Happy New Year In Muskoka, From Muskoka and About Muskoka; Some New Years Resolutions For Gravenhurst Council

"He's my kind of guy." This is the new standing photograph for my revitalized blog coming January 2nd, to be known as "Ted Currie, Antique Head". The alien by the way is a folk art wood carving crafted by a Muskoka artisan from the Utterson area. Rob Currie photo.

HAPPY NEW YEARS FROM SOUTH MUSKOKA - FROM ALL OF US, TO ALL OF YOU

NEW YEAR WISHES FOR OUR TOWN COUNCIL - GET OUT OF TOWN HALL AND MEET YOUR CONSTITUENTS


     Suzanne and I are all alone this New Years, and it's not really much of a hardship. We usually pay for a big spread for the boys who are huge eaters, but for the two of us, we decided not to spend the usual wad, and instead brought it down to a simple spread of cheese and crackers and a few slices of pizza to ring in the new year. We get enormous pleasure with cats on lap, some decent shows from our dvd collection, and leftover wine to ring in 2015. It's cold out there tonight, and being hearthside is no disadvantage. For years and years, the only way I could celebrate New Years was to be as drunk as a skunk, with a lamp shade on my head by midnight, and the collateral damage of me being a career practical joker. I guess it's a sign of age and maturity, intermingling in all the right places, and the fact Suzanne can make us a festive feast out of some leftovers, stored in twenty or more sealed containers, from the Christmas Day extravagances. Tonight Suzanne drops the bones of the great bird into the big pot for the commencement of boiling down, and vegetable enhancements, for the New Year's Day ceremonial "Turkey Soup," which is so thick, well, you know that thing about the ladle standing in the middle. I love the holiday season because of good food and treats that we normally don't budget for ourselves through the rest of the year. You may be doing the same thing as we are, and that's about as wholesome and conservative as you can get. Andrew is working, at a local entertainment venue tonight, and Robert is at an event with some of his mates. I guess the big question now, is whether a couple of dull folks can make it all the way to midnight without falling asleep in their afghans.
     Whatever you're up to, wherever on earth you happen to find yourself, or whoever you are with, on New Year's Eve or New Year's Day, Suzanne and I hope you will have a nice day off to start off 2015. If you've had to work through both days, as millions have to because of job responsibilities, we hope you will at least have a moment or two, in order to greet the incoming year with positive anticipation for what the next twelve months will hold in store. I hope you will be will me a year from now, when I do this all again, and welcome you to experience the Muskoka hinterland, that I find so magnificent through the four seasons; but an enchanting place to spend the Christmas season. Whether you are alone, or have a party to attend, a small dinner on New Years with the family cat, or a big spread to enjoy with a group or at a resort, think happy thoughts and enjoy yourself. We will be having our usual New Year's dinner, with a huge dish of Suzanne's Windermere Lasagna which is breath-taking; and that's how I feel for an hour after leaving the table. But please, be careful out there, whether walking or driving. The roads are slippery and I've heard there are squalls occurring in our region. Also, and most important, take a cab home from the party, if you've been drinking. Take it from a former reporter, who saw a great deal of carnage associated with drinking drivers, it's not worth the risk.
     Beginning on the 2nd of January, 2015, I will be following through with my planned editorial change for this blog, bringing it closer in focus, to follow the adventures, and often hilarious misadventures, of our family business past and present. In the area of enterprise involving antique and collectable hunting, and of course, the vintage music industry, most often an amazing, action-filled carnival of curious goings-on; which of course overlaps into our "Currie Church Concerts," at St. James Anglican Church in Gravenhurst, which will resume in the early spring. We're still shocked about the success of these events, which began with only a dozen or so patrons in the back of our main street shop.
     Here's what a lot of elected officials want to read. I won't be writing about Gravenhurst Town Council, at any time in the New Year, because I can no longer, and in all honesty, and without doubt, objective, and that's not fair to these elected officials, or anyone else affiliated with town hall. For one thing, I have severe objections to the way Council is managing the Gravenhurst Opera House, especially the large scale theatre project they have planned for the coming summer season, taking it further and further away from what the constituents would like to see occur, or hope to benefit from, in the the general use, of the building we fund with our ever-increasing tax burden. In my opinion, and it is shared by many other townsfolk, the town has made a mistake once again, and there's a pretty good chance we will face yet another substantial Opera House operational deficit, to the point, that sometime in the near future, the historic venue, will simply be too expensive to operate, even as additional office space. There is no critical approach being used here at all; just the same old, same old, of building it, hoping someone will come, and then a plethora of excuses, as to why theatres in Canada are drowning in debt. As for mitigating risk? Does the town have a plan "B" if ticket sales for the summer theatre fail? I think it's a huge, and unnecessary risk, but then, when you're spending tax dollars, what the hell; there's more where that came from.
     We are facing uncertain economic times in this country, the result of dropping oil prices. The main impact will of course be on those provinces where oil plays a large role in regional economics; but Canada's economy is very much hinged to the wealth of natural resources. We have already seen a shift in the real estate market, with too many properties for sale, and too few buyers. As for the local economy, well, it's chugging along, but nothing spectacular. I do not think it is the appropriate time to have our Opera House dominated by summer theatre; we have a lot of history about summer theatre at its best, and still not being able to put "bums in seats." I was a reporter in the late 1970's and through the 1980's, who reviewed just about everything Muskoka Festival got up to in the way of summer theatre, with by the way, some of Canada's fine professional actors. And despite a pretty substantial budget for advertising, and a savvy publicity department, it still wasn't enough to, in the end, keep Muskoka Festival out of financial trouble. The times haven't changed all that much, from the 1990's, when it was finally put to rest as an Opera House mainstay. A lot can be learned from the failure of professional theatre, in Gravenhurst, but I have a feeling, Town Councillors aren't big on historical precendants, and are walking into this heavy investment without fully knowing the risks to taxpayers. There isn't any excuse for this but they've going to do it regardless of warnings.
     The Town shouldn't be in the entertainment business, and I mean that! But one thing about it, councillors will have no choice but to face up to the outcome; whether it means a parade will be thrown in their honor, because of its theatre successes, or they'll be provided the rail to ride on the way out of town, raised to our shoulders. Every elected representative, should demand to know what the risk of financial loss might be, if the project was to fail. And if they are concerned about the potential for such loss, they should most definitely raise the issue to the full council, to get re-assurances, that if the project shows signs of low patron numbers early on, there is a suitable exit strategy, on behalf of taxpayers; and the taxpayers of this province and country, should grants be involved in the project whatsoever. Councillors are in office, to be the stewards of our town resources; not to fritter them away on a lark, that the summer theatre is going to make all the difference, to the economic development of our town. This is what happens when serious critical input is avoided, because it gets in the way of progress, as some see it as best served. The enablers of this project will be held to account, if the theatre initiative becomes an economic failure. As for due diligence, methinks it may become more of an after thought.
     It would be interesting to see a published, nitty gritty audit, of just how theatre has fared at the Opera House, in terms of profit or loss, rentals and associated revenue, for the town (ultimately us), over the past two summers. I don't want to see it buried into a general financial statement. I want to see it with specifics, including equipment purchases, so that one might be able to discern the weight of our (taxpayer) investment, as balanced with actual earnings from patron attendance. We know from the first season of theatre as an experiment, attendance was less than stellar. Weak is probably a better description. The financially astute taxpayer, might wonder, if the first season didn't go so well, as far as revenue, then why in the world would the town agree to nearly doubling the plays for this coming season? What is going to change this year from the first year? Has the theatre market changed that drastically in two years? What is the budget, and what is the break even, where the town actually doesn't suffer a loss as a result? If I don't ask these questions, who will? The media? Well, that would be their job to do so, but I'm not expecting they will find it as important as I obviously do.
     I have written a great volume of editorial material, for a variety of publications, and for this blog specifically, over the past four years, three intensively so, promoting the Town of Gravenhurst and South Muskoka generally, of which I am particularly proud. I have never written a single word of this, because I was paid to do so, or at the urging of any business group, or the town itself. I have also never objected to any of these groups using material that I have composed, in the way of promotion, and the offer is always on the table, should they wish to borrow editorials to benefit our hometown in any way. But I don't write promotional material about our region, to either win them over to my way of thinking, or to make extra money. I'm not going to stop writing about our hometown, and South Muskoka, and I'm not expecting town councillors will care whatsoever, if I do, or don't, which doesn't bother me at all. After riding the town pretty hard for quite awhile now, I don't expect them to embrace me, or our business, which they certainly haven't thus far, so I'm never truly disappointed by the way my name doesn't come up, without a cuss attached. I don't plan on changing from this supporting role, like it or not, and I have a lot of great plans for the future, writing, and via our mainstreet business, which today is booming; and we sure feel good about it. Of course we're excited about a brand new year, because we had a great old year. We have every reason to be excited about the coming year for a lot of different reasons; and we hope that other retailers feel the same, and had as good a year, as we enjoyed.
     If I have one over-shadowing New Year's wish, for our Town Council, it would be that they break away from the safety, comfort and convenience of town hall, where they have their greatest authority, and get out to meet the constituents that were missed during this past November's municipal election, which wasn't the barn-burner it should have been, considering the precarious issues. Councillors should be interested in the "word on the street", not just assume they know how constituents feel, from a passing glance from their automobile, and leave well enough alone. There are a lot of folks like me, feeling pretty disenfranchised from our own home town, as relates to the governance at town hall. Many have simply given up worrying about what councillors are up to, and yes, it does play into their hands. Apathy is never a positive reality, and we have a lot in this town that is never given the scrutiny it warrants. Why do citizens feel this way? What has caused this? I heard have heard stories recently, about people leaving our town, to relocate in other communities, who were saying things like "we can't wait to get out of here," and "there are too many politics at play in this town." If you hear this enough, even fully committed, long term residents, start wondering where all the dissension is generating from. I'd gladly take credit for raising some of it, although by statistical evidence, it wouldn't be because my readership is in the multi thousands. It really bothers me when I hear comments like this, because we take hometown pride seriously in our family. We promote Gravenhurst constantly through our shop, and if you read Tweets, sent out to the world from our customers, you'd appreciate this to be true. We love it when we can brag about our town. So yes it does upset us when we hear negative comments especially from citizens, who are leaving the community. But why would a Gravenhurst Council representative, having been elected fair and square, care how constituents feel about local government. Let them speak to council as a delegation, or have a one on one with the mayor. That ought to do it! Right? What minor percentage of constituents, would believe, that anything they offer as critique of council conduct, would be taken seriously anyway, let alone adopt changes, as a result of critical input, in order to make our government more responsive. Inclusive versus exclusive, for example. Until the next municipal election, I can't imagine any councillor worrying themselves about whether we, the constituents, are pleased with their work on our behalf. They haven't in the past, so expectations are low, they would see any advantage, trying to change anyone's opinion about their political agendas or conduct on their behalf.
     Gravenhurst Council is going to have a tough four year term, whether they dismiss my overview or not. The closing of a major resort for renovations after a serious fire, is a big loss for the town's tourism economy, even if it is only for a year of restoration. There's lots more to come, including the potential sale of the former Muskoka Centre, by the cash starve province, and consideration about whether Gravenhurst High School should be amalgamated with Bracebridge and Muskoka Lakes Secondary School, or left to deal with its modest enrollment indefinitely. There are are the hospital woes, and whether there will be one hospital where there are now two (Bracebridge and Huntsville); what's Gravenhurst's position? It would be nice to read or hear about a Gravenhurst Councillor standing up for some of these big issues, and actually going on the record as either being for, or opposed, and prepared to rant a little on our behalf. I have no expectations so I sure as hell won't be disappointed, when status quo one again becomes the operative standard, for the coming term of office. The kind of issues that will face the town in the coming four years will be high profile, and councillors will be divided on issues more than they can imagine, at this gentle, soft, celebratory turning of the years. We are watching closely, to see how these folks stand up to intensive public scrutiny over the long haul. The only advantage they have today, is that there is a gentle media, that is not overly interested in the kind of investigative journalism, we used to have, and be well known for, in this region. As I've noted many times in the past, this is what has led to our own seriously lacking knowledge, of what is really going on at town hall. We have, for a long time, depended on the media to work on our behalf, ferreting out the backroom politics and potential scandals we need to know about. Honestly, this does not serve the community well. In fact, Councillors should be begging the media to take a closer look, at their own administration, because like an exploratory medical examination, transparency reveals what we should all be concerned about, and have resolved, treated or removed entirely. A bright light shining on business affairs, is never a bad thing, yet if you suggest its advantages, as a way investigating council, the instigator would most certainly be considered a heretic, or someone leveling unfounded accusations. Funny how that works.
     It isn't my quest to shine such a light on our council, or any council serving this region. I've done that in the past, and it's true, if I was editor of any of the local publications, I would insist on a great investment in investigative reporting, and most intensive, as far as council business is concerned. Taxpayers do want to know what is going on at town hall. Relax, I'm not editor of anything more than this humble blog, and as I have been writing about for some time, I'm changing format as of Friday afternoon (with carry over to Saturday), to write about antique collecting, and about the enterprise of vintage music, as our family is presently immersed. I have lost interest in municipal politics, and the reasons could fill a book. We have had one of the best business years in our combined company histories, and our Church Concerts are getting recognition amongst Indie musicians all across Canada, and the best is yet to come in 2015, as our plans come closer to fruition. Andrew and Robert are looking forward to some big gigs with Grant Tingey and Hired Gun, and of course their friend Johnny Fay, the group's celebrity drummer, from the iconic Canadian rock band, "The Tragically Hip."  I love working in the studio of our shop. Every day brings forth a new fascination, and an interesting adventure with our special guests.
      I want to take this opportunity to thank all the readers of this blog, who have taken precious time out of their busy days, throughout the years, to read along with the story-teller / antique dealer, municipal critic, and general complainer about governments, to follow some of the small town adventures of the shop-keeps, of upper Muskoka Road here in Gravenhurst. I will hit 260,000 views early in January, gained since I began the daily blogs over three years ago now, and I hope with the copy and theme adjustment in the coming days, I will again be able to successfully compete for your ongoing support. The shift to some will be a minor one, most obvious by the exclusion of council critiques, and newspaper anecdotes from my old days in the publishing industry. The antique and collectable business is much broader and more exciting than I may have led you to believe, in some of the blogs I've published this year on the subject. I'd like to prove that our Gravenhurst enterprise is an adventure filled place, and our own biography in the profession, has given us enormous experience in collecting for fun, profit and investment; but with so many interconnected tall tales, I can guarantee, it won't be musty, dusty or boring. You don't have to love antiques or care about collectables, to get some entertainment mileage out of our stories, as a collecting, adventure-seeking family, that can't get enough to satisfy our appetite. Why not take a trial spin with my revised, revamped and revitalized blog, that will be entitled, simply, bluntly, insanely, "Ted Currie - Antique-Head." Like when I followed the Grateful Dead as a "Dead-Head," and the folk group, "Tanglefoot," and a "Foot-Head." It will also have a lot of history embedded because that's what antiques are all about, when you get past the valuation stuff, and how pretty a harvest table, for example, looks in your dining room. Provenance is a big deal, and I love being able to share stories about former owners of those magnificent harvest tables, pine flat-to-the-wall cupboards, and old clocks we love to talk and write about. It will involve ghosts, because they hitch-hike with antiques; pieces that were adored in life by owners, unwilling to let go in death. If you've heard the line, "enjoy it while you can, because you can't take it with you," well sir, we can tell you differently. If you've seen the movie "Beetlejuice," you will appreciate why the spirits of some deceased, don't know when to let go, especially of their former digs, and possessions.
     I'll give you all a little sample in tomorrow's (New Year's Day) blog, so you can dip your toe into the new format and material, to see if it fits your reading interests. See you soon.

     Have a safe and Happy New Year everyone!

New Years In Muskoka; A New Dog For Robert; That Old Liddard Street Gang Of Mine

A DAY FOR THE RECORD BOOKS - LOTS OF SHOP VISITORS, LOTS OF ODD JOBS, AND THE FIRST STAGES OF PET ADOPTION

ROBERT WILL BE BRINGING HOME A NEW CHUM SOON -

     It was kind of a stressful day all told, from the gentle way it began; it started with the Curries standing outside, before heading off to work, enjoying the clear morning air, and the sounds birds visiting Birch Hollow. We had a number of business appointments to keep, and a few miles to travel, some furniture to shift, and the four of us never got a chance throughout the work day, to actually enjoy the coffees we bought at stops here and there. We'd just sit down for a wee respite, embrace coffee cup and cookie, and then get a call that would demand us setting our drink back down, and putting the cookie with a bite out of it, back on the plate temporarily. Being busy is a good thing at this time of the year, especially today, as snow squalls started moving in off the lake. Got caught in two of them but they weren't blinding like some back in November. I like the occasional fast paced day, but this one was pretty nuts, and it was made even more of an adventure, when son Robert got a chance to see a pet being put up for adoption, at the local Humane Society shelter. I was the roadie for the day, as I usually am, with my trucker's cap, and I got paid an apple fritter and coffee, from Andrew, for the morning run, and a piece of pizza and a pop in the afternoon, from Robert. I work for food and adventure, so I was well paid today.
     I started off this morning, staring at a Cardinal, that was, at least momentarily, staring back at me. We only see about four Cardinals each year, so this was kind of a treat. We had a short but meaningful meeting, and I offered my sincere apology that the squirrels had once again eaten all the seeds fit for Cardinals-kind. He, or she, I needed a birder to confirm this, flitted from branch to branch, and finally disappeared into the hardwoods of The Bog, across the road. There were a lot of bird calls this morning, including dozens of crows darting from hydro pole to pine bough, tree top to stump, cawing and complaining about my intrusion on their woodland. I heard our resident Blue Jays calling out but I couldn't see them this morning; but it was interesting to hear all the bird calls and fluttering about at Birch Hollow. I really enjoy hearing this first thing in the morning. It's why I find this place so special, just the way it is. It is a great habitat for the woodland creatures, and it's amazing to sit up on the verandah watching it all unfold. Even the night time traffic here, is quite amazing. Not the cars. The deer, fox, coyotes and owls (we have two). It's the way everybody should start off their days, enjoying the wonderful graces of vibrant nature, and ending them, with that final walk outside, to check out the starscape in that beautiful deep, black sky.
     I was on the road with son Andrew early today, to run some errands in Bracebridge, and we took the back roads, to get our fill of the hinterland, before having to go back to the shop for the balance of the work day. We no sooner arrived back at the shop, after a slow and enjoyable drive, and I started working on today's blog, one hand on the keyboard, the other on a turkey sandwich (we're getting closer to the turkey soup part), when son Robert had to go to the Muskoka Animal Shelter (Ontario Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals) to fill out some adoption paperwork, for a soon to be released dog, he took a shine to during a recent visit. Robert is actually adopting the bandy-legged wee beastie himself, in part, because Suzanne and I are still trying to move on, but finding it difficult, from the loss of our old dog, Bosko, who passed away a couple of weeks ago. Robert and I were talking in the car, on the way to the shelter, and I realized that he had only spent a few weeks of his entire life, without a dog in the house. Even though we have some great little cats at Birch Hollow, and we love them dearly, there is a detectable, unhappy void, none the less. We're not upset at all, about a wee dog coming to live here, because we think Bosko, a surrendered dog herself, would be pleased to know that another homeless pet has been adopted. Afterall we have quite a bit of space here, and a great woodland across the road, to explore and sniff around, to the heart's content. It will take a little getting used to, because Bosko was a mid sized dog and the incoming dog is a light-weight. Suzanne and I have an understanding, that this addition to the family, isn't a replacement for Bosko. You know, we just have to say that, think that, and act accordingly, and it makes us feel less guilty about another canine, which will undoubtedly sleep upon the same section of carpet Bosko had enjoyed; and nudge our legs when it wants attention, or to go out, just like our old friend used to, getting his nose behind my knee cap, when I was sitting in the livingroom. I'm sure there will me moments when we will swear we hear Bosko's nails on the kitchen floor, or swear we can hear her breathing when we awake from a little nap in front of the television; only to take a peak, and see a tiny wee thing looking back at us. We will learn how to move on, as we have had to in the past, when our pets have given us everything they could, and grew tired in their labours to keep us entertained, and always in good company.
     I don't want to jinx the adoption process, by offering her name just yet, because there are a few more hurdles before she comes home with Robert in a week or so. In the meantime, Suzanne will be prepping the old homestead for our little guest, and as is tradition, buying new food and water dishes, a collar and leash, and oh yes, some dog toys. She will also be speaking with considerable empathy, to our cats, Buddy, Angus, Chutney, Zappa, and Beasley, begging them to be on their best behavior when the new resident arrives. They currently have the run of the place, and that will change a tad with a new dog on the premises. When we adopted Bosko, we were told by Shelter staff, that she would not get along well with cats. We liked everything else about her, and decided to take a chance that she wouldn't eat any of them. It was a remarkable transition, that caused little chagrin whatsoever, after the first full day. The cats backed off and studied Bosko for most of the first week, before actually challenging for floor space. Even right to the end of Bosko's life, Angus, Zappa, and Beasley, were rubbing against her as if old and dear friends, passing along some creature comforts at a time of need. It was great to see, day to day, and very comforting to all of us, to know that we had all been able to live under the same roof, without too much collateral damage. The only time I ever saw Bosko take a run at one of our cats, was when Angus, the tommy of the group, took a run at its smaller sister, Zappa, and Bosko grabbed the male cat by the back of the neck, as a stern warning to cease and desist. In only a few minutes, with Angus unhurt but hiding under the table, Zappa came and rubbed against Bosko without any reaction from the dog, other than closing its eyes, and resuming its nap.
      We will have to adjust our thinking and, of course, our emotions, but after seeing the face of the little critter headed our way, well sir, I think we will be in good shape in short order. She will be penned into the family chronology Suzanne keeps, to pass onto the boys, when we're pushing up the daisies, recording some anecdotes about our first three dogs, Alf, Kramer, and Bosko - all taken from television character names, from some of our favorite shows. As all our pets have contributed to our family life and times, I know we are about to embark on some very unique and interesting moments, with Robert's first dog. His cat is Zappa by the way. When the adoption is finalized and we have brought her home, I will publish some snapshots of our new guard dog at Birch Hollow. We are very thankful for the assistance from the Muskoka Animal Shelter for their kind assistance, putting us together on this, and so many other successful occasions, when our family connected with dogs that would change and enhance all our lives.
     I can guarantee on thing for sure. This new pet will be spoiled with celebrity, because I will write about it frequently, in these blogs, and it will have quite an interesting interaction with all the well known musicians, who drop by the studio for a visit with Andrew and Robert, when they're passing through the region. Robert wants to be able to keep her in the studio during the day, and socialize with our guests; at least the ones without dog fur allergies. We would have loved to bring Bosko in her heyday to the shop, to lay in the studio, but she was too determined to protect us, and our digs, to have relaxed with the high traffic. She was not a sociable dog in this way, but she was loyal to us to the end. We hope it will be different with our new little friend. I'll let you know how it works out.


From the Archives

NEW YEAR'S IN BRACEBRIDGE -

THE OLD GANG, A LOT OF FUN UP ON LIDDARD AND AUBREY STREETS - AND THEN WE GOT SERIOUS - THAT WASN'T ANY FUN

WE MAY HAVE HAD THE STRANGEST ROAD HOCKEY CONFIGURATION IN CANADA. IT'S WORTH A HOCKEY BOOK ON ITS OWN. IT WAS AN "L" SHAPED DRIVEWAY, AT THE HENRY HOME, UP ON LIDDARD. THAT'S RIGHT. WE PLAYED ON A RIGHT ANGLE. CRAZY. WE DEVELOPED HOCKEY SKILLS NO ONE HAD EVER SEEN BEFORE. WE HAD ABOUT TWENTY FEET OF STRAIGHTAWAY, AND A RIGHT TURN TO THE OPPONENT'S NET. IF WE TURNED LEFT, WE RAN INTO A TOUGH MAPLE. FRANK HENRY, OWNER OF THE LIDDARD STREET HOCKEY VENUE, JUST SHOOK HIS HEAD WHEN HE WENT TO WORK, AND THEN CAME BACK, AND WE WERE STILL TWISTING WITH SHARP RIGHTS AND EQUALLY SHARP LEFTS, TO GET A CLEAR SHOT ON NET. IT WAS CRAZY. FRANK'S SON STEVE WAS THE HOST, AND HE INVITED THE NEIGHBORHOOD LADS TO PLAY ON SATURDAYS, AND AT TIMES WE FILLED THE RESIDENTIAL LOT WITH HOCKEYISTS, PLAYING THE GREAT CANADIAN GAME. WHEN STEVE AND HIS DAD WENT TO A HUGE EFFORT TO BUILD A NATURAL ICE PAD, AT THE BACK OF THE HOUSE, WE JUST STOOD IN THE DRIVEWAY BANGING OUR STICKS. IT WOULDN'T BE THE SAME WITHOUT THE LEFT AND RIGHT TURNS TO THE NET. WE'D KEEP DITCHING IN THE SNOWBANK.

WE HAD PLAYERS BACK THEN LIKE RANDY CARSWELL, WHO ALSO PROVIDED THE PLAY BY PLAY, SCOTT RINTOUL, ROD BALDWIN, RON BOYER, ROGER TAVERNER, RICK HILLMAN, STEVE, MYSELF, AND A HALF DOZEN DAY-PLAYERS LIKE HIS SISTERS LINDA AND SUSAN.

EVEN THOUGH I WAS A HUNT'S HILL LAD, AND PROUD OF IT, THERE CAME A POINT IN MY ROAD HOCKEY CAREER, WHEN MY TEAM-MATES STARTED TO LISTEN TO ROCK 'N' ROLL, AND GAVE UP ON THE ALICE STREET SHINNY. I WAS DEVASTATED. SOON THOUGH, A SHIFT TO A NEW NEIGHBORHOOD, GAVE A LOT MORE ZING TO THE ROAD HOCKEY TRADITION, AND IT BECAME THE REAL LIFE "70'S SHOW," WITH SOME GREAT FOLKS. THE HENRY'S HOME WAS THE PERFECT PLACE TO HOLD OUR SOCIAL CLUB MEETINGS, AND YOU KNOW, THEIR WATCHFUL EYES, AND KEEN ADVISORIES, KEPT US OUT OF THE KIND OF TROUBLE TEENAGERS ARE DRAWN TO….THAT ARE USUALLY A TAD SELF DESTRUCTIVE. WE KIND OF POLICED OURSELVES, AND ENJOYED TEENAGE REBELLION BY PLAYING SPORTS, FROM BASEBALL TO SUMMER HOCKEY, SLEDDING IN THE WINTER, HIKING IN THE SUMMER.

I GET KIND OF SAPPY AT THIS TIME OF YEAR. SITTING HERE, LOOKING AT THE OLD PHOTOGRAPHS OF THOSE KODAK MOMENTS, WHEN WE REALLY DIDN'T HAVE A CLUE HOW WE'D WIND UP EVENTUALLY. I'M PRETTY SURE THEY WOULD HAVE AGREED, I'D BE IN SOME PENAL COLONY BY NOW, FOR MOUNTING SOME GOVERNMENT OVER-THROW, OR WORSE, AND I'M PRETTY SURE THEY'D HAVE BEEN RIGHT, IF IT HADN'T BEEN FOR THE CALMING DEGREE OF SENSIBLE PROPORTION, MENTORED BY THE HENRYS. I REMEMBER THE DAWSON GALS, LINDA AND MARION, (I DATED BOTH), JUDY GREY, NANCY CRUMP AND LINDA HENRY…..ALL FINE FRIENDS, FROM A REMARKABLE PERIOD OF THE 1970'S……WHEN THERE WERE SO MANY LIFE CHANGING SHARP RIGHT, AND LEFT TURNS WE COULD HAVE MADE……JUST LIKE OUR HOCKEY GAMES. BUT WE DIDN'T. ALL HAVE HAD PROSPEROUS AND SUCCESSFUL LIVES AND CAREERS, AND I'M SO HAPPY FOR THEM.

AT THE TIME, I THOUGHT WE'D BE TOGETHER FOREVER. IT NEVER ONCE CROSSED MY MIND, THAT MANY WOULD MOVE AWAY FROM MUSKOKA, AND THAT THE OLD DAYS WOULD BE JUST THAT…….SOME DOG EARRED PHOTOGRAPHS IN AN OLD ALBUM, DUST COVERED AND SMELLING A LITTLE MUSTY. IN MY MIND HOWEVER, THESE MEMORIES HAVE ALL BEEN MUCH CLOSER, MUCH DEARER, AND RECALLED MUCH MORE FREQUENTLY……..THAN I'M SURE THEY THINK OF ME, ALL THESE YEARS LATER. WHAT THEY GAVE ME, WAS MY SENSE OF HOME TOWN, A GREAT CHILDHOOD AND A SAFE TEENAGEHOOD…..WHEN I THINK HONESTLY, I COULD HAVE VERY EASILY STRAYED. IF I HAD, EVEN BY A STRAY MOLECULE, LEFT THE PATH I TOOK FROM THAT VINTAGE, IT IS VERY UNLIKELY I WOULD BE WHERE I AM TODAY…….HERE AT BIRCH HOLLOW, WITH MY WIFE SUZANNE AND TWO FINE MUSICIAN LADS, ANDREW AND ROBERT. IT WAS BECAUSE OF THEM. THEY MIGHT THINK THIS RIDICULOUS, BUT IT'S TRUE NONE THE LESS. THEY TEMPERED ME AT A TIME WHEN NO ONE ELSE, INCLUDING MY PARENTS, COULD CHANGE HISTORY. IT WAS LINDA DAWSON WHO CHASTISED ME FOR DRINKING, AND I KNEW IT WAS A TERRIBLE WAY TO TREAT SOMEONE YOU CARED ABOUT. I STOPPED. I HAVE REMEMBERED THE LOOK OF DISDAIN ON HER FACE, ALL THESE YEARS LATER. LOOKING AT SOMEONE SHE TRUSTED, HAVING A HARD TIME STANDING UPRIGHT. WHILE IT'S TRUE I HAD MANY ENCOUNTERS WITH BOOZE OVER THE YEARS, AT THE TIME, IT WAS LINDA WHO SOWED THE SEED OF DISCONTENT…….AND MADE ME AWARE OF THE COLLATERAL DAMAGE OF HAVING TOO MUCH FUN.

I AM GRATEFUL FOR THESE FRIENDSHIPS OF ONCE. THEY WERE THE MAKING OF ME…..FOR BETTER OR WORSE……GOD BLESS AND OF COURSE, HAPPY NEW YEAR FROM ONE OF THE OLD GANG.

GRAVENHURST - IN THE BEGINNING - GREAT EXPECTATIONS ON THE MUSKOKA FRONTIER - AS FAR BACK AS 1858

OUR FIRST HOSPITALITY GRADING - THANKS TO MOTHER MCABE

     THE SUDDEN DRAMATIC TURN OF THE WEATHER RECENTLY, HAS CREATED CITY-LIKE TRAFFIC CHAOS IN A COUNTRY SETTING. ALMOST ZERO VISIBILITY WHITE-OUTS AND SLIPPERY ROADS (NOT TO MENTION EXCESSIVE SPEED) HAVE CAUSED MANY MOTOR VEHICLE COLLISIONS, ON THE ICED-OVER ROADWAYS OF SOUTH MUSKOKA. CONTRIBUTING TO LOTS OF WORK FOR LOCAL FIRST RESPONDERS, THEMSELVES AT RISK, ENTERING DANGEROUS WHITE-OUT SITUATIONS, TO RESCUE THE INJURED AND ILL. DURING THESE RECENT PERIODS OF WARNINGS AND WATCHES, MANY HAVE OPTED TO STAY OFF THE ROADS, LIKE ME, AND LET THE BAD WEATHER PLAY ITSELF OUT. IN FACT, SITTING HERE NOW, IN UPTOWN GRAVENHURST, RECLINING IN THE COMFORTS OF ANDREW AND ROBERT'S RECORDING STUDIO, I'M SENSING THE ARRIVAL OF A MORE OPTIMISTIC CHRISTMAS MOOD, DESPITE THE THROES OF WINTER'S DRASTIC TRANSFORMATION. THIS WARM AND COZY PORTAL, FACILITATING MY VIEW OUT OVER THE MAIN STREET, MUSKOKA ROAD, AFFORDS A NICELY FRAMED WINTER VISTA OF THE OLD HOMETOWN; AND I MUST CONFESS TO GETTING DISTRACTED REGULARLY, WATCHING ALL THE BUNDLED-UP CITIZENS, TRUNDLING BY, WITH BIG AND LITTLE PARCELS, AND COLORFUL BAGS FULL TO OVERFLOWING, WITH ROLLS OF CHRISTMAS WRAP AND BOXES PROTRUDING AT THE TOP. PRESENTS? MAYBE, BUT NOT FOR ME. DRAT! THE PASSERSBY ARE SLIGHTLY HUNCHED OVER FROM THE WEIGHT, AND TRYING TO NAVIGATE THROUGH THE WIND INFLATING THEIR HALF OPEN COATS, AND TOSSING THEIR SCARVES BACK, AS IF THEY WERE PILOTING A BIPLANE. THEIR HATS ARE COVERED IN SNOW, AND SHOULD THEY BE BEARDED, OUT IN THIS OPEN STORM, THEY WOULD BE CARRYING WITH THEM, A WEIGHT OF SNOW AND ICE. ONE MAN HAS JUST DROPPED TWO OF HIS PARCELS, AND BEFORE HE COULD TURN TO PICK THEM UP, A KINDLY PEDESTRIAN, FOLLOWING BEHIND, ALREADY HAD THEM BOTH IN HIS HANDS, OFFERING THEM BACK WITH OUTSTRETCHED ARMS, TO THE GENTLEMAN, EVEN BEFORE HE COULD FULLY TURN BACK TO RETRIEVE HIS POSSESSIONS. A YOUNGSTER RUNS WITH RECKLESS ABANDON, AND TURNS SIDEWAYS TO SLIDE DOWN THE WALK. HE'S ONLY PARTLY SUCCESSFUL, AS HE TRIPS AND DROPS INTO AN AWKWARD ROLL, WHILE HIS FRIENDS LAUGH AND TRY THE SAME. TWO SUCCESSFUL AND TWO OTHERS ENDING UP IN A CLUMP OF SNOWSUITS ON THE CURB. NO ONE IS HURT. EACH IS COVERED IN SNOW, AND THEY LIKE IT THAT WAY. THEY'RE TOO SET ON PLAY, TO BE PACIFIED BY ANYTHING LESS THAN HORSEPLAY WITHOUT THE HORSE.

     I AM HOLDING A COPY OF MUSKOKA'S FIRST HISTORY, WRITTEN BY THOMAS MCMURRAY, AUTHOR OF THE BOOK, "MUSKOKA AND PARRY SOUND," CIRCA

THE EARLY 1870'S. A BOOK THAT IS ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-THREE YEARS OLD. THE BOOK BELONGED TO SUZANNE'S GRANDFATHER, JOHN SHEA, BUT IT HAD BEEN PASSED DOWN TO HIM FROM OTHER SHEA FAMILY MEMBERS, WHO HAD ARRIVED HERE AS SETTLERS, IN THE WINTER OF 1863. SUZANNE'S MOTHER GAVE IT TO ME, AFTER WE WERE MARRIED, AND IT WAS ONE OF THE MOST IMPORTANT ACQUISITIONS A REGIONAL HISTORIAN COULD RECEIVE. SO IN RESPECT TO THIS CHRISTMAS SEASON IN GRAVENHURST, I WANTED TO RE-PUBLISH SOME OF THE COMMENTS PRINTED BY THOMAS MCMURRAY, ABOUT THE REALITIES AND PROSPECTS FOR THIS HAMLET, AS FAR BACK AS 1858; WHEN THE FIRST PIONEERS BROKE TRAIL INTO THE DARK MUSKOKA WILDS. AT A TIME WHEN WE HEAR, AND READ, ABOUT THE ECONOMIC INEFFICIENCIES, STILL AFFECTING OUR TOWN, MAYBE WE SHOULD REFLECT BACK TO THE HARDSHIPS THAT HAVE BEEN ENDURED AND OVERCOME, SINCE THOSE INCREDIBLY DIFFICULT DAYS, WHEN A BASIC, NO FRILL LOG CABIN WAS AN IMPROVEMENT OVER A BRUSH SHANTY FOR COMFORTABLE ACCOMMODATION DURING A HARSH WINTER. TODAY OUT THERE? THIS WOULD HAVE BEEN A MODEST INTRUSION OF WINTER BACK THEN, AS WINTERS WERE MUCH MORE AGGRESSIVE AND SNOW-FILLED. WE'RE NOT GOING TO HIT FORTY-FIVE BELOW ARE WE?

     "THE ROAD WAS COMMENCED IN WASHAGO, IN 1858; MESSRS ST. GEORGE AND O'BRIEN WERE THE CONTRACTORS. IN THE FALL OF 1859, MR. R.J. OLIVER WAS APPOINTED LOCATING AGENT AT $4 PER DIEM, UNDER THE GOVERNMENT OF THE HON. JOHN A. MACDONALD; MR. P.M. VANKOUGHNET BEING CROWN LANDS' COMMISSIONER. ON THE 1ST OF OCTOBER, 1859, HE MET THE SETTLERS AT THE SEVERN BRIDGE AND ISSUED ABOUT 17 LOCATIONS - ON THE ROAD ONLY - JAMES H. JACKSON, WILLIAM JOHNSON, AND JOHN YOUNG, JAMES MCCABE, DAVID LEITH, AND THE SIMMINGTONS, WERE THE FIRST SETTLERS IN THE TOWNSHIPS OF MORRISON AND MUSKOKA," WRITES MCMURRAY. "A SMALL SHANTY HAD BEEN OPENED AS A TAVERN, AND WAS KEPT BY A BROTHER-IN-LAW (MR. SWIFT) OF THE LATE JOHN TIPPING, ESQ., J.P. ORILLIA, WHO PURCHASED FIVE ACRES OFF LOT NUMBER 1, WEST FROM WILLIAM JOHNSTON. DONALD FERGUSON, A BRAVE HIGHLAND SCOTCHMAN, WAS THE FIRST SETTLER IN THE TOWNSHIP OF DRAPER. AT THIS PERIOD THE ROAD ONLY EXTENDED TO THE SOUTH FALLS, AND THE BRIDGE WAS NOT BUILT; BUT 'DONALD' NOTHING DAUNTED, CROSSED THE RIVER AND LOCATED ON A LOVELY SPOT CLOSE TO THE FALLS, ON THE NORTH SIDE OF THE RIVER. WHILE LOTS ON THE ROAD WERE LOCATED IN THE FALL OF 1859, IT WAS NOT TILL 1861 THAT THE LANDS IN THE TOWNSHIPS OF MORRISON, MUSKOKA, DRAPER AND MACAULAY, WERE THROWN UPON THE MARKET, AND AT THE SAME TIME, MR. R. J. OLIVER WAS APPOINTED CROWN LANDS'AGENT. IT WAS IN THE MONTH OF MAY, IN THIS SAME YEAR, THAT THE WRITER (MCMURRAY) BECAME A RESIDENT OF DRAPER, BEFORE THE TOWNSHIP WAS ENTIRELY SURVEYED.

     "I CANNOT BUT REFER HERE TO THE BITTER OPPOSITION WHICH WAS MANIFESTED TOWARDS THE GOVERNMENT BY A PORTION OF THE PRESS AND A NUMBER OF GENTLEMAN, FOR ATTEMPTING TO OPEN UP THIS PART OF ONTARIO; EVERY FORM OF MISREPRESENTATION AND ABUSE WAS SOUGHT AFTER AND CIRCULATED, AND IT WAS EVEN ASSERTED THAT IT WAS ONLY TO 'AFFORD SITUATIONS FOR THEIR FRIENDS,' THAT THE COUNTRY WAS OPENED UP. THE TOWN OF BARRIE FIGURED VERY CONSPICUOUSLY IN THEIR OPPOSITION TO THE SETTLING-UP OF THE NORTH; AMONG THE FAULT FINDERS WERE MIGHT NAME R, L, AND M,; BUT, AS THEY HAVE LIVED TO SEE THEIR ERROR, WE DECLINE EXPOSURE; BUT, AS SAMPLE OF THE OPINION IN WHICH MUSKOKA WAS HELD IN THOSE DAYS, WE MAY JUST STATE THAT M. TOLD OUR AUTHOR THAT 'HE WOULD NOT PAY TAXES ON A SINGLE ONE HUNDRED ACRES OF LAND, FOR ALL THE LAND NORTH OF THE SEVERN. MUSKOKA HAS BEEN MUCH ABUSED; STILL IT HAD A FEW EARNEST FRIENDS WHO HAVE DONE THEIR DUTY NOBLY. MR. R. L. OLIVER, FOUGHT MANY A HARD BATTLE AND SILENCED MANY A FOE. WE FIND, ON EXAMINATION, THAT HE WROTE NOT LESS THAT 83 EDITORIALS AND LETTERS OF DEFENCSE OF THE COUNTRY; AND BY HIS WILLING PEN, HAS WON MANY FRIENDS IN THE SETTLEMENT."

     ONE OF THE MOST PROMINENT PERSONAL STORIES IN MCMURRAY'S BOOK, REGARDS THE HOSPITALITY FOUND IN THE PIONEER CROSSROADS OF WHAT IS NOW GRAVENHURST. THE WRITER NOTES, "PROMINENT AMONGST THE EARLY SETTLERS STAND THE NAMES OF MR. AND MRS. MCCABE; THEY OPENED A TAVERN AT GRAVENHURST IN 1861, AND MANY A WORN-OUT TRAVELLER HAS BEEN GLAD TO SEE THEIR UNPRETENTIOUS LOG CABIN WHERE THEY MIGHT REST THEIR WEARY LIMBS AND GET SOME REFRESHMENTS TO SUSTAIN NATURE. NEVER SHALL THE WRITER FORGET HIS FIRST INTERVIEW WITH 'MOTHER MCCABE.' WHEN HE ARRIVED THERE, HE WAS HUNGRY AND FOOTSORE, BUT HE MET WITH AN 'IRISH WELCOME,' AND A DINNER WAS SERVED UP BY MOTHER MCCABE WHICH WOULD NOT HAVE DISGRACED ANY HOTEL NORTH OF TORONTO. THE OLD LOG SHANTY LOOKED DULL OUTSIDE, BUT WITHIN, ALL WAS CLEANLINESS AND ORDER; HER CLEAN WHITE CURTAINS KEPT THE MOSQUITOES OUT IN THE SUMMER, THE COLD OUT IN THE WINTER, WHILE HER FEATHER BEDS AFFORDED SWEET REST TO MANY A WEARY LAND-SEEKER. HOW WELCOME WAS THE SIGHT OF THE DIM LOW LIGHT THROUGH THE BUSH, TO THE WEARY TRAVELLER, CAN ONLY BE FULLY APPRECIATED BY THE EARLY PEDESTRIANS, WHEN NO HORSES OR VEHICLES WERE ON THE ROAD; THERE ARE HUNDREDS IN THE SETTLEMENT WHO REMEMBER THEM, AND SOME OF THEM HAVE CAUSE TO BLESS MOTHER MCCABE FOR HER GENEROSITY.

     "THE FIRST DEATH IN THE SETTLEMENT WAS THAT OF POOR JOHNSTON; HE WAS DROWNED AT THE SEVERN BRIDGE, ONE SUNDAY WHILST FISHING. THE POOR WIDOW STRUGGLED HARD WITH HER TWO LITTLE BOYS - THE ELDER NOT MORE THAN NINE YEARS - AND, WITH THEIR HELP, SHE MANAGED BEFORE SHE DIED, TO CLEAR ABOUT EIGHT OR NINE ACRES; BUT ALAS, FELL IN THE HARNESS."

     HERE THEN ARE THE EARLY CONTRASTS. HARDSHIPS OVERCOME ON ONE HAND. SETTLERS OVERCOME BY CIRCUMSTANCES, ON THE OTHER. IF PERCHANCE, I STOOD OUTSIDE, ON THIS SNOWY DAY, IN GRAVENHURST, WHERE PEOPLE ARE THINKING THIS WINTER WEATHER AN EXTREME HARDSHIP, AND I WAS TO ASK IF THEY KNEW WHO MOTHER MCCABE WAS, I'M REASONABLY SURE, UNLESS A RELATIVE OR HISTORIAN PASSED MY WAY, THAT NO ONE WOULD KNOW OR APPRECIATE THIS NAME. I WOULDN'T EXPECT THEY WOULD HAVE KNOWN THE FIRST ENCAMPMENT HERE, WAS KNOWN AS MCCABE'S LANDING, IN RESPECT TO THE MCCABE FAMILY'S STAKE IN THE TOWNSHIP. I CAN'T FAULT THEM FOR THIS, BECAUSE IT, TO THEM, IS A DETAIL OF ANCIENT HISTORY; EVEN THOUGH 150 YEARS DOES NOT QUALIFY AS ALL THAT OLD, AT LEAST BY BRITISH AND EUROPEAN STANDARDS.....AND OUR FIRST SETTLERS WERE FROM ENGLAND, IRELAND AND SCOTLAND, AS OBSERVED BY MR. MCMURRAY. I MIGHT FAULT A LOCAL TOWN COUNCILLOR FOR NOT KNOWING THIS INFORMATION, BUT CITIZENS GENERALLY HAVE BEEN ONLY MODESTLY EXPOSED TO THE HERITAGE OF THEIR HOMETOWN. THIS IS A SERIOUS SHORTCOMING OF OUR TOWN LEADERSHIP AND THE SCHOOLS OF THE COMMUNITY, THAT THERE IS SO LITTLE EMPHASIS ON HOW IT ALL BEGAN IN THEIR HOME REGION. INSPIRATION TO STUDY LOCAL HISTORY HAS TO COME FROM SOME SOURCE, MORE OFFICIAL IN CIVIC AFFAIRS AND EDUCATION, THAN JUST A COMPLAINING BLOGGER LIKE ME.

     I WONDER WHAT IT WOULD HAVE BEEN LIKE, DURING THIS SNOWY PREAMBLE TO CHRISTMAS, TO LODGE WITH THE MCCABES IN THAT FAMILIAR LOG ABODE, HEATED BY THE ROARING FLAME, GENERATED BY OLD MUSKOKA TIMBER, CLEARED ON THAT FIRST HOMESTEAD FROM THE PRIMAL FOREST. I'D GLADLY ACCEPT A CUP OF HER FAMOUS "STIR-ABOUT," A CONCOCTION OF VINEGAR AND MOLASSES, STIRRED WITH HER FULL ARM, WITH SHIRT SLEEVES PULLED UP, EXTENDED DOWN INTO THE VESSEL WHERE THE MURKY, THICK, SWEET LIQUID WAS CONTAINED. THIS IS NOTED IN THE BOOK, "THE FIRST ISLANDERS," BY D.C. MASON, WHO ALSO COMMENTED ON THE FRESH "MURPHYS" SHE WOULD PULL FROM THE BACK GARDEN FOR THAT EVENING'S SUPPER. MURPHY OF COURSE, MEANING POTATO. SHE WOULD HAVE HAD SOME SORT OF ROOT CELLAR TO KEEP THE AUTUMN'S HARVEST OF VEGETABLES PRESERVED FOR THOSE WINTER DAYS....OF ONCE, LONG AGO.

     WHAT WOULD MRS MCCABE AND HER HUSBAND MICKY, HAVE DONE TO CELEBRATE THE CHRISTMAS SEASON, IN THAT HUMBLE BUT WELCOMING LOG CABIN IN THE CANADIAN WILDS? I'D REALLY LIKE TO KNOW. SO IF YOU THINK YOU'VE GOT IT HARD, WALKING AGAINST THE WIND AND SNOW TODAY, THINK BACK TO THE PREVAILING WEATHER CONDITIONS THAT FACED THE TRAVELLERS OF THE 1860'S, WHERE PATHS WEREN'T NEATLY  SHOVELLED, AND BRIDGES ACROSS CREEKS AND LOWLANDS, WERE FALLEN LOGS; AND FAILING THAT, THE PREVAILING ICE OF THE SEASON. HOPEFULLY THICK ENOUGH TO CROSS OVER. LOTS MISJUDGED WHAT THICKNESS COULD SUPPORT THE WEIGHT OF A TRAVELLER WITH PACKS; A HORSE OR OX LADEN WITH PERSONAL POSSESSIONS. THEN THERE WERE THE WOLVES HOWLING FOR THEIR DINNER.  AS FOR HARDSHIPS.....AYE, ME THINKS WE'VE GOT IT PRETTY EASY.

     TRUST YOU ARE ENJOYING THE CHRISTMAS SEASON IN THIS PICTURESQUE PART OF THE WORLD. IF NOT.....SLOW DOWN, LOOK ABOUT, AND SEE WHAT YOU'VE BEEN MISSING.

CHRISTMAS IN GRAVENHURST -

RE-VISITING THE HANDICRAFTS FROM THEN TO NOW - AND A WHOLE RANGE OF ARTISTIC, CREATIVE INGENUITY FROM OUR HOME TO YOURS

I JUST MADE EYE TO ANTENNAE CONTACT WITH MY EVER-CHIRPING CRICKET FRIEND. IT'S BEEN A LODGER HERE THIS FALL SEASON, AND I'M NOT SURE IF IT'S ONE CRICKET OR A HALF DOZEN. FORTUNATELY, I ONLY HEAR ONE AT A TIME. I'M HOPING I WILL NOT BE THE AUDIENCE OF A CHRISTMAS-SEASON CHORUS THEY MIGHT HAVE PLANNED FOR THIS VENUE OF BIRCH HOLLOW. OF COURSE I'VE HAD THIS DILEMMA, ABOUT WHAT TO DO WITH THE WEE BEASTIE IF I WAS TO MOUNT A SUCCESSFUL CAPTURE. IT'S NOT THE BEST WEATHER TO BE SENDING SUCH A CREATURE OUT OF DOORS. SO I KEEP HOPING WE CAN CHUM TOGETHER WITHOUT TOO MUCH CONTACT, SO I DON'T HAVE TO ENTERTAIN SUCH AN IDEA. FOR ALL I KNOW, I COULD BE BREAKING UP A FAMILY, BY CATCHING THIS INTERLOPER.

I BETTER START MAKING THESE NOTES BEFORE HE INTERRUPTS AGAIN. I KEEP HAVING TO PAUSE. NO REAL REASON. THE SOUND JUST DISTRACTS ME LONG ENOUGH, I FORGET MY LAST RELEVANT THOUGHT. HERE GOES.

As luck would have it, I found the book mentioned in a previous blog. There it was, wedged in the middle of a hundred other books, leaning a little to the left, but easy to pull out, without the usual landslide such retrieval activities frequently cause. It is entitled simply, "Handicrafts of New England." It is a 1950's circa edition, which had its seed in early magazine work from the mid 1940's. It was written by Alan H. Eaton, and published at the time, by Bonanza Books, of New York.

It begins, "There is no wealth but life. Life, including all its powers of love, of joy, and of admiration. That country is richest which nourishes the greatest number of noble and happy human beings." John Ruskin.

Robert Henri wrote, "Art when really understood is the province of every human being. It is simply a question of doing things, anything well. It is not an outside extra thing…..He (She) does not have to be a painter or a sculptor to be an artist. He / She can work in any medium. They simply have to find the gain in the work itself, not outside it."

"A study of the handicrafts of New England might well be considered an inquiry into the place of handicrafts in our present civilization, for within her boundaries are combined all the elements which make what we call modern civilization," notes Mr. Eaton in his introduction. "Notwithstanding the great industrial and commercial developments of this region today, there is practiced within the states of Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, Connecticut, and Rhode Island, perhaps the widest variety of handicrafts in any country. The spread of motivation ranges from those whose handicrafts must provide the necessities of life to others, who, although free from economic pressure, still make objects with their hands because of man's natural urge to convert materials of his environment into useful and beautiful forms.

"The word 'handicraft,' as used in this book, is a broad term including all these things which are shaped by hand either for the maker's own use or for others. The article may be fashioned entirely by hand, including the preparation of all the materials in basketmaking; or it may be part machine made, as in preparation of woods for fine cabinet-work, and the machine spinning of thread and yarn to be woven on a hand loom. But if the final product, the character of the thing itself, is shaped by hand, it is an object of handicraft. Thus the old world handicraft, as defined by Webster, is a good word,….. for it says exactly what it means."

From my own experience writing feature stories in Muskoka, and being a collector of many hand-made articles (particularly hand-made furnishings from a bygone era), from paintings to quilts, I believe Muskoka has a treasure-trove of fascinating biographies, of largely unsung craftspeople……who have never belonged to an arts and crafts movement, or been on a special tour of artists, or who have never sold anything they've created. Undoubtedly there are many artisans who simply give items away, ranging from home-made fishing lures and decoys, to hand-knit sweaters, mitts, and gloves. The book is a more thorough examination, than I can obviously offer at present, about the various guilds that were put in place, to allow these crafters to market their creations……and the many obstacles that were in the way, of establishing their work as regional industry……and creating a fair balance for the home-workers, to compete in the dog-eat-dog commercial environs of the post war period. The fascination for me, was the book's biographical work, highlighting so many different handicrafts, as it is referred, and giving readers an opportunity to know more about the cultural heritage that was in danger of disappearing…….as manufactured goods were faster to produce, cost less generally, and had the advantage of wide-scale marketing and shipping. It was tough, you bet, for a home knitter, to compete with volume and fair pricing, the parallel articles that were being manufactured by the multimillions for a bargain-conscious audience. Quality, for awhile, lost its significance. Price was becoming the bottom line. Of course, there have always been those who would gratefully choose "handmade" versus the product of a machine.

My introduction to the crafters in our region, came when I was editor of The Herald-Gazette, in Bracebridge, in the 1980's, and it was my job to edit the weekly submissions from our community correspondents. We had space reserved in the newspaper for all our small hamlets and community organizations, ranging from the Women's Institute, 4-H Clubs, Church Women's groups and many, many others. The copy was full of information about the comings and goings of local citizens, and events in these hamlets, as well as updates on fundraising projects, such as community quilts, which were to be auctioned off eventually, and the money directed at a wide array of missions, initiatives and local building projects. I read about every craft imaginable in these enlightening community columns…..that while admittedly more time consuming than most other editorial work, were particularly enjoyable because they were deep and sincere reflections of rural life and times.

I know so much more about our district because of the decade I spent working in their company. In fact, I read about my own future wife, in columns back then, written by Mrs. Bunn, under the heading "Windermere News," and in the Women's Institute and United Church reports, especially her quilt work for these same fundraisers. She was the go-to person when a quilt needed to be put together…..not so much the quilting itself…..which she can still do, but now mostly for repairs.

Suzanne is a home-knitter and she has begun selling her mitts, scarves, socks and hats at our boys music shop, and she's been getting custom orders for Christmas. And I used to get annoyed by the ticky-tacking sound of needles connecting……which at first seemed a whole lot like a dripping faucet. Now that she's turned it into a business, well sir, I can take my mind off the ticking, and be overjoyed by her newfound success. What began from youth, being taught by her mother Harriett, in Windermere, and was refined by suggestions and tricks of the trade by many family crafters over the decades, has always been a part of our Birch Hollow hubbub here…….she has made sweaters for family members for decades, and our boys had a lot of knitwear as kids. Robert now proudly wears his mom's handmade socks, and mitts, and begs her to fix any wear holes…….because he refuses to discard them for new.

I hope you don't perceive this to be a shameless info-mercial for my wife's knitting. But how many highly skilled knitters and quilters, afghan crafters, candlestick makers are out there, doing their thing, with nary a headline or a brief biographic notice. They are important to know about…..even if they aren't selling their wares. Low and behold, they are the fabric of our community, and our hometown. You'd be surprised to know how many of these kindly crafts folk, do their work for charity……mitts and baby knitwear are sent to hospitals and to missions around the globe, to help the less fortunate……a generosity that goes back to the war years and earlier, when those on the home front, made knit items, to send to the soldier's on the battlefront. It's still a benevolent act, being done in one form or other today…..and tomorrow, and unfortunately, we know so little about it all!

Over the centuries, we have had some amazing talents in this region, in a large and diverse field of handicrafts. Some we know about. Many we travel to see on studio tours, and at special art exhibits. Many of us have homes and offices decorated with these well executed, hand crafted pieces, from tea sets, to the most amazing glass creations, paintings and sculptures of international acclaim. And then we have the home-sewers and quilters, who have done the most exquisite work, without nary a fuss being made…….until it is either given as a gift or offered as an auction item in a local fundraiser…….the generosity that repeats many times each year throughout our district.

Excuse me for being aggravated sometimes, when I read the community press, and find the pre-occupation of doom and gloom consuming most of the ink. It used to be that newspapers serving this region, believed in the relevance of outreach and a strong connectedness to the rural areas….the hamlets and villages that still thrive in the beautiful countryside of this amazing region of Canada. Without the weight of BIA debates and the preponderance of politics at every turn, economics oppressing us, like carrying around barbells, the country accounts might serve quite refreshing today……as they always did during my editorial tenure. I found out Muskoka is much more than political posturing, grip and grin ribbon cuttings, and economic belly-aching to get a headline. There was a richness to harvest out there, that was and is still important, to our overall well being as a district…..and as a hometown. We have forgotten that our town isn't defined by the main street, the Wharf, South End developments, or the new recreation centre…….or even the ruckus at town hall. It's the bigger picture we often minimize because that's what the media, the business community, and the politicians reflect as being most important. How many times a year does a hamlet conundrum make a headline in our paper, unless there is some calamity. Maybe there aren't enough reporters to look at our rural climes. More likely, they don't appreciate the social /cultural importance, of including them in our town reporting…..as frequently as once in our mutual history. Gravenhurst is a tad bigger than most of us might believe, from the balance of reporting. There are a lot of great human interest stories out there……but who cares? Right? How many subscriptions and newsstand sales are going to increase because of a feature story on Barkway or Housey's Rapids? I'd read it! Heck I'd write it, if they'd print it!

It's time we got our poop together, and realized that our hometown, our home region, is much more diverse and exciting than most of us know…….and the folks who still rurally, for the love of open spaces, are just as important a consideration, as anything else we are trying to nurture and promote in Muskoka. While handicrafters don't only live in the rural areas of our municipality, it is where you will find many art studios……as the countryside is still the same inspiring locale, as it was in the beginning of our history here. I have a great deal of respect for those who craft anything at all. Alas, I'm only a writer, dependent on my wife to keep me clothed in the finest Muskoka knits. Now that's shameful advertising.

Antique Hunting Tip: Never Take Your Hand Off A Found Heritage Piece Until It Has Been Paid For!

NEW YEARS IN MUSKOKA - 2014 WAS AN INTERESTING YEAR - STILL A MILLION BUCKS SHY OF BEING A MILLIONAIRE THOUGH

WHAT ACCOMPLISHMENTS, AND FOIBLES AWAIT US IN THE NEW YEAR?


     Hot turkey sandwiches for dinner tonight. I love the festive season because of that big bird! And Suzanne thought it was ridiculous to get an eighteen pound turkey for Christmas. I'll get one more day of turkey sandwiches for lunch, with cranberry, and then there will be turkey soup into the New Year, as Suzanne doesn't waste any resources; akin to the cookery magic of her Granny Shea on the Ufford homestead.
     In yesterday's blog, I opened with a thumbnail reference to a couple of cartoon-like maroons, making the motions and the rounds, as self-appointed art and antiques experts; holding court for whoever will listen, at a number of regional second hand shops. Customer are and antique hunters, who for all intents and purposes, have only a minor idea what they're doing; but talk as if they've got original Group of Seven art panels, or even Masters, hanging in their respective places of residence. They're playing a silly game, in the public eye, and yesterday I got in the middle of one of their art-expert theatrics; better stated, ruses. In the antique trade, veteran dealers hold their cards close. Skin close in fact! Apprentices and some of the younger dealers to join the profession, tend to get a little lippy, and reveal some things they certainly should not. I know what I can write, and can not, in order to keep the security of the industry. If everybody knew exactly how we got our inventories, there wouldn't be any point having antique shops or malls. We could all be in-house dealers. In this case of art dealers without portfolio, or sensibility to knock off the theatrics, the two art experts we encountered yesterday, decided on their own intuition, I was the day's "fresh fish." I love it when this happens. They've done the same to many other customers. In one case, of which I was also front and centre, they actually convinced a person buying a painting, to put it back, after critiquing its finer qualities, and claiming so everyone could hear, and in front of the cashier, that it wasn't worth the asking price. The customer put it back in the pile of other art, where I was standing at the time. I knew what had just happened, and before they could jump on it, for themselves, I already had it passed off to Andrew, to make a second appearance at the cashier's counter within five minutes of the time before. I bought it and made a decent profit when it sold a few weeks later. So on Sunday, I had found an abstract painting in a pile of art work, also at the front of the shop. It's actually the first area I check whenever we visit. I don't find hugely valuable paintings, but occasionally, I do hit the jack-pot. Not a Rembrandt or even a Garfunkel, but some nice work that, for the asking price, are well worth investing-in for a modest but significant return. We sell a lot of art from the shop, and I also collect pieces of Canadiana for investment purposes. I read about art constantly, and I like to think that after my years in the profession, I can discern a decent work of original art from a reprint.
     I am suspicious that these untutored antique hunters, may have found the art-work first, before me, and tried to hide it until the end of their shift scouring the shop, for the biggest of the really big antiques. I found it stuffed behind a few other framed graphics, so it's possible it was stashed at the back for future reference. This isn't skullduggery, or even adverse to  normal store policy, because it's done by shoppers all the time, and by dealers most frequently. I will even do this if I have to go somewhere to get extra money to make the purchase. I'm not stealing it, just making it less obvious for about fifteen minutes. When Suzanne told me these so called experts were in the store, (because we've seen their antics before), I purposely delayed where I was, because there were also some art pieces in this area of the shop, I knew they would be checking out. As predicted, they showed up as if joined together at the shoulder, and immediately spotted the abstract art panel I was holding face-out for their benefit. I wanted to see their reaction, to find out more about what others had been claiming, in this regard, for the past six months. I heard one mention to the other, to watch me closely, in case I was to place it down on the floor; presumably this, announcing to them, my intention not to follow through with the purchase. I am a former hockey goalie who knows how to protect the crease. There was no way I was going to set it down, or let my hand off the frame. I've been to thousands of sales with hard ass, aggressive dealers, and I've seen all kinds of grab and run incidents, so this was not going to happen on this occasion.
     I moved to another aisle, to see if they would follow me, and they reacted on cue, showing up beside me, and talking loud enough between them, that it was obviously for my benefit. I waited patiently for the enquiry, about the painting and who the artist was, signed on the bottom. "Who painted the abstract, you have in your hand," one of the antique hunters asked, while the other got very uncomfortably close to my shoulder, of the arm holding the artwork. Before I could answer, the same person asked if he could see the painting, to examine it closer, to see if he recognized the artist. "No," I responded, "I'm good holding onto it, thanks," as I began walking away with it still tucked firmly under my arm. "I will give it back to you," the agitated customer continued, quite upset I didn't hand over the painting upon request. It's not that the intrusive individual was impolite, in any way, but it's something you don't do in that kind of setting, and for one good reason. And methinks they knew the finder's keepers rule would apply if I handed it over. As soon as another person has possession, even if gained politely with the understanding it would be returned, it can become a serious issue then, for a clerk or store manager to have to resolve, if the individual decided to keep the painting instead or returning it. The accomplice in this case, could have altered the story, such that it would have become the case, "he (me) gave it up voluntarily, because he no longer wanted to buy it." Two against one. The antique dealer "me" has seen tricks like this a thousand times, at sales and at auctions, so there was no way the art panel was going to be passed to another store customer. They were not happy with me, and let it be known with their mumbling after the fact. It wouldn't have mattered if the painting was only worth five bucks more than the asking price. We just don't surrender our items, we intend to purchase, because someone thinks it would look better under their arm than mine, in this instance. As a rule, we don't even show off our purchases until we eventually put them in our shops, or in our collections. It's a rookie mistake of anyone who thinks of themselves as dealers, or antique experts, to not respect buyer's privilege, and especially dealer on dealer courtesy. I know other antique dealers and collectors without having to see their credentials. Running into these people, sometimes twice a week for years, you get to know your competition by immersion. This is entirely necessary, and if these two characters had any track record at all, they would have known I was a dealer, who would not take kindly to such an intervention.
     What was all the fuss about? A 1966 original, signed abstract painting on canvas, by artist Rita Cohen, a Montreal based abstract painter, who had studied under Group of Seven artist, Arthur Lismer, while at Ecole des Beaux. There are many of her art panels hanging in public and private collections, across Canada and the United States; specifically at Montreal General Hospital in their Palliative Care Unit Gallery. The estimated value of the panel, the object of the "second hand shop chase" is worth between five hundred and a thousand dollars, and is a prize to collectors of Canadian art. It pays to have goaltender's reflexes, and an antique dealer's experience grit, but events and interactions like this, happen all the time in a wide array of curious forays. These two imposing customers are a long way from rogue status; but they did know a good work of art when they saw it, I'll give them that much credit.

     I used to be big on New Years Resolutions. I had a lot of vices including over-eating, drinking too much, sleeping too little, and being badly out of shape. Even when I was playing hockey actively, I wasn't in the best shape for the demands of the game. And neither were most of the lads I was playing with. One New Years, I made one of my most significant resolutions, to lose weight. It came to fruition in January of 1981, and I stuck to my plan for the next three years. I would run at least three kilometres each night, six days a week, and I lowered my weight by close to fifty pounds. I did eventually fall off the wagon in the weight and over-eating department, but I've been clawing my way back in recent years. I'm not going to jog any more, because I hated it, but Suzanne has helped me with a broader diet of vegetables, with less emphasis on meat seven days a week. It's how I grew up in the sixties and seventies. Most of us back then, came from similar backgrounds, of having meat for at least four of seven suppers, and lunches, during the week. Now I'm having a lot more meatless dinners, and lunches, and more fish instead. Well, there's risks associated with too much fish as well; that I might, if I get carried away with consumption, become toxic with chemicals that are embedded in fish flesh. To lose weight I've already cut back enormously on added-sugar, I don't add salt to anything, (although I will sneak the occasional chip no and again at the studio) and my fat consumption is monitored closely by Suzanne, who is doing everything she can, to hold Mr. Reaper at bay. Suzanne's two favorite words these day, are "in moderation." My mother used to say this when I was a kid, especially when I was just heading out to the Norwood Theatre and had money to buy treats at the snackbar. I'd think about her advisory as I was stuffing my face with licorice and hot buttered popcorn. Suzanne will bake a beautiful apple or pumpkin pie, and then tell me to enjoy the tiny sliver she puts on my plate. All that piece will do, is set the stage for aggressive manipulations from that point, as I try to figure out how to sneak past the sentry, to grab another more satisfying slice. The art of the hoodwink, comes during this stand-off, over what I consider a fair and equal portion, to my needs as a rather substantial human being. She will eventually relent but I will have to do a lot of sucking-up first. I'm hoping that for the coming year, we can get past this, and that neither one of us will have to beg for adequate portions, if we can prove, that is, voluntary weight loss is working for us. I am having a very difficult time swearing off meat but I think I can cut my already reduced consumption, down another twenty-five percent this year, and mostly because I'm too cheap to pay twenty bucks for a pork roast full of fat; and one that we used to buy for eight bucks, even in recent memory. So I have to thank the meat marketing folks, and the grocery stores, for helping me improve my heath, and initiate a healthy diet of vegetables as a mainstay. I like noodles, rice and pasta to go with those veggies. There really isn't any great hardship attached to this reduction of meat thing; more like replacing one tradition with another.
     I know you've heard about the play and movie, "Fiddler on the Roof." Well sir, as left field as this critique may have come from, Suzanne called me "the fiddler who is a goof," yesterday morning, when I told her I had figured out what had caused the big red blotch on my right eye. For two days I'd been trying to figure out, why my right eye was blood-shot on the far right side. I assumed, at first, that it must be my minor allergy to cat fur. I don't cough and wheeze around our cats, but I react to their claws sunk into my flesh, with red welts, and their fur, after patting them, can redden my eyes; if for example, I was to make the mistake of rubbing my eyes without first washing my hands. I'm pretty good these days, about keeping hands away from my eyes when I'm in the house, because even placing hands on the arms of the chair, where the cats frequent, will affect my eyes the same way. I found out I had an allergy to animal fur, when I was wrestling in the yard one afternoon, with our first dog, "Alf." I was wearing a short sleeve shirt, and in only a few minutes, my arms started to itch. I ignored it until I was in the car, driving with Suzanne and the boys to Bracebridge. The underside of my arms were covered in red blotches and bumps where I'd been holding the dog while she jumped up at me in the driveway. I had no idea what was happening to me, until we stopped at a park, and I was able to wash my arms under a public tap. A half hour later, and all the red, except in a few places, which I probably hadn't washed thoroughly, was gone. It was the first time I'd ever had a problem with either cats or our dog. This was also the beginning of the occasions when I initiated serious eye contamination, by rubbing my eyes after playing with either our cat or dog. My eyes were irritated by being too close to the animals, and when I went to scratch them, I more than tripled the contamination. It was logical then, this week, to think that my eye problem, had something to do with similar misadventure.
     When I woke up early Friday morning, last week, I just happened to glance in the bathroom mirror, to admire how rugged looking I've become as an elder statesman, and gosh, there was this big red welt on my right eye. I blame it on the cats, when this happens, and then reach for the allergy eye drops, and within a couple of hours, the redness diminishes. I haven't had the problem for quite some time, as I wash my hands frequently because of this. Thus, I had run out of the eye drops. For two days, the redness lingered, which is rare unless I continue self contaminating the same affected spot. I purchased another bottle of eye drops, and within a couple of hours, the redness had lessened by half, but not as fast as it did on other occasions where medication had to be administered.
     Three of our cats have been sitting on top of the china cupboard to the immediate right of my living room chair, and I began to think that I was getting some dander or cat fur drifting on my right side, exposing my right eye to feline contamination. I just couldn't figure out why the drops weren't eliminating the red blotch quickly. Now, the sidebar story to Suzanne referring to me as "the fiddler who is a goof," refers to the fact, that while sitting and watching television at nights, I am always fondling something or other; not sexually of course, but for a distraction from watching commercials which I detest. Robert, when he was a toddler, left a small toy beside my chair, that had a succession of neat suction cups, which at that moment, entertained me whenever there was a commercial break. What did I do with those suction cups, you ask? I did what any fool would, and began pushing them onto my face, because it felt pretty cool pulling them off. I pushed and pulled on those suction cups, all over my face, during a two hour movie with a hell of a lot of commercials.
     When Robert came to say goodnight, he pulled at his mother's sweater, to ask, "What's wrong with daddy's face?" When she turned to look at me, I heard her gasp as she responded to the question, "Oh my God, what are these red blotches all over your face Ted?" "What blotches," I responded, with an unspecified amount of fear, I might have contracted some skin disease all of a sudden, watching television. I jumped up and went to the bathroom to check my face in the mirror. Robert and his mother were right. My face was covered in red marks, and it wasn't until I got back to my chair, that Suzanne was holding the toy with the suction cups, suggesting, "you had to know suction cups would do this to your skin, right?" Being slightly embarrassed that I had given myself a temporary skin condition, which would last for about three days, I answered, "of course I knew this would happen; do you think I'm stupid?" She glared at me, with Robert in her arms, and said, "well Ted, if the shoe fits; and by the looks of your face now, yup, you were pretty stupid not to think of the damage you might cause, suctioning your face off."
     I was just about to take Andrew and Robert to the shop yesterday morning, when I thought it sensible to take a few more drops in the eyes, to continue mitigating the irritation, which had lessened quite a bit by that point. When I went to put the little package with the bottle, back on a table beside my chair, I knocked something off onto the floor. When I picked it up, and set it back down where it had been situated, I had one of those fleeting moments of reflection and clarity. As part of my Christmas gifts there was a package of beer-soap, that I hadn't put away yet. Like the suction cup, I kept fondling this rectangular bar of soap, with two ends open through the middle wrapper. I really liked the smell of it, and for reasons I can't explain, I was actually rubbing it on my dry hands, and sticking my finger nails into the ends of the bar. I did this for two days watching evening television, and it is very apparent, that I was also transferring the soap residue on my hands, and under my finger nails, inadvertently into the corner of my right eye. I had kept my hands clean from cat dander, so I wasn't worried when I then rubbed my eye, that had begun to itch; in part, because of the hand to eye contamination I was committing, hour by hour, watching the boob tube, while fondling a bar of soap. It certainly explained why the eye drops weren't working very fast, at relieving the irritation. "It's why I clear things away from the table beside you, that you're likely to play with, while watching television. Once, she had warned me about keeping a selection of the boys' marker pens on the table. Robert, a budding artist, used to draw on my face with these markers, which was okay, because I could just wash it off when he was done. Robert, first of all, was hard to entertain, and got bored of his toys and games real fast. So that he didn't drive us nuts, we let him do a lot of creative things, in the way of art, that bought us a little extra time for ourselves. He would face-paint me for upwards of an hour, and that meant we could watch the television or listen to the radio in peace. Otherwise, he would have been hitting Andrew with something, like Dinky Toys or Hot Wheel cars, or breaking his Lego models which were hugely elaborate and large. Robert couldn't build them himself, but he was an expert at demolition.
     On one occasion, I had been using a variety of other markers, to make up some store "sale" signs, while sitting in the living room. You know where this is going, don't you. I didn't suspect Robert would confuse his water based markers, with regular markers, which of course, don't erase with a wash-cloth and warm soapy water. I actually fell asleep while he was working on my face, making me look like an African tribal warrior getting ready for battle. Now the reason it went as far as it did, that day, was the fact we had low-odor markers, unlike the big ones I used at school, that a lot of my mates used to sniff for a quick buzz; that and the dittos which had a striking scent of alcohol, we also used to sniff when the teacher gave us lesson hand-outs. When I finally awoke, because Robert kneed me in the groin, while exiting, Suzanne looked over at me, and started to laugh. I mean she was really laughing to the point of starting to cough. She knew by the colors Robert had used on my face, that they were not the safe markers he used in his coloring books. He had thought the colors from the much bigger, "adult" markers, suited his project better than the water soluble kind, also on the table beside my chair. When I looked in the mirror on this occasion, I was astonished at how much surface area the wee lad had covered with bright marker coloring. I had a full-face tattoo. I scrubbed my face for a half hour, and the best I could do, was fade the imprint. I had to wear marker on my face for over a week, simply because I had left my writing tools beside Robert's playtime colors. Sure, almost everyone that week, thought I had some kind of skin disorder, or belonged to a cult.
     Therefore, you see, playing with a bar of soap at table side, was pretty much routine, except the part, where I then rubbed my eyes and burned them as a matter of television happenstance recreation.
     This of course, is an addition to the increasing list of New Years resolutions, I will make at the strike of midnight, to launch 2015 as the year of personal reformation. Do not play with bars of soap while watching television. That's number one for 2015.
     A few of the other resolutions I plan to make, are pretty mundane, as compared to some of the honking big ones I had to make as a young man, who at one time, had three girlfriends. I knew it would end badly, like rubbing soap in my eyes. Didn't stop me from trying to balance my gal pals for a while anyway. For one thing, I ran out of money first. Two of the ladies preferred me as a big spender. I married the gal who loved me for better, but has mostly had to contend with the worse.
     I gave up smoking really big cigars and a pipe a long time ago, and the playboy years ended the year I asked Suzanne to marry me, back in 1983, when I'd finally sowed all the wild oats I had to spare. But every year I find something else to give up, like sugar last year. Coffee tastes bad for me now, without sugar, so it has cut my consumption in half. Thanks to the ridiculous price of meat these days, I'm pretty close to becoming a vegetarian as a result of protest, and you never know, by New Years I might carry it the full distance; instead of a partial withdrawal from my carnivore habits. I'm getting too freaking pure for my own good, I think. I want to shed about fifty pounds, to get down to dancing weight, so Suzanne can swing me over her head when we go out clubbing, or get asked to join "Dancing with the Stars, -The Regional Version." If she reads this, she will choke with laughter, for two reasons. It will take forever for me to drop fifty pounds, and if I use it as an excuse, it means I will never have to go dancing. Not since high school. I'm told I used to dance like Seinfeld's character, Elaine Benes, played by Julia Louis Dreyfus. Wild-robot-like stuff, not suitable for prime time viewing. Secondly, I don't dance. This is the kind of resolution that keeps me safely inside the lines. Suzanne doesn't make New Years resolutions, because she doesn't believe she has any vices to break free of, unlike me, and my long list of life follies.
     I remember one New Year's Eve, at the apartment of relatives, of my then girlfriend Gail, drinking most of a bottle of Drambuie. I don't know why I did this, but I do recall making a resolution, that I was going to stop drinking in the New Year, one minute after the crystal ball had fallen in Times Square. Walking back to my apartment on Bracebridge's Manitoba Street, I began bringing-up the liquor which was good, as I would have suffered alcohol poisoning if it had remained in my system. Through that miserable night, riding on this resolution to sober-up, I visited the porcelain telephone (toilet) at least three times before I fell asleep. When I finally woke up, and visited the bathroom, I almost had a heart attack, when I looked at my reflection in the mirror, and saw the face of a very much older and more weathered me. I wasn't seeing the future, as such, and it wasn't a booze-inspired hallucination. By bringing-up all the booze, I had actually broken blood vessels in my face, from all the wretching. My mother wanted me to go to the hospital. I didn't because I refused to admit, I had caused myself this injury, by over consumption of alcohol. The year before I had done pretty much the same thing, and at a house party, and got so wild with booze intake, that I took big bites out of a decorative candle, which the host found hard to explain to her mother the next morning. The year before that, was when I first began swearing off booze, after a bad night of drink mixing. A friend had made me a boiler-maker, being beer and rye whiskey, and I don't remember much after that, except making the declaration, I would never, ever again consume anything alcoholic.
     Although I still have a glass of micro brewery beer now and again, I haven't had a hangover for almost twenty years. I have enough memories of some really bad times, to keep me from tipping the scale, resolution or not. As for suction-cupping myself again, or rubbing soap into my eyes inadvertently, I'd like to say I've learned my lesson. The problem however, is that I need to play with some non-dangerous device, or article, during commercial breaks while watching television. Seeing as I can make almost anything dangerous, with use beyond its original intent, I have to satisfy myself these days, with several jars of peanuts the boys gave me for Christmas. You may appreciate this yourself, if you have had vices like drinking and smoking in your past. I have to be doing something with my hands, and my mind, but I have know idea why this is necessary; but just to say it does, so adapt or else. I don't know what I'm going to do when the peanuts run out, (saltless by the way), unless Suzanne will agree to surrender the television remote, that she laid claim to, when I wouldn't stop channel hopping in the middle of programs she happened to like.
     I might even resort to writing blog entries during program interruptions for commercials. Continuity might suffer a bit, but at least I wouldn't get suction cup marks on my face, or red eye from sticking my fingers in my eyes, and spreading assorted contaminates.

FROM THE ARCHIVES

FROM GRAVENHURST WE TRAVEL-

ANTIQUE HUNTING IN SPRING WEATHER, BUT BY GOLLY, IT'S STILL JANUARY. WE COULD GET USED TO THIS

SUZANNE, MUSICIAN SON ROB, AND I HAD AN INTERESTING ANTIQUE HUNT THIS MORNING, AND IT WAS, WELL, A NICE, SAFE, NON-WHITE-OUT KIND OF JANUARY MORNING. I ONLY HAD WHITE KNUCKLES ONCE, WHEN WE MET A LARGE TRUCK ON MUSKOKA BEACH ROAD…..AND THERE WAS A SHARING ISSUE. THE TREES TROUGH THE CATHEDRAL AREA OF BEACH ROAD, ARE STILL ADORNED WITH ICE AND SNOW, AND IT IS WORTH THE DRIVE JUST TO SEE THIS DAZZLING WINTER LANDSCAPE HERE IN SOUTH MUSKOKA. THIS MORNING, IT WAS SO NICE AND BRIGHT, AND THE DRIVE WAS PEACEFUL AND BEAUTIFUL AT THE SAME TIME. I REFUSE TO BE SO MISSION-DRIVEN THAT WE WOULD PASS BY THIS NATURAL WONDER, IN OUR HOME REGION, AND NOT PAY ATTENTION TO ALL OF ITS ATTRIBUTES, WHETHER WATCHING AN OWL PERCHED ON A FENCE-POST, THE DEER STANDING ON A HILLSIDE, THE CROWS FLITTING FROM SNOWY BOUGH TO STUMP, AND THE MOVING VEIL OF SNOW CAUSED BY THE WIND CHURNING BRISKLY OVER THE FARM PASTURE. THERE WERE HORSES IN THE FIELD THE OTHER MORNING, AND WHAT AN ALLURING SCENE IT OFFERED THE FOLKS TRAVELLING THE ADJACENT ROAD.

FOR MANY REASONS, DATING BACK TO HOW I GOT STARTED IN THE ANTIQUE BUSINESS, IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN THE BACKDROP OF THIS REGION, THAT HAS INSPIRED MY COLLECTING. MY FIRST FORAYS WERE DEEP INTO THE HINTERLAND, LOOKING FOR PIONEER HOMESTEADS. I BEGAN A LIFETIME'S INTEREST IN OLD STUFF, DIGGING UP LONG GROWN-OVER, HOMESTEAD DUMPSITES, LOOKING FOR NEAT VINTAGE MEDICINE, FOOD AND SODA BOTTLES. I DIDN'T HAVE A LOT OF MONEY BACK IN MY LATE TEENS, BUT I POSSESSED A KEEN INTEREST, TO INVEST THE SWEAT EQUITY, PUTTING IN THE SHOVEL WORK MYSELF…..INSTEAD OF BUYING THE OLD GLASS FROM ANTIQUE SHOPS. IT WAS AMAZING. THE ISOLATION, PEACE AND QUIET, WINDSONG AND INSECT BUZZING TO ENTERTAIN ME. GROWLING BEARS AND BEE STINGS TO GET ME MOVING ALONG, PACK-SACK FULL TO OVERFLOWING, WITH THE FINDS OF THE DAY. I WILL GO INTO MORE DETAIL ABOUT BOTTLE DIGGING, IN A FUTURE BLOG. AT THE SAME TIME, AS A MATTER OF SOME IRONY, SUZANNE, MY FUTURE WIFE, WAS ALSO DOING ROUGHLY THE SAME THING, BUT MOSTLY FROM THE STERN OF A CANOE. WE KNEW EACH OTHER FROM SCHOOL, BUT NEVER COMPARED NOTES ABOUT OUR ANTIQUING HOBBIES. WHILE SHE DID GO OUT TO DUMPSITES IN THE ROSSEAU AREA TO DIG, SHE FOUND A LOT OF OLD BOTTLES AND JARS, PADDLING HER WHITE CANOE, IN THE SHALLOWS OF LAKE ROSSEAU, NEAR THE FAMILY COTTAGE IN WINDERMERE. IT WAS ACCEPTABLE, WAY BACK, TO DUMP REFUSE IN THE LAKE. LOTS OF IT. FROM MAJOR APPLIANCES TO IRON WORKS, CAR PARTS, CROCKS AND JUST ABOUT ANYTHING THAT WOULD SINK OUT OF SIGHT. THAT WAS THE CRITICAL ASPECT. YOU DIDN'T WANT YOUR GARBAGE FLOATING AWAY, TOWARD SOMEONE ELSE'S DOCK OR BEACH. I'VE HEARD REPORTS FROM DIVERS, WHO FOUND SOME LOCAL LAKES CLUTTERED WITH STOVES AND FRIDGES, LIKE A SUBMERGED APPLIANCE STORE, DISCARDED OVER MORE THAN A CENTURY OF LOCAL SHORELINE RESIDENCY. NOT SO NICE.

WHEN SUZANNE AND I MARRIED, WE BROUGHT OUR COLLECTIONS TOGETHER, AND IT WAS PRETTY IMPRESSIVE. MOST WERE SOLD OFF OVER TIME, THROUGH OUR FORMER MAIN STREET SHOP, ON UPPER MANITOBA STREET IN BRACEBRIDGE….CIRCA 1989-1995.

This morning's venture turned up a neat little 1960's "Kent" acoustic guitar, that our boys will repair, upgrade (add an electric pick-up), and then put up for sale….or use for recording purposes, at our current main street music shop, here in Gravenhurst (opposite the Opera House). Suzanne got a nice white pottery mixing bowl, and some round knitting needles, for a fraction of the retail price, that she uses to knit toques for the boy's store. Good value for shopping second hand. She arrived at the check-out counter of the second hand shop, with a four pound bag of old buttons, which she re-uses on some of her knitwear. Inside there was a nice vintage button, off a uniform, from the Toronto Transit Commission, that will pay for the bag of buttons, and buy us a small, nutritious lunch. It could sell for about $20 to $25, in an online auction. So what did the antique guy get? Well I got two vintage prints, both signed, nicely matted and framed, a very nice 1960's or so, vintage oil on paper-composite board, depicting an old mill, with a minor amount of damage along the top from being placed, still a little wet, in a former frame. The frame was the second in the paintings existence. It is a Canadian art piece. (I will be putting an image of this, and future finds on this blog-site, so you can have a look at what's out there on the antique hustings.) I also picked up a nice little folk art carving, of an old-timer, on a pine panel, and a really neat folk art piece, of two Cardinals, facing each other, done completely with seeds…..and I mean a lot of seeds, hand colored. A remarkable little piece, but no one really appreciated its folk art value. Or how much time it took to create. It is signed…..you guessed it……with colored seeds. I will post an image of this unusual piece, at the top of this editorial copy.

It was a good outing, and I'm already looking forward to tomorrow, our traditional antique hunting day. One of my best finds of the season was a neat rectangular pine, maple candy mold, with moveable partitions, found in a local second hand shop. No one knew what it was. As a maple syrup, and candy lover, I couldn't believe my good fortune. I will also provide a glimpse of this at a later date, when I blog about my favorite time of hinterland retreats……maple sap collecting days. I've written a lot about the spring collection of sap, in the Muskoka sugar bush, published in numerous papers over the past thirty years. What a magnificent experience to get back to the sugar shack. I'll tell you about two special trips, one courtesy of two fine fellows, who worked as outdoor educators, here in Muskoka; John Duncan and George Anderson, and a memorable trip back into the thick maples with Jim Hillman, and gang, off of Golden Beach Road, in Bracebridge. This is upcoming. I think you'll enjoy the trip back.