Halloween And The Legend Of Sleepy Hollow Parts 2 and 3

SOMETHING STILL KIND OF NEAT ABOUT HALLOWE'EN - CHILDHOOD MEMORIES THAT HAVE SURVIVED THE RIGORS OF TIME

MANY OF US APPRECIATE THE POSSIBILITY, THAT SOMETHING OR OTHER DOES GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT

     AS A CIVILIZATION, IT WOULD BE HARD TO DENY, THAT THE HUMAN RESOURCE OF IMAGINATION, HAS LED US ONWARD TOWARD DISCOVERY. WHERE WOULD WE BE WITHOUT OUR BIG THINKERS, THE INVENTORS, AND VISIONARIES, WHO COULD SEE THE FUTURE; AND WHAT WOULD MAKE OUR LIVES MORE CONVENIENT, AND OUR HEALTH BETTER SERVED? MY TEACHERS USED TO TELL MY MOTHER THAT I HAD AN OVER-ACTIVE IMAGINATION, AND IT WAS TAKING PRECIOUS TIME AWAY FROM CLASSROOM WORK. FORTUNATELY FOR ME, MERLE WAS VERY DEFENSIVE, AND PROTECTIVE OF THE FEW SKILLS I DID POSSESS. I WASN'T GOING TO BE A SCHOLAR, AND AS FAR AS SHE WAS CONCERNED, AS LONG AS I FINISHED SCHOOL, AND WAS A HAPPY KID, SHE FIGURED I'D DO OKAY AS A HAPPY ADULT. SHE WONDERED, I THINK, HOW I WOULD USE MY BULGING IMAGINATION, AND EVENTUALLY MAKE A LIVING. THE DOWNSIDE OF IMAGINING TO THE EXPONENT OF TEN, IS THAT REALITY CAN BECOME UNINTERESTING, AND REDUNDANT; MEANING THAT MORE TIME IS SPENT DREAMING-UP THINGS, THAN ACTUALLY BEING PRODUCTIVE. SEEING AS I WASN'T SMART ENOUGH TO INVENT A ROCKET, OR A CURE OF A DISEASE, I FOUND MY CALLING IN WRITING, WHERE CREATIVITY FITS RIGHT IN; I FOOTNOTE THAT IT'S NOT GOOD TO BE CREATIVE AS A NEWS REPORTER. THAT'S REAL BAD. WHEN IT COMES TO WRITING GENERALLY, IT'S A GREAT ATTRIBUTE, TO POSSESS AN INVIGORATED IMAGINATION. IT'S CERTAINLY A DOOR OPENER BUT IT CAN, IF USED FOR THE WRONG REASONS, BE A DOOR CLOSER. WHEN I WRITE, ABOUT MY OWN BELIEF, FOR EXAMPLE, IN THE POTENTIALS OF THE PARANORMAL, IT HAS HELPED GREATLY, THAT I HAVE HAD AN IMAGINATION FOR SUCH FAR REACHING ADVENTURES. WHAT IT HAS MEANT MOST OF ALL, IS THAT I'VE COME TO BELIEVE IN THE POSSIBILITIES OF JUST ABOUT EVERYTHING WE KNOW AS MERE MORTALS. I LEARNED EARLY IN LIFE TO TRUST MY INSTINCTS, AND ENJOY WHAT APPARENTLY HAD NO SOLUTION OR OBVIOUS ANSWER. THE ANSWERS WOULD COME OVER TIME. I COULDN'T UNDERSTAND FOLKS SAYING THEY DIDN'T BELIEVE IN GHOSTS, OR UFO'S, BECAUSE IT ALWAYS SEEMED SO NARROW MINDED IN A WORLD FULL OF SO MUCH MAGIC AND ENCHANTMENT; MUCH THAT MAN STILL CAN'T EXPLAIN. IT WAS AUTHOR WASHINGTON IRVING, WHO LAMENTED IN HIS BOOK, "BRACEBRIDGE HALL," ABOUT THE INHERENT DANGER OF SCIENCE DISSECTING EVERYTHING IN NATURE, AND IN THE SAME VEIN OF INVESTIGATION, DISPELLING THE POSSIBILITY THAT FAIRIES ACTUALLY EXIST. HE WONDERED WHAT THE WORLD WOULD BE LIKE IF THERE WERE NO MYSTERIES TO TANTALIZE THE MIND, AND INVIGORATE THE IMAGINATION. THIS IS MY STORY FOR THIS HALLOWE'EN OF 2014. I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT!
     THE JOYS OF HALLOWE'EN A LONG TIME AGO. YES, THEY WERE USUALLY DARK AND STORMY NIGHTS. I CAN VIVIDLY RECALL THE HALLOWE'EN EVENINGS WHEN WE LIVED IN BURLINGTON, IN THE NAGY APARTMENTS, UP ON HARRIS CRESCENT, WAITING FOR MY PARENTS TO GET HOME FROM WORK, SO I COULD GOBBLE DOWN DINNER, GET DRESSED AND MEET MY CHUMS FOR THAT NIGHT'S HUSTLE FOR CANDY. I EVEN HAD A TIN JACK-O-LATERN TO COLLECT THE GOODS. THEN CAME THE PAPER SACK, THE PILLOW CASE, AND THEN THE GARBAGE BAG. A LITTLE TACKY AND GREEDY WOULDN'T YOU SAY? I REMEMBER THE EXCITEMENT IN THE APARTMENT, AND ALL THE AROMAS OF DINNERS BEING SERVED-UP EARLY, FOR KIDS AS EXCITED AS ME, HARDLY ABLE TO SIT LONG ENOUGH TO FINISH THE GRUB. THE SCENTS OF ALL THIS FRYING-UP COOKERY, ARRIVED IN OUR APARTMENT, BECAUSE I USED TO KEEP THE DOOR OF OUR THIRD FLOOR RESIDENCE OPEN, AS IF THIS, ALONE, WOULD BRING MY PARENTS HOME SOONER. I DID PRETTY MUCH THE SAME THING, WHEN WE MOVED IN THE MID 1960'S, TO BRACEBRIDGE, AND RESIDED AT THE ALICE STREET APARTMENTS, OWNED BY HILDA AND WAYNE WEBER. ALL THE APARTMENTS EXCEPT MAYBE ONE, WELCOMED TRICK-OR-TREATERS, AND THERE WAS A NEAT HALLOWE'EN BUZZ, WITH LOTS OF CARVED AND ILLUMINATED PUMPKINS ON ALL THREE FLOORS, AND THE WAFTING AROMA OF FRESHLY MADE RICE KRISPY SQUARES. I ALWAYS FELT THAT HALLOWE'EN WAS LESS HAUNTED BUT MORE ENCHANTED; IT WAS JUST AN EVENING OF EXCITEMENT THAT ENDED WITH A STOMACH ACHE.
     SUZANNE AND I USUALLY GO OUT FOR DINNER ON HALLOWE'EN, AND HAVE OUR OWN INTIMATE PARTY, THAT DOESN'T INVOLVE BOOZE. I'VE MADE A FOOL OF MYSELF AT MANY OF THESE HALLOWE'EN GET-TOGETHERS, SO AT THE VERY LEAST, I GOT IT OUT OF MY SYSTEM BEFORE MY YEARS AS AN ELDER STATESMAN. NOW WE JUDGE HALLOWE'EN BASED ON GOOD FOOD AND RELATED SEASONAL FARE. NOT HOW I IMPRESSED THE GUESTS WITH CHANDELIER SWINGING. BEING AN AVID TRADITIONALIST, HALLOWE'EN HAS ALWAYS BEEN A SOURCE OF INSPIRATION LEADING TO CREATIVITY, MOSTLY AT THE TYPEWRITER. BUT I HAVE ALWAYS SUSPECTED MY FASCINATION AND OVER-ACTIVE IMAGINATION, HAD SOMETHING TO DO WITH A VERY EARLY ENCOUNTER THAT I HAVE NEVER TRULY BEEN ABLE TO UNDERSTAND. I HAVE MY SUSPICIONS, BUT YOU MAY LAUGH WHEN YOU READ ABOUT THEM. SOME WON'T, BECAUSE THEY'VE HAD SIMILAR EXPERIENCES. HEY, WE SHOULD FORM A CLUB. BUT HONESTLY, IF YOU'VE HAD SIMILAR EXPERIENCES, FEEL FREE TO DROP ME A LINE. I CALL IT THE DIVINE INTERVENTION FROM AN ANGEL. NO, IT WASN'T CLARENCE, LOOKING TO WIN HIS WINGS. (FROM "IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE." BUT I DO FEEL IT WAS A GUARDIAN ANGEL, AND NOW I'D LIKE TO KNOW MORE ABOUT WHAT CONSTITUTES A GUARDIAN ANGEL. AND HOW DID IT CHANGE MY PERCEPTION OF ALL ELSE IN THIS MORTAL COIL, AND ENLIGHTEN ME ABOUT EVERYTHING ELSE? OR DID IT ENLIGHTEN ME AT ALL? I'M NOT REALLY SURE.
     A READER ASKED ME ONCE, WITH GOOD INTENT (BECAUSE I WORRY A LOT ABOUT APPEARING WEIRD; WELL MAYBE NOT) ABOUT MY SOURCES OF INSPIRATION, AS REGARDS THE PARANORMAL. SEEING AS I FREQUENTLY WRITE ABOUT FOLKLORE, AND THE PARANORMAL, I SURELY MUST HAVE A DEEP WELL OF INSPIRATION. MENTORS? WHO ARE THEY? WHAT ARE THEY? UNLIKE HISTORY, WHEN WRITING ABOUT THE PARANORMAL, LEGEND AND LORE, AND FOLK STORIES, OBVIOUSLY, I HAVE TO TURN TO THE AUTHORS OF FICTION. THIS, OF COURSE, IS A WEE CONTRADICTION, BECAUSE I'M NOT REAL FUSSY ABOUT FICTION. THIS COMES FROM BOOK COLLECTING AND SELLING, NOT OUT OF DISLIKE FOR THOSE WHO PEN NOVELS AND SHORT STORIES. THIS IS DUE TO THE FACT, THAT IN MY BUSINESS, AS SMALL AS IT IS IN THE OLD BOOK COMMUNITY, I SELL NON-FICTION STEADILY, BUT FICTION, SELDOM, AND THIS HAS BEEN A TREND FOR THIRTY YEARS IN THE BUSINESS OF SELLING OLD STUFF. THE ONLY RECENT CHANGE IN THIS TREND, IS THAT WE ARE SELLING SELECT, USED PAPERBACK VERSIONS OF THE CLASSICS, AT VERY AFFORDABLE PRICES. HARDCOVER CLASSICS ARE HARD TO SELL, AND UNLESS YOU'VE GOT A FIRST EDITION, THAT MAY BE SIGNED, IT'S HARD TO CONVINCE A YOUNGER AUDIENCE TO BUY THE WORK OF SOMEONE THEY'VE NEVER HEARD OF, OR LEARNED ABOUT ENGLISH CLASSES. THE SIGNED FIRST EDITION, WELL, NOW THAT IS MARKETABLE, BUT FOR A VERY HANDSOME PRICE. THUS, WHEN I SUGGEST THAT I HAVE A SOFT SPOT FOR CERTAIN WORKS OF FICTION, AS A WRITER, I'M NOT PUTTING ANY FINANCIAL GAIN ON THE RELATIONSHIP. I ALWAYS KEEP A FEW OF THESE CLASSICS FOR MY OWN LIBRARY COLLECTION, THAT I CAN CALL-ON, WHEN, AND IT DOES HAPPEN ON OCCASION, THE WELL GOES DRY.
     FOR FIFTY-FIVE YEARS OF LIVING, AND BROADENING THE RANGE OF MY IMAGINATION, I HAVE BEEN AN ADMIRER OF THE WORK OF BRITISH AUTHOR, CHARLES DICKENS. BUT ORIGINALLY, IT WAS GENERATED BY EXPOSURE, EVERY CHRISTMAS, TO THE MOVIE, "A CHRISTMAS CAROL," STARRING LEGENDARY BRITISH ACTOR, ALISTAIR SIM. NO OTHER VERSION WOULD SATISFY MY MOTHER, AND I HAVE NEVER HAD A CHRISTMAS PASS BY IN ALL THOSE YEARS, THAT THIS MOVIE WASN'T PART OF THE HOLIDAY CELEBRATION. BY THE WAY, I PROBABLY WATCHED THE MOVIE FROM MY VERY FIRST CHRISTMAS, BUT UNTIL THE AGE OF FIVE, I PROBABLY DIDN'T APPRECIATE MUCH ABOUT THE PERFORMANCE OF MR. SIM, OR THE COMINGS AND GOINGS OF THE THREE SPIRITS. AFTER THIS AGE, I BECAME PROFOUNDLY AWARE OF THE MEANING OF SCROOGE'S RECLAMATION. TRUTH BE KNOWN, I WAS SCARED OF THE MOVIE UNTIL I WAS FIFTY. YOU KNOW, WHEN THE BASOON PART COMES IN, AROUND THE TIME SCROOGE ENTERS HIS HOUSE, ON CHRISTMAS EVE, AND SEES THE FACE OF HIS FORMER BUSINESS PARTNER, JACOB MARLEY, TRANSPOSED OVER HIS DOOR KNOCKER. IT'S THE WHOLE SPIRIT MANIFESTATION UPON WHAT IS SUPPOSED TO BE THE REAL WORLD, WITH UNFORTUNATE SITUATIONS, SUCH AS THE ILLNESS OF TINY TIM. QUITE A FEW YEARS AGO, I EVEN BEGAN READING DICKENS' "CHRISTMAS CAROL," BEFORE GOING TO BED ON DECEMBER 24TH, SITTING IN A WINDOW-SIDE CHAIR AT BIRCH HOLLOW, OVERLOOKING THE SNOW-LADEN BOG ACROSS THE LANE. SOME YEARS LATER, I ALSO WOULD READ WASHINGTON IRVING'S "CHRISTMAS AT BRACEBRIDGE HALL," AND YES, "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW," ON THE EVE OF HALLOWE'EN. AND MY FAVORITE FILM MAKER, IS TIM BURTON; HIS TWO FILMS I ADORE, BEING "NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS," AND "SLEEPY HOLLOW," WHICH STARRED JOHNNY DEPP. IT CAN BE SAID THEN, WITH CONSIDERABLE ACCURACY, THAT THE LOOP OF INTRIGUE FOR ME, COMES FROM THEIR FINE WORK. I AM ALSO DRAWN TO THE WORK OF WELL KNOWN MEDIUM JOHN EDWARD, FROM THE FORMER TELEVISION SHOW, "CROSSING OVER." THE FIRST TIME I WATCHED JOHN EDWARD, I FELT RELIEVED TO KNOW I WASN'T CRAZY. I'VE BEEN TALKING TO DEAD PEOPLE (THOSE WHO HAVE CROSSED OVER) SINCE I WAS A KID. THIS I THINK HAD SOMETHING TO DO WITH DICKENS STORY ABOUT THE THREE CHRISTMAS SPIRITS. HOW COULD DICKENS HAVE BEEN WRONG ABOUT THE EXISTENCE OF SPIRITS? YEA, I KNOW. THE FICTION THING? JOHN EDWARD'S SUGGESTION, THAT BY VALIDATING, THAT THOSE WHO HAVE PASSED, CAN COMMUNICATE WITH THE LIVING, MET ALL MY PRIOR CONVICTIONS AND EVIDENCE, THAT I COULD TALK, OR RATHER COMMUNICATE, WITH THE DECEASED. ALL HE DID WAS CONFIRM WHAT I HAD ALWAYS BELIEVED, EVEN AS YOUNG AS FIVE YEARS OLD. I DIDN'T HAVE A GOOD CONCEPT THAT FICTION WASN'T REAL. BUT THERE WAS AN EVENT THAT PLAYED INTO THIS STRANGER THAN FICTION SITUATION, THAT, I THINK, CREATED MY FULL APPRECIATION OF THE AFTERLIFE; AND THE REASON I BEGAN TO UNDERSTAND JOHN EDWARD'S PRACTICAL GUIDE FOR VALIDATING THOSE WHO HAD CROSSED OVER. I COULD WRITE A BOOK ABOUT THE SIGNS, IN RETURN FOR THIS VALIDATION, I'VE BEEN GIVEN, FROM THE ALLEGED SPIRIT KIND; AND IT HAS OPENED MY MIND TO ALL KINDS OF POSSIBILITIES, I FEEL FORTUNATE TO BE EXPOSED AS A WRITER. WE WRITERS SPEND A LOT OF TIME "SOUL SEARCHING," SO TO SPEAK, AND MY SEARCH IS A LITTLE LESS ARDUOUS IN THIS REGARD.
     AS I'VE WRITTEN ABOUT DOZENS OF TIMES, I WAS TOUCHED BY ANGEL, (NOT THE TELEVISION SHOW) AS A CHILD, SUFFERING FROM HIGH FEVER, DURING A PERIOD OF ILLNESS THAT HAD KEPT ME HOME FROM SCHOOL FOR WEEKS. IT WAS A LUNG AILMENT, SIMILAR TO WHOOPING COUGH, AND I WAS HAVING A PROBLEM WITH PENICILLIN. THE DRUG THAT WAS HOPED WOULD CURE ME, WAS KILLING ME WITH SIDE-EFFECTS. IT WAS ONLY IN LIQUID FORM THEN, AND I COULDN'T GET IT DOWN MY THROAT. APPARENTLY I GOT A RASH AS A RESULT OF TRYING TO TAKE IT, AND I SUPPOSE MY BODY WAS REJECTING IT, BY MAKING ME SICK TO MY STOMACH. I WON'T GO INTO ALL THE DETAILS OF THE ENCOUNTER, BECAUSE YOU CAN ARCHIVE BACK IN THESE BLOGS, TO READ THE FULL STORY OF MY ANGEL-ENCOUNTER. SUFFICE TO SAY, AND IT IS ALSO THE SCHOLARLY OPINION, THAT AFTER YOU'VE HAD, WHAT MAY BE CALLED A DIVINE INTERVENTION LIKE THIS, BEING IN THE ALLEGED PRESENCE OF AN ANGEL, YOUR LIFE IS NEVER THE SAME AGAIN. YOU ARE OF "THE ENLIGHTENED." I'M NOT INVENTING THIS. I READ IT IN A BOOK, ALL ABOUT ANGELS. HOW MANY DREAMS CAN YOU REMEMBER FROM CHILDHOOD? I'VE HELD ONTO THIS DREAM SINCE THE AGE OF SEVEN, OR THERE ABOUTS. CRYSTAL CLEAR. THE ANGEL, WITHOUT A WORD BEING SPOKEN, INFORMED ME THAT I WAS NOT GOING TO DIE, AND THAT I WOULD GET BETTER AND RETURN TO SCHOOL. IT WAS MADE CLEAR THAT IT WAS NOT MY TIME. I HAD WORK TO DO. TO DESCRIBE THE EXPERIENCE AS ETHEREAL WOULD BE UNDERSTATING THE IMPACT. THE PERFUME WAS UNEARTHLY AS WAS THE MUSIC IN HER PRESENCE. THE TEMPERATURE WAS NEITHER HOR NOR COLD. HER FACE WAS HOLY, AND THAT'S THE ONLY WAY I CAN DESCRIBE IT, BEYOND THE OBVIOUS GLOWING BEAUTY. YES, SHE POSSESSED WHAT I WOULD ALL ANGEL WINGS. (NOT BINGO WINGS) I WAS SUSPENDED, FLOATING IN THE AIR, AND I HAD NO ABILITY TO MOVE. BUT IT WAS A GLORIOUS FEELING; A NIRVANA, HAVING NO FEELINGS OF PAIN OR EMOTIONS, OTHER THAN FEELING COMFORTED IN THE BRIGHT ILLUMINATION OF HER PRESENCE. I HAD BEEN SICK FOR WEEKS, AND HAD FELT SORE ALL OVER FOR SO LONG, I ASSUMED IT WOULD BECOME MY NEW NORMAL. EVEN WHEN I SLEPT I FELT THE INTERRUPTION OF PAIN. THERE SEEMED NO ESCAPE. I HAD EXPERIENCED MANY SLEEPLESS NIGHTS, SUFFERING FROM JAGS OF COUGHING, THAT MADE ME SICK TO MY STOMACH. YOU CAN IMAGINE THEN, HOW WONDERFUL IT WAS, TO HAVE THIS PAIN-FREE MOMENT, EVEN IF IT WAS A DREAM.
     IT'S IMPORTANT TO FOOTNOTE, THAT WITH THIS EXPERIENCE, IN THE DAYS AND WEEKS FOLLOWING, IT DIDN'T INSPIRE ME TO ATTEND CHURCH REGULARLY. IT DIDN'T HAVE ANY SIGNIFICANT RELIGIOUS IMPACT, THAT I'M AWARE OF, EXCEPT FOR THE REALITY THAT I WILL RETIRE FROM THIS MORTAL COIL HAVING CHRISTIAN BELIEFS; BUT NOTHING OVER-ZEALOUS. I HAVE AN INTEREST IN RELIGIOUS ICONS, BECAUSE I FEEL THEY POSSESS SOMETHING SIGNIFICANT IN SPIRITUAL ESSENCE; BUT I REMAIN UNSURE WHAT IT ALL MEANS. I BELIEVE IN GOD, BECAUSE I HAD AN ENCOUNTER WITH AN ANGEL. THE FACT IT CAME AS A DREAM, AND NOT WHEN I WAS CONSCIOUS, DOESN'T REALLY DETRACT FROM THE FEELING OF "BEING TOUCHED BY AN ANGEL". I HAVE NEVER FELT COMPELLED TO PREACH OR FORCE OUR KIDS, TO ATTEND CHURCH. I WAS AT PEACE THEN, FOLLOWING THE ENCOUNTER, AS I AM NOW. BUT I DID EXPERIENCE SOMETHING I CAN'T QUITE EXPLAIN, THAT HAS ENLIGHTENED ME ABOUT THE POSSIBILITIES OF LIFE, BEYOND WHAT WE KNOW AS DEATH. WHILE HAVING AN AUDIENCE WITH AN ANGEL IS LIFE ALTERING, AND REALLY, REALLY NEAT, THE COMPANY OF LIKE-MINDED FOLKS, I HAVE KEPT, EVER SINCE, WHO HAVE SIMILAR REVERENCE FOR THE SPIRIT-KIND, HAS GIVEN ME A RATHER REMARKABLE INSIGHT; ONE THAT I LIVE WITH DAILY, AND EXERCISE FREQUENTLY, DURING THE TASK OF WRITING. OR JUST DAILY WORK AND LIVING. I NEVER TAKE ANYTHING AT FACE VALUE, AND I AM ACUTELY AWARE OF SIGNS, BUT NOT TO BE CONFUSED WITH BEING SUPERSTITIOUS. THE ANGEL EXPERIENCE ENDED MY CONCERN ABOUT SUPERSTITION, AS I'M SURE YOU CAN APPRECIATE. MY MOTHER WAS SUPERSTITIOUS TO A FAULT, AND SHE TRIED TO GET ME TO SHOW THE SAME RESPECT. LIKE TOSSING THE SALT OF A FALLEN SHAKER, OVER THE LEFT SHOULDER, TO AVOID BAD LUCK. SHE HAD DOZENS OF THEM. I DIDN'T BELIEVE IN THEM, AND NEVER HAVE.
     I CAN TRACE BACK MY INTEREST IN THE PARANORMAL, TO AROUND THIS TIME OF MY YOUNG LIFE, AND IT WASN'T THE RESULT OF AN OVER-EXPOSURE TO HOLLYWOOD DEPICTIONS OF GHOSTS. TWO MOVIES THAT DID IMPRINT, WERE "THE UNINVITED," AND "THE CHANGELING." I MUST STRESS, THAT ALTHOUGH I ALSO DO BELIEVE IN GHOSTS, IN THAT THEY ARE WANDERING, LOST SPIRITS THAT WANT TO BE RECOGNIZED, I DON'T HAVE ANY FEAR OF THEM; AND HAVING A FAIR AMOUNT OF CONTACT THROUGH MY LIFE, I'VE NEVER BEEN FRIGHTENED BY A SINGLE GHOST, APPARITION OR ORB. THIS MAY SEEM SOMEWHAT STRANGE, BUT I'M BEING HONEST ABOUT THIS; THEY'VE ALL BEEN A "CASPER" STRENGTH GHOSTS. THEY'RE A LITTLE UNSETTLING AT FIRST, BUT WHEN YOU MULL OVER THE ENCOUNTER, IT'S USUALLY NOTHING PARTICULARLY SERIOUS. I JUST TRY TO ENGAGE WHAT IS TRYING TO GET MY ATTENTION. I AM NOT A GHOST WHISPERER, GHOST HUNTER, OR A MEDIUM TRYING TO DRUM UP BUSINESS. I AM JUST OPEN TO POSSIBILITIES, AND WHETHER THIS HAS ANYTHING TO DO WITH MY EARLIER ANGEL-ENCOUNTER, I DON'T KNOW. I WOULD LIKE TO FIND OUT, HOWEVER, AND I'VE ASKED SUZANNE'S HELP ON THIS, BECAUSE I RESPECT HER RESEARCH CAPABILITIES.
     IF I HAD THE CHOICE IN MY LIFE, TO DO IT ALL AGAIN, THE ONLY STIPULATION, WOULD BE, THAT THE ANGEL-DREAM COMPONENT, WOULD HAVE TO BE A PART, BECAUSE I COULD NOT IMAGINE BEING WITHOUT IT AS A RECOLLECTION, AT TIMES WHEN I'VE BEEN FULL OF WORRY AND ANGST ABOUT THE FUTURE. THE RECOLLECTION OF AN ANGEL'S FACE, WARMS THE HEART.

MY GRANDFATHER, STANLEY JACKSON, WAS A GOOD CHRISTIAN BUT CAME TO DISLIKE THE CHURCH

     Here's a believe it or not story from my family chronicle. During the Depression years in Toronto, my grandfather was employed to build a church somewhere in the Jane and Bloor area of the city. They lived very close, at that point, because my mother attended Runnymede Collegiate. There is also a "Jackson Avenue," west of Jane Street, named after my grandfather, Stanley Jackson. He even built their family home, and it was gorgeous. He was persnickety in his building habits, and he wasn't known for taking short cuts, or going cheap to save a buck. His only fault, may have been the fact he worked slowly, as did his crew, making sure everything was done correctly in construction. Stanley was the son of a farm family, who married a woman, Blanche Sandercock, who was from United Empire Loyalist stock, dating back to the Vandervoorts of New York at around the time, Washington Irving set the scene for "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow." Stanley and Blanche raised six children on a contractor's wages, after leaving the family farm in Trenton, Ontario, where the Jacksons came in the early 1800's from Liverpool, England.
     My mother talks about having to attend church twice, to even three times on Sundays, and although she never called her mother and father "God fearing," it must have been close enough, to consider it fact. Stanley would have thought it was all part of the service, to God then, when he was contracted to build a pleading congregation a new church. I'm sure he would have done it for a modest rate, over and above material costs, but he also had no other means of feeding his family. So when, after he turned the keys over to the Reverend, after the church was completed, it was somewhat startling to him, that the congregation had decided to accept his work as a donation; refusing to pay him for the work. He had already paid the workers out of his own resources, so he was also out this money as well. My grandfather was so outraged, that he vowed to never again, step foot inside a church, or put a hand on a Bible. I'm pretty sure, but my grandmother's memorial was held in a funeral home, and not a church.
     When my grandfather, in the last few years of his life, found a female friend to keep him company, we knew his patience for religion was being tested, as she was a regular church-goer. I have always found it somewhat ironic, that a man with such conviction, about a wrong decades earlier, revisited his anger, enough to make a visit back to church to please his mate. He suffered a massive heart attack, on the steps of the church, and died long before the ambulance attendants arrived. I have never known, whether he died on the way in, or when he was exiting, but I suppose that doesn't matter. He did come full circle but it also came, about as late in life, as it possibly could.
     I have never found Hallowe'en to be spooky. I have always found it enchanted, as I perceive of hobgoblins, witches, zombies and vampires. These are just the relics of folklore, and neat to bring out of the closet on the even of Hallowe'en. I've never attached anything paranormal to Hallowe'en except the genuine interest, in whether or not, Harry Houdini, the great escape artist, will get a message to us mortals, one day, as he promised, about the realm of immortality. There was great anticipation that he would get a message to the living, after his death, but to my knowledge, it was never received; at least how the public expected it to be offered. Otherwise, it's just a neat evening to enjoy strange enchantments and unfettered imagination, around the glowing jack'o lantern on the table-top. It is a cultural, folkish tradition, that deserves respect, as a part of our heritage. It's a bit of living fiction, because many of us are participants, in one way or another. It is the time of the rolling year, when we allow ourselves to be a little foolish with our revelry, about such things as horrible monsters, and at the same time, super heroes, that walk the earth looking after our well-being. I suppose there are those who take it all too seriously. Yet it is an occasion that can be interpreted as you wish, and celebrated accordingly. It does play to the desires of our imaginations, to generate life into our wild fiction, like the life electrified into the Frankenstein monster. It is no different, than what was imagined, and set to paper, by writer Washington Irving, in the "Legend of Sleepy Hollow," and by Charles Dickens, when he wrote into "A Christmas Carol," the visitations by the three Christmas ghosts.
       It's why I have included this special shortened version of Irving's "Legend of Sleepy Hollow," for this year's Hallowe'en blog. While you've probably read it before, and maybe even via this blog, there are a few new readers who haven't, so I've pulled parts two and three from my archives collection. Part one, ran in the archives section in yesterday's column if you missed it. Otherwise, have a safe and traditional Hallowe'en; and it's no sign of runaway nostalgia, to think back on your own days as trick-or-treators, in your own jack-o-lantern filled home neighborhoods. Remember all that candy and pop? Good times!

From the Archives, Part 2 Legend Of Sleepy Hollow

 "AS ICHABOD APPROACHED THIS FEARFUL (TULIP) TREE, HE BEGAN TO WHISTLE; HE THOUGHT HIS WHISTLE WAS ANSWERED; IT WAS BUT A BLAST SWEEPING SHARPLY THROUGH THE DRY BRANCHES. AS HE APPROACHED A LITTLE NEARER, HE THOUGHT HE SAW SOMETHING WHITE HANGING IN THE MIDST OF THE TREE; HE PAUSED, AND CEASED WHISTLING; BUT ON LOOKING MORE NARROWLY, PERCEIVED THAT IT WAS A PLACE WHERE THE TREE HAD BEEN SCATHED BY LIGHTNING, AND THE WHITE WOOD LAID BARE. SUDDENLY HE HEARD A GROAN - HIS TEETH CHATTERED AND HIS KNEES SMOTE AGAINST THE SADDLE; IT WAS BUT THE RUBBING OF SOME HUGE BOUGH UPON ANOTHER, AS THEY WERE SWAYED ABOUT BY THE BREEZE. HE PASSED THE TREE IN SAFETY, BUT NEW PERILS LAY BEFORE HIM," WROTE WASHINGTON IN "THE SKETCH BOOK," PUBLISHED IN 1819; THE STORY OF COURSE, IS "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW."

    THE TOWN OF BRACEBRIDGE, ONTARIO, WAS NAMED OUT OF RESPECT FOR WASHINGTON IRVING'S SECOND BOOK OF SKETCHES, IN THE 1820'S, KNOWN THEN AS "BRACEBRIDGE HALL." IT WAS IN 1864 THAT CANADIAN POSTAL OFFICIAL, WILLIAM DAWSON LESUEUR, NAMED THE TOWN OF BRACEBRIDGE, ONTARIO, AFTER IRVING'S INTERNATIONALLY RESPECTED BOOK. IF YOU MISSED THE FIRST TWO COLUMNS IN THIS SHORT SERIES, YOU CAN ARCHIVE BACK TO MONDAY'S BLOG. BEING NAMED AFTER THE WORK OF WASHINGTON IRVING, WAS INTENDED BY LESUEUR, TO BE A MEMORIAL HONOR TO THE AMERICAN WRITER, WHO HAD DIED SOME YEARS EARLIER. IT WAS LIKELY THAT NEW RELEASES OF HIS BOOKS, AFTER HIS DEATH, WOUND UP ON LESUEUR'S DESK, AS ONE OF OUR COUNTRY'S UP AND COMING LITERARY CRITICS. WHEN ASSOCIATE HISTORIANS, IN THE PAST, HAVE WRITTEN THAT "HE NAMED BRACEBRIDGE AFTER THE TITLE OF A BOOK HE WAS READING AT THE TIME," THEY OF COURSE, WERE CORRECT TO ASSUME THIS.....BUT THEY FAILED TO EXPLAIN WHY. LESUEUR WENT ON TO BECOME WELL KNOWN AS A LITERARY CRITIC, WITH REVIEWS PUBLISHED IN SOME OF THE MOST INFLUENTIAL PERIODICALS IN NORTH AMERICA; WHILE AT THE SAME TIME, DUTIFULLY BECOMING A SIGNIFICANT CANADIAN HISTORIAN. HIS DAY JOB, IN PART, INVOLVED NAMING HAMLET POST OFFICES THROUGHOUT CANADA.

     THE TOWN OF BRACEBRIDGE HAS KNOWN FOR LONG AND LONG, ABOUT THIS IMPORTANT LITERARY CONNECTION, BUT HAS GENERALLY SHOWN LITTLE INTEREST IN DEVELOPING THE CONNECTION MORE FULLY. THIS I OFFERED THEM AT THE TURN OF THE NEW CENTURY, AS A LINK BETWEEN THE TOWN, AND THE IRVING MUSEUM, AT SUNNYSIDE, IN NEW YORK; SOMETHING I HAD ARRANGED PERSONALLY, AND AS AN EXTRA MEASURE, EVEN WROTE A SMALL BOOK ABOUT THE EXCITING, UNDER-UTILIZED RELATIONSHIP. THIS DIDN'T EXCITE THEM EITHER. OUR FAMILY EVEN WENT TO THE EXTENT OF HAVING A SMALL MUSEUM QUALITY EXHIBIT, OF WASHINGTON IRVING - WILLIAM DAWSON LESUEUR MATERIALS, (VISUALS) AVAILABLE FOR VIEWING, IN THE AUDITORIUM OF THE BRACEBRIDGE UNITED CHURCH....AT CHRISTMAS, AS A BOLSTER TO THE IDEA OF PROMOTING "BRACERBRIDGE HALL." THERE IS AN OUTSTANDING REFERENCE TO CHRISTMAS CELEBRATIONS, AT BRACEBRIDGE HALL, CONTAINED IN THIS BOOK, OF WHICH THE TOWN HAD THE RIGHTS OF PROVENANCE, TO FULLY EXPLOIT THE CONNECTION TO ONE OF THE WORLD'S BEST KNOWN AUTHORS. THERE HAVE BEEN BRACEBRIDGE HALL DINNERS IN THE PAST, BUT NOTHING THAT WOULD CONSTITUTE THE SEEDING OF A TRADITION. I THINK THIS HAS BEEN A TERRIBLE MISSED OPPORTUNITY, AND I REFLECT THIS EDITORIALLY WHENEVER I'M AFFORDED AN OPPORTUNITY.

     AS FOR "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW," IT WOULD BE A WONDERFUL OPPORTUNITY FOR THE BRACEBRIDGE BUSINESS COMMUNITY, AND AREA PUBLIC SCHOOLS, TO HAVE ADOPTED A WEEK LONG HALLOWEEN FESTIVAL, HONORING THE AUTHOR OF ONE OF THE BEST KNOWN STORIES OF THE PARANORMAL EVER WRITTEN......AND CELEBRATE THE PROVENANCE THEY WERE GIVEN BY ONE OF CANADA'S LEADING LITERARY REVIEWERS OF THE TIME. BUT JUST BECAUSE IT HASN'T BEEN EMBRACED, DOESN'T STOP A BLOGGER LIKE ME, FROM PRESENTING THE STORY, ABRIDGED AS IT MUST BE, FOR PURPOSES OF THIS BLOG. IT'S FOR READERS WHO LOVE OUR MUSKOKA LIFESTYLE STRAIGHT-UP......HISTORY ENJOYED FOR WHAT IT HAS BEEN, AND WHAT IT HAS MEANT EVER SINCE. I STILL REGRET THAT WILLIAM DAWSON LESUEUR HADN'T INCLUDED A WEE NOTE, BACK TO THE TOWN, IN AUGUST 1864, EXPLAINING WHY HE FELT THIS MEMORIAL TRIBUTE, WAS IMPORTANT TO THE FLEDGLING TOWN, BUILT ON THE EMBANKMENT OF THE MUSKOKA RIVER. BOY OH BOY, WOULD THAT HAVE BEEN EASIER TO WORK WITH, THAN THE COLD SELL TODAY.

     "ABOUT TWO HUNDRED YARDS FROM THE TREE, A SMALL BROOK CROSSED THE ROAD, AND RAN INTO A MARSHY AND THICKLY-WOODED GLEN, KNOWN BY THE NAME 'WILEY'S SWAMP'. A FEW ROUGH LOGS, LAID SIDE BY SIDE, SERVED FOR A BRIDGE OVER THIS STREAM. ON THAT SIDE OF THE ROAD WHERE THE BROOK ENTERED THE WOOD, A GROUP OF OAKS AND CHESTNUTS MATTED THICK WITH WILD GRAPE-VINES, THREW A CAVERNOUS GLOOM OVER IT. TO PASS THIS BRIDGE, WAS THE SEVERIST TRIAL. IT WAS AT THIS IDENTICAL SPOT THAT THE UNFORTUNATE (MAJOR) ANDRE WAS CAPTURED, AND UNDER THE COVERT OF THOSE CHESTNUTS AND VINES WERE THE STURDY YEOMEN CONCEALED WHO SURPRISED HIM. THIS HAS EVER SINCE BEEN CONSIDERED A HAUNTED STREAM, AND FEARFUL ARE THE FEELINGS OF A SCHOOL-BOY, WHO HAS TO PASS IT ALONE AFTER DARK," WROTE IRVING.

     "AS HE APPROACHED THE STREAM HIS HEART BEGAN TO THUMP; HE SUMMONED UP, HOWEVER, ALL HIS RESOLUTION, GAVE HIS HORSE HALF A SCORE OF KICKS IN THE RIBS, AND ATTEMPTED TO DASH BRISKLY ACROSS THE BRIDGE; BUT INSTEAD OF STARTING FORWARD, THE PERVERSE OLD ANIMAL MADE A LATERAL MOVEMENT, AND RAN BROADSIDE AGAINST THE FENCE. ICHABOD, WHOSE FEARS INCREASED WITH THE DELAY, JERKED THE REINS ON THE OTHER SIDE, AND KICKED LUSTILY WITH THE CONTRARY FOOT; IT WAS ALL IN VAIN; HIS STEED STARTED, IT IS TRUE, BUT IT WAS ONLY TO PLUNGE TO THE OPPOSITE SIDE OF THE ROAD INTO A THICKET OF BRAMBLES AND ALDER-BUSHES. THE SCHOOLMASTER NOW BESTOWED BOTH WHIP AND HEEL UPON THE STARVELING RIBS OF OLD GUNPOWDER, WHO DASHED FORWARDS, SNUFLING AND SNORTING, BUT CAME TO A STAND JUST BY THE BRIDGE, WITH A SUDDENNESS THAT HAD NEARLY SENT HIS RIDER SPRAWLING OVER HIS HEAD. JUST AT THIS MOMENT A PLASH TRAMP BY THE SIDE OF THE BRIDGE, CAUGHT THE SENSITIVE EAR OF ICHABOD. IN THE DARK SHADOW OF THE GROVE, ON THE MARGIN OF THE BROOK, HE BEHELD SOMETHING HUGE, MISSHAPEN, BLACK AND TOWERING. IT STIRRED NOT, BUT SEEMED GATHERED UP IN THE GLOOM LIKE SOME GIGANTIC MONSTER READY TO SPRING UPON THE TRAVELLER."

     THE SKETCH BOOK ACCOUNT, OF ICABOD'S FATEFUL NIGHT, CONTINUES: "THE HAIR OF THE AFFRIGHTED PEDAGOGUE ROSE UPON HIS HEAD WITH TERROR. WHAT WAS TO BE DONE? TO TURN AND FLY WAS NOW TOO LATE; AND BESIDES, WHAT CHANCE WAS THERE OF ESCAPING GHOST OR GOBLIN, IF SUCH IT WAS, WHICH COULD RIDE UPON THE WINGS OF THE WIND? SUMMONING UP, THEREFORE, A SHOW OF COURAGE, HE DEMANDED IN STAMMERING ACCENTS, 'WHO ARE YOU?' HE RECEIVED NO REPLY. HE REPEATED HIS DEMAND IN A STILL MORE AGITATED VOICE. STILL THERE WAS NO ANSWER. ONCE MORE HE CUDGELLED THE SIDES OF THE INFLEXIBLE GUNPOWDER, AND SHUTTING HIS EYES, BROKE FORTH WITH INVOLUNTARY FERVOUR, INTO A PSALM TUNE. JUST THEN THE SHADOWY OBJECT OF ALARM PUT ITSELF IN MOTION, AND WITH A SCRAMBLE AND A BOUND, STOOD AT ONCE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD. THOUGH THE NIGHT WAS DARK AND DISMAL, YET THE FORM OF THE UNKNOWN MIGHT NOW IN SOME DEGREE, BE ASCERTAINED. HE APPEARED TO BE A HORSEMAN OF LARGE DIMENSIONS AND MOUNTED ON A BLACK HORSE OF POWERFUL FRAME. HE MADE NO OFFER OF MOLESTATION OR SOCIABILITY, BUT KEPT ALOOF ON ONE SIDE OF THE ROAD, JOGGING ALONG ON THE BLIND SIDE OF OLD GUNPOWDER, WHO HAD NOW GOT OVER HIS FRIGHT AND WAYWARDNESS."

     EVERY ONE OF US, AT SOME POINT IN OUR LIFE'S JOURNEY, HAS FOUND OURSELVES IN A SIMILARLY UNSETTLING SITUATION, AS THE GOOD MR. CRANE. MAYBE WE HAVE COME UPON SOMETHING WE MIGHT HAVE BELIEVED TO BE AN APPARITION, HOVERING IN A DOORWAY; OR WITNESSED WHAT APPEARED TO BE A VICTORIAN WOMAN, WALKING  THROUGH A LOCAL CEMETERY, SUDDENLY VANISHING INTO THIN AIR, UPON YOUR APPROACH.....SUCH THAT ONE QUESTIONS THE SENSES. MAYBE IT WAS THE CASE WE WERE FRIGHTENED, WHILE ON A PASSIVE COUNTRYSIDE HIKE, WHEN WE HEARD AN ANIMAL THRASHING IN THE UNDERBRUSH, FEARING THAT A BEAR MIGHT BE FLEXING FOR AN ATTACK. THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT, UNSETTLE THE NERVES, AND ENGAGE OUR IMAGINATIONS.

     I WAS IN SUCH A SITUATION ONCE, WHEN ON MY WAY HOME, ON A MIDNIGHT HIKE, TO A COTTAGE LOCATED ON THE EXTENSION OF BEAUMONT DRIVE, IN BRACEBRIDGE, I WAS STOPPED AT THE INTERSECTION TO KIRBY'S BEACH, BY THE STRANGE APPEARANCE OF A WOLF. ONLY ONE THANKFULLY. I HAD NO WEAPON TO THWART AN ATTACK EXCEPT MY BARE HANDS. THERE WERE NO NEARBY RESIDENCES TO SEEK ASSISTANCE, AND YELLING WOULD HAVE SERVED LITTLE PURPOSE, AT THAT POINT, OTHER THAN TO POSSIBLY, BUT NOT LIKELY, SCARE OFF THE LONE WOLF. THERE WAS ENOUGH MOONLIGHT, TO SEE THE ANIMAL CLEARLY, STANDING IN MY WAY. IT GROWLED, BARED ITS TEETCH, AND BEGAN TO MOVE AROUND ME, BUT NEVER TRIED TO CLOSE THE DISTANCE BETWEEN US. I MOVED IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION, SO THAT I EVENTUALLY GAINED OPEN ROAD TO THE BEAUMONT FARM, LESS THAN HALF A KILOMETRE WEST. THE WOLF, OF SUBSTANTIAL SIZE AND WEIGHT, NEVER TOOK ITS EYES OFF ME, AND I NEVER LOST MY PERSPECTIVE EITHER. AFTER A MINUTE OR SO OF SHIFTING LOCATIONS, THE WOLF STOOD WHERE I HAD BEGUN THE SHOWDOWN, AND I WAS NOW UNOBSTRUCTED ON MY ESCAPE ROUTE. I KNEW IT WAS POINTLESS TO ATTEMPT TO OUTRUN THE WOLF, SO I JUST CONTINUED TO ACT INDIFFERENT, SHOWING NO SIGNS OF FEAR. I WAS SCARED TO DEATH HOWEVER, BECAUSE I WAS SURE OTHER WOLVES WERE IN THE VICINITY. WE STOOD STARING EYE TO EYE, AND WITHOUT WARNING, THE ANIMAL MADE WHAT APPEARED TO BE A LUNGE FORWARD, SENDING ME BACK, AND THEN IN THE SAME SUCCESSION OF MOVEMENTS, TURNED AWAY ALMOST AS IF IT HAD BEEN SCARED AWAY BY SOMETHING ELSE. POSSIBLY MY GUARDIAN ANGEL THWACKED IT ON THE END OF ITS NOSE. I DON'T KNOW, BUT I RAN ALL THE WAY HOME AFTER THAT ENCOUNTER. SO HOW ABOUT YOU? DO REMEMBER TIMES WHEN, ALL OF A SUDDEN, YOUR SENSE OF SECURITY AND NORMALCY WAS SHATTERED, BY SOME UNEXPECTED, UNEXPLAINED INTERVENTION....BENIGN OR OF SOME PARANORMAL QUALITY, NEVER FULLY EXPLAINED? MOST CAN BE EXPLAINED. SOME REMAIN LIFE-LONG MYSTERIES.

     "ICHABOD, WHO HAD NO RELISH FOR THIS STRANGE MIDNIGHT COMPANION, AND BETHOUGHT HIMSELF OF THE ADVENTURE OF BROM BONES, WITH THE GALLOPING HESSIAN, NOW QUICKENED HIS STEED IN HOPES OF LEAVING HIM BEHIND." WRITES IRVING OF MR. CRANE'S EXIT FROM WHAT HE BELIEVED WAS IMMINENT PERIL. "THE STRANGER HOWEVER, QUIKENED HIS HORSE TO AN EQUAL PACE. ICHABOD PULLED UP, AND FELL INTO A WALK, THINKING TO LAG BEHIND - THE OTHER DID THE SAME. HIS HEART BEGAN TO SINK WITHIN HIM; HE ENDEAVOURED TO RESUME HIS PSALM TUNE, BUT HIS PARCHED TONGUE CLOVE TO THE ROOF OF HIS MOUTH, AND HE COULD NOT UTTER A STAVE. THERE WAS SOMETHING IN THE MOODY AND DOGGED SILENCE OF HIS PERTINACIOUS COMPANION THAT WAS MYSTERIOUS, AND APPALLING. IT WAS SOON FEARFULLY ACCOUNTED FOR. ON MOUNTING A RISING GROUND WHICH BROUGHT THE FIGURE OF HIS FELLOW-TRAVELLER IN RELIEF AGAINST THE SKY, GIGANTIC IN HEIGHT, AND MUFFLED IN A CLOAK. ICHABOD WAS HORROR-STRUCK, ON PERCEIVING THAT HE WAS HEADLESS, BUT HIS HORROR WAS STILL MORE INCREASED, ON OBSERVING THE HEAD, WHICH SHOULD HAVE RESTED ON HIS SHOULDERS, WAS CARRIED BEFORE HIM ON THE POMMEL OF HIS SADLE! HIS TERROR ROSE TO DESPARATION; HE RAINED A SHOWER OF KICKS AND BLOWS UPON GUNPOWDER, HOPING, BY A SUDDEN MOVEMENT, TO GIVE HIS COMPANION THE SLIP - BUT THE SPECTRE STARTED A FULL JUMP WITH HIM. AWAY, THEN, THEY DASHED THROUGH THICK AND THIN; STONES FLYING AND SPARKS FLASHING AT EVERY BOUND. ICHABOD'S FLIMSY GARMENTS FLUTTERED OVER HIS HORSE'S HEAD, IN THE EAGERNESS OF HIS FLIGHT.

    "THEY HAD NOW REACHED THE ROAD WHICH TURNS OFF TO SLEEPY HOLLOW; BUT GUNPOWDER, WHO SEEMED POSSESSED WITH A DEMON, INSTEAD OF KEEPING UP,  MADE AN OPPOSITE TURN, AND PLUNGED HEADLONG DOWN HILL TO THE LEFT. THIS ROAD LEADS THROUGH A SANDY HOLLOW, SHADED BY TREES FOR ABOUT A QUARTER OF A MILE, WHERE IT CROSSES THE BRIDGE FAMOUS IN GOBLIN STORY; AND JUST BEYOND THE SWELL, THE GREEN KNOLL, ON WHICH STANDS THE WHITEWASHED CHURCH.

     "AS YET THE PANIC OF THE STEED HAD GIVEN HIS UNSKILLFUL RIDER AN APPARENT ADVANTAGE IN THE CHASE; BUT JUST AS HE HAD GOT HALFWAY THROUGH THE HOLLOW, THE GIRTHS OF THE SADDLE GAVE WAY, AND HE FELT IT SLIPPING FROM UNDER HIM. HE SEIZED IT BY THE POMMEL AND ENDEAVOURED TO HOLD IT FIRM, BUT IN VAIN; AND HAD JUST TIME TO SAVE HIMSELF BY CLASPING OLD GUNPOWDER ROUND THE NECK, WHEN THE SADDLE FELL TO THE EARTH, AND HE HEARD IT TRAMPLED UNDER FOOT BY HIS PURSUER. FOR A MOMENT OF TERROR OF HANS VAN RIPPER'S WRATH, PASSED ACROSS HIS MIND - FOR IT WAS HIS SUNDAY SADDLE; BUT THIS WAS NO TIME FOR PETTY FEARS; THE GOBLIN WAS HARD ON HIS HAUNCHES; AND UNSKILLED RIDER THAT HE WAS, HE HAD MUCH ADO TO MAINTAIN HIS SEAT; SOMETIMES SLIPPING ON ONE SIDE, SOMETIMES TO ANOTHER, AND SOMETIMES, JOLTED ON THE HIGH RIDGE OF HIS HORSE'S BACKBONE, WITH A VIOLENCE THAT HE VERILY FEARED WOULD CLEAVE HIM ASUNDER."

     PLEASE REJOIN THE STORY OF ICHABOD CRANE, AND HIS TERROR-FILLED RIDE FROM THE MENANCE OF THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN, IN TOMORROW'S PART THREE OF "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW."

     THANKS SO MUCH FOR KEEPING ME COMPANY. THERE'S MUCH MORE TO COME.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN.

Part 3

BRACEBRIDGE, MUSKOKA, AND THE LEGENDARY RIDE OF THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN

ICHABOD....POOR FELLOW

     "IRVING DIED ON THE NIGHT OF NOVEMBER 28TH, 1859, AND ALL THAT WAS MORTAL OF HIM WAS BURIED ON THE 1ST OF DECEMBER, AT TARRYTOWN. IT WAS A BEAUTIFUL WINTER DAY, CLEAR AND SUNNY, RADIANT WITH THE STILL LINGERING INDIAN SUMMER, WHICH SHED A SOFT AND MELANCHOLY LIGHT OVER THE SOLEMN SCENE. 'IT WAS ONE OF HIS OWN DAYS,' SAID THE MOURNERS, AS THEY RODE FROM 'SUNNYSIDE,' TO CHRIST CHURCH, WHERE THE FUNERAL SERVICES WERE HELD, AND THENCE TO THE CEMETERY, ABOUT A MILE DISTANT, ON THE SIDE OF A HILL, WITH A VIEW OF THE HUDSON ON ONE SIDE, AND ON THE OTHER, OF THE VALLEY OF SLEEPY HOLLOW - CLASSIC GROUND WHICH THE GENIUS OF IRVING HAS MADE IMMORTAL," WROTE RICHARD HENRY STODDARD, IN HIS BRIEF BIOGRAPHY, ACCOMPANYING THE 1893 REPUBLICATION OF "THE SKETCH BOOK."

     MY 1893 EDITION OF WASHINGTON IRVING'S, "THE SKETCH BOOK," IS NEARING THE POINT, WHERE LIKE ICHABOD CRANE, IT WILL SOON RETURN TO THE EARTH FROM WHICH IT CAME. ONE OF THREE IN THE REPRINT SERIES FROM THE 1890'S, I PURCHASED AT THE EWING ESTATE AUCTION, IN THE MID 1980'S, AT THE ZISKA ROAD FARMSTEAD, IN BRACEBRIDGE, IS IN FAILING HEALTH, DUE TO THE POORER QUALITY PAPER ON WHICH IT WAS PRINTED. THE ACID CONTENT IN THE PAPER IS ACTUALLY WORKING FROM THE INSIDE OUT, TO TURN THE PAPER INTO A FINE DUST. I'VE HAD SEVERAL BOOKS DETERIORATE IN THIS FASHION, BUT THEY WERE NEVER VALUABLE TEXTS TO START WITH. WHILE I WOULD LIKE TO OWN FIRST EDITIONS OF BOTH "THE SKETCH BOOK," FROM 1819 AND "BRACEBRIDGE HALL," CIRCA 1822, I DON'T HAVE THE THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS IT WOULD TAKE TO MAKE THE ACQUISITIONS. THE CHEAPER VERSIONS OF THE SAME BOOKS, OF THE 1890'S, WERE PUBLISHED FOR THE MASSES, AND WERE OFTEN KNOWN BROADLY AS THE "POPULAR EDITION," AND THE "CHEAP EDITION." THE PAPER WAS OF LESSER QUALITY, AND YET, IT HAS STILL LASTED FOR WELL MORE THAN A CENTURY, UP TO AND INCLUDING HALLOWEEN 2013....AND ITS OBLIGING KINDNESS TO THIS WRITER, OFFERING THE OPEN PAGES OF "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW." I WILL LOOK AFTER THIS BOOK, AS BEST I CAN, IN AN ARCHIVE'S SENSE, BUT I KNOW IT WON'T BE OF MUCH USE IN ANOTHER TEN YEARS, AS EVEN NOW, ALL IT WOULD TAKE IS A MODEST AMOUNT OF ROUGH HANDLING TO DISINTEGRATE TOTALLY. IT IS KIND OF A SPIRITED LITTLE COLLECTION, AND IT MEANS SOMETHING TO ME, IN THE FACT THAT IT CAME FROM A BRACEBRDIGE AREA FARMSTEAD, WHEN THE TOWN ITSELF CARRIES THE PROVENANCE OF WASHINGTON IRVING. IF YOU ARE JUST JOINING THE BLOG TODAY, YOU CAN ARCHIVE BACK TO MONDAY, WHEN THE WASHINGTON IRVING SERIES BEGAN. YOU WILL LEARN ABOUT THE PROVENANCE BETWEEN WASHINGTON IRVING'S BOOK, "BRACEBRIDGE HALL," AND HOW THE NAME WAS SELECTED BY POSTAL AUTHORITY, WILLIAM DAWSON LESUEUR, IN 1864, FOR THE TITLE OF THE NEW POST OFFICE FOR THE PIONEER HAMLET. THE UNFORTUNATE REALITY IS, THAT THE TOWN OF BRACEBRIDGE HAS NEVER IN ITS HISTORY, DECIDED PUBLICLY, AT LEAST, TO FURTHER DEVELOP THE INHERENTLY POSITIVE RELATIONSHIP, WITH ONE OF THE BEST KNOWN WRITERS IN THE WORLD. PITY.

     WE NOW REVIST THE LAST FEW MOMENTS OF THE WILD WOODLAND RIDE, OF IRVING'S TRAGIC CHARACTER, ICHABOD CRANE, THE TEACHER AT THE SLEEPY HOLLOW SCHOOL. IN THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER, ICHABOD WAS BEING CHASED, ON HIS WAY HOME, BY THE HESSIAN TROOPER, BETTER KNOWN AS "THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN." IT'S IS EXPECTED BY IRVING, THAT READERS WILL UNDERSTAND THE HORSEMAN, BY SPECULATION,TO BE THE CHARACTER BRAM BONES, THE OTHER MAN IN COMPETITION FOR ONE OF THE SLEEPY HOLLOW DAMSELS. JEALOUSY CAN LED TO MANY SUCH MISADVENTURES. OR, WAS IT A TRUE TO LIFE CASE OF THE SUPERNATURAL MANIFESTATION, OF A FORMER SOLDIER, SEARCHING FOR HIS LOST HEAD.....THE RESULT OF BEING IN THE WAY OF CANNON FIRE, DURING AN UNNAMED BATTLE OF THE REVOLUTIONARY WAR. PLEASE READ ON:

     "AN OPENING IN THE TREES  CHEERED HIM WITH THE HOPE, THAT THE CHURCH BRIDGE WAS AT HAND," WROTE WASHINGTON IRVING, OF ICHABOD CRANE'S ILL FATED RIDE, AGAINST THE DARK APPARITION ON THE THUNDEROUSLY LARGE, GALLOPING STEED, IN THE FINAL PARAGRAPHS OF "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW."

     "THE WAVERING REFLECTION OF A SILVER STAR IN THE BOSOM OF THE BROOK, TOLD HIM THAT HE WAS NOT MISTAKEN. HE SAW THE WALLS OF THE CHURCH DIMLY GLARING UNDER THE TREES BEYOND. HE (ICHABOD) RECOLLECTED WHERE BROM BONES' GHOSTLY COMPETITOR HAD DISAPPEARED. 'IF I CAN BUT REACH THAT BRIDGE,' THOUGHT ICHABOD. 'I AM SAFE'. JUST THEN HE HEARD THE BLACK STEED PANTING AND BLOWING CLOSE BEHIND HIM; HE EVEN FANCIED THAT HE FELT HIS HOT BREATH. ANOTHER CONVULSIVE KICK IN THE RIBS, AND OLD GUNPOWDER SPRUNG UPON THE BRIDGE; HE THUNDERED OVER THE RESOUNDING PLANKS; HE GAINED THE OPPOSITE SIDE, AND NOW ICHABOD CAST A LOOK BEHIND, TO SEE IF HIS PURSUER SHOULD VANISH, ACCORDING TO RULE IN A FLASH OF FIRE AND BRIMSTONE. JUST THEN HE SAW THE GOBLIN RISING IN HIS STIRRUPS, AND IN THE VERY ACT OF HURLING HIS HEAD AT HIM. ICHABOD ENDEAVOURED TO DODGE THE HORRIBLE MISSILE, BUT TOO LATE. IT ENCOUNTERED HIS CRANIUM WITH A TREMENDOUS CRASH - HE WAS TUMBLED HEADLONG INTO THE DUST, AND GUNPOWDER, THE BLACK STEED, AND THE GOBLIN RIDER, PASSED BY LIKE A WHIRLWIND," WROTE IRVING, OF THE TEACHER, HAVING BEEN KNOCKED VIOLENTLY OFF HIS MOUNT. BY OF ALL THINGS, A THROWN HEAD....WHICH TURNED OUT SOMEWHAT DIFFERENTLY UPON FINAL INSPECTION.

     "THE NEXT MORNING THE OLD HORSE WAS FOUND WITHOUT HIS SADDLE AND WITH THE BRIDLE UNDER HIS FEET, SOBERLY CROPPING THE GRASS AT HIS MASTER'S GATE. ICHABOD DID NOT MAKE HIS APPEARANCE AT BREAKFAST - DINNER HOUR CAME, BUT NO ICHABOD. THE BOYS ASSEMBLED AT THE SCHOOL-HOUSE, AND STROLLED IDLY ABOUT THE BANKS OF THE BROOK; BUT NO SCHOOL MASTER. HANS VAN RIPPER NOW BEGAN TO FEEL SOME UNEASINESS ABOUT THE FATE OF POOR ICHABOD, AND HIS SADDLE. AN INQUIRY WAS SET ON FOOT, AND AFTER DILIGENT INVESTIGATION, THEY CAME UPON HIS TRACES. IN ONE PART OF THE ROAD LEADING TO THE CHURCH, WAS FOUND THE SADDLE TRAMPLED IN THE DIRT; THE TRACKS OF HORSES' HOOFS DEEPLY DENTED IN THE ROAD, AND EVIDENTLY AT A FURIOUS SPEED, WERE TRACED TO THE BRIDGE BEYOND WHICH, ON THE BANK OF A BROAD PART OF THE BROOK, WHERE THE WATER RAN DEEP AND BLACK, WAS FOUND THE HAT OF THE UNFORTUNAE ICHABOD, AND CLOSE BESIDE IT, A PUMPKIN."

     THE AUTHOR REPORTS, "THE BROOK WAS SEARCHED, BUT THE BODY OF THE SCHOOL MASTER WAS NOT TO BE DISCOVERED. HANS VAN RIPPER, AS EXECUTOR OF HIS ESTATE, EXAMINED THE SADDLE, WHICH CONTAINED ALL HIS WORDLY EFFECTS. THEY CONSISTED OF TWO SHIRTS AND A HALF; TWO SOCKS FOR THE NECK; A PAIR OF TWO WORSTED STOCKINGS; AN OLD PAIR OF CORDUROY SMALL-CLOTHES; A RUSTY RAZOR; A BOOK OF PSALM TUNES FULL OF DOG'S EARS (FOLDED CORNERS); AND A BROKEN PITCH PIPE. AS TO THE BOOKS AND FURNITURE OF THE SCHOOL HOUSE, THEY BELONGED TO THE COMMUNITY, EXCEPTING COTTON MATHER'S HISTORY OF WITCHCRAFT, A NEW ENGLAND GLAND ALMANAC, AND A BOOK OF DREAMS AND FORTUNE-TELLING; IN WHICH LAST WAS A SHEET OF FOOLSCAP, MUCH SCRIBBLED AND BLOTTED BY SEVERAL FRUITLESS ATTEMPTS TO MAKE A COPY OF VERSES, IN HONOUR OF THE HEIRESS OF VAN TASSEL. THESE MAGIC BOOKS AND THE POETIC SCRAWL WERE FORTHRIGHT CONSIGNED TO THE FLAMES BY HANS VAN RIPPER; WHO FROM THAT TIME FORWARD, DETERMINED TO SEND HIS CHILDREN NO MORE TO SCHOOL; OBSERVING THAT HE NEVER KNEW ANY GOOD COME OF THIS SAME READING AND WRITING. WHATEVER MONEY THE SCHOOL MASTER POSSESSED, AND HE HAD RECEIVED HIS QUARTER'S PAY BUT A DAY OR TWO BEFORE, HE MUST HAVE HAD ABOUT HIS PERSON AT THE TIME OF HIS DISAPPEARANCE.

     "THE MYSTERIOUS EVENT CAUSED MUCH SPECULATION AT THE CHURCH ON THE FOLLOWING SUNDAY. KNOTS OF GAZERS AND GOSSIPS WERE COLLECTED IN THE CHURCHYARD, AT THE BRIDGE, AND AT THE SPOT WHERE THE HAT AND PUMPKIN HAD BEEN FOUND. THE STORIES OF BROUWER, BROM BONES AND A WHOLE BUDGET OF OTHERS, WERE CALLED TO MIND, AND WHEN THEY HAD DILLIGENTLY CONSIDERED THEM ALL, AND COMPARED THEM WITH THE SYMPTONS OF THE PRESENT CASE, THEY SHOOK THEIR HEADS, AND CAME TO THE CONCLUSION, THAT ICHABOD HAD BEEN CARRIED OFF BY THE GALLOPING HESSIAN. AS HE WAS A BACHELOR, AND IN NOBODY'S DEBT, NOBODY TROUBLED HIS HEAD ANY MORE ABOUT HIM; THE SCHOOL WAS REMOVED TO A DIFFERENT QUARTER OF THE HOLLOW, AND ANOTHER PEDAGOGUE REIGNED IN HIS STEAD.

     "IT IS TRUE, AN OLD FARMER, WHO HAD BEEN DOWN TO NEW YORK ON A VISIT SEVERAL YEARS AFTER, AND FROM WHOM THIS ACCOUNT OF THE GHOSTLY ADVENTURES WAS RECEIVED, BROUGHT HOME THE INTELLIGENE THAT ICHABOD CRANE WAS STILL ALIVE; THAT HE HAD LEFT THE NEIGHBOURHOOD, PARTLY THROUGH FEAR OF THE GOBLIN AND HANS VAN RIPPER, AND PARTLY IN MORTIFICATION AT HAVING BEEN SUDDENLY DISMISSED BY THE HEIRESS; THAT HE HAD CHANGED HIS QUARTERS TO A DISTANT PART OF THE COUNTRY; HAD KEPT SCHOOL AND STUDIED LAW AT THE SAME TIME; HAD BEEN ADMITTED TO THE BAR; TURNED POLITICIAN; ELECTIONEERED; WRITTEN FOR NEWSPAPERS; AND FINALLY HAD BEEN MADE A JUSTICE OF THE TEN POUND COURT. BROM BONES, TOO, WHO, SHORTLY AFTER HIS RIVAL'S DISAPPEARANCE, CONDUCTED THE BLOOMING KATRINA IN TRIUMPH TO THE ALTAR, WAS OBSERVED TO LOOK EXCEEDINGLY KNOWING WHENEVER THE STORY OF ICHABOD WAS RELATED, AND ALWAYS BURST INTO A HEARTY LAUGH AT THE MENTION OF THE PUMPKIN; WHICH LED SOME TO SUSPECT THAT HE KNEW MORE ABOUT THE MATTER THAN HE CHOSE TO TELL.

     "THE OLD COUNTRY WIVES, HOWEVER, WHO ARE THE BEST JUDGES OF THESE MATTERS, MAINTAIN TO THIS DAY, THAT ICHABOD WAS SPIRITED AWAY BY SUPERNATURAL MEANS; AND IT IS A FAVORITE STORY OFTEN TOLD ABOUT THE NEIGHBORHOOD ROUND THE WINTER EVENING FIRE. THE BRIDGE BECAME MORE THAN EVER AN OBJECT OF SUPERSTITIOUS AWE; AND THAT MAY BE THE REASON WHY THE ROAD HAS BEEN ALTERED OF LATE YEARS, SO AS TO APPROACH THE CHURCH BY THE BORDER OF THE MILL POND. THE SCHOOL HOUSE BEING DESERTED, SOON FELL TO DECAY, AND WAS REPORTED TO BE HAUNTED BY THE GHOST OF THE UNFORTUNATE PEDAGOGUE; AND THE PLOUGH-BOY, LOITERING HOMEWARD OF A STILL SUMMER EVENING, HAS OFTEN FANCIED HIS VOICE AT A DISTANCE, CHANTING A MELANCHOLY PSALM TUNE, AMONG THE TRANQUIL SOLITUDES OF SLEEPY HOLLOW."

     I HOPE ONE DAY, IN THE NOT TOO DISTANT FUTURE, THAT THE TOWN OF BRACEBRIDGE, WILL FIND REASON, AND INITIATIVE, TO ENGAGE THEMSELVES IN THE PROVENANCE OF WHICH THEY ARE ENTITLED. THANKS FOR JOINING TODAY'S BLOG.  AND HAPPY HALLOWEEN, IN KEEPING WITH THE SITUATION.

A Thank You To Readers; Only 37% Turn Out For Election And The Legend Of Sleepy Hollow

ON THE CUSP OF A QUARTER MILLION SERVED - I AM HUMBLED BY READER SUPPORT

     FIRST OFF - I JUST READ A REPORT IN THE LOCAL MEDIA, TODAY, INDICATING THAT THE TURN-OUT OF VOTERS, FOR THE MUNICIPAL ELECTION IN GRAVENHURST, ON MONDAY, WAS A MISERABLE 37 PERCENT. FOR THOSE ELECTED, THIS FIGURE SHOULD STICK IN THEIR MINDS. IT WAS A CLEAR SHOW OF DISINTEREST; A PROTEST VOTE IN ESSENCE, ABOUT HOW INADEQUATELY COUNCIL GOVERNS LOCALLY. BELIEVING THAT ONE CANDIDATE IS ONLY MARGINALLY BETTER THAN THE OTHER, AS FAR AS WHAT THEY CAN EXPECT, IN THE EXECUTION OF RESPONSIBLE GOVERNMENT. I THINK IT'S A PRETTY LOW EXPECTATION THESE DAYS. APATHY IS A FACTOR, AND SECONDLY, FRUSTRATION WITH LOCAL GOVERNMENT, REPRESENTS THE OTHER DOWNSIDE. TOWN COUNCIL, AS IN OTHER YEARS, CAN BELIEVE WHATEVER IT WANTS, ABOUT THE REASONS THEY WERE ELECTED; POSSIBLY EVEN THE HAND OF DIVINE INTERVENTION. BUT WHEN IT COMES RIGHT DOWN TO THE BRASS TACKS OF ANALYSIS, THE LOW TURN-OUT, APPEARS AS IF CONSTITUENTS SIMPLY TURNED THEIR BACKS ON THE DEMOCRATIC PROCESS, TO SEND A MESSAGE TO TOWN HALL. MAYBE A PROTEST ABOUT HAVING AN ALL-CANDIDATES MEETING, BUT NOT RESPECTING DEMOCRATIC RIGHTS ENOUGH, TO ACTUALLY ENGAGE A FLOOR MICROPHONE, FOR CONSTITUENT QUESTIONS BEYOND THE MAIL-IN FORMAT. I REALLY HOPE THERE ARE A FEW GRAVENHURST COUNCILLORS, WITH ENOUGH INSIGHT, AND PERCEPTION, TO SEE THAT THEY AREN'T NEARLY AS POPULAR AS THEY THOUGHT THEY WERE; BUT IF THAT'S WHAT THE MAGIC MIRROR TELLS THEM, WELL, GO WITH THAT THEN! AS FOR THE REST OF US, WE ARE PRETTY REALISTIC ABOUT THE NEXT FOUR YEARS, AND MY BET, IS THAT THE CITIZENS WILL LEAD THIS TOWN AS THEY ALWAYS HAVE, AND COUNCILLORS WILL FOLLOW ALONG BEHIND TAKING CREDIT!

A MILESTONE I HAD REALLY EXPECTED

     IF SOMEONE HANDED ME AN AWARD FOR MY WORK IN THE FIELD OF LOCAL HISTORY, I'D PROBABLY DROP DEAD ON THE SPOT. IF I WAS GIVEN CREDIT FOR PROMOTING THE TOWN OR REGION, WHICH I'VE HAPPILY DONE FOR MORE THAN THIRTY YEARS, I'D BE LOOKING AROUND FOR THE CANDID CAMERA CREW. IF I FOUND AN AWARD ON THE STREET, AFTER IT BLEW-UP AGAINST MY SHOE, I WOULD LOOK UP AT HEAVEN, AND THANK GOD, BUT LET HIM KNOW I CAN'T ACCEPT CHARITY, WHEN IT COMES TO MY TIGHT PROFESSIONAL ETHICS. I'M JUST NOT A JOINER, OR A SCHMOOZER, AND I'M NOT POLITICALLY CORRECT; HISTORICALLY, I'M CORRECT MORE THAN I'M WRONG; BUT YOU SEE, I IRK THE PEOPLE WHO DETERMINE WHO WINS AWARDS AND WHO GETS SHUT-OUT ONCE AGAIN. WE HAVE A JOKE IN OUR FAMILY, THAT OF TEN REGIONAL HISTORIANS ELIGIBLE FOR AN AWARD, I WOULD BE NUMBER ELEVEN. I USED TO CARE ABOUT THIS, BUT I'D RATHER BE ON THE "OUTS," AND HONEST WITH WHAT I DO, THAN CONFORM, AS SEEMS PREFERABLE, TO A MORE CONSERVATIVE STANDARD. IT'S WHAT I LOVE ABOUT WRITING MY DAILY BLOGS. THERE ARE NO AWARDS FOR WHAT I WRITE ABOUT, AND IT TAKES THE WHOLE "TRYING TO IMPRESS THE PANEL OF JUDGES" OUT OF THE PICTURE. THE ONLY REALITY I HAVE TO FACE, IS THE VIEW-COUNT PER DAY, AND THIS IS ALL I NEED TO INSPIRE BETTER WORK, MORE INTERESTING SUBJECTS, AND A YEARLY MISSION STATEMENT REVISION, TO ADAPT MY MATERIAL TO WHAT READERS ACTUALLY WANT. THE BEST REWARD OF ALL, IS TO HAVE A CONSISTENT READERSHIP, AND ONE THAT HAS THE POTENTIAL TO CLIMB. WHEN I LOSE READERS, I IMMEDIATELY TRY TO FIGURE OUT SOME NEW MATERIAL, AND MORE INTERESTING PERSPECTIVES, AND RETROSPECTIVES, TO WIN THEM BACK. WRITING A BLOG HAS TAUGHT ME A LOT ABOUT WRITING AND PRESENTATION, BECAUSE SOMETIMES I CAN FORGET, THAT ENTERTAINMENT HAS SOMETHING TO DO WITH THE WHOLE SUCCESS FORMULA. AFTER I'M SENT TO PUSH UP THE DAISIES, MAYBE I WILL GET A POSTHUMOUS AWARD FOR LONG SERVICE IN THE FIELD OF COMMUNITY HISTORY, THAT MY SURVIVING FAMILY CAN WAVE OVER MY GRAVE; BUT SEEING AS HOW THEY RESPECT MY OPINION, ABOUT THESE THINGS, MAYBE INSTEAD THEY'LL JUST WRITE ONE MORE BLOG FOR ME, IN A MOST LIGHT-HEARTED FASHION, TO THANK YOU FOLKS FOR HANGING IN THERE, WHEN OTHERS WERE HEADING FOR THE EXISTS. THERE IS TRULY NO REWARD FOR ME, HIGHER, AND MORE SATISFYING, THAN TO KEEP COMPANY WITH YOU FOLKS.
     THREE YEARS AGO, I DECIDED TO TURN MY PART-TIME BLOGGING, INTO A DAILY EXERCISE. I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT TO EXPECT, BUT MY TECHNICAL SUPPORT STAFF, SON ROBERT AND PARTNER SUZANNE, TOLD ME TO SHOOT FOR THE MOON, AND IF I DIDN'T LAND THERE EVENTUALLY, I SHOULD BE HAPPY WITH WHATEVER GAINS WERE MADE IN READERSHIP. AT FIRST, I WAS GETTING TWENTY READERS A DAY, AND AFTER THE FIRST FIVE MONTHS, I HAD JUMPED TO FIFTY, AND ON OCCASION, I COULD FIND MYSELF ON THE VERGE OF BREAKING A HUNDRED. IN THREE YEARS I'VE HIT HIGHS OF SEVEN HUNDRED AND FIFTY PER BLOG, AND I'VE, AT TIMES, SLIPPED BELOW A HUNDRED. TODAY, I'M FLIRTING WITH TWO HUNDRED ON MOST NIGHTS, AND IN JUST OVER A WEEK, I WILL PROUDLY BOAST THAT MY BLOG, HAS THEN ACHIEVED A QUARTER MILLION VIEWS, AND HAS BEEN READ AROUND THE GLOBE. THE MOST IMPORTANT ASPECT OF THIS, FOR ME, THE HISTORIAN, IS THAT THE BLOGS ARE ACTIVELY BEING ARCHIVED DAILY, BY MY READERS AT HOME AND ABROAD; AND I GET ALL KINDS OF INTERESTING FEEDBACK FROM COLUMNS I WROTE UPWARDS OF THREE YEARS AGO, THAT HAVE SUDDENLY BECOME OF CURRENT INTEREST TO RESEARCHERS, AND ASSOCIATE HISTORIANS. EVEN RECENTLY, WE'VE HAD A REQUEST FOR INFORMATION FROM A UNIVERSITY PROFESSOR IN THE UNITED STATES, MANY EVERY MONTH, SOMETHING OR OTHER, REGARDING THE WORK OF ARTISTS PROFILED IN THESE BLOGS. THE REMARKABLE ASPECT OF THIS, IS THAT, UNLIKE THE HIGH VIEWERSHIP FOR CELEBRITY BLOGGERS, I'VE NEVER OPTED TO DROP NAMES OF HIGH PROFILE ACTORS OR MUSICIANS, TO ATTAIN MORE SITE VISITS. THE GAINS HAVE BEEN MODEST BUT SATISFYING, AND THE BIGGEST CHALLENGE, IS TO WRITE A GENERAL BLOG, THAT APPEALS TO MOST READERS; BUT EVERY NOW AND AGAIN, I OPT TO PEN SOMETHING SPECIFIC, SUCH AS SEVERAL RECENT BLOGS ABOUT THE MUNICIPAL ELECTIONS HERE IN GRAVENHURST. READERSHIP WAS  A LITTLE HIGHER FOR THESE BLOGS, BECAUSE OF EX-PATS, FORMERLY OF GRAVENHURST, LIVING ABROAD, BUT WANTING TO KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON IN THEIR HOMETOWN. IN THE LATE FALL OF THE YEAR, MY NUMBERS TRADITIONALLY GO UP, BUT MY READERSHIP SHIFTS SOMEWHAT TO THE SOUTHERN UNITED STATES, WHERE QUITE A NUMBER OF SOUTH MUSKOKANS WINTER, AND IN A WAY, TAKE ME A LONG. I DON'T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT SUNBURNS, OR PAYING FOR ACCOMMODATIONS, BUT I GET THE TROPICAL FEELING NONE THE LESS.
     THE BLOG WILL BE CHANGING GRADUALLY, OVER THE COMING YEAR, TO BE A LITTLE MORE CONTEMPORARY, AND MAYBE A LITTLE CLOSER TO THE PAUL RIMSTEAD STYLE, (FORMER COLUMNIST OF THE TORONTO SUN), OFFERING A LIGHTER LOOK AT LOCAL, PROVINCIAL AND NATIONAL SITUATIONS, THAT AFFECT US HERE IN SMALL TOWN ONTARIO. I AM BOTH AN HISTORIAN AND ANTIQUE DEALER, BUT I HAVE MOST EXPERIENCE IN WRITING ABOUT CONTEMPORARY ISSUES, LIKE LOCAL AND REGIONAL POLITICS, LOVE IT OR LEAVE IT; AND AS AN OLD NEWS HOUND FOR THE COMMUNITY PRESS, I STILL CAN'T RESIST REPORTING ON THINGS THAT POP UP AROUND OUR BALLYWICK, RATHER UNEXPECTEDLY. FOR EXAMPLE, THERE IS SO MUCH MORE HAPPENING, IN AND AROUND OUR SHOP, AS REGARDS TO MUSIC AND MUSICIANS, THAT I COULD LITERALLY WRITE A DAILY ENTERTAINMENT OVERVIEW. ANDREW AND ROBERT HAVE CREATED QUITE AN INTERESTING MUSIC SHOP AND RECORDING STUDIO HERE, IN THE HEART OF GRAVENHURST, OPPOSITE THE OPERA HOUSE, IN WHAT IS NOW REFERRED TO AS THE UPTOWN AREA OF MUSKOKA ROAD. WE HAVE BECOME A SORT OF MUSICIAN'S COMMUNE, AND WHAT GREAT FUN IT IS, TO BE IN THE MIDDLE, AS I FIND MYSELF DAILY, OF JAM SESSIONS, AND ENTERTAINMENT-SCENE CHATS, THAT ARE NATIONAL AND INTERNATIONAL IN SCOPE. I CAN'T HELP IT, IF THIS READS LIKE I'M BRAGGING; I'M NOT REALLY, JUST EXCITED ABOUT THE OPPORTUNITIES THIS IS PRESENTING, AND WILL IN THE NEXT MONTH OR TWO, WHEN WE WILL BE UNVEILING A NEW MUSIC PROJECT WE THINK IS GOING TO BE GREAT NEWS FOR THE TOWN'S REPUTATION IN CULTURE AND ENTERTAINMENT. WE CAN'T RELEASE THIS YET, BUT THE BOYS AND MATES HAVE BEEN WORKING ON CRAFTING THIS GROUP FOR ABOUT THREE MONTHS NOW. I'LL LET YOU KNOW WHAT IT IS, AND WHO IS PART OF THE NEW MUSIC SCENE, WHEN A PERFORMANCE DATE HAS BEEN FINALIZED.
     WE ALL NEED A CHANGE OF DIRECTION, IN OUR LIVES, FROM TIME TO TIME, TO PROVE TO OURSELVES WE HAVE WHAT IT TAKES TO ADAPT TO SITUATIONS OF "A NEW NORMAL." ONE OF THE REASONS I DECIDED NOT TO RUN FOR POLITICAL OFFICE THIS YEAR, WAS DUE TO THE SURGE OF ACTIVITY HERE AT OUR GRAVENHURST SHOP / STUDIO, AND IN ORDER TO BE A PART OF IT, I SIMPLY COULDN'T CARRY THE WEIGHT OF POLITICAL RESPONSIBILITY, AND PURSUE THIS ENTERTAINMENT OPPORTUNITY AT THE SAME TIME. I WOULDN'T RISK CONFLICT OF INTEREST, OR AN UNNECESSARY DRAIN ON TIME. I'M GETTING ON IN YEARS, AND I NEED AFTERNOON NAPS. WE ARE WORKING AT THIS ENTERPRISE SEVEN DAYS A WEEK, BUT HONESTLY, WHEN WORK IS THIS MUCH FUN, IT'S NOT FAIR TO PUT IT IN THE SAME CATEGORY, AS THOSE TASKS THAT ARE TRULY A DRUDGERY EXPERIENCE. BEING UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL WITH MAJOR CANADIAN MUSIC ACTS, AND PERFORMERS, IS AN AMAZING CHANGE OF PACE FOR ME, ESPECIALLY NOW, WHEN ADMITTEDLY, I'M FED-UP WITH THE TURN OF LOCAL POLITICS. YES, I'VE FINALLY GOT THE MESSAGE, THAT I SHOULD BE WRITING ABOUT OTHER THINGS, AND ABSORBED BY MORE DIMENSIONAL, DYNAMIC AND EXCITING SITUATIONS, GOING ON AROUND ME. I'VE ONLY DUSTED THE EDGES, OF WHAT REALLY HAPPENS AROUND HERE, THAT IS SO ALLURING AND FULL OF POTENTIAL. UNFORTUNATELY, I DON'T KNOW AS MUCH ABOUT MUSIC AS I SHOULD, HAVING TWO MUSICIAN SONS, WHO OWN A VINTAGE MUSIC STORE.     ROBERT HAS UPGRADED ME, AS A PERSONAL MUSIC TUTOR, AND IN THE PAST YEAR, WORKING OUT OF HIS STUDIO, I'VE LISTENED TO ABOUT A THOUSAND RECORDS, OF ALL GENRES, FROM ROOTS, FOLK, COUNTRY, ROCK-A-BILLY, ROCK 'N ROLL, BLUES, JAZZ, POP, VINTAGE, AMBIENCE, AND ANYTHING ELSE I HAVE OMITTED, THAT HAS PLAYED ON THE SHOP TURNTABLE. I DON'T LIKE EVERYTHING I HEAR, BUT I'VE OPENED MY MIND TO A HUGE RANGE OF MUSIC, WHICH I OTHERWISE WOULD HAVE IGNORED ENTIRELY. IT'S BEEN A MUSIC EDUCATION I THOUGHT I WAS TOO OLD TO BENEFIT FROM, BUT APPARENTLY I'M "COMING AROUND," AND ASKING INTELLIGENT QUESTIONS, ABOUT GENRES; AND THIS PLEASES MY TUTOR, ROBERT.
     I WANT TO EXTEND HEARTFELT THANKS, TO ALL THE READERS WHO HAVE PUT UP WITH INCONSISTENCIES, AND THE RESIDENT WILDNESS THAT IS ME, FOR THE PAST THREE YEARS WORKING ON THIS DAILY BLOG. IT WILL GET BETTER. IT WILL BE MORE CONTEMPORARY, BUT IT WILL NEVER NOT BE IDENTIFIABLE AS HOMEGROWN MUSKOKA, WITH AN INGRAINED PRIDE FOR LOCAL HISTORY. I HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT RETIRING SEVERAL TIMES, EVEN RECENTLY, BUT THE DEATH OF MY OLD WRITING CRONIE, AND GOOD FRIEND, BRANT SCOTT, CONVINCED ME TO STAY-ON, BECAUSE OF OUR PACT MADE A LONG, LONG TIME AGO, TOASTED OVER A FEW COLD ALES, AT THE FORMER ALBION HOTEL PRESS CLUB, IN BRACEBRIDGE; THAT WE WOULD NEVER GIVE UP ON THE SOUL SAVING VIRTUES OF ROBUST EXPRESSION AND CREATIVITY, AS IF THE WORLD DEPENDS ON IT, IN ORDER TO CONTINUE SPINNING. I'M GOING TO OFFER A SOLO TOAST, AND SALUTE TO BRANT SCOTT, THE DAY I HIT 250,000 VIEWS, AND GIVE CREDIT TO OUR DAYS WORKING AT THE FORMER HERALD-GAZETTE IN BRACEBRIDGE, FOR GIVING US BOTH THE REASON TO WRITE IN THE FIRST PLACE. I'M GOING TO DEDICATE THE ENTIRE NEXT YEAR TO BRANT'S MEMORY, BECAUSE THAT'S HOW MUCH I THOUGHT OF HIM AS A WRITER / MENTOR, WHO HELPED ME NAVIGATE A HELL OF A LOT OF OBSTACLES, TO ACHIEVING A CAREER RELATIONSHIP WITH A NOTORIOUSLY DIFFICULT PROFESSION; DEPENDENT EVERY DAY, ON ACCEPTANCE BY THE PUBLIC. HE WOULD GET A REAL KICK OUT OF ME TURNING TOWARD MUSIC, BECAUSE HE ALWAYS FELT IT WAS MY GREATEST DEFICIENCY, AND WHY HE ALWAYS COVERED CONCERTS AND MUSIC GET-TOGETHERS FOR OUR PAPER. I REMEMBER ONCE, AT THE "INN ON THE BAY," IN THE VILLAGE OF MILFORD BAY, ON LAKE MUSKOKA, BEING INVITED TO SIT WITH HIM AND A GROUP OF FRIENDS, AND GETTING PRETTY HAMMERED, LISTENING TO HIS CHUMS TALK ABOUT THEIR TRAVELING EXPERIENCES AS A WELL KNOWN CANADIAN BAND. I NEVER THOUGHT TO ASK WHO THEY WERE. I DRANK WITH SOME OF THE BAND MEMBERS UNTIL LATE IN THE NIGHT, BEFORE I FINALLY ASKED BRANT, WHAT BAND THEY WERE TALKING ABOUT. I CAN HONESTLY SAY, I DRANK WITH "CROWBAR." BY TIME I KNEW WHO THEY WERE, EVERYONE HAD LEFT, AND I STILL HAD A HALF GLASS OF BEER. FUNNY THING, THOUGH! A YEAR AGO I HAD A NICE CHAT WITH A COUPLE OF MUSICIANS HERE IN THE SHOP, AND WE TALKED ABOUT SNOW TIRES, THE WEATHER, A STORM APPROACHING; AND IT WASN'T UNTIL I ASKED ANDREW ABOUT THOSE NICE FELLOWS, AFTER THEY'D LEFT, THAT HE TOLD ME, "WELL DAD, YOU WERE TALKING TO CROWBAR." THAT MAKES TWICE IN A LIFETIME I TALKED TO CROWBAR BUT DIDN'T KNOW WHO THEY WERE. BY THE WAY, I DANCED AT A CROWBAR CONCERT, IN THE EARLY 1970'S, WHEN THEY PLAYED AT BRACEBRIDGE AND MUSKOKA LAKES SECONDARY SCHOOL. THEY PLAYED TO A FULL HOUSE THAT NIGHT, BUT I NEVER GOT A CHANCE TO TALK TO THE LADS. THAT CAME MUCH LATER.
     I HOPE YOU WILL CONTINUE TO FOLLOW THIS BLOGSITE, BECAUSE, FOR ONE THING, IT WILL CONTINUE TO THROW A FEW CURVES, AND NEVER BE PREDICTABLE; JUST LIKE THE WAY THIS MUSIC VENUE ADAPTS TO THE HAPPENSTANCE OF VISITING MUSICIANS, AND MUSIC JAMS THAT BREAK OUT WHEN YOU LEAST EXPECT IT. I WON'T BE WRITING AN EXCLUSIVELY MUSIC BLOG, BUT IT WILL BE FAR MORE OF A CULTURE AND RECREATION PROFILE, THAN YOU'VE BEEN READING OVER THE PAST THREE YEARS. I'M GOING TO INFUSE SOME NEW IDEAS AND BURN THE BRIDGE AT BOTH ENDS, AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS. SO HANG-ON, AND LET'S SEE IF WE CAN'T LIVEN THINGS UP AROUND HERE. ONCE AGAIN, THANKS SO MUCH FOR PARTICIPATING IN THIS SOCIAL MEDIA PROJECT, AND I DON'T TAKE EVEN ONE READER FOR GRANTED. I'M STILL A MILLION BUCKS SHY OF BEING A MILLIONAIRE, BUT I JUST ADORE MEETING WITH YOU FOLKS EVERY DAY, IN THIS "FRIENDLY GIANT" TRADITION, OF PULLING UP CHAIRS TO HEARTHSIDE, AND SPINNING SOME INTERESTING TALL TALES, AND INTERESTING ANECDOTES, ABOUT THE LIFE AND TIMES LIVING HERE IN SOUTH MUSKOKA....AND BEYOND. IT'S A HELL OF LIFE, ISN'T IT?
     YOU CAN ALSO READ MY MONTHLY COLUMNS IN "CURIOUS; THE TOURIST GUIDE," AND "THE GREAT NORTH ARROW," WHICH IS PUBLISHED FOR THE MID NORTH AUDIENCE, FROM DOWNTOWN DUNCHURCH, ONTARIO. SEE YOU AGAIN SOON.


MIGHT THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN OF "SLEEPY HOLLOW," RIDE THROUGH THE BRACEBRIDGE WOODLANDS TOMORROW EVENING?

WHAT A GREAT WAY TO CELEBRATE HALLOWE'EN WITH WASHINGTON IRVING - A PARTY WITH PROVENANCE

     THOSE AMAZING "WHAT IFS!" WHAT WOULD HAPPEN, IF THE TOWN OF BRACEBRIDGE, ACTUALLY EMBRACED THEIR LITERARY PROVENANCE, AND IN RECOGNITION OF HALLOWE'EN, HAD HOSTED A TOP NOTCH WASHINGTON IRVING FESTIVAL, IN THE HAUNTING SPIRIT OF HIS FAMOUS STORY, "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW?" THE RIDE OF THE "HEADLESS HORSEMAN," THROUGH THE VILLAGE! CHASING DOWN ICHABOD CRANE, THE TALL AND WILLOWY EDUCATOR, WHO IS PURSUE AS A MATTER OF LIFE AND DEATH, THROUGH THE HUDSON RIVER WOODLANDS, BY THE PHANTOM RIDER, PREPARING TO USE HIS WEAPON, A FLAMING JACK 'O LANTERN, TO KNOCK THE VICTIM OFF HIS MOUNT. BELIEVE IT OR NOT, THERE ARE COMMUNITIES IN NORTH AMERICA, THAT HAVE A CONNECTION TO WASHINGTON IRVING, THAT DO CELEBRATE THE "LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW," ONE COMMUNITY BEING IRVING, TEXAS. THE HISTORICAL SOCIETY, I BELIEVE, SETS UP THE HALLOWE'EN FUN, FOR YOUNGSTERS, BY RE-ENACTING THE RIDE OF THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN, AND THE HOPELESS ESCAPE OF ICHABOD CRANE, FROM HIS GRASP. WHAT GOOD FUN. SO THEN WHAT'S THE PROBLEM WITH BRACEBRIDGE, NOT CELEBRATING ITS RIGHTFUL RELATIONSHIP WITH THE AUTHOR, WHO, INDIRECTLY, PLAYED A ROLE IN NAMING THEIR COMMUNITY. WHILE BRACEBRIDGE HALL, WRITTEN BY IRVING, IN 1822, WAS THE TITLE POSTAL CLERK, WILLIAM DAWSON LESUER SELECTED, WHEN IT CAME TO RE-NAMING THE FORMER HAMLET OF NORTH FALLS, "BRACEBRIDGE," AS A TRIBUTE TO THE WORK OF THE AMERICAN AUTHOR, THE NAME "BRACEBRIDGE" FIRST APPEARS, IN THE 1819 RELEASE THE BETTER KNOWN, "SKETCH BOOK;" WHEN READERS ARE FIRST INTRODUCED TO "SQUIRE BRACEBRIDGE," BY IRVING'S CHARACTER, GEOFFREY CRAYON, ESQ. AND WITHIN THE INTERNATIONALLY ACCLAIMED BOOK, THERE IS THE STORY, "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW," AND OF COURSE, "RIP VAN WINKLE." SUCH WONDERFUL SHORT STORIES, AND SUCH AN AMAZING STORY TELLER, IT'S A SHAME THE PROVENANCE HAS NEVER BEEN SERIOUSLY EMBRACED, AND CELEBRATED, AS IT SHOULD BE. THAT'S WHERE I COME IN, I SUPPOSE. AS THE REGION'S MOST PROLIFIC WRITER, WHO HAS NEVER KNOWN WHEN TO STOP, CEASE OR DESIST, I WANT TO, IN HONOR OF BOTH AUTHOR, AND STORY, AND MY FORMER HOMETOWN, OFFER UP THIS SHORTENED VERSION, OF "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW," AS I DID LAST YEAR, IN ORDER TO KEEP THE CONNECTION ALIVE AND WELL; BECAUSE SOME TIME DOWN THE ROAD, THERE IS GOING TO BE A GENERATION, THAT DECIDES THIS RELATIONSHIP WITH A GREAT WRITER, AND A TRULY MEMORABLE STORY, DESERVES TO BE CELEBRATED, AS WAS INTENDED, WHEN THE GOOD MR. LESUEUR NAMED THE NEW POST OFFICE "BRACEBRIDGE." AS A MAN OF CONSIDERABLE LITERARY AND HISTORICAL ACCLAIM HIMSELF, HE WANTED THE TITLE TO BE REVERED. BUT TO HIS CHAGRIN, I SUPPOSE, IT WAS NEVER RECOGNIZED AS A TRIBUTE; AND TO SOME, IT WAS INSULTING THAT HE HAD REFUSED TO ACCEPT THE TITLE "NORTH FALLS," PUT FORWARD BY THE CITIZENS OF THE TOWN, IN THE YEAR 1864. UP TO HIS OWN DEMISE, LESUEUR NEVER HAD THE FULFILLMENT, OF KNOWING HIS LITERARY TRIBUTE HAD BEEN RECOGNIZED, IN THE SPIRIT OF MEMORIAL FOR A GREAT AUTHOR, AS HE HAD ORIGINALLY INTENDED. PART OF THE PROBLEM, OF COURSE, WAS THAT HE HADN'T LEFT DOCUMENTATION, TO THIS END, WHICH WOULD MOST DEFINITELY HAVE RE-ENFORCED, THAT HE HADN'T PLAYED THE NAME GAME, AS A POSTAL AUTHORITY PRANK. HE MEANT, THAT WE SHOULD FEEL FORTUNATE, TO BE ASSOCIATED WITH A TRULY EXCEPTIONAL LITERARY GENIUS. INSTEAD OF A BRONZE STATUE OF WASHINGTON IRVING BEING FINANCED TO GRACE THE MAIN STREET OF BRACEBRIDGE, WE MAY INSTEAD FIND, THAT A SCULPTURE HAS BEEN APPROVED, OF A REALLY BIG SANTA CLAUS. I COULD ACCEPT IT, AS AN HISTORIAN, PROVIDING IRVING'S STATUE WAS LOCATED DIRECTLY BESIDE.
     FOR A COMMUNITY THAT SEEMS GENUINELY INTERESTED IN IMPROVING ITS DOWNTOWN COMMERCIAL DRAW, AND INCREASING ITS TOURIST ATTRACTIONS, I HAVE A HARD TIME UNDERSTANDING, AFTER ALL THESE YEARS, WHY THEY CAN'T SEEM TO APPRECIATE WHAT THE WASHINGTON IRVING CONNECTION MEANS, ON THE INTERNATIONAL SCENE. BUT NEVER BEING ONE TO LEAVE WELL ENOUGH ALONE, I HAVE PROMISED, FOR AS LONG AS I AM ABLE TO WRITE, TO TWICE YEARLY, INTRODUCE WITH PASSION, THE NAME WASHINGTON IRVING, AT HALLOWE'EN, AND THEN AGAIN AT CHRISTMAS. "CHRISTMAS AT BRACEBRIDGE HALL," IS ONE OF THE BEST KNOWN ASPECTS, OF CRAYON'S ENGLAND TOUR LIAISON, WITH SQUIRE BRACEBRIDGE; THAT HE PARTICIPATE IN A TRADITIONAL ENGLISH COUNTRYSIDE CHRISTMAS CELEBRATION. WASHINGTON IRVING WAS A BELIEVER IN THE HISTORIC VALUE OF PRESERVING TRADITIONS. SEEING AS HE DIED MORE THAN A HUNDRED YEARS BEFORE I WAS BORN, I NEVER GOT A CHANCE TO MEET HIM, BUT IF I HAD, I WOULD HAVE THANKED HIM FOR HIS VERY GREAT CONTRIBUTION TO THE LITERATURE OF OUR WORLD.
     WHILE I KNOW SOME OF THE READERS OF THIS BLOG, ARE FED-UP READING ABOUT IRVING AND W.D. LESUEUR, THERE ARE A FEW MORE READERS ABOARD NOW, AND I WANT TO SHARE WITH THEM, A SHORTENED VERSION OF THE SLEEPY HOLLOW TALE OF THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN. I WILL CARRY IT OVER TWO BLOGS, AS PART OF MY "ARCHIVES COLLECTION," IN RESPECT TO A HALLOWE'EN CELEBRATION THAT HAS NEVER HAPPENED IN BRACEBRIDGE, ONTARIO. BUT ONE DAY!

For Your Halloween Pleasure- The Run Of The Headless Horseman At Sleepy Hollow

 IN THE WORDS OF WASHINGTON IRVING, AND WITH THE COVER OF THE BOOK OPENED TO THE PAGE, WHERE SOME OTHER READER LEFT OFF, IN THE LATE EVENING OF A PAST HALLOWEEN; WE RETURN TO SLEEPY HOLLOW, AND THE GOOD FOLKS' BELIEF IN THE APPARITION KNOWN, AS THE "HEADLESS HORSEMAN," THE HESSIAN TROOPER WHO HAD LOST HIS HEAD IN A REVOLUTIONARY WAR BATTLE....AND HAD BEEN BURIED WITHOUT, IN A CHURCHYARD PLOT.....WHERE IT IS SAID, HE RISES ON MOONLIT NIGHTS LIKE THIS, TO SEEK OUT WHAT RIGHTFULLY BELONGS TO HIM.

     IRVING'S CHARACTER, ICHABOD CRANE, THE NEW SCHOOL TEACHER TO THE VILLAGE OF SLEEPY HOLLOW, CARRIED AFFECTIONS FOR THE DAUGHTER OF ONE OF THE MOST PROMINENT MEN OF THE BUSINESS COMMUNITY, AND BY SHOWING HIS AFFECTIONS, HAD GOT UNCOMFORTABLY IN THE WAY, OF HER MORE AGGRESSIVE, CAPABLE ADMIRER, BROM BONES, WHO IT IS SAID, WOULD GO TO ANY LENGTH TO WIN THE SUBJECT OF HIS AFFECTIONS.....INCLUDING THE DISPATCHING OF THE PEDAGOGUE, THE WEAK KNEED, CLUMSY, ANNOYING, GREEDY, MR. CRANE. BUT DID THIS MANIFEST AS AN EFFORT BY A JEALOUS SUITOR, OR WAS THE HESSIAN A PARANORMAL A REAL FORCE OF THE SUPERNATURAL, TO BE RECKONED WITH?

     "IT WAS AS I HAVE SAID, A FINE AUTUMNAL DAY; THE SKY WAS CLEAR AND SERENE, AND NATURE WORE THAT RICH AND GOLD LIVERY WHICH WE ALWAYS ASSOCIATE WITH THE IDEA OF ABUNDANCE. THE FORESTS HAD PUT ON THEIR SOBER BROWN AND YELLOW, WHILE SOME TREES OF THE TENDERER KIND, HAD BEEN NIPPED BY THE FROSTS INTO BRILLIANT DYES OF ORANGE, PURPLE AND SCARLET. STREAMING FILES OF WILD DUCKS BEGAN TO MAKE THEIR APPEARANCE HIGH IN THE AIR; THE BARK OF THE SQUIRREL MIGHT BE HEARD FROM THE GROVES OF BEECH AND HICKORY-NUTS, AND THE PENSIVE WHISTLE OF THE QUAIL, AT INTERVALS FROM THE NEIGHBORING STUBBLE FIELD," WROTE IRVING.

     "THE SMALL BIRDS WERE TAKING THEIR FAREWELL BANQUETS. IN THE FULNESS OF THEIR REVELRY, THEY FLUTTERED CHIRPING AND FROLICKING FROM BUSH TO BUSH, AND TREE TO TREE, CAPRICIOUS FROM THE VERY PROFUSING AND VARIETY AROUND THEM. THERE WAS THE VERY HONEST COCK-ROBIN, THE FAVOURITE GAME OF STRIPLING SPORTSMEN, WITH ITS LOUD QUERILOUS NOTE, AND THE TWITTERING BLACKBIRDS FLYING IN SABLE CLOUDS; AND THE GOLDEN WINGED WOODPECKER, WITH HIS CRIMSON CREST, HIS BROAD BLACK GORGET, AND SPLENDID PLUMAGE; AND THE CEDAR-BIRD, WITH ITS RED-TIPT WINGS AND YELLOW-TIPT TAIL, AND HIS LITTLE MONTEIRO CAP OF FEATHERS; AND THE BLUE JAY, THAT NOISY COXCOMB, IN HIS GAY LIGHT BLUE COAT AND WHITE UNDERCLOTHES, SCREAMING AND CHATTERING, NODDING, AND BOBBING, AND BOWING, AND PRETENDING TO BE ON GOOD TERMS WITH EVERY SONGSTER OF THE GROVE.

     "AS ICHABOD JOGGED SLOWLY ON HIS WAY, HIS EYE, EVER OPEN TO EVERY SYMPTON OF CULINARY ABUNDANCE, RANGED WITH DELIGHT OVER THE TREASURES OF JOLLY AUTUMN. ON ALL SIDES HE BEHELD VAST STORE OF APPLES, SOME HANGING IN OPPRESSIVE OPULENCE ON THE TREES; SOME GATHERED INTO BASKETS AND BARRELS FOR THE MARKET; OTHERS HEAPED UP IN RICH PILES FOR THE CIDER-PRESS. FARTHER ON HE BEHELD GREAT FIELDS OF INDIAN CORN, WITH ITS GOLDEN EARS PEEPING FROM THEIR LEAFY COVERTS, AND HOLDING OUT THE PROMISE OF CAKES AND HASTY-PUDDING; AND THE YELLOW PUMPKINS LYING BENEATH THEM, TURNING UP THEIR FAIR ROUND BELLIES TO THE SUN, AND GIVING AMPLE PROSPECTS OF THE MOST LUXURIOUS OF PIES; AND ANON, HE PASSED THE FRAGRANT BUCKWHEAT FIELDS, BREATHING THE ODOUR OF THE BEEHIVE, AND HE BEHELD THEM, SOFT ANTICIPATIONS STOLE HIS MIND OF DAINTY SLAP-JACKS, WELL BUTTERED AND GARNISHED WITH HONEY OR TREACLE, BY THE DELICATE LITTLE DIMPLED HAND OF KATRINA VAN TASSEL (THE GIRL HE WISHED WOULD RETURN HIS AFFECTIONS)."

     WASHINGTON IRVING, AT HIS DESK, WRITES OF CRANE, "THUS FEEDING HIS MIND WITH MANY SWEET THOUGHTS AND SUGARED SUPPOSITIONS, HE JOURNEYED ALONG THE SIDES OF THE RANGE OF HILLS, WHICH LOOK OUT UPON SOME OF THE GOODLIEST SCENES OF THE MIGHTY HUDSON. THE SUN GRADUALLY WHEELED HIS BROAD DISK DOWN INTO THE WEST. THE WHOLE BOSUM OF THE TAPPAAN ZEE LAY MOTIONLESS AND GLASSY, EXCEPTING THAT HERE AND THERE A GENTLE UNDULATION WAVED AND PROLONGED THE BLUE SHADOW OF THE DISTANT MOUNTAIN. A FEW AMBER CLOUDS FLOATED IN THE SKY, WITHOUT A BREATH OF AIR TO MOVE THEM. THE HORIZON WAS OF A FINE GOLDEN TINT, CHANGING GRADUALLY INTO A PURE APPLE GREEN, AND FROM THAT INTO THE DEEP BLUE OF THE MID-HEAVEN. A SLANTING RAY LINGERED ON THE WOODY CRESTS OF THE PRECIPICES THAT OVERHUNG SOME, PARTS OF THE RIVER, GIVING GREAT DEPTH TO THE DARK GRAY AND PURPLE OF THEIR ROCKY SIDES. A SLOOP WAS LOITERING IN THE DISTANCE, DROPPING SLOWLY DOWN WITH THE TIDE, HER SAIL HANGING USELESSLY AGAINST THE MAST; AND AS THE REFLECTION OF THE SKY GLEANED ALONG THE STILL WATER, IT SEEMED AS IF THE VESSEL WAS SUSPENDED IN THE AIR."

     IRVING NOTES, WITH KEEN OBSERVATION, OF HIS CHARACTER'S PASSAGE, THAT "IT WAS TOWARD EVENING THAT ICHABOD ARRIVED AT THE CASTLE OF THE HEER VAN TASSLE, WHICH HE FOUND THRONGED WITH THE PRIDE AND FLOWER OF THE ADJACENT COUNTRY. OLD FARMERS, A SPARE LEATHERN-FACED RACE, IN HOMESPUN COATS AND BREECHES, BLUE STOCKINGS, HUGE SHOES AND MAGNIFICENT PEWTER BUCKLES. THEIR BRISK, WITHERED LITTLE DAMES, IN CLOSE CRIMPED CAPS, WITH LONG-WAISTED GOWNS, HOMESPUN PETTICOATS, WITH SCISSORS AND PIN-CUSHIONS, AND GAY CALICO POCKETS HANGING ON THE OUTSIDE. BUXOM LASSES, ALMOST AS ANTIQUATED AS THEIR MOTHERS, EXCEPTING WHERE A STRAW HAT, A FINE RIBAND, OR PERHAPS A WHITE FROCK, GAVE SYMPTOMS OF CITY IN MOTIVATIONS. THE SONS, IN SHORT SQUARE-SKIRTED COATS, WITH ROWS OF STUPENDOUS BRASS BUTTONS, AND THEIR HAIR GENERALLY QUEUED IN THE FASHION OF THE TIMES, ESPECIALLY IF THEY COULD PROCURE AN EELSKIN FOR THE PURPOSE, IT BEING ESTEEMED THROUGHOUT THE COUNTRY AS A POTENT NOURISHER AND STRENGTHENER OF THE HAIR.

     "BROM BONES, HOWEVER, WAS THE HERO OF THE SCENE, HAVING COME TO THE GATHERING ON HIS FAVORITE STEED, 'DAREDEVIL,' A CREATURE, LIKE HIMSELF, FULL OF METTLE AND MISCHIEF AND WHICH NO ONE BUT HIMSELF COULD MANAGE. HE WAS, IN FACT, NOTED FOR PREFERRING VICIOUS ANIMALS, GIVEN TO ALL KINDS OF TRICKS WHICH KEPT THE RIDER IN CONSTANT RISK OF HIS NECK, FOR HE HELD A TRACTABLE WELL-BROKEN HORSE, AS UNWORTHY OF A LAD OF SPIRIT.

     "FAIN WOULD I PAUSE TO DWELL UPON THE WORLD OF CHARMS THAT BURST UPON THE ENRAPTURED GAZE OF MY HERO, AS HE ENTERED THE STATE PARLOUR OF VAN TASSEL'S MANSION. NOT THOSE OF THE BEVY OF BUXOM LASSES, WITH THEIR LUXURIOUS DISPLAY OF RED AND WHITE; BUT THE AMPLE CHORUS OF A GENUINE DUTCH COUNTRY TEA-TABLE, IN THE SUMPTUOUS TIME OF AUTUMN. SUCH HEAPED-UP PLATTERS OF CAKES OF VARIOUS AND ALMOST INDESCRIBABLE KINDS, KNOWN ONLY TO EXPERIENCED DUTCH HOUSEWIVES."

     IRVING ADDS, "OLD BALTUS VAN TASSEL MOVED ABOUT HIS GUESTS WITH A FACE DILATED WITH CONTENT AND GOOD HUMOUR, ROUND AND JOLLY AS THE HARVEST MOON. HIS HOSPITABLE ATTENTIONS WERE BRIEF, BUT EXPRESSIVE, BEING CONFINED TO A SHAKE OF THE HAND, A SLAP ON THE SHOULDER, A LOUD LAUGH, AND A PRESSING INVITATION TO 'FAIL TO, AND HELP THEMSELVES'. AND NOW THE SOUND OF THE MUSIC  FROM THE COMMON ROOM, OR HALL SUMMONED TO THE DANCE."

     "ICHABOD PRIDED HIMSELF UPON HIS DANCING AS MUCH AS UPON HIS VOCAL POWERS," IRVING CHARACTERIZES OF THE TEACHER. "NOT A LIMB, NOT A FIBRE ABOUT HIM WAS IDLE; AND TO HAVE SEEN HIS LOOSELY HUNG FRAME IN FULL MOTION, AND CLATTERING ABOUT THE ROOM, YOU WOULD HAVE THOUGHT ST. VITUS HIMSELF, THAT BLESSED PATRON OF THE DANCE, WAS FIGURING BEFORE YOU IN PERSON." "WHEN THE DANCE WAS AT AN END, ICHABOD WAS ATTRACTED TO A KNOT OF THE EAGER FOLKS, WHO WITH OLD VAN TASSEL, SAT SMOKING AT ONE END OF THE PLAZA, GOSSIPING OVER FORMER TIMES, AND DRAWING OUT LONG STORIES ABOUT THE WAR," RECORDS THE AUTHOR, OF CRANE'S MOVEMENT ABOUT THE HOME.

     "THE REVEL NOW GRADUALLY BROKE UP. THE OLD FARMERS GATHERED TOGETHER THEIR FAMILIES IN THEIR WAGONS, AND WERE HEARD FOR SOME TIME RATTLING ALONG THE HOLLOW ROADS, AND OVER THE DISTANT HILLS. SOME OF THE DAMSELS MOUNTED ON PILLIONS BEHIND THEIR FAVORITE SWAINS, AND THEIR LIGHT-HEARTED LAUGHTER, MINGLING WITH THE CLATTER OF HOOFS, ECHOED ALONG THE SILENT WOODLANDS, SOUNDING FAINTER AND FAINTER, UNTIL THEY GRADUALLY DIED AWAY - AND THE LATE SCENE OF NOISE AND FROLIC WAS ALL SILENT AND DESERTED," WRITES IRVING. "ICHABOD ONLY LINGERED BEHIND, ACCORDING TO THE CUSTOM OF COUNTRY LOVERS, TO HAVE A TETE-A-TETE WITH THE HEIRESS; FULLY CONVINCED THAT HE WAS NOW ON THE HIGH ROAD TO SUCCESS. WHAT PASSED AT THIS INTERVIEW I WILL NOT PRETEND TO SAY, FOR IN FACT I DO NOT KNOW. SOMETHING HOWEVER, I FEAR ME, MUST HAVE GONE WRONG, FOR HE CERTAINLY SAILED FORTH, AFTER NO VERY GREAT INTERVAL, WITH AN AIR OF QUITE DESOLATE AND CHAPFALLEN - OH, THESE WOMEN, THESE WOMEN! COULD THAT GIRL HAVE BEEN PLAYING OFF ANY OF HER COQUETISH TRICKS? WAS HER ENCOURAGEMENT OF THE POOR PEDAGOGUE ALL A MERE SHAM TO SECURE HER CONQUEST OF HIS RIVAL? HEAVEN ONLY KNOWS."

     "IT WAS THE VERY WITCHING TIME OF NIGHT THAT ICHABOD, HEAVY-HEARTED AND CREST-FALLEN, PURSUED HIS TRAVEL HOMEWARDS, ALONG THE SIDES OF THE LOFTY HILLS WHICH RISE ABOVE TARRY TOWN, AND WHICH HE HAD TRAVERSED SO CHEERILY IN THE AFTERNOON. THE HOUR WAS AS DISMAL AS HIMSELF. FAR BELOW HIM, THE TAPPANN ZEE SPREAD ITS DUSKY AND INDISTINCT WASTE OF WATERS, WITH HERE AND THERE A TALL MAST OF A SLOOP, RIDING QUIETLY AT ANCHOR UNDER THE LAND. IN THE DEAD HUSH OF MIDNIGHT, HE COULD EVEN HEAR THE BARKING OF THE WATCHDOG FROM THE OTHER SIDE OF THE HUDSON; BUT IT WAS SO VAGUE AND FAINT AS ONLY TO GIVE AN IDEA OF HIS DISTANCE FROM THIS FAITHFUL COMPANION OF MAN. NOW AND THEN, TOO, THE LONG-DRAWN CROWING OF A COCK, ACCIDENTALLY AWAKENED WOULD SOUND FAR, FAR OFF, FROM SOME FARM-HOUSE, AWAY AMONG THE HILLS - BUT IT WAS LIKE A DREAMING SOUND IN HIS EAR. NO SIGNS OF LIFE OCCURRED NEAR HIM, BUT OCCASIONALLY THE MELANCHOLY CHIRP OF A CRICKET, OR PERHAPS THE GUTTURAL TWANG OF A BULL-FROG FROM A NEIGHBORING MARSH, AS IF SLEEPING UNCOMFORTABLY, AND TURNING SUDDENLY IN HIS BED. ALL THE STORIES OF GHOSTS AND GOBLINS THAT HE HAD HEARD IN THE AFTERNOON, NOW CAME CROWDING UPON HIS RECOLLECTION. THE NIGHT GREW DARKER AND DARKER; THE STARS SEEMED TO SINK DEEPER IN THE SKY, AND DRIVING CLOUDS OCCASIONALLY HID THEM FROM HIS SIGHT. HE HAD NEVER FELT SO LONELY AND DISMAL. HE WAS MOREOVER, APPROACHING THE VERY PLACE WHERE MANY OF THE SCENES OF GHOST STORIES HAD BEEN LAID. IN THE CENTRE OF THE ROAD STOOD AN ENORMOUS TULIP-TREE, WHICH TOWERED LIKE A GIANT ABOVE ALL THE OTHER TREES OF THE NEIGHBORHOOD, AND FORMED A KIND OF LANDMARK. ITS LIMBS WERE GNARLED AND FANTASTIC, LARGE ENOUGH TO FORM TRUNKS FOR ORDINARY TREES, TWISTING DOWN ALMOST TO THE EARTH, AND RISING AGAIN, INTO THE AIR. IT WAS CONNECTED WITH THE TRAGICAL STORY OF THE UNFORTUNATE ANDRE, WHO HAD BEEN TAKEN PRISONER HARD BY; AND WAS UNIVERSALLY KNOWN BY THE NAME OF MAJOR ANDRE'S TREE. THE COMMON PEOPLE REGARDED IT WITH A MIXTURE OF RESPECT AND SUPERSTITION PARTLY OUT OF SYMPATHY FOR THE FATE OF ITS ILL-STARTED NAMESAKE, AND PARTLY FROM THE TALES OF STRANGE SIGHTS AND DOLEFUL LAMENTATIONS TOLD CONCERNING IT."

     I WILL J RE-JOIN THE ADVENTUROUS TRAVELS OF ICHABOD CRANE, IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD OF STORIED "SLEEPY HOLLOW," IN TOMORROW'S BLOG. PLEASE CATCH PART TWO OF THREE OF THIS TRIBUTE TO WASHINGTON IRVING, AND THE TOWN OF BRACEBRIDGE, ONTARIO, THAT CARRIES THE PROVENANCE OF HIS GOOD NAME.

     IT IS KNOWN, BY THE WAY, THAT AUTHOR CHARLES DICKENS, HIMSELF, WAS A BIG FAN OF THE WORK OF WASHINGTON IRVING, CONFESSING TO A COLLEAGUE ONCE, THAT HE OFTEN "RETIRED TO BEDLAM," WITH ONE OF HIS BOOKS, "TUCKED UNDER HIS ARM." NOT A BAD PROVENANCE THEN, WOULDN'T YOU SAY, TO HAVE BEEN AFFORDED A NAME ASSOCIATED WITH WASHINGTON IRVING?"

A Little Bit Museum, A Little Bit Antique Shop, and A Little Bit Rock and Roll With A Little Country Thrown In For Good Measure

REFLECTING HOME REGION HERITAGE - A LITTLE BIT MUSEUM - A LITTLE BIT ANTIQUE - A LITTLE COUNTRY AND A LITTLE ROCK 'N ROLL

SOME ITEMS AREN'T FOR SALE - BUT WE DO WANT TO SHARE THEM WITH YOU -


     A LITTLE OPENING NOTE ABOUT A FRIEND OF MINE: I WANT TO CONGRATULATE NEW GRAVENHURST AREA BLOGGER, SYLVIA PURDON, WHO LAUNCHED HER SITE TODAY, ON THE HEELS OF AN ELECTION LOSS, IN THIS WEEK'S MUNICIPAL ELECTION. IT'S A RETROSPECTIVE, OF OPINION, FOR ME, AND THERE ARE NO DO-OVERS, BUT GRAVENHURST MISSED A GREAT OPPORTUNITY TO ELECT ONE OF THE MOST EXPERIENCED FORMER COUNCILLORS IN SOUTH MUSKOKA. WHEN I WAS EDITOR OF THE GRAVENHURST BANNER, QUITE A FEW YEARS BACK, I GOT TO REPORT ON TOWN COUNCIL, UNDER MAYOR GORD ADAMS, AND MET MANY TIMES WITH SYLVIA PURDON, WHO WAS ALWAYS CONSIDERATE AND FAIR WITH MEMBERS OF THE PRESS. SURE, WE WOULD GO OFF THE RECORD, AND THIS WAS A BIG HELP TO ME, IN TERMS OF BACKGROUND INFORMATION; AND SHE NEVER ONCE TRIED TO DODGE ME, OR EVADE ANSWERING A BASIC QUESTION OUR READERS WANTED ANSWERED. THERE HAVE BEEN TWO COUNCILLORS, IN PARTICULAR, I ALWAYS ENJOYED CASUAL CHATS WITH, AND THAT WAS SYLVIA HERE IN GRAVENHURST, AND EDNA TEMPLETON, OF BALA, WHO I COVERED WHEN SHE WAS A TOWNSHIP OF MUSKOKA LAKES COUNCILLOR, BACK IN THE LATE 1970'S EARLY 80'S, WHEN MAYOR BOB BENNETT WAS IN OFFICE; WHO BY THE WAY, AS MAYOR, WAS LEADING AN ALMOST ONE MAN CRUSADE AGAINST INCO, OVER THE ISSUE OF ACID RAIN. A REPORTER ALWAYS HAS FAVORITES, IN LOCAL GOVERNMENT, NOT BECAUSE THEY WERE SOURCES OF INSIDE INFORMATION OR SNITCHES IN ANY WAY, BUT BECAUSE THEY DIDN'T TREAT US LIKE CRAP; TAKING OUR WORK SERIOUSLY, AND MOST OF ALL, WANTING US TO HAVE ACCURATE STORIES, WHEN REPORTING ON COUNCIL BUSINESS. I THINK SYLVIA WAS FEELING A LITTLE DOWN ABOUT NOT WINNING HER BID FOR A DISTRICT COUNCIL SEAT, BUT SHE HAD A POSITIVE ATTITUDE ABOUT CONTINUING HER EFFORTS TO SUPPORT HER HOME TOWN. AND I'M SORRY ABOUT MARK CLAIRMONT'S FAILED BID, AS WELL, BECAUSE HE'S ALSO GOT A LOT OF MUNICIPAL EXPERIENCE, AND HE IS ALSO ONE OF GRAVENHURST'S MOST AGGRESSIVE BOOSTERS, JUST LIKE HIS FATHER HUGH BEFORE HIME, AND THE OTHER MEMBERS OF THE CLAIRMONT FAMILY, PART OF THE HISTORIC CHRONICLE OF THIS TOWN. I'M PLEASED TO KNOW THAT TERRY PILGER HAS BEEN ELECTED AS A DISTRICT COUNCILLOR, AND IT'S WHERE HE HAS A LOT OF EXPERIENCE. HE CARRIES WITH HIM A LOT FRONT LINE CREDITS, FROM HIS SERVICE ON PAST GRAVENHURST COUNCILS, AND THIS, IN MY OPINION, IS WHAT WE NEED INFUSED INTO THE CONTEMPORARY COUNCIL. WE VOTED AS A FAMILY BLOCK, IN THIS REGARD, FOR ALL THREE OF THESE CANDIDATES, SO IT'S UP TO TERRY TO BAT FOR THE OTHER TWO, TO BRING BACK SOME OLD TIME POLITICAL SENSIBILITY; BECAUSE I FOUND THAT SOMEWHAT LACKING LAST TERM. SO GOOD LUCK SYLVIA ON YOUR FORAY INTO THE BLOGASPHERE.
     I REMINDED SYLVIA THAT I ONCE LOST TO A CANDIDATE MORE THAN TWICE MY AGE, AND YES, IT FELT TERRIBLE. BUT IN FACT, HE WAS THE BETTER CANDIDATE.

     THE RAIN HAS STARTED AGAIN. IT IS MUCH COLDER THAN EVEN AN HOUR AGO. I'M WEARING A BIG SWEATER, BUT I'VE STARTED TO SHIVER, AND DESIRE VERY MUCH A HOT CUP OF TEA. I'M TOO LAZY AT THE MOMENT, TO GO INSIDE AND BOIL SOME WATER. I THINK WARM THOUGHTS INSTEAD.
     THIS AFTERNOON, I RETREATED TO THE VERANDAH AT BIRCH HOLLOW, BECAUSE THE STUDIO, WHERE I OFTEN FIND AN OPEN CHAIR TO LOUNGE, WHILE PENNING THESE BLOGS, WAS JUST TOO BUSY FOR ME TO CONCENTRATE; BECAUSE YOU SEE, I KEEP WANTING TO BUD INTO OTHER CONVERSATIONS AND THAT DISTRACTS THE BUSINESS OF THE DAY. FOR THEM AND ME. SOMETIMES IT'S JUST BETTER TO FIND ANOTHER PORTAL, THAN TO ATTEMPT WRITING ABOUT HISTORY WHEN OUR MUSICIAN FRIENDS ARE JAMMING SOMETHING FUNKY TWENTY FEET AWAY. IT'S NOT THAT I DON'T LIKE THEIR MUSIC. QUITE THE CONTRARY. I LOVE IT. I JUST CAN'T MERGE WHAT I'VE SET OUT TO WRITE, EARLIER IN THE DAY, AND WHAT MAY BE UNFOLDING MUSICALLY IN THE SAME ROOM. ROBERT CHALLENGES ME DAILY WITH INTERESTING NEW AND OLD RECORDS HE'S PICKED UP, BUT I'M USED TO THAT BY NOW. I CONFESS, THAT AT TIMES, THE MUSIC DOES INFLUENCE MY EDITORIAL COPY. WITH LIVE MUSICIANS HOWEVER, I FIND MYSELF WATCHING THEM PLAY, AND CONCENTRATING ON THEIR MUSIC; SO WHEN I PROOFREAD MY BLOG, IT'S FULL OF STUFF THAT I HADN'T INTENDED. BUT THEN, IT'S NOTHING NEW. I'VE ALWAYS BEEN INTERESTED IN MUSIC, AND FOR MOST OF MY WRITING CAREER, I'VE WORKED IN A ROOM WITH SOUNDS, SOME OF IT VERY LOUD, ARGUMENTS, DEBATES, DIRECTIVES, AND MUSIC ON THE NEWSROOM RADIO. MOST RECENTLY HOWEVER, I FIND MY CONCENTRATION ISN'T WHAT IT USED TO BE, AND I SIMPLY CAN'T SILENCE WHAT'S GOING ON AROUND ME, AS I ONCE FOUND NATURAL AND EASY. I COULD CONDUCT IN-PERSON INTERVIEWS, IN A BUSY NEWSROOM, AND WRITE A CLEAN, SENSIBLE, AND ACCURATE NEWS STORY. TODAY, I'D JUST SIT THERE WITH MY MOUTH OPEN, TRYING TO FIGURE OUT ALL THE INTERCONNECTING STORY LINES, ZIGGING AND ZAGGING THROUGH MY PSYCHE.
     IT'S BEEN ANOTHER STRANGE WEATHER DAY HERE IN SOUTH MUSKOKA. ONE MINUTE THERE IS A POWERFUL GUST OF WIND, WITH SHEETS OF RAIN WASHING DOWN OVER THE BOG, AND THEN IT GETS QUITE BRIGHT, AND SOLITUDE RETURNS EVER SO GENTLY; UNTIL THE NEXT RAGE OF WIND TO RISE UP OVER THE HOLLOW OF MUSKOKA BAY, PUSHING VIOLENTLY OVER THE WESTERN-MOST TREE-LINE; AND EVENTUALLY, POUNDING INTO MY VERANDAH, SENDING THE WRITER SCURRYING FOR COVER. I THINK TOM THOMSON MIGHT HAVE FOUND THE WEATHER EVENT, OVER THE LATE OCTOBER LANDSCAPE, SOMETHING OF AN INSPIRATION, AND PAINTED US A VERSION OF THE "OLD BIRCHES OF MUSKOKA." DESPITE THE FACT, IT IS A RATHER DULL SCENE, WITH THE LIGHTS BROWNS OF THE DRIED CAT-TAILS, AND THE FADED GREEN OF THE WEAVING FIELD GRASSES, IT IS A PLEASANT SCENE; ONE THAT WILL SOON BE FROST-LADEN EVERY MORNING, AND THEN SNOW-COVERED BY MID NOVEMBER. IT IS A RATHER LONELY SCENE, AT THE END OF THE GROWING SEASON, AND THE AUTUMN HARVEST, BUT AS THOREAU FOUND PLEASURE IN SIMILAR, GENTLE AUTUMN SOLITUDE, JUST LIKE THIS, I THINK IT IS NATURALLY ENRICHED ENOUGH, FOR ME TO WAX SENTIMENTAL, ABOUT OUR GLORIOUS PLACE IN SOUTH MUSKOKA. THE ONLY DANGER NOW, IS THAT IT IS SO CALMING, THAT I MIGHT FIND MYSELF NODDING OFF SOON, IF THERE IS NOT ANOTHER FEW MOMENTS OF FURRY, WITH WIND AND RAIN, RISING OVER THE GUARDIAN EVERGREENS AND VENERABLE HARDWOODS; THAT HAVE FRINGED THE BOG FOR MOST OF A CENTURY. I WONDER HOW MANY VOYEURS, WOULD FIND THIS COUNTRY SCENE, IN ITS PALE, BARREN HONESTY, WORTHY OF A PAINTED DEPICTION, OR WORDS LIKE THESE; DESCRIBING WHAT IN ESSENCE, IS A NATURAL MELANCHOLY, REMINDING US OF OUR OWN MORTALITY ACCORDING TO LIFE SEASONS. I SHOULD BE VERY HAPPY TO HAVE MY ASHES SPREAD UPON THIS NEIGHBOR PLACE, THAT HAS KEPT ME COMPANY NIGHT AND DAY, THROUGH THE FOUR SEASONS. THE AUTUMN SEASON HAS ALWAYS BEEN MY MOST PROLIFIC TIME OF THE ROLLING YEAR, AND SCENES LIKE THIS, TODAY, HAVE KINDLY AFFORDED ME INSPIRATION TO PLOD-ON, TO CHARACTERIZE WHAT SEEMS SO VOID OF LIFE. IT IS OF COURSE, QUITE THE OPPOSITE THAT HOLDS TRUE FOR ME; I CONFESS I FIND IT A VERY HAUNTED PLACE, BUT IN THE SENSE OF ITS CHARACTERISTIC ATMOSPHERE. IT IS HAUNTED WITH MEMORIES; SPIRITED VISIONS, FOR EXAMPLE, OF THE MANY TIMES I HAVE SAT UPON THIS SAME VERANDAH, AND WRITTEN ABOUT THE JOYFUL LAUGHTER OF CHILDREN HIKING THROUGH THE LOWLAND, CHASING BUTTERFLIES AND REACHING FOR THE TALLEST CAT-TAILS. SEEING THE DEER FEEDING ON THE FAR RIDGE, IN THE EARLY SUMMER EVENINGS, AND HEARING THE PAIR OF RESIDENT OWLS, CALLING OUT FROM THE DARKNESS THESE OCTOBER NIGHTS. I CAN STILL EASILY RECALL THE DAYS, OUR OWN BOYS PLAYED IN THE WOODLAND ABOVE THE BOG, AND THE MANY TIMES I STROLLED ALONG THE OLD TRAILS WITH OUR DOGS ALF, AND THEN KRAMER, WITH CAT "FESTER," FOLLOWING BEHIND. IT WAS OFFICIALLY SPRING WHEN THE KIDS OF THE NEIGHBORHOOD, TOOK THEIR LITTLE WIRE NETS, AND FISHED FOR TADPOLES IN THE SHALLOW FERN-FRINGED POND, SET AMONGST THE LEANING BIRCHES, LIKE THE ONES MADE FAMOUS IN ROBERT FROST POEMS. IN THE DELICATE DUSTING OF THE FIRST SNOWFALL, YES INDEED, HOW MANY TIMES I THOUGHT OF ROBERT FROST'S POEM, ABOUT STOPPING BY A WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING.  I HAVE WANDERED ALL OVER THE BOG, AND HAVE SO ENJOYED THE OPPORTUNITY TO EXPLORE ALL ITS FASCINATING, ALMOST INVISIBLE CATARACTS, ALONG THE MYRIAD WATER COURSES CRISS CROSSING ON THEIR FLOW, TUMBLING DOWN INTO THE WATERS OF MUSKOKA BAY. THE SQUIRRELS AND BIRDS, AND CHIPMUNKS, THAT TODAY RUN ACROSS THE TOES OF MY SHOES, ARE ALL INHERENTLY PART OF THE BIGGER PICTURE HERE; ABOUT HOW IMPORTANT THIS URBAN OASIS IS, AND NOT JUST FOR WAYWARD WRITERS, NEEDING A PLACE TO SETTLE.
     WHAT WE ALL BENEFIT FROM THE DETERMINED BUT INFORMAL STEWARDSHIP OF THIS TWENTY ACRE WETLAND, IN TERMS OF ECOLOGY AND PLEASANT SURROUNDINGS. A RARE URBAN WETLAND THAT WAS NEARLY COMPROMISED BY AN ILL-INFORMED TOWN COUNCIL SOME TIME AGO. IT'S STILL MAKES ME ANGRY THINKING ABOUT IT. I RELAX WITH THE KNOWLEDGE, THAT SHOULD THEY TRY AGAIN, I WILL BE READY TO FIGHT THE GOOD FIGHT.

PRIDE IN BUILDING SOMETHING GOOD FOR THE WHOLE TOWN

     WHEN OUR WEE LADS, ANDREW AND ROBERT, (NOW BIGGER THAN ME) SET UP THEIR MAINSTREET VINTAGE MUSIC BUSINESS, MORE THAN A DECADE AGO, THERE WAS ONE DEMAND SUZANNE AND I MADE, THAT WAS NON-NEGOTIABLE. WE WERE THE BANK, IN THIS VENTURE, SO WE FIGURED THEY SHOULD OFFER US A FEW CONCESSIONS. AS LONG TIME RETAILERS OURSELVES, IN MUSKOKA, WE HAVE SOME TIME-TESTED STRATEGIES, THAT HAVE ALWAYS WORKED FOR US. ESPECIALLY IN THE ANTIQUE PROFESSION. ABOVE ALL THE OTHER REQUESTS, FOR THINGS LIKE FINANCIAL SENSIBILITY, WE MADE THEM PROMISE TO CREATE A SHOP, TO MEET THE MUSIC, RECORDING, INSTRUMENT REPAIRS AND LESSON NEEDS, OF THE GOOD FOLKS OF SOUTH MUSKOKA. YES, IT'S TRUE. WE TOLD THEM IN NO UNCERTAIN TERMS, THAT IF THEY CREATED A TYPICAL CITY-SLICKER TYPE SHOP, THAT LOOKED AS IF IT SHOULD BE IN A RETAIL STOREFRONT, OR PLAZA, ON QUEEN OR BLOOR STREET, IN TORONTO, OR ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE COIN, A SHOP THAT LOOKED LIKE IT ONLY CATERED TO COTTAGERS, AND TOURISTS SPECIFICALLY, IT WOULD MOST CERTAINLY FAIL. THE SHOP HAD TO POSSESS RURAL, SMALL TOWN, MUSKOKA VALUES, THAT WOULD SHOW CUSTOMERS OUR OWN PRIDE, LIVING AND WORKING IN GRAVENHURST. A SIMPLE PLAN. RIGHT? WELL NOT REALLY. NO MATTER HOW HARD WE TRIED, FOR THOSE FIRST FEW YEARS, MANY OF THE TOWNSFOLK CONSIDERED US INTERLOPERS FROM THE BIG SMOKE, AND WOULDN'T COME IN, BECAUSE THEY ASSUMED WE WERE RUNNING, WHAT IS POPULARLY KNOW, IN COTTAGE COUNTRY, AS A "TOURIST TRAP." HAVING HIGH PRICES FOR THOSE WHO CAN AFFORD TO BE EXTRAVAGANT. THEY SURE READ US WRONG. THEY COULDN'T BELIEVE ANYONE WOULD FASHION A RETAIL BUSINESS, ON THE MAINSTREET, FOR LOCAL MUSIC ENTHUSIASTS, BECAUSE OF THE FINANCIAL RISK. MOST RETAILERS HAVE TO ADMIT, THAT WITHOUT THE ECONOMIC BOOM THROUGH THE SUMMER MONTHS, THEY COULDN'T SURVIVE ON JUST LOCAL TRADE. WELL SIR, THERE WAS FAR GREATER FINANCIAL RISK, IF WE HAD INSTEAD, OPENED UP A VINTAGE MUSIC BUSINESS, SHOWING A CLEAR AMBITION TO LAVISHLY CATER TO SUMMER SEASON CLIENTELE. WE DID EVERYTHING WE COULD, SHORT OF TAPING A GIANT POSTER ON THE FRONT WINDOW, CONTAINING THE PRINTED VERSION OF OUR MISSION STATEMENT, IN AN ATTEMPT TO CONVINCE POTENTIAL PATRONS, THAT WE WERE HOMEGROWN FOLK; AND THAT AS LOCALS, WE WANTED TO PROVIDE A RETAIL OUTLET TO ASSIST LOCAL MUSICIANS, AND OFFER LOW COST LESSONS FOR STUDENTS OF ALL AGES. THIS WAS THE AGENDA. WE STILL HAD QUITE A FEW SKEPTICS, BUT GRADUALLY, SOME BRAVE CUSTOMERS DIPPED THEIR TOES, AND FOUND THE WATER WAS PRETTY WARM. A FEW SMART ALECS DID CHALLENGE THE BOYS ABOUT BEING CITY TRANSPLANTS, WHO DECIDED TO OPEN A TOURIST SHOP, HOPING SOME FOOLISH LOCALS WOULD DROP IN AND SPEND A FEW DOLLARS. I CAN REMEMBER AN OLDER FELLOW, CLEARLY SET IN HIS OPINION, WHO WAS ONE OF THOSE ANTI-CITY GRUMBLERS, SUGGESTING THE BOYS DIDN'T HAVE THE FAMILY HISTORY HERE, IN MUSKOKA, THAT HIS FAMILY HAD, DATING BACK TO THE EARLY 1900'S. I COULD SEE ANDREW'S EYES TWINKLING, WHEN HE WRAPPED HIS TONGUE AROUND THE WORDS, "WELL, ISN'T THAT SOMETHING. MY FAMILY HAS BEEN IN MUSKOKA SINCE 1862." THE MAN DIDN'T BELIEVE IT, AND CHALLENGED BOTH ANDREW, AND ROBERT, WHO WAS WITHIN EAR-SHOT AT THE TIME. "MY GREAT-GREAT-GRANDFATHER'S DUG-OUT CANOE, IS IN THE MUSKOKA LAKES MUSEUM, IN PORT CARLING, IF YOU'D LIKE SEE IT SOME DAY." I DON'T THINK THE CUSTOMER BELIEVED ANDREW, AND QUICKLY TURNED AROUND AND LEFT, AFTER ANDREW ADDED ONE MORE POINT. "MY BROTHER AND I WERE BOTH BORN IN MUSKOKA SIR, AND WE HAVE NEVER, FOR MORE THAN A COUPLE OF NIGHTS, LIVED IN THE CITY. WE LIVE AND WORK IN GRAVENHURST, PERIOD."
     IN AN ATTEMPT TO IMPRINT THIS POINT, OUR FAMILY BUSINESS CO-ORDINATED DOZENS OF COMMUNITY CONCERTS, IN GRAVENHURST, OPEN TO EVERYONE FOR A SMALL TICKET PRICE, OR A FOOD DONATIONS TO THE LOCAL FOOD BANK. WE HELD CONCERTS, WITH OUR MUSIC FRIENDS AND MUSIC STUDENTS, AT THE GRAVENHURST SENIOR CITIZENS' CENTRE, ON THE BARGE, IN GULL LAKE, AT THE OPERA HOUSE, AND EVEN TODAY, AT OUR FAVORITE VENUE, ST. JAMES ANGLICAN CHURCH, ON HOTCHKISS STREET. WE WANTED TO PROVE, ONCE AND FOR ALL, THAT WE WERE COMMITTED TO IMPROVING CULTURAL OPPORTUNITIES IN OUR TOWN, AND SOUTH MUSKOKA. THANKFULLY, WE DON'T HAVE TO WORRY TOO MUCH THESE DAYS, ABOUT COMMENTS FROM LOCALS, ABOUT US BEING FLY-BY-NIGHTERS, WHO WOULD SOON CLOSE UP SHOP AND HEAD BACK TO THE CITY. AND WHILE WE COUNT ON THE TOURIST SEASON, AND AREA SECOND HOME OWNERS, OTHERWISE COTTAGERS, AS PATRONS, THEY KNOW BY NOW, THAT WE ARE A PROUD HOMETOWN BUSINESS AND, WE GET A LOT OF COMPLIMENTS ABOUT THAT FACT. THIS IS WHAT THEY WANT TO SEE, AND EXPERIENCE, BECAUSE THEY CAN FIND ALL KINDS OF UNIQUE SHOPPING OPPORTUNITIES IN THEIR OWN HOME REGIONS; BUT THEY CAN'T FIND A CHARACTERISTIC GRAVENHURST BUSINESS IN OAKVILLE, OR ETOBICOKE. THE HIGHEST PRAISE WE CAN GET, IS IF SOMEONE TWEETS ABOUT OUR SHOP, AND THE TOWN, AFTER A VISIT, THAT THEY VERY MUCH ENJOYED SHOPPING IN GRAVENHURST. WHEN THEY VISIT OUR SHOP, THEY WILL BE IMMERSED IN MANY ASPECTS OF LOCAL AND MUSKOKA HISTORY, SOME FOR SALE, BUT A QUITE A FEW PIECES, FROM OUR PRIVATE COLLECTION, ON EXHIBITION FOR CUSTOMER ENJOYMENT. SUZANNE, HAVING GROWN UP IN A BOATING FAMILY, ONCE OWNING THE WINDERMERE MARINA AND "THE SKIPPER" SNACKBAR, AND HAVING WORKED IN RETAIL AT WINDERMERE HOUSE, AND THE WINDERMERE GOLF AND COUNTRY CLUB, HAS BROUGHT THIS EXPERIENCE TO THE ANTIQUE COMPONENT, OF THE MULTI-FAMILY-BUSINESS SHOP, IN THE FORMER DIGS OF THE MUSKOKA THEATRE. YOU DON'T WANT TO CHALLENGE SUZANNE ON HER LOCAL CONNECTIONS, LET ME TELL YOU, UNLESS YOU'RE PREPARED TO LISTEN TO AN HOUR-LONG LECTURE ABOUT MUSKOKA HISTORY. WE LOVE MUSKOKA GENERALLY, AND WE WANT TO REPRESENT ITS HISTORY AS RESPONSIBLY AND THOROUGHLY AS POSSIBLE.
     AS I'VE WRITTEN ABOUT PREVIOUSLY, WE OCCASIONALLY HAVE A CUSTOMER TELL US, THAT WE SHOULD DONATE OUR MUSKOKA RELICS TO ONE OF THE REGIONAL MUSEUMS FOR SAFE KEEPING. BIG MISTAKE. SUZANNE AND I OPERATED WOODCHESTER VILLA AND MUSEUM, IN BRACEBRIDGE, THE BRACEBRIDGE SPORTS HALL OF FAME, AT THE ARENA, A COLLECTION OF SHOWCASES ROGER CROZIER, FORMERLY OF THE DETROIT RED WINGS, FINANCED THROUGH HIS FOUNDATION, AND I SAT ON THE BOARD OF DIRECTORS OF THE MUSKOKA LAKES MUSEUM. WE KNOW A LOT ABOUT MUSEUMS, AND WE CERTAINLY KNOW, AS REGIONAL HISTORIANS, HOW TO LOOK AFTER OUR HEIRLOOM POSSESSIONS. CONSIDER, FOR EXAMPLE, THE LARGE CRESTED WINDERMERE HOUSE WASH BASIN, THAT WE CURRENTLY HAVE ON DISPLAY. WE PURCHASED IT WITH THE IDEA, THAT WE WOULD PUT IT IN OUR DISPLAY CASE AT THE SHOP, IN ORDER TO SHOW OUR CUSTOMERS WHAT ONE ACTUALLY LOOKED LIKE. WHY? WE HAVE TURNED DOWN SEVERAL DOZEN REQUESTS ALREADY, TO SELL THE BOWL, WITH SOME PRETTY SUBSTANTIAL OFFERS. IN OTHER WORDS, EVEN BEFORE WE HAD THE BOWL A FULL DAY, WE HAD RECEIVED OUR FIRST OFFER. WE LET OUR CUSTOMERS KNOW THIS, AND THAT OUTSIDE OF A MUSEUM, IT IS ALMOST IMPOSSIBLE TO FIND ONE IN PRISTINE CONDITION. IF WE HAD SOLD IT EARLY ON, WE WOULD HAVE LOST THE CHANCE TO TALK ABOUT IT, AS A NEAT "SHOW AND TELL" ITEM, WITH SEVERAL HUNDRED CUSTOMERS OVER THE SUMMER SEASON, WHO HAD ALSO NEVER SEEN ANOTHER ONE LIKE IT. THIS MADE US FEEL GOOD, AND CERTAINLY, IT HELPED OUR STORE GET A LITTLE EXTRA CREDIT. WE HAVE OTHER MUSKOKA PIECES THAT WE WON'T SELL, BUT WE'D LOVE TO TELL YOU ABOUT THEM, BECAUSE OF THEIR CONNECTION TO OUR STORIED HISTORY. A RUGGEDLY SOLID PEW FROM THE FORMER UFFORD METHODIST CHURCH, THAT WE BELIEVE WAS CRAFTED BY LEVI SHEA, WHO GAVE FARMSTEAD LAND TO THE CONGREGATION TO BUILD THEIR PLACE OF WORSHIP. WE HAVE IT IN THE SHOP AND IT'S A DANDY HEIRLOOM WE WANT TO EXHIBIT. THE CHURCH WAS TORN DOWN IN THE 1960'S.
     EVERY MONTH, BECAUSE OF THIS WILLINGNESS TO SHARE LOCAL AND REGIONAL HISTORY, WE GET KIND FOLKS WHO AGREE TO LEND US FAMILY HEIRLOOMS TO INCLUDE IN OUR SHOP EXHIBITS. OUR GOOD FRIEND CHRIS THOMPSON, OF GRAVENHURST, WITH FAMILY WELL ROOTED IN MUSKOKA AND REGIONS NORTH, HAS PROVIDED US WITH MANY UNIQUE AND INTERESTING FAMILY HEIRLOOMS AND REGIONAL HERITAGE PIECES, PLUS VINTAGE PHOTOGRAPHS, TO SHARE IN THIS REGARD; AND WE ARE GREATLY INDEBTED FOR THIS KINDNESS, WHICH BY THE WAY, GENERATES A LOT OF CONVERSATION IN THE SHOP, AND YOU WOULDN'T BELIEVE HOW THESE HISTORY-CHATS GENERATE NEW FRIENDSHIPS, WITH CUSTOMERS WHO HAVE CONNECTIONS AS WELL. SERENDIPITY IS VERY MUCH A CHARACTERISTIC OF VISITING THIS MAINSTREET GRAVENHURST SHOP. IT'S EXACTLY THE SHOP WE HOPED THE BOYS WOULD ESTABLISH, AND FOLLOW THROUGH WITH, DESPITE ALL TEMPTATIONS TO "CITY-SLICKER-UP" THE BUSINESS. IT'S TRUE FOLKS. WE DON'T ALWAYS KNOW WHAT THE SHOP IS GOING TO REPRESENT, IN HERITAGE ACTIVITY, OR CULTURAL RECREATION, ON ANY GIVEN DAY. WE ARE SURPRISED A LOT! ON SOME OCCASIONS THIS FALL, WE HAVE HAD THREE STUDIO AND SHOP TOURS, MANY HISTORY EXCHANGES, DEBATES AND EVEN MINOR TUTORIALS, WITHOUT SELLING ENOUGH INVENTORY TO BUY THE EVENING GROCERIES. THEN WE WILL HAVE DAYS THAT ARE THE EXACT OPPOSITE, AND WE CAN'T COMPLAIN ABOUT THE RETAIL EARNINGS; OF A COMPOSITE SHOP, THAT TO SOME, IS SEVENTY-FIVE PERCENT A FREELANCE "LOCAL MUSEUM." THE BOTTOM LINE, IS THAT WE LOVE TO COME TO WORK, BECAUSE WE ARE INSPIRED BY WHAT WE HAVE TO SELL AND SHARE. YOU WOULD BE SURPRISED TO KNOW HOW MANY LOCAL CITIZENS MAKE DONATIONS TO US, OF LOCAL ARTIFACTS AND HISTORIC RELICS. CASE IN POINT, THE FOUR MUSIC SHEETS COMPOSED BY E.B. SUTTON OF BALA.
     A LONG TIME CUSTOMER, AND FRIEND OF THE SHOP, DROPPED-IN TODAY, TO PRESENT US WITH FOUR SONGS, PUBLISHED BY FORMER MUSKOKA HOTELIER, MUSICIAN, MR. SUTTON, LISTED AS BEING FROM "BALA FALLS." OUR COLLEAGUE IN MUSIC, WANTED US TO BE ABLE TO INCLUDE THEM AS PART OF OUR VINTAGE MUSIC AND POSTER DISPLAY, AND WE ACCEPTED THE DONATION WITH GREAT ENTHUSIASM. THE MUSIC INCLUDES, "WHERE THERE'S A THREAD IN THE OLD BRITISH RAG," "SWEET WIFE - WALTZ SONG," "GIVE ME A SONG THAT'S GAY - DRINKING SONG," AND "AMONG THE AUTUMN LEAVES." THESE ARE ORIGINAL PIECES NOT REPRODUCTIONS. I CAN TELL YOU, THAT IF FEELS GREAT, TO BE THOUGHT THUSLY CAPABLE OF BEING STEWARDS OF SUCH HISTORIC REGIONAL PIECES. WE'VE ALSO RECEIVED KIND DONATIONS OF BROWN'S BEVERAGE CASES AND BOTTLES, THAT WE ALSO HAVE ON DISPLAY IN OUR SHOP FOYER. I HOPE IT CLEARLY SHOWS THAT WE'RE PROUD OF MUSKOKA HEIRLOOM ANTIQUES AND COLLECTABLES. BUT SOME MATERIAL IS JUST FOR SHOW, AND WE'RE GLAD TO BE THE HOST ENTERPRISE, AND IN SOME CASES, TOUR GUIDES. IN FACT, SINCE I'VE BEEN WRITING THIS, TODAY, THERE HAS ALREADY BEEN TWO TOURS OF OUR MUSIC STUDIO. I'M INTRODUCED AS "THE WRITER IN RESIDENCE," WHICH REALLY IMPRESSES ME, EVEN THOUGH, I KNOW THE BOYS MUTTER DIFFERENTLY UNDER THEIR BREATH. SOMETHING THAT SOUNDS LIKE "OLD FART."
     GETTING BACK TO THE MUSIC SHEETS, FROM E.B. SUTTON, THEY WERE FOUND IN AN OLD COTTAGE, ON STRACHAN'S POINT, ON THE MOON RIVER, THAT ACCORDING TO PROVENANCE, WAS OWNED BY RAGTIME PIANO PLAYER, ERNIE HARRIS, AND WAS IN A BAG, STAMPED, "THE SUMMER SHOP," ONCE OPERATED BY ADA MACKENZIE, WHO ALSO RAN THE POPULAR "ADA MACKENZIE SHOP," IN PORT CARLING.
     THE MUSIC SHEETS ARE NOW PERFECT COMPANION PIECES TO THE TWO VIOLINS MR. SUTTON ONCE OWNED, NOW HUNG IN OUR STUDIO, AND PART OF SON ANDREW'S VINTAGE INSTRUMENT COLLECTION. THEY WILL NEVER BE SOLD, ACCORDING TO ANDREW, AND I BELIEVE HIM. WE HOPE TO HAVE A PROPER SHOWCASE SOON, TO SHOW OFF THESE MUSKOKA TREASURES.