The Muskoka LifeStyle Is Not All It's Cracked Up To Be; I Saw It As A Rookie Reporter

A CLOSER LOOK AT THE MUSKOKA LIFESTYLE - WHAT THE SLICK PROMOTIONS DON'T INCLUDE - AND THE GENERALIZATIONS THAT HURT THE DISTRICT

MANY WHO REPRESENT US ARE LIVING THE LIFE - BUT MISSING THE POINT AS FAR AS REPRESENTATION - SEEING ONLY WHAT THEY WANT TO SEE

     FOR THOSE READERS WHO MAY HAVE FELT I WAS SUCKING UP TO PARRY SOUND-MUSKOKA M.P., TONY CLEMENT, JUST TO GET HIM TO PERFORM AT ONE OF OUR MUSIC EVENTS, HERE IN GRAVENHURST, HOW THE HECK SHALLOW DO YOU THINK I AM ANYWAY? THAT SHALLOW EH?  WELL, I THINK IT WORKED, BECAUSE HE HAS INDICATED, TO SON ROBERT, A WILLINGNESS TO PERFORM AT A CONCERT THIS FALL; SCHEDULE PERMITTING. HE'S A PRETTY BUSY GUY. BUT HONESTLY, I LIKE WHAT HE'S DOING IN, AND FOR MUSKOKA, AND THIS COMES FROM A LOT OF SOURCES OUT THERE, I'VE KEPT ACTIVE AS AN OLD NEWS HOUND, AND EVER-HUSTLING HISTORIAN.
    THE FOLLOW-UP STORY MAY HELP EXPLAIN MY PERSPECTIVE, AND HOW IMPORTANT IT IS, TO HAVE A REPRESENTATIVE WHO UNDERSTANDS THE SOCIAL / ECONOMIC ISSUES OF THE REGION THEY SERVE. YOU SEE, ON AN M.P.'S TRAVELS AROUND THE DISTRICT, INEQUALITIES SHOW UP, AS AN INTUITIVE PERSON WOULD EXPECT, AND OFTEN THEY'RE IN DRASTIC CONTRAST TO WHAT WE HEAR, AND VIEW THESE DAYS, IN ADVERTISING PROMOTIONS, AS THE GREAT "MUSKOKA LIFESTYLE." IT'S NOT ALWAYS AS IT IS PORTRAYED IN THE MEDIA, AND WHEN I READ THROUGH THE LOCAL MEDIA, EACH WEEK, I OFTEN FEEL THEY CONTINUE TO MISS WHAT THEY SHOULD UNDERSTAND BY NOW; THAT THOUSANDS OF MUSKOKANS CAN'T AFFORD TO GO TO MUSEUM GALAS, OR THE MAYORS' BALLS, OR FOR THAT MATTER, FIND MONEY TO PAY FOR SCHOOL SUPPLIES, FOR THEIR KIDS, NOT TO MENTION TO FUND PLANNED TRIPS BY CLASSES, TO THE TORONTO ZOO, OR TO THE ROYAL ONTARIO MUSEUM. THEY CAN'T EVEN AFFORD TO SEND BALANCED LUNCHES FOR THEIR KIDS. AS WELL, THERE ARE JUST AS MANY ADULTS AND SENIOR CITIZENS, WHO ARE HUNGRY, DESTITUTE, AT BEST, LIVING CHEQUE TO CHEQUE, AND IN NEED OF SHELTER UPGRADES TO LIVE SAFE AND HEALTHY LIVES. THERE ARE TOO MANY GENERALIZATIONS ABOUT LIFE HERE IN GOD'S COUNTRY, AND THE LUXURY OF THE MUSKOKA LIFESTYLE, THAT I START WONDERING IF LOCAL REPORTERS HAVE EVER HAD THE EXPERIENCE OF VISITING A HOMESTEAD, WHERE A GOAT HAS THE RUN OF THE HOUSE, OR VISITING AN HISTORIC ASKEW FARMSTEAD HOUSE, THAT SEEMS COLDER INSIDE THAN IT IS OUTSIDE? THE SNOW ON THE CARPET BEING THE GIVE AWAY. RESIDENTS HEATING WITH CANDLES BECAUSE THAT'S ALL THEY HAVE, AND CAN AFFORD. CONSTITUENTS HAVING TO GO TO SUPPER CLUBS BECAUSE THAT'S THE ONE BALANCED MEAL THEY'LL GET FOR THE WEEK. GOOD FOLKS DOWN ON THEIR LUCK FOR A VARIETY OF REASONS, REQUIRING THE SERVICES OF FOOD BANKS, AND SOUP KITCHENS, WHEN THEY ARE HELD. I HAVE LEARNED A GREAT DEAL ABOUT THIS SIDE OF THE MUSKOKA LIFESTYLE, IN PART, BECAUSE OUR FAMILY LIVED THROUGH IT, AND BENEFITTED FROM NEIGHBOR KINDNESSES. I RESENT IT, EACH AND EVERY TIME I SEE THESE BLATANTLY UNBALANCED, ARROGANT OVERVIEWS, OF HOW THE RICH AND FAMOUS LIVE; BUT THEN THE HISTORIAN SIDE KICKS IN, AND I REALIZE IT'S BEEN A PART OF LIFE AND ECONOMY IN MUSKOKA SINCE THE 1870'S; WHEN THE FIRST LUXURY HOTELS STARTED TO APPEAR, AND A TOURIST ECONOMY BEGAN TO BUD AROUND THE LAKELAND. IT'S NOT LIKE WE'RE NEW TO THESE REFERENCES. WE'VE ALWAYS HAD POVERTY AND MISFORTUNE AMONGST OUR RESIDENTS. SUCH IS LIFE. FOR ME HOWEVER, I GOT A RARE EARLY OPPORTUNITY IN MY WRITING CAREER, TO SEE THE OTHER SIDE OF THE MUSKOKA LIFESTYLE, THAT WAS TRULY ENLIGHTENING, MORE SO NOW, THAN IT WAS THEN.
     WHEN I HUSTLED AROUND MUSKOKA, CAMERA IN ONE HAND, CAMERA BAG OVER THE OPPOSITE SHOULDER, COVERING THE LOCAL RIDING WORK, AND VISITATIONS, SCHEDULED FOR OUR MEMBERS OF PARLIAMENT, STAN DARLING, M.P. AND FRANK MILLER, M.P.P., BACK IN THE LATE 1970'S UNTIL 1990, I WAS IMMERSED IN A REALITY I NEEDED TO KNOW MORE ABOUT. AS I FANCIED MYSELF A BUDDING HISTORIAN IN MY SPARE TIME, TRAVELING ALL OVER THE DISTRICT WITH FRANK AND STAN, GAVE ME THE OPPORTUNITY TO VISIT THE HOMES, AND PLACES OF RECREATION, FOR RURAL MUSKOKA CONSTITUENTS. BELIEVE ME, IT WAS EYE OPENING FOR ALL OF US. WE DIDN'T OFTEN VISIT CASTLES. OR LUXURY COTTAGE /HOMES ON THE LAKE, TO PRESENT A WEDDING ANNIVERSARY, OR MILESTONE BIRTHDAY PLAQUE, FROM THE PROVINCE OR FEDERAL GOVERNMENT. WE MOST OFTEN VISITED THE TINY, MODESTLY APPOINTED HOMESTEADS, OF THOSE WHO WERE NOT SO WELL OFF. THERE WERE TIMES, WHEN WE'D GANG-UP AT THE DOOR, FRANK, STAN AND I ARRIVING AT ABOUT THE SAME TIME, UNSURE WHICH DOOR WAS THE ENTRANCE, AND WHETHER IT WOULD BE OF ACCEPTABLE PROTOCOL TO MOVE EQUIPMENT OBSTRUCTIONS, AND BUILDING SUPPLIES, TO GAIN PASSAGE. I REMEMBER BEING IN ONE HOUSE THAT REPORTEDLY HOUSED A GOAT, AND WHILE WAITING FOR A CONSTITUENCY OFFICIAL TO ARRIVE, IT STARTED TO LICK MY NECK FROM THE BACK. I WAS A TAD STARTLED, TRUTH BE KNOW, BUT IT WAS A CUTE LITTLE FELLOW, JUST ODD THAT IT WAS ALLOWED TO ROAM IN THE LIVINGROOM OF A SMALL HOUSE - ONLY THE SIZE OF TWO LIVINGROOMS.
     THIS ISN'T A BLOG TO POKE FUN AT PEOPLE WHO KEEP LIVESTOCK IN THE HOUSE. BUT IT IS A REALITY THAT I HAD TO GET USED TO, ALONG WITH M.P. STAN DARLING, AND M.P.P. FRANK MILLER. THERE WERE A LOT OF VISITS BACK IN THOSE DAYS, WHEN WE MET UP AT TINY HOMESTEADS, THAT LOOKED ABANDONED WHEN WE ARRIVED. WE'D STAND THERE FOR A FEW MOMENTS, PONDERING IF WE ALL HAD BEEN GIVEN WRONG ADDRESSES, WHEN ALL OF A SUDDEN, THE DOOR WOULD CREAK OPEN, AN ELDERLY MAN, WITH A COARSE VOICE, WOULD YELL AT US TO COME BEFORE WE FROZE TO DEATH. OR THE HOUSE MATRON, WHO, WITH WOODEN LADLE IN HER OUTSTRETCHED HAND, WARNED US NOT TO LET "BUTCH" INTO THE HOUSE, AS WE ENTERED; EACH OF US PONDERING, AT THAT MOMENT, WHAT "BUTCH" REPRESENTED AS A LIFE-FORM. ON EVERY OCCASION, AND THERE WERE NO EXCEPTIONS, THE HUMBLE HOSTS, OF THESE MODEST FARMSTEADS, TUCKED INTO THE SNOWSCAPE OF RURAL MUSKOKA, WERE WONDERFUL HOSTS AND PUT ON DELIGHTFUL SPREADS, FOR THE INCOMING DIGNITARIES. HOME BAKING. THE HOST WOULD OFFER AN APOLOGY IN ADVANCE, THAT SHE DIDN'T HAVE MUCH TO WORK WITH, AS FAR AS INGREDIENTS, BUT SHE WAS A GOOD COOK WITH WHAT SHE DID HAVE! PICKLES AND RELISHES THAT WERE SO DELICIOUS, WE COULDN'T BELIEVE OUR GOOD FORTUNE. RICH, THICK, WHOLESOME JAMS FROM THE BOUNTY OF THE RASPBERRY CANES IN THE BACK YARD, AND A LONG REVERED FAMILY RECIPE, FROM AN OLD BINDER KEPT NEAR THE STOVE. IN MY EXPERIENCE, THESE WORDS WERE ALWAYS TRUTHFUL. MODEST PROPORTION. SCENES THAT WERE HONEST LIVING FOLK-ART. CULTURAL TREASURES TO REMEMBER. SOMETIMES THERE WOULD BE JUST ENOUGH ROOM FOR THE THREE OF US, WITH THE HOSTS, TO GATHER IN THE KITCHEN, FOR COFFEE AND BUTTER TARTS, OR HOT ROLLS STEAMING WITH BUTTER.
    WHAT SOME WOULD HAVE CALLED SHACKS AND SHANTIES, AND THEY WOULDN'T HAVE, BY DEFINITION, BEEN ENTIRELY WRONG, WERE OCCUPIED BY SUCH WONDERFUL, OBLIGING RESIDENTS, SO HAPPY TO HAVE VISITORS DROP BY. I GOT MY TRUE EDUCATION ABOUT THE MUSKOKA LIFESTYLE, SHADOWING FRANK AND STAN THROUGH THOSE YEARS, AND ALTHOUGH I GRUMBLED ABOUT THE ROUTINE ASPECTS OF THE GRIP AND GRIN ASSIGNMENTS, IT ENTITLED ME TO LEARN MORE ABOUT THE REGION I PLANNED TO WRITE ABOUT, PROBABLY FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE. I NEEDED TO KNOW MORE ABOUT MUSKOKANS. I NEEDED TO KNOW THE CONTRASTS BETWEEN THOSE OF MEANS, AND THOSE BARELY SURVIVING, NO FAULT OF THEIR OWN.

PRESENTATIONS AT BEDSIDE WASN'T EXTRAORDINARY, ALTHOUGH I THOUGHT SO

     BOTH STAN DARLING AND FRANK MILLER, HAD INCREDIBLE PUBLIC RELATIONS CAPABILITIES, AND VERY GOOD BEDSIDE MANNERS. I ATTENDED A NUMBER OF AT-HOME PRESENTATIONS, WHERE ONE OF THE RECIPIENTS, WAS IN A HOSPITAL BED IN THE HOUSE. I ALWAYS HAD A PROBLEM WITH THESE, BECAUSE IT'S HOW I REMEMBER THE LAST DAYS OF MY GRANDMOTHER, BLANCHE JACKSON'S STAY IN THE PARLOR OF HER TORONTO HOUSE. IN A HOSPITAL BED. THE RIDING REPRESENTATIVES KNEW HOW TO HANDLE ALL THESE SITUATIONS, AND NEVER SHOWED ANY UPSET, SADNESS, OR DISMAY ON THEIR FACES, HOWEVER GRIM THE SITUATION WAS, OF THE PATIENT IN THE HOSPITAL BED, WHO WAS ABOUT TO RECEIVE A GOVERNMENT CERTIFICATE. I DIDN'T HAVE TO SHOW ANYTHING MORE, THAN A SERIOUS COMMITMENT TO REPRESENT THE SITUATION IN THE BEST WAY POSSIBLE. I CAN NOT HIDE MY EMOTION. IT SHOWS, AND BADLY SO. I CAN REMEMBER ONE ELDERLY WOMAN, GETTING MAD AT HER HUSBAND, BECAUSE HE WOULDN'T GET HER COMB, SO SHE COULD TIDY UP FOR THE PHOTOGRAPHER; MEANING SIMPLY, JUST TRYING TO LOOK A LITTLE BETTER, FOR THOSE WHO WOULD SEE HER PICTURE IN THE NEWSPAPER. MY PARTNERS WOULD CHIDE THE INDIVIDUAL, AND MAKE LIGHT OF THE SITUATION, SAYING THINGS LIKE, "YOU LOOK BEAUTIFUL NOW," AND "YOU'RE PRETTY ENOUGH AS YOU ARE. TED KNOWS HOW TO MAKE US ALL LOOK GOOD IN HIS PHOTOGRAPHS." HONESTLY, I DIDN'T KNOW HOW TO PERFORM THIS MAGIC, SO I HAD TO WORK EXTRA HARD, TO MAKE WHAT WOULD LOOK PATHETIC, IN TERMS OF SOMEONE'S ILL HEALTH, ON FILM, LOOK FULL OF LIFE AND PROMISE. AFTER ALL, IT WAS GOING TO BE FEATURED OVER THREE TO FOUR COLUMNS, ABOVE THE FOLD, ON THE COMMUNITY NEWS PAGE; WHERE EVERYONE SEEING IT WOULD SAY, "OH MY GOD, MARTHA LOOKS LIKE A CORPSE." SO I OFTEN PUT THE FLASH UNIT AWAY, AND WORKED OFF AVAILABLE LIGHT WHEREVER POSSIBLE. STAN AND FRANK COULD SMILE-UP EVEN THE DULLEST PHOTOGRAPH, SO I PUT THEM TO WORK LIGHTENING THE MOOD.

THE NARROW PERSPECTIVE AND TIGHT FOCUS ON MUSKOKA LIFESTYLE, THAT PAINTS A NICE PICTURE, BUT TELLS HALF THE STORY

     It's only been in recent years, that I've re-considered those days, traveling the region, to capture the wide array of presentation photographs for our provincial and federal representatives. It has given me a real counterpoint, today, whenever I hear some goof, talking about the fabulous Muskoka lifestyle, residing in this paradise. I read the overviews of this manufactured Muskoka lifestyle thing, and I'm truthful when I say this; it makes me gag. If they want to know more about the Muskoka lifestyle, they should do some more traveling about the region, and off the cottage roads through the lakeland. There are many impoverished constituents, living in terrible circumstances, and some with medical conditions as an addition burden, on their meagre economies. I was allowed to see a lot of this first hand, and I'm sure both officials had seen even worse, on their house to house visits, in some of the most isolated parts of the district. There was no way of remaining ignorant, of these unfortunate situations, traveling as we did, to these drafty, inadequate houses, where folks with serious disabilities were trying to make do. Instead of a plaque, most of them needed added financial assistance, and by the looks of some of the nearly hollow kitchens, some groceries would have been nice as well. I felt compromised many times, because I seemed the last thing these folks needed was a plaque, to recognized a birthday or wedding anniversary. It's not to suggest, that we didn't visit the homes of those in much better financial condition, and attend large gatherings in more extravagantly appointed houses, with all the bells and whistles. But by far, my assignments were of a more modest nature, and we all had to put on our happy faces, going into houses that smelled a wee bit of cat urine and goat.
     Frank Miller, would look at Stan, who would look at me, and all of a sudden, we'd smile in unison, for the benefit of the homeowners, and just watch what we were ingesting, of the celebratory snacks, that we usually set out on the kitchen table; which may or may not have been licked by one of the half dozen resident cats.
     The occupants were always so happy to see Stan and Frank, and as often played out, they knew them personally from other times and connections in Muskoka. After a few minutes of pumping hands, and slapping backs, Stan Darling, or Frank, would turn and introduce me, as the man who was going to make them all famous. I hated it when they did that, because I was a crappy photographer, and it always made me nervous. Well, imagine this. Here I am the only photographer to show up for the presentation, and one of the partners, to receive the wedding anniversary plaque is at death's door. It would cross my mind, suddenly, that I was likely going to take the very last photograph of the couple together, and that if I was to blow the shot, I'd feel awful for a long, long time. The other reality was that both Frank Miller and Stan Darling would requisition our photographs from The Herald-Gazette, to be used in their regular newsletters, so every photographer who covered these events, had to bracket shots, meaning they had to make absolutely sure there was at least one usable frame out of even a 36 negative roll. I had a career fifty-fifty average, and so I shot a lot of film to get a few good images. These could be very emotional events, because of this near-death reality, and Stan and Frank, two down to earth gentlemen, could make the visitations light and lively regardless. Let's just say, they made my job a lot easier. I have never been good in these situations, and for as mouthy as I might get, with friends and enemies, emotion weighs heavy on me, and I wind up putting my head down, trying to muster courage nowhere to be found. I think what was so amazing, was how the families would make up nice buffet lunches for guests, and have their parents dressed up, frequently seated in wheelchairs (sometimes both mother and father), quite enthused about this "living for the moment" thing. It's hard to get too down in the dumps, when someone picks up a fiddle, and the makings of a square-dance begin to manifest. Sing-a-longs were frequent, and I never saw either Frank or Stan lip synching either. Actually, the hardiest voices during the singing of "Happy Birthday," came from them, over and above other guests.
     I saw as close-up as the camera lens, how kind and understanding these two government representatives were, to all kinds of plaque recipients. I saw them enter homes, that frankly, seemed to be on the verge of toppling over. Homes buried in snow, and carved into a thick woodlot, where the only light was the flicker of flame, from the oil lamp in the window, and the glow from the fireplace. I went into homes, where the only source of warmth, like the old days, was the cookstove, and an iron one in the humbly situated livingroom. I know so, because it's where I would warm up my camera gear, after traveling in a cold car. The heater in my Datsun never worked right. It would take me a long time, in some of these homesteads, to get rid of the fog on the lens, and inside the camera-works, to be able to take pictures of the anniversary couple, or birthday boy or girl. It was quite a sight, to see these two very elderly folks, sitting in big chairs in the half-parlor, half kitchen, waiting for me to screw back all the parts of my camera, while Stan and Frank tried to buy me some time, by chatting about this and that, but never politics. There were times, when if you let your imagination wander a tad, you would swear this was a scene from the 1800's, more so than the 1970's, or 1980's. These constituents were living like pioneers. And, it's also true, that some of these kindly folks, were living in homes that had once housed their grandparents.
     While I would be waiting for my camera equipment to thaw out, and my companions to finish with introductory conversation and good wishes, I studied everything around me, and read every certificate hung on the wall, and tried to interpret the family photographs the best I could, and in general, get a feel for the place; because chances were, I would be asked by community news editor, Bob Boyer, to pen a little companion piece for the presentation photograph. It's a skill of keen observation, that was honed by necessity, while traveling with Stan Darling and Frank Miller. I never remember being in any situation, over that decade, with our officials, that we left the homesteads without feeling that sense of goodwill, and hospitality, that has no correlation to living standard. These were modest, often ramshackle abodes, but the heart and soul of those within, and respective families, visiting for the special event, were as full and vibrant, as if they were dwelling in a castle instead. They might not have had much, but they were willing to share whatever they had, with their special guests. While I never considered myself a guest, being a servant to the situation, my government friends never treated me as such; and would often pull out a chair at the kitchen or dining room table, so that I could rest my feet, and enjoy a slice of anniversary or birthday cake. The other thing I noticed about both Frank Miller and Stan Darling, was that they never hurried through an event, or home party, unless there was something major scheduled. I don't even recall this happening, when I was with them, and I'd stay with them as long as they remained at the table, or hunkered down in a low-lit parlor, talking about the good old days. The special guests of the event, could never say, either man "blew them off," or "beat a hasty retreat out the door." That meant a lot to these charming, folksy families, more like the Walton's of Walton's Mountains, than the Rockefellers. I learned through these men about the real, down to earth, no facade, Muskoka lifestyle. These salt of the earth people, were often third generation Muskokans, who could remember the towns having dirt roads, and locomotives belching steam, and all boats being work-boats. I listened to their stories, in a chair, or bench off to the side, and boy oh boy, the history lessons I received by the immersion of being a reporter for the community news.
     There are municipal councillors today, who have no clear idea about what constitutes the "Muskoka Lifestyle." They think they know, and they will tell you what it means, but the answers are alarming, and the generalizations frightening. It's true, I have had a workplace advantage. I have had access to the roots of this region. I have seen the palatial digs, and I have been to hearthside, in abodes no bigger than cottage outbuildings, some in those days, that still had outhouses. I also never heard a single constituent complaint either, even when these folks, of modest means, had Frank and Stan in front of them. They didn't ask for anything, other than if we would like another cup of tea, from a huge Brown Betty on the harvest table, in front of the hoosier cupboard, full of yesteryear's aromas; or affording us so generously, another butter tart, so delicious, they saw the delight on our faces, as the syrup dripped down our chins. Yes, we were often sent away with little desert bags for the ride home. As I was a poor starving reporter, living pay cheque to bar tab, I most definitely benefitted from those acts of country hospitality. Even thought they didn't have much in their kitchens to feed themselves, they made sure we had a send-off gift. This was the kind of Muskoka lifestyle that stuck with me, as an historian; and it's what bothers me so much today, when I come upon yet another municipal councillor, who hasn't a clue, what the true standard of living out there, really is; and has no interest in upgrading.
     Yesterday, I wrote about Parry Sound-Muskoka M.P. Tony Clement, and why I believe he is a chip off the old block, as far as it goes for Muskoka representatives. I've heard some pretty good reviews of his work for, and with constituents, and especially with his due diligence, spreading goodwill through the riding, by attending these special family and community events, that have always meant so much to the social / cultural well being of the district. I judge this aspect most harshly, because it was my learning-ground, when I first joined the local media, and I saw Frank Miller and Stan Darling, employ great and unfaltering kindness, to many modern homesteaders, living closer to nature than most of us would consider acceptable. Often was the case, that the people we had just visited, and honored on those occasions, passed away shortly after, and gosh, how happy I was to know the photographs had turned out after all my worrying. It's important work out there, and I'd be happy to see either M.P. Tony Clement, or M.P.P. Norman Miller (Frank's son) at my door, if ever I'm entitled to one of those congratulatory plaques they present around the region.
     When some slick promotion, or snake oil salesman, barks on about the "Muskoka Lifestyle," well, chances are, they wouldn't have any use for the truth anyway, so it wouldn't be worth the expense of breath to correct them. If a councillor you know, bandies it about, as the district of the rich and famous, feel free to kick them in the ass, reminding them it's time to get out there on the hustings, and learn what the Muskoka Lifestyle really means, at its grass roots.