINION ABOUT WRITING, AND THE OBVIOUS REASONS I SIMPLY CAN'T RETIRE, LIKE MY WIFE DID FROM HER TEACHING CAREER. MY GUARDIAN ANGEL WON'T LET ME. APPARENTLY, SHE WASN'T FUSSY ABOUT MY INTERESTS IN FICTION WRITING EITHER. I WAS MEANT TO WRITE NON-FICTION. I SUPPOSE IT WAS TO HIT UPON THOSE HUMAN REALITIES THAT NEEDED TO BE REVEALED. I DON'T KNOW. THE PARALLEL FOR ME, COMES FROM THE SILVER SCREEN. I SOMETIMES FEEL LIKE RICHARD DREYFUS IN "CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE THIRD KIND," COMPELLED TO BUILD A MOUNTAIN OUT OF MASHED POTATOES I THINK, TO RESEMBLE THE-SOON-TO-ARRIVE MOTHERSHIP. THEN IN "FIELD OF DREAMS," KEVIN COSTNER, AS THE FARM OWNER, IS EQUALLY DRIVEN TO BUILD A BASEBALL DIAMOND FOR A GAME FOR GHOSTS; HE HAS TO CUT DOWN A CORNFIELD AS A COMPROMISE. I HAVE NEVER OWNED A CORNFIELD, AND I DON'T LIKE MASHED POTOTOES, ESPECIALLY IF THERE ARE LUMPS. SO IT'S NOT QUITE THE SAME. BUT I DO FEEL COMPELLED BY SOMETHING UNKNOWN, TO STICK WITH WRITING UNTIL I'M INFORMED OTHERWISE TO CEASE AND DESIST. JUST NO FICTION. WHO REALLY KNOWS WHAT DRIVES THE CREATIVE PROCESS, BEYOND THE SOURCE INSPIRATION, WHICH IS ONLY PART OF THE EQUATION AT BEST. THERE'S A LIFE FLOW OF ENERGY THAT GETS TAPPED INTO, IN THE PROCESS, THAT MOVES ANY PROJECT THROUGH ITS CHALLENGES. INSPIRATION GETS ME STARTED, BUT AS THEY SAY, INTERNAL FORTITUDE DOES THE REST.

     THE ROLE OF MUSKOKA AND ITS SEASONS?

     DID MY GUARDIAN ANGEL, INSTEAD OF GIVING ME A CORNFIELD TO MAKE INTO A BALL DIAMOND, LEAD ME TO SETTLE INTO THE HEARTLAND OF THIS BEAUTIFUL DISTRICT, AS SOME SORT OF HEAVENLY INSPIRED ENVOY, TO REPRESENT ITS SPIRITUAL QUALITIES? WHY ME? I'M NOT A SCHOLAR. I DON'T HAVE THE EDUCATIONAL BACKGROUND, OR SPECIALTY QUALIFICATIONS, TO TACKLE THE PHILOSOPHIES THAT EVEN BURDENED THE GREAT BARDS. I HAVE SPENT SOME TIME PONDERING JUST WHAT IT IS, BEYOND THE PICTURESQUE QUALITIES OF THIS DISTRICT, THAT HAVE INSPIRED ME TO WRITE. I KNOW IN MY HEART, THERE IS A MUCH BIGGER PLAN HERE, BECAUSE I'M ALWAYS QUESTING IN THIS REGARD. LIKE ARTIST TOM THOMSON ATTEPTED TO DISCOVER THE LEGENDS OF ALGONQUIN, IN HIS ART, I HAVE ALWAYS SENSED SOMETHING BEYOND THE OBVIOUS, THAT I NEEDED TO UNCOVER AND REVEAL TO THE MASSES. THUS, IF NOTHING ELSE, IT HAS SERVED ME WELL AS A WRITER. I AM NO CLOSER TODAY, TO FINDING THIS LANDSCAPE GRAIL, THAN I WAS, WHEN I SAT UP ALL NIGHT IN THE ATTIC OF THE FORMER MCGIBBON HOUSE, IN BRACEBRIDGE, WRITING A BIT, AND LISTENING TO THE FOOTFALL ON THE BACK STAIRS.....THAT BELONGED TO NO ONE IN PARTICULAR. WHEN I'D LOOK OUT FROM THE ATTIC WINDOW, THROUGH THESE EARLY WINTER DAYS, DOWN ONTO THE SNOW-COVERED GROUNDS OF MANITOBA STREET'S MEMORIAL PARK, I NOT ONLY WITNESSED THE COMINGS AND GOINGS OF THE YOUNGSTERS ON THEIR WAY TO SCHOOL, AND THE COMINGS AND GOINGS OF THE LOCAL CITIZENRY, BUT I SAW THE GHOSTS OF THE PAST.....SOME PLAYING LIKE THE CONTEMPORARY KIDS THAT PASSED DAILY, STILL MAKING SNOW ANGELS, AS THEY DID IN THE 1930'S; OR WHEN THEY EXISTED IN MORTAL FORM. I EVEN SAW THE GHOSTS OF MY OWN PAST, AND THOSE OF MY SCHOOL MATES, PUSHING AND SHOVING ALONG THE DEFINED PATHS IN THE NEWLY FALLEN SNOW. IF THERE WAS ONE MORE COMPELLING SEASON TO CREATE, THAN THE OTHERS, IT WAS THE LATE FALL AND WINTER. LIKE THOMSON, I WAS SMITTEN BY THE SHARP CONTRASTS OF THE SCENERY, ENHANCED BY THE DEEP MOODS OF THE SKY AND THE ALLURING BRUSH STROKES OF LIGHT AND SHADOW OVER THE SNOW AND TREES, ESPECIALLY IN THE MAPLE LINED PARK ACROSS THE ROAD.

     THE CHRISTMAS SEASON HAS ALWAYS BEEN MY MOST PROLIFIC WRITING TIME, AND IT TOO, GOT ITS START, FOR ME, BACK IN THE MCGIBBON ATTIC, AMONGST ALL THE FRIENDLY GHOSTS OF FORMER DWELLERS, OF THE EARLY 1900'S HOME / OFFICE OF MUSKOKA'S LONG-AGO MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT, DR. PETER MCGIBBON. FROM EARLY DECEMBER, I'D START WRITING, AT THE DESK BESIDE THE ATTIC WINDOW, AND I WOULD ONLY STOP OUT OF EXHAUSTION. THERE WERE TIMES I'D FALL ASLEEP, SITTING BACK IN THE CHAIR, THEN WAKE UP, AND IMMEDIATELY RECONNECT TO MY STORY-LINE, AND FINISH THE PIECE POKING UP FROM THE TYPEWRITER CARRIAGE. MY MOTHER AND GIRLFRIEND BELIEVED I WAS WORKING TOO HARD FOR MY OWN GOOD, BUT WHEN THERE IS A FREE FLOW OF INSPIRATION, YOU DON'T SHUT OFF THE VALVE. I'VE WORKED THROUGH MANY NIGHTS, BECAUSE I FELT TO QUIT, WOULD BE BAD-KARMA.....AND CREATE AN UNNCESSARY RISK, THAT I WOULD LOSE-FOREVER, WHAT I WAS CHANNELLING AT THE TIME. TRUTH BE KNOWN, I DID, MANY TIMES, FEEL AS IF I WAS A CONDUIT FROM ONE SIDE TO THE OTHER, BECAUSE I COULDN'T FIGURE OUT WHERE THIS MATERIAL, AND THESE INSIGHTS WERE COMING FROM. I WASN'T THAT SMART TO BE COMING UP WITH THIS STUFF. BUT I HAD NO INTENTION OF DENYING ACCESS TO ANY INSPIRATION THAT CAME MY WAY.....UNLESS IT WAS A VOICE TELLING ME TO RUN NAKED THROUGH MEMORIAL PARK. I'D JUST CONTINUE WRITING UNTIL THERE WAS NOTHING LEFT......THE PROVERBIAL BALL DIAMOND HAVING BEEN CONSTRUCTED, AND NOW IT WAS A "WAIT AND SEE," TO FIND OUT WHAT WAS COMING NEXT.

      I COULD ONLY QUIT WRITING, IF AND WHEN, WHAT MOTIVATES ME NOW, WAS TO CEASE ITS FLOW OF ENERGY. IF THE ANGEL WHO SPARED MY LIFE, NOT ONCE, BUT THREE TIMES, LET ME KNOW IN A SIMILAR DREAM, (YOU CAN ARCHIVE BACK TWO COLUMNS), THAT I HAD DONE ENOUGH.....BEING THE TIME TO STEP BACK FROM THE KEYBOARD, AND ENJOY RETIREMENT FROM THE CREATIVE PROCESS IN GENERAL. I KNOW THAT WILL NEVER HAPPEN, AND MY FATE WILL BE TO PASS AWAY DOING WHAT I HAVE LOVED FOR ALL THESE YEARS....LOOKING OUT AT THIS ENCHANTED REGION, AND HOPING ENDLESSLY, TO BE ABLE TO REPRESENT IT IN WORDS, AS TOM THOMSON REFLECTED THE LEGENDS OF ALGONQUIN ON HIS PAINT BOARDS. AS LONG AS THERE IS THIS QUEST, I REALIZE THE IMPOSSIBILITY OF WALKING AWAY FROM MY DESK, AND CONTENTING MYSELF WITH ANYTHING ELSE. SOME MIGHT SAY, AT THIS POINT, THAT IT IS THE RESULT OF AN UNHEALTHY OBSESSION. A FEW WOULD ARGUE THAT I NEED TO BECOME AN ARTIST OR CANDLESTICK MAKER OUT OF A NECESSITY FOR DIVERSITY. SEVERAL MAY BELIEVE, LIKE I DO, THAT TO MESS WITH THE FREE FLOW OF INSPIRATION, IS JUST PLAIN WRONG. SHOULD I RUN FOR MAYOR OF TORONTO? I'LL STICK WITH WRITING, THANKS!

     I HAVE RE-POSITIONED MY DESK AT BIRCH HOLLOW, WHERE I STILL WORK IN THE EARLY EVENINGS. MOST PROJECTS THESE DAYS, ARE UNDERTAKEN IN THE STUDIO OF ANDREW CURRIE'S MUSIC, IN THE FORMER MUSKOKA THEATRE BUILDING, ON MUSKOKA ROAD, HERE IN GRAVENHURST. HEY, I MAY BE THE ONLY WRITER OF DAILY COLUMNS, STILL WORKING ON THE MAIN STREET OF OUR TOWN. AS FOR MY NEW DESK, IT IS WITHIN A WHISKER OF THE BRICK HEARTH, AND WHERE THE FAMILY CHRISTMAS TREE WILL BE ERECTED IN THE COMING WEEKS. I NOW HAVE A PERFECT, UNOBSTRUCTED VIEW OVER THE BOG, FROM THE MODEST ELEVATION, HERE AT BIRCH HOLLOW; WHERE EVEN THE EARLY SNOW OF LAST EVENING, WITH THE HAUNTING NOVEMBER MOON, GAVE A CHEERFUL ILLUMINATION TO THE SCENE IN THE FRONT YARD. IT WAS AT ITS ZENITH OF MYSTERY, COMPELLING ME TO WRITE SOMETHING, ANYTHING, THAT WOULD REFLECT ITS NATURAL SPIRIT. AN ANGEL TOLD ME TO DO IT! REALLY.

     I'M LOOKING FORWARD TO THIS CHRISTMAS SEASON, IN SOUTH MUSKOKA, TO WRITE ABOUT SCENES LIKE I'VE WITNESSED TODAY.....RECALLING FONDLY THE EARLY WINTER DAYS, WHEN I'D LOOK DOWN ON MEMORIAL PARK, FROM THE ATTIC STUDIO, OF DR. MCGIBBON'S ESTATE......NEVER SUFFERING A SHORTAGE OF IDEAS TO CAPTURE ON THAT OLD SMITH CORONA KEYBOARD THAT WAS LIKE AN EXTENSION OF MY SOUL. THERE IS A MAGIC OF THE CHRISTMAS SEASON, MOST OF US AGREE ABOUT, THAT IS AMPLIFIED IN THE SPECTACULAR AURA OF A SNOW CRESTED RURAL SCENE.....HERE IN MUSKOKA. I WANT TO EXPLORE ALL THE SPIRIT-FULL OPPORTUNITIES THIS CHRISTMAS. ...IN THE OLD HOME TOWN....AND THROUGHOUT THIS ENCHANTED LAKELAND. I'VE ONLY JUST BEGUN. I DON'T WANT TO QUIT WRITING. THIS MAY BOTHER MY CRITICS, BUT THERE IS STILL WORK TO DO.....AND I'M ON A MISSION OF DISCOVERY THAT I DON'T NEED TO UNDERSTAND.....IN ORDER TO PURSUE. IT JUST HAPPENS. JUST AS EVERY DAY, I ARRIVE AT THIS DESK, IN THE GLOW OF MY FAVORITE OIL LAMP, AND DISCOVER THE LATEST PHOTOGRAPH, THAT FRED SCHULZ HAS SENT ALONG, TO ACCOMPANY MY DAILY BLOG. HE SEEMS TO KNOW WHAT I'M GOING TO WRITE ABOUT, BEFORE I EVEN SIT DOWN TO START THE DAILY PROCESS. HIS REPRESENTATION OF MUSKOKA AND GRAVENHURST, VIA IMAGES, HAS BEEN A GREAT SOURCE OF INSPIRATION TO ME.....AND CAPTURING THE LIFE AND TIMES OF RESIDENTS, AT WORK AND PLAY, AN IMPORTANT ILLUMINATION, ABOUT JUST WHAT IT MEANS TO BE "MUSKOKAN!"

     THANKS SO MUCH FOR VISITING FRED AND I TODAY, AND FOLKS, WE'VE JUST BEGUN TO CELEBRATE CHRISTMAS IN MUSKOKA. SO PLEASE STAY WITH US, AND SEND US AS A LINK TO YOUR ONLINE FRIENDS.

FROM DECEMBER 2011

CHRISTMAS IN GRAVENHURST-

TWO OLD CHAPS, A LOVE FOR THE GOOD OLD DAYS - THE SENTIMENTAL HEART - AND DO-OVERS? WOULD WE? COULD WE? CAN YOU IMAGINE?

EVERY CHRISTMAS SEASON, I LOOK FOR THE MENTION OF THE KILWORTHY GENERAL STORE IN FRED SCHULZ'S WEEKLY COLUMN, IN THE GRAVENHURST BANNER. IT'S SORT OF LIKE THE GROUNDHOG'S APPEARANCE, ON THE SECOND OF FEBRUARY. FRED HERALDS THE CHRISTMAS SEASON BY WRITING ABOUT HIS YOUNG DAYS, WORKING AROUND THE FAMILY BUSINESS, AND THE TRAIN SET-UP AND CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS (AND SEASONAL ADVERTISING) THAT USED TO ADORN THE STORE BACK IN THOSE YEARS. FRED ENJOYS ELECTRIC TRAINS EVEN TODAY….AND OF COURSE THE LARGER VARIETY THAT HE USED TO FREQUENTLY RIDE FROM KILWORTHY TO GRAVENHURST AND BACK AS A YOUNG MAN.

FRED AND I SHARE A LOT IN COMMON, REGARDING OLD TRAINS, AND GENERAL STORES. MY FAMILY NEVER OWNED ONE, AS DID THE SCHULZ FAMILY, BUT I HAUNTED THEM ALL IN BRACEBRIDGE. THEY GAVE ME STUFF SO I'D GO HOME. ESPECIALLY LORNE'S MARKETERIA ON MANITOBA STREET, AND MUSKOKA TRADING COMPANY, ON THOMAS STREET, OPPOSITE THE HILLMAN'S DOWNTOWN GARAGE. I MUST HAVE KNOWN IT WAS THE HEYDAY OF THOSE OLD TIME GROCERY, GENERAL STORE BUSINESSES, BECAUSE I TOOK SPECIAL NOTE OF THE SURROUNDINGS, EVERY TIME I WENT THERE WITH MY PARENTS. OR SNUCK IN, ON THE WAY BACK FROM SCHOOL, TO SEE IF THERE WAS A WEE BIT OF CHEESE THEY'D OFFER TO A WIDE-EYED, PRETTY HUNGRY SCHOOL-KID.

I WAS WAXING NOSTALGIC, WITH FRED ONE DAY, ABOUT MY GREATEST THRILL IN THE OLD-TIME GROCERY STORES OF MY VINTAGE….OTHER THAN MY PARENTS AFFORDING A CEREAL WITH A TOY INSIDE, WHICH WAS A DREAM TO THIS COLLECTOR IN TRAINING. IT WAS HAVING THE OPPORTUNITY TO WATCH STAFF, SLICING INTO THE GIANT WHEEL OF CHEDDAR CHEESE AT THE WOOD COUNTER. MY GOD IT WAS FABULOUS, AND ALTHOUGH WE DIDN'T HAVE MONEY TO BLOW ON EXTRAVAGANCES, IT WAS A JOY WHEN MERLE WOULD HAUL ME UP TO THE FRONT OF THE STORE, AND ASK FOR A POUND OF CHEESE. HERE'S THE THING. I'M NOT SURE WHETHER OWNER, HAROLD FROW, EVER KNEW THIS OR NOT, BUT ALONG WITH THE SLAB WE PURCHASED, THE LADY CUTTING THE WEDGE, ALWAYS SEEMED TO MANAGE A THIN SLICE FOR THE KID WITH THE ASKEW TOQUE, STANDING WITH HIS MOUTH HANGING OPEN. I'VE ALWAYS LOVED CHEESE. FRED TOLD ME SIMILAR STORIES ABOUT THOSE WHEELS OF CHEESE, AND ALL THE OTHER NEAT SEASONAL FARE, OF CANDY AND NUTS, CAKES AND OTHER DESERTS HIS PARENTS ORDERED FOR CUSTOMERS OF KILWORTHY AND AREA. WHEN HE SAYS IT WAS A WONDERFUL TIME OF THE YEAR TO OWN A STORE LIKE THIS…..I CAN'T EVEN IMAGINE HOW GLORIOUS THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN. I ONLY GOT MY GLIMPSES FROM THE CUSTOMER'S POINT OF VIEW. IT WAS GOOD, BUT NOT AS GOOD AS WHAT FRED HAD ON A DAILY BASIS.

I ASKED HIM ONCE IF HE'D EVER THOUGHT ABOUT TAKING OVER THE STORE, WHEN HIS PARENTS MOVED-ON, OR IF, AT ANY TIME AFTER, HE'D ENTERTAINED THE IDEA OF BECOMING A GENERAL STORE MAGNATE INSTEAD OF ENTERTAINMENT GURU, WRITER AND PHOTOGRAPHER. THE SMILE, THE NOD, THE TILT OF HIS HEAD, MEANT CLEARLY, WITHOUT A WORD SPOKEN, THAT IT HAD ALL BEEN VERY NEAR TO HIS HEART…….A "WHAT IF" THAT MAY NEVER BE ANSWERED. HE DID CONFIRM THAT HE HAD THOUGHT ABOUT IT, IN THE PAST…..BUT ACKNOWLEDGED THAT IT WAS A TOUGH LIFE, WITH A LOT OF DEMANDS, AND HUGE COMPETITION FROM LARGER STORES. MOM AND POP SHOPS LIKE THIS ARE FEW AND FAR BETWEEN TODAY…..AND THAT IS VERY SAD.

I NEVER ASKED HIM THOUGH, IF HE HAD TO DO IT ALL OVER AGAIN, (A CLASSIC DO-OVER, AS I ASK OF MYSELF ALL THE TIME) WITH WHAT HE KNOWS NOW…..AND WHAT HE HAS LIVED THROUGH THUS FAR IN A BUSY LIFE, IF HE WOULD TRY A DIFFERENT CAREER……MAYBE IN GROCERY RETAIL. IF NOT, POSSIBLY WORKING AS A CONDUCTOR ON A TRAIN. MAYBE RUNNING A BUSINESS THAT SELLS TRAIN SETS TO LIKE-MINDED FOLKS, WHO LOVE TRAINS BIG AND SMALL. I WOULDN'T ASK SOMEONE THIS, IF I DIDN'T HAVE MY OWN DOUBTS, ABOUT THE DECISIONS I'VE MADE. I DID WORK IN A GROCERY STORE ONCE, BUT I WAS A DISASTER. I ALMOST KILLED A FELLOW WORKER WHEN I STACKED THE POP BOXES TOO HIGH, AND THEY TUMBLED LIKE DOMINOES, ONTO HIS HEAD. HE GOT OUT WITH A FEW BUMPS. BUT I WOULD HAVE LIKED TO WORK IN AN OLDER GENERAL STORE, IN A CLERK-TYPE POSITION WHERE, I COULDN'T HURT ANYBODY. AND I SURE WOULD HAVE ENJOYED WORKING ON A TRAIN. JUST NOT BACK IN THE COAL-SHOVELLING DAYS.

AS I WATCHED THE MOVIE "THE POLAR EXPRESS" THE OTHER NIGHT, ABOUT THE ENCHANTED TRAIN TRIP TO THE NORTH POLE, FOR THOSE YOUNGSTERS WHO HAD BECOME DISBELIEVERS IN SANTA CLAUS, I HAD THIS CURRIE-TYPICAL QUIRK, OF "OVER-ACTIVE" IMAGINATION, THAT KICKED-IN ALL OF A SUDDEN. SILLY ME. I WONDERED THE BIG WHAT IF? IF FRED AND I, AS TWO MID-LIFE VOYEURS, WITH SOME TIME ON THEIR HANDS, HAD JUMPED ABOARD THAT SAME TRAIN, TO SATISFY CURIOSITIES, ABOUT WHAT IT WOULD BE LIKE, TODAY, IF WE HAD DIFFERENT PROFESSIONS. SHARING THE ADVENTURE, TO SATISFY OUR WANDERLUST, ABOUT THOSE "WHAT IFS," AND "DO OVERS," THAT MAY HAVE CHANGED OUR LIVES COMPLETELY…..WOULD WE HAVE BEEN HAPPIER THAN WE ARE TODAY, THE RESULT OF WHAT OUR TRIP INSPIRED? OR WOULD WE HAVE ENJOYED THE TRAIN ADVENTURE, ALL THE UNIQUE AND FANTASTIC THINGS ALONG THE WAY, AND IN REVELATION, AGREED, ON ARRIVAL HOME, THAT THINGS HAD INDEED, TURNED OUT FINE REGARDLESS. AFTER ALL, WE CAN ALWAYS SATISFY OURSELVES, BY WONDERING AND PONDERING, ESPECIALLY AT THIS NOSTALGIC, MAGICAL TIME OF THE YEAR…….WHERE THERE ARE A LOT OF OLD GHOSTS WE WISH TO ACKNOWLEDGE, AND THANK, FOR THE WAYS THINGS TURNED OUT AFTER ALL.

I CAN'T GO INTO A GROCERY STORE TODAY, THAT I DON'T INSTINCTIVELY LOOK FOR THAT WHEEL OF OLD CHEDDAR……THAT SHOULD BE THERE TO GREET ME. I'M SURE FRED HAS MOMENTS, IN THE STORES HE VISITS, WHERE HE'D LIKE TO LET LOOSE, AND RUN A LINKAGE OF TO-SCALE ELECTRIC TRAINS TRACKS, TO ENHANCE "THE OLD FASHIONED" CHRISTMAS DECOR…..OR STACK TINS OF PEAS OR CORN, BEETS OR BEANS, IN THAT OLD, FAMILIAR WAY WITH A SPRIG OF HOLLY, THAT ALWAYS WORKED FOR SO MANY YEARS……IN THAT STORE WITH THE CREAKING FLOORS, AND THE BIG WINDOW, AND THE AROMA OF PLEASANT HISTORY, IN THE FADED BUT SEPIA TONE OF FOND MEMORY.

I DON'T SUPPOSE EITHER OF US WILL CHANGE PROFESSIONS AT THIS STAGE IN LIFE. I WILL CONTENT MYSELF WRITING ABOUT THOSE GOOD OLD DAYS, AND FRED WILL, ON OCCASION, INCLUDE A REFERENCE IN HIS WEEKLY COLUMNS…..THAT I WILL RECOGNIZE AND UNDERSTAND IMMEDIATELY, AS HIS NOSTALGIC NEED TO LINK BACK TO THE SCHULZ FAMILY DAYS, OF THE KILWORTHY GENERAL STORE.

AS FOR THE REST OF GRAVENHURST, I THINK FRED AND I CONCUR, MOST DEFINITELY, OUR CHOICE OF TOWN…….WE'D NEVER DO OVER, AND THERE ARE NO "WHAT IFS" ABOUT IT……THIS IS OUR HOMETOWN….OF THAT WE ARE VERY CONTENTED.

CHRISTMAS GREETINGS MR. SCHULZ AND SCHULZ FAMILY. MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL.