SOCIAL / CULTURAL / FOLK HISTORY? WHAT IS IT? WHY IS IT IMPORTANT? WHAT DOES IT GIVE US, THAT PLAIN OLD HISTORICAL RECORD DOESN'T?
THE HERITAGE "SOUL" OF A NEIGHBORHOOD, SETTLEMENT, HAMLET, TOWN OR CITY! THE STORY OF OUR PAST, GARNERED READING BETWEEN THE LINES
I CAN'T STOP SHIVERING, AFTER BEING OUT FOR LESS THAN A HALF HOUR. GOSH, IT ISN'T EVEN COLD, ON THE SCALE OF WHAT COUNTS AS FROSTY IN THIS BALLYWICK. I'M BECOMING FAR TOO SOFT, ME THINKS, TO HANDLE AN OLD FASHIONED CANADIAN WINTER, MUSKOKA STYLE. THIS WILL BE AN EVENING SPENT BY HEARTHSIDE, WITH COUPLE OF FAT CATS IN MY LAP, AND HOT CUP OF TEA IN MY HAND. IF SUZANNE READS THIS, SHE WILL REMIND ME, THAT LONG BEFORE I HUNKER DOWN, THERE ARE CHORES AROUND THE OLD HOMESTEAD. HONESTLY, IT'S LIKE LIVING ON A FARM, WITH OUR PETS, AND THEIR DEMANDS. I WAS STANDING WITH A CUSTOMER THE OTHER DAY, WHEN SHE SUDDENLY POINTED AT MY NEW SWEATER AND SAID, "YOU HAVE A CAT." I LOOKED AT THE FRONT OF MY SWEATER, WHERE SHE WAS DIRECTING MY ATTENTION, AND THERE WERE SEVERAL HUNDRED PULLS, WHERE "ZAPPA" HAD BEEN KNEADING EARLIER IN THE DAY, WHILE I WAS WATCHING THE MORNING NEWS. WHEN I WAS A MR. MOM, MY FRIENDS WOULD POINT AT TRACES OF SPIT-UP, I'D FORGOTTEN TO CLEAN OFF MY SHIRT. I DO ENJOY OUR CATS BUT THEY ARE A LOT OF WORK, AND THEIR MOOD SWINGS ARE SOMETHING TO BEHOLD. ESPECIALLY, THE WAY THEY TURN THEIR NOSES UP AT THE FOOD WE PROVIDE, AT GREAT EXPENSE I MUST ADD.
ON ANOTHER NOTE, TODAY I FOUND OUT MY NEW SHOES SUCK, AS RELATES TO ACTUALLY GRIPPING THE SNOW LAYERING OVER MY DRIVEWAY. I HIT THE TOP OF THE HILL, OF OUR BIRCH HOLLOW LANEWAY, WITH TOTAL DISREGARD FOR THE NEWLY FALLEN SNOW, AND WOUND UP AT THE BOTTOM, TEN SECONDS LATER, MORE FULLY APPRECIATING THAT I WAS WEARING SUMMER ONLY SHOES. IT WAS A WILD RIDE, WITH MANY NEAR-FALLS, AND BOUNCING FROM POST TO BIRD-FEEDER, ALL THE WAY TO THE VAN AT THE BOTTOM. I HAVE HAD A NUMBER OF SERIOUS LIMB INJURIES FROM YEARS PAST, THAT I FEAR RE-ACTIVATING, FROM WINTER-SEASON FALLS ON THE ICE. FOR WHATEVER REASON, THIS MORNING, I WAS IN A GAMBLING MOOD, AND IT NEARLY RESULTED IN A BROKEN LEG OR ARM. ADDING TO THE WEIGHT DISTRIBUTION CIRCUMSTANCE, WAS THE FACT I WAS CARRYING OUR HUGE BAG LUNCH, AND DISHES, THE LAPTOP OVER MY SHOULDER, SUZANNE'S KNITTING BAG, AND A POSSESSING UNWARRANTED CAVALIER ATTITUDE. IF THERE HAD BEEN A VIDEO TAKEN OF THIS DOWNHILL RUN, IT WOULD HAVE BEEN FIT FOR PRIME TIME VIEWING, ESPECIALLY ON SOCIAL MEDIA. THE ONLY THING WORSE THAN THE FEAR FACTOR, OF KNOWING HOW CLOSE I CAME TO SNAPPING MY LEG IN MULTIPLE PLACES, WAS HAVING SUZANNE YELLING AT ME FROM THE TOP OF THE HILL ABOUT "BEING CAREFUL." I WAS A LITTLE BUSY TRYING TO STAY UPRIGHT TO WORRY TOO MUCH ABOUT BEING CAREFUL. THE HORSE, AS THEY SAY, HAD ALREADY LEFT THE BARN. NORMALLY, I WOULD HAVE INCHED MY WAY DOWN, AND USED A CANE IF I FELT THERE WAS IMMINENT DANGER OF ME TAKING A HALF-GAINER DOWN THE SLOPE. I HAD THIS HAPPEN ONCE, WHILE I WAS WALKING OUR FORMER DOG, NAMED "KRAMER." I UPSET MY DOG-PAL SO MUCH, WITH MY TUMBLE, WHICH ROLLED HIM DOWN THE HILL AT THE SAME TIME, THAT THE BUGGER STARTED BITING ME, AS I WAS TANGLED IN HIS LEASH. IT ALWAYS TAKES ME SO LONG TO GET USED TO THE STRANGE ICE, AND SNOW CONDITIONS, WHICH ARE MORE ALPINE, FOR WHATEVER REASON, THAN KNOLL-LIKE. OH WELL, IT'S PICTURESQUE HERE AT THE BOTTOM OF THE HILL, LOOKING OUT OVER THE BOG. I'M JUST GLAD IT'S NOT THE CASE, I'M LAYING ON THE GROUND, WITH MY LEG WRAPPED AROUND MY NECK. SO YES, IT IS PRETTY OUT THERE, AND I AM IN NO PAIN.
ARE FOLK HISTORIANS AS BORING AS HISTORY TEACHERS?
JUST SO YOU KNOW, I MARRIED A HISTORY TEACHER. IT'S NOT SO BAD! IT WAS THE CLASSROOM THAT BUGGED ME AS A STUDENT.
THIS BLOG IS A MODEST FRAMING, FOR WHAT I PLAN AS A CHRISTMAS SEASON COLLECTIVE, OF MUSKOKA STORIES, BEGINNING ON THE 12TH OF NOVEMBER. SURPRISINGLY, THERE ARE QUITE A FEW READERS WHO DON'T REALLY UNDERSTAND THE DIFFERENCE, BETWEEN FORMAL HISTORIES AND FOLK HISTORIES; WHICH FOR THE SAKE OF CLARIFICATION, WOULD BE, IN ART, A CONTRASTING EXHIBITION BETWEEN FOLK ART PAINTINGS OR CARVINGS, AND WORKS OF CONTEMPORARY ART, CREATED BY PAINTERS OR SCULPTORS TRAINED IN THEIR PARTICULAR ART FORM. FOLK ART STORIES ARE NAIVE, UNTUTORED, UNPOLISHED, AND RICH IN CULTURAL PATINA, OF WHICH I HAPPEN TO ENJOY. MUCH OF IT WAS NEVER WRITTEN INTO TEXT, AND HAS BEEN LOST BY THE RIGORS OF TIME. BUT IT IS NECESSARY, TO APPRECIATE, THAT AS A SELF PROCLAIMED FOLK HISTORIAN, IT IS ALSO THE WAY I WRITE MYSELF, AND THE REASON I OFFER SO MANY PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS, OF MY OWN YEARS GROWING UP IN SOUTH MUSKOKA. THESE STORIES WON'T MAKE IT TO THE NICELY BOUND, PROFESSIONALLY PRINTED TEXTS, YOU FIND ON BOOKSTORE SHELVES, OR IN LIBRARY COLLECTIONS. BUT THEY ARE MINE, AND THE FOLKS WITHIN, WERE PART OF MY LIFE THEN, AND MEMORY, STILL ARE TO THIS DAY. I FEEL THEY ARE IMPORTANT STORIES, BECAUSE THEY ARE FULL OF CHARACTER AND ENTIRELY REFLECTIVE OF OUR ENVIRONMENT AT THE TIME. YOUR STORIES ARE JUST AS IMPORTANT AND RELEVANT TO FOLK HISTORY OF OUR TOWN, PROVINCE AND COUNTRY. ALAS, SO MUCH OF IT HAS BEEN LOST. MANY OF US HAVE THOUGHT THEM INTERESTING TALES BUT NOT WORTHY OF WRITING DOWN, FOR THE ENJOYMENT OF FUTURE GENERATIONS. I WOULD LIKE TO PROVE JUST HOW IMPORTANT THESE FOLK TALES ARE, AND POSSIBLY YOU WILL FIND REASON, THIS FESTIVE SEASON, WITH THE COMPANY OF FRIENDS AND FAMILY, OR EVEN JUST TO PASS THE TIME ON YOUR OWN, TO JOT DOWN SOME NOTES, ABOUT FAMILY CHRISTMASES FROM THE PAST; CASUALLY SHARED HISTORIES, WEAK ON FACT BUT HIGH ON REMEMBRANCE, THAT HAVE BEEN PASSED DOWN FROM GRANDPARENTS AND SIGNIFICANT OTHERS, THROUGH THE GENERATIONS. THIS IS A WONDERFUL RECREATION, AND NOT A STUFFY, BORING ENTERPRISE WHATSOEVER. I LOVE THE COMPANY OF FOLK STORIES, SOME OF MY OWN CREATION. THESE MAY SEEM FRIVOLOUS TO THE PURISTS OUT THERE, WHO ONLY WANT HARD FACT, DATES AND EXACT DETAILS. NOTHING LESS. WELL SIR, I APPLAUD THEM FOR THEIR EFFORTS AND ALL THEIR ACCOMPLISHMENTS. I CAN ONLY ARCHIVE THE MESSAGE, FOR THEIR POSTERITY, THAT HUMAN HISTORY CAN NEVER FULLY ESCAPE THE OVERLAPPING OF THE FOLK CHARACTER, BECAUSE, WELL, WE ARE ALL "FOLKS", WHEN IT COMES RIGHT DOWN TO IT.
MY OFFERINGS THIS CHRISTMAS SEASON, WILL BE FOLKISH AND POLITELY NAIVE, AND PROBABLY NOSTALGIC TO A FAULT. THEY WILL BE AN HONEST APPRAISAL OF WHAT I TRULY ENJOY ABOUT LIVING AND WORKING IN THIS WONDERFULLY ENCHANTED REGION OF CANADA. I WON'T BE WRITING THESE FOR ANY MATERIAL GAIN, OR FOR SPECIFIC USE TO PROMOTE OUR REGION, OR SELL ANY PRODUCT, EVEN AT OUR OWN SHOP. I'M GETTING SENTIMENTAL THE OLDER I GET, AND I WANT MY BOYS AND THEIR EVENTUAL FAMILIES, TO HAVE THESE STORIES AS WELL, JUST IN CASE THEY EVER TO BECOME DISENCHANTED WITH THEIR HOME REGION. IT HAPPENS. IT HAS HAPPENED TO ME, AND I DID MOVE AWAY TWICE, AND ON EACH OCCASION, I HAD TO RETURN, BECAUSE I KNEW THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN WHAT WAS HOME, AND WHAT WAS A TEMPORARY ADVENTURE.
I HAVE ENTERTAINED THE IDEA, RATHER LATE IN LIFE, AS A GESTURE OF RESPECT FOR THE CURATORS AND ARCHIVISTS OF OUR REGIONAL HISTORY, THAT I WOULD, ESPECIALLY FOR GRAVENHURST, ATTEMPT, WITH SOCIAL MEDIA ASSISTANCE, TO GATHER-UP MORE OF THE SOCIAL, CULTURAL, FOLK HISTORY, THAT IS IN GREAT DANGER OF BEING LOST FOREVER. I WROTE YESTERDAY, (YOU CAN ARCHIVE BACK) THAT IT IS BECOMING EASIER AND MORE CONVENIENT THESE DAYS, TO IMPOSE CONTEMPORARY SOCIAL / CULTURAL VALUES, ON COMMUNITIES, WHICH BECAUSE OF TIME'S ETCHING, HAVE LOST MANY OF THOSE STALWART STEWARDS, WHO FOR LONG AND LONG, KEPT THE MOSTLY ORAL HERITAGE ALIVE, WITH THEIR RECOLLECTIONS AND EVEN PRECIOUS TALL TALES. POSSIBLY IT DOES TAKE AN HISTORIAN, WITH CONSIDERABLE BACKGROUND IN REGIONAL AND TOWN HISTORY, TO HIGHLIGHT THIS EVER-BROADENING NEW PERIL, TO WHAT I BELIEVE, IN THE ESSENCE OF LEGACY, IS THE SOUL OF OUR COMMUNITY. LET ME TRY TO EXPLAIN WHAT IT REALLY MEANS TO LOSE THOSE STORIES ABOUT LIFE IN OUR REGION, THAT WERE SPOKEN WITH HUBRIS, BUT NEVER WRITTEN DOWN.
FIRST OF ALL, IN MOST COMMUNITIES IN THIS COUNTRY, THROUGHOUT NORTH AMERICA, WELL MEANING HOBBY AND VOLUNTEER HISTORIANS, HAVE KEPT (AND KEPT WELL) THE HARD REALITIES OF THE LOCAL AND REGIONAL CHRONICLES. MUCH OF IT COMES IN THE FORM OF NEWSPAPER ARCHIVES, DATING BACK TO THE FOUNDING YEARS. WE ARE NO DIFFERENT IN MUSKOKA. REGIONAL HISTORIANS HAVE DEPENDED ON OLD NEWSPAPER FILES TO BOLSTER RESEARCH FOR THEIR FORMAL PUBLISHED HISTORIES. I KNOW THIS AS FACT, BECAUSE I WORKED SIDE BY SIDE ONE OF MUSKOKA BEST KNOWN HISTORIANS, ROBERT BOYER, AT MUSKOKA PUBLICATIONS, IN BRACEBRIDGE, FROM 1979 TO 1989, AND WATCHED HIM SCANNING THROUGH THE BOUND BACK-ISSUES OF HIS FAMILY'S NEWSPAPER, "THE HERALD-GAZETTE," AND "THE BRACEBRIDGE GAZETTE," THEY PURCHASED IN THE 1950'S FROM THE THOMAS FAMILY. EACH WEEK HE WOULD SCOUR THE OLD CRUMBLING PAPERS, LOOKING FOR HISTORIC REFERENCES, TO USE IN HIS REGULAR COLUMN, "OUR YESTERDAYS." I SPENT MANY HOURS IN THE BASEMENT OF THE DOMINION STREET BUILDING, DOING THE SAME THING, EXCEPT I WAS LOOKING FOR STORY IDEAS, FOR FEATURE ARTICLES. IF NEWSPAPERS WERE THE HOLY GRAIL OF HISTORICAL RECORD, WHICH THEY'RE NOT BY THE WAY, WE WOULD HAVE BEEN MORE OF AN ARCHIVES THAN A SOURCE OF WEEKLY NEWS. THE PROBLEM WITH NEWSPAPERS, HAVING BEEN EDITOR OF MANY IN THE PAST, IS THAT ERRORS MADE BY REPORTERS, AND EDITORS, IN THEIR COMMENTARIES, WERE OFTEN LEFT TO STAND THE TEST OF TIME. NEWSPAPER EDITORS HATE MAKING CORRECTIONS IN FOLLOWING EDITIONS, AND EVEN IF THEY DO, HISTORIANS AREN'T ALWAYS THAT THOROUGH, (I HATE ADMITTING THIS) TO READ THROUGH OLD PAPERS, FOLLOWING-UP THE STORIES TO SEE, IF POSSIBLY, ANYTHING WAS WRITTEN WEEKS LATER AS ADD-ONS, OR CORRECTIONS; MEANING THAT HANDLING THE ARCHIVE PAPERS IN THE CONTEMPORARY SENSE, AS SOURCE MATERIAL, MEANS THAT AN ERROR WILL MOST LIKELY REMAIN AN ERROR. EVEN THOUGH, IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN CORRECTED IN THE VERY NEXT ISSUE. JUST LIKE TODAY, FINDING THE CORRECTION, WOULD REQUIRE SOME KNOWLEDGE, AS TO WHERE THESE CORRECTION NOTICES WOULD BE LOCATED. EVERY PUBLISHER HAS A DIFFERENT IDEA ABOUT THIS, AND MANY TRY TO BURY IT, BECAUSE, WELL, IT'S EMBARRASSING TO ADMIT MISTAKES. WE HAD A POLICY, THAT INSTEAD OF BOXING A "NOTICE OF CORRECTION," WE WOULD, WITHOUT OFFERING AN APOLOGY, RE-WRITE A PORTION OF THE SUBJECT ARTICLE, SO THAT IT LOOKED LIKE A SECONDARY STORY VERSUS AN ADMISSION WE WERE WRONG. WHAT I'M POINTING OUT, IS THAT HISTORIANS CAN NEVER TAKE A NEWSPAPER AS THE AUTHORITY ON NEWS OCCURRENCES. EVEN IF THEY HAD TEN NEWSPAPERS, AS SOURCE MATERIAL; THERE COULD BE TEN ERRORS REPEATED. IF THE ORIGINAL SOURCE PROVIDED INACCURATE INFORMATION, AND REPORTERS DIDN'T DOUBLE-CHECK FOR ACCURACY, THE WHOLE ERROR DEBACLE BECOMES THE SNOWBALL ROLLING DOWNHILL, GETTING BIGGER AND BIGGER, AND SOMETIMES MORE DANGEROUS. IN SOME WAYS, THE LAYERS OF REPEATED ERRORS, TURN FORMAL HISTORIES, INTO SUCH FLAWED CHRONICLES, THAT IN ESSENCE, THEY BECOME TALL TALES MORE THAN ACCURATE HISTORICAL RECORD. FOLK HISTORY, OF COURSE, BEING A LITTLE LESS RELIANT ON FACTS, AND MORE, THE DRAMATICS OF THE STORY SPINNER.
CHECKING OUT THE MUSKOKA COLLECTIONS, OF REGIONAL AND COMMUNITY HISTORIES, AT OUR PUBLIC LIBRARIES, WE ARE IN PRETTY GOOD SHAPE AS FAR AS FORMALLY WRITTEN TEXTS? ALL THOSE THAT WERE HEAVILY BASED ON THE STORIES HARVESTED FROM OLD NEWSPAPERS, ARE, IF YOU BELIEVE ME, BASED ON FACTS, THAT MAY OR MAY NOT BE ACCURATE. I HAVE BEEN FINDING ERRORS IN THESE BOOKS FOR A QUARTER CENTURY, AND THIS SHOULD BE OF NO SURPRISE. WHEN I WROTE A HISTORY, BACK AT THE TURN OF THIS NEW CENTURY, FOR THE 75TH ANNIVERSARY OF BRACEBRIDGE HIGH SCHOOL, THE PROBLEM FOR ME, WAS THE SHORT TIME-FRAME I HAD AGREED TO, IN ORDER TO HAVE IT PRINTED AND READY FOR SALE BY JULY 1ST, 2000. I GOT THE ASSIGNMENT IN MID DECEMBER. IT WAS MY FAULT, BUT BECAUSE I HAD TO RACE TO GET IT FINISHED, I ALSO RELIED HEAVILY ON THE RECORDS OF FORMER SCHOOL NEWSPAPERS, YEARBOOKS, COMMUNITY PUBLICATIONS, AND SOME PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS IN HANDWRITTEN JOURNALS, THAT CONTAINED ERRORS. I DIDN'T HAVE THE TIME TO CROSS-REFERENCE ALL THE INFORMATION, AND THE RESULT, WAS ALMOST IMMEDIATE CHALLENGES FROM FORMER STUDENTS, ABOUT ERRORS CONTAINED IN THE TEXT. I HATED THIS IN THE NEWSPAPER BUSINESS, AND I DESPISED IT COMING FROM MY OWN HAND. HOW COULD I HAVE LET THIS HAPPEN? I WAS IN A HURRY. NOT THE WAY SUCH A PROJECT SHOULD BE HANDLED. AND BECAUSE THE BOOK DIDN'T SELL OUT, AS IT WAS SUPPOSED TO, I WASN'T ASKED TO REVISE A SECOND EDITION, WHICH WOULD HAVE ADDRESSED THE ERRORS I KNEW ABOUT. THUS, THE ERRORS ARE A PERMANENT RECORD, AND IT MAKES ME NUTS TO THIS DAY. I SUPPOSE IT'S THE CASE I HAVE BEEN TRYING EVER SINCE, TO REDEEM MYSELF AS AN HISTORIAN, USING MYSELF AS AN EXAMPLE, OF HOW EVEN HISTORICAL PURISTS CAN SCREW UP, AND EFFECT HISTORICAL RECORD FOR GENERATIONS; UNTIL POSSIBLY, ANOTHER HISTORIAN COMES ALONG, TO ADD TO MY COMPILATION, AND FINALLY YELLS OUT, "WHAT THE HELL WAS THIS GUY SMOKING WHEN HE RESEARCHED THIS?" AS I LEARNED HOW TO TAKE MY LUMPS AS A NEWSPAPER EDITOR, I HAVE HAD TO LEARN THE SAME AS AN HISTORIAN. THE COMMITMENT IS THEREFORE, TO CORRECT WHAT HAS BEEN SCREWED-UP, OR UNDER-RESEARCHED AND DO BETTER EVER AFTER.
SOCIAL, CULTURAL FOLK HISTORY, IS NOT SO RELIANT ON ABSOLUTE RECORD, AS IT IS ON THE VALUE AND SIGNIFICANCE OF THE STORY AND THE "TELLER". IN MUSKOKA GENERALLY, TWO OF MY FAVORITE FOLK HISTORIANS, WERE REDMOND THOMAS, WHO I HAVE QUOTED HERE IN THE PAST HALF YEAR, AND FAMILY HISTORIAN BERT SHEA, SUZANNE'S UNCLE, WHO WROTE ABOUT THE PIONEER YEARS OF WATT TOWNSHIP, IN THE PRESENT TOWNSHIP OF MUSKOKA LAKES. THIS IS NOT TO SUGGEST EITHER WRITER WAS INDIFFERENT TO FACT, OR CAVALIER ABOUT THE IMPORTANCE OF ACCURACY. RATHER, AS CANADIAN AUTHOR FARLEY MOWAT ONCE STATED, CAUSING SOME READERSHIP CHAGRIN, HE "NEVER LET FACT GET IN THE WAY OF A GOOD STORY." HE WASN'T THE FIRST TO STATE THIS, AND THERE ARE MANY VARIATIONS. THE FOLK ART OF THE FOLK STORY, IS THAT THESE LEARNED PEOPLE, BEING LONG TIME CITIZENS OF THE REGION, AND HAVING LIVED THROUGH A GREAT DEAL OF RAW HISTORY, HAVE IMPORTANT REVELATIONS TO BESTOW; AND WE CAN FORGIVE THE EVER SO SLIGHT ERRORS REGARDING THE HARDCORE FACTS. IT SEEMS LIKE SACRILEGE FOR AN HISTORIAN TO MAKE EXCEPTIONS FOR THE HOBBY, FAMILY OR FOLK HISTORIAN, TO COMMIT THE DASTARDLY ACT OF MISREPRESENTING FACT. DOESN'T THIS DISTORT HISTORY GENERALLY? FIRST OF ALL, AS I MENTIONED ABOVE, EVEN THE PURIST OF THE PURE HISTORIAN, TAKES LIBERTIES, EVEN WITHOUT APPRECIATING WHAT IT CAN MEAN DOWN THE ROAD. FOLK HISTORIANS ACCEPT THE FACT THEIR BOOKS WILL NOT BE FOR A SCHOLARLY AUDIENCE, AS A FIRST OBJECTIVE OF MAKING THEIR WORK PUBLIC. IT IS TO SATISFY THEMSELVES AND THEIR FAMILY, THAT A BASIC RECORD HAS BEEN CRAFTED AND POTENTIALLY PUBLISHED. THERE ARE HUNDREDS OF UNPUBLISHED MANUSCRIPTS, TUCKED INTO STEAM TRUNKS IN THE ATTICS OF MUSKOKA, THAT SHOULD BE LIBERATED, FOR THIS VERY REALITY, "WE ARE POORER IN FOLK HISTORY WITHOUT THESE UNIQUE CHAPTERS. THEY TELL THE STORY OF HOW IT WAS BACK THEN, WITHOUT FEELING CONSTRAINED BY THE KNOWLEDGE, THEY ARE MAKING ASSUMPTIONS WITHOUT HARD EVIDENCE THEY ARE CORRECT. BUT IT ONLY TAKES ME A FEW MINUTES, IF THAT, TO KNOW THE BOOK I'M READING, IS FOLK HISTORY OR A FORMAL HISTORICAL TOME, WRITTEN BY A QUALIFIED RESEARCHER, WHO HAS A PASSION FOR ACCURACY. I LIKE BOTH TYPES OF REGIONAL HISTORY, BUT I WILL ALWAYS CHOOSE THE FOLK HISTORY ABOVE THE OTHER, WHEN I'M LOOKING TO BE ENTERTAINED BY SOMEONE ELSE'S RECOLLECTIONS, OF WHAT I ALREADY KNOW BY STUDYING ITS FORMAL CHRONOLOGY.
THE FOLK ASPECT, MEANS, AS AN EAGER CONSUMER OF SUCH MATERIAL, THAT I WILL BE GETTING THE OPINION OF THE STORY SPINNER; BEING HIS OR HER TAKE ON AN HISTORIC EVENT. A CIRCUMSTANCE INTIMATE TO THE STORY TELLER, THAT HAS BECOME OF HISTORICAL RELEVANCE IN THE YEARS SINCE. OBVIOUSLY, FORMAL AND WELL RESEARCHED HISTORIES ARE OF CRITICAL IMPORTANCE. NO DOUBT ABOUT IT. BUT THEY ARE FAR FROM BEING THE ULTIMATE SOURCE OF INFORMATION, WHEN TRYING TO PIECE TOGETHER ALL THE COMPONENTS, THAT WILL GIVE US A WELL BALANCED, AND SENSIBLY PROPORTIONED SENSE OF HISTORY. FOR EXAMPLE, MY OLD FRIEND, BILL, "WILLY" ANDISON, OF BRACEBRIDGE, TOLD, DURING A COFFEE-TIME CHAT, ABOUT THE TIMES, WHEN HE AND HIS CHUMS, WOULD HIDE AROUND THE CORNER OF THE FORMER QUEEN'S HOTEL, AND USE THEIR SLING-SHOTS TO HIT THE HORSES, PULLING THE DAIRY WAGONS; RESULTING OF COURSE, IN THE HORSE, (OR TEAM) REARING-UP, RESULTING IN OVERTURNED CANS, SENDING MILK CASCADING DOWN THE QUEEN'S HILL. YOU WON'T FIND THIS IN THE FORMALLY WRITTEN HISTORIES OF BRACEBRIDGE. IT DOESN'T MEAN IT'S NOT IMPORTANT FOLK HISTORY, JUST NOT IN THE SAME PARAGRAPH WITH THE FACTUAL COMPONENTS WHICH, UNDERSTANDABLY, OUTRANK WHAT ARE SEEN MOSTLY, AS AMUSING ANECDOTES AND NOTHING MORE. I DISAGREE.
I HAVE SPENT QUADRUPLE THE TIME, AS A LOCAL HISTORIAN, LISTENING TO, AND READING STORIES JUST LIKE THIS, THAN I HAVE, THE MORE SCHOLARLY TEXTS, WHICH I FIND FACTUAL BUT BORING, AS FAR AS ENTERTAINMENT VALUE. HISTORIANS HAVE TO BE ENTERTAINED TOO, YOU KNOW. IT DOESN'T MEAN THAT, IF I SAID I WAS NOW A FULL FLEDGED FOLK HISTORIAN, MAKING THIS DECLARATION PUBLIC, THAT I WOULD FEEL RIGHT PERPETUATING ERRORS, AND MISREPRESENTING THE FACTS OF OUR PAST. I FORGIVE MYSELF FOR LEANING TO THE SIDE OF THE FOLK HISTORIANS, BECAUSE I AM ENTHRALLED TO HEAR, AND READ OPINIONS THAT ARE GENERALLY LOPPED-OFF FROM FORMAL HISTORIES. I LIKE THE COLOR AND EXCITEMENT INFUSED BY THESE STORY SPINNERS. IT HAS BEEN MY EXPERIENCE, THAT MOST OF THEM WERE PRETTY CLOSE TO THE TRUTH WITH THEIR OFTEN EMBELLISHED OVERVIEWS, BUT ALWAYS SINCERE, ABOUT THE VERY EFFORT OF THEIR STEWARDSHIP OF THE OLD, PASSED DOWN TALES, OF WHAT IT WAS LIKE IN THE MUSKOKA WE NEVER KNEW.
IN GRAVENHURST, IN PARTICULAR, THERE IS A BIGGER HOLLOW IN THIS REGARD, THAN IN OTHER COMMUNITIES, AND I'M NOT SURE WHY. THE FORMALLY PRODUCED HISTORIES, AND PHOTOGRAPHIC ESSAYS, ARE ALL HIGHLY COMPETENT WORKS, AND HAVE BEEN WELL RECEIVED BY THE PUBLIC. THERE IS HOWEVER, A SHORTAGE, IN MY OPINION, OF ACCESSIBLE, AND PROMOTED, FOLK RECOLLECTIONS, TO PARALLEL, FOR EXAMPLE, THE WORK OF BRACEBRIDGE'S REDMOND THOMAS, WATT TOWNSHIP'S BERT SHEA, AND TO SOME DEGREE, CAPTAIN LEVI FRASER, ALSO OF BRACEBRIDGE; AND HIS 1940'S HISTORY OF MUSKOKA. I LOVE HIS WORK, BUT I KNOW THERE ARE ERRORS WITH SOME OF THE MATERIAL. WHEN I QUOTE HIS WORK, I ALWAYS MAKE SURE TO FOOTNOTE THIS POTENTIAL. HIS STORIES ARE RICH AND FULL, AND PRETTY EXCITING IN A FEW CASES, ESPECIALLY INVOLVING HIS OWN WORK-DAYS SPENT NAVIGATING THE MUSKOKA LAKES, CAPTAINING ON A VARIETY OF STEAM BOATS; ESPECIALLY IN THE ENTERPRISE OF TOWING LOGS.
IN GRAVENHURST, THERE SEEMS TO BE FAR FEWER OF THESE PERSONAL REMINISCENCES, AND JOURNALS, THAT PAINT COLOR ONTO THE BLACK AND WHITE OF THE TRADITIONAL AND ACCEPTED CHRONICLE. IT'S CERTAINLY NOT THE CASE THESE FOLK STORIES WERE IN SHORTER SUPPLY HERE, THAN ANYWHERE ELSE IN MUSKOKA, BUT SIMPLY THE CASE, THEY WEREN'T AUTHORED IN THE SAME FASHION, OR OUT OF THE SAME SENSE OF DUTY. I HAVE FOUND GRAVENHURST TO HAVE A DEEP MINE OF FOLK STORIES, FROM SOME TRULY REMARKABLE CHARACTERS, YET THESE STORIES ARE FADING FAST, AND IN MANY CASES, DISAPPEARING ALTOGETHER AS OUR SENIOR MOST CITIZENS PASS ON; AND THOSE REMAINING, FAIL TO RECORD FOR POSTERITY, THE PRECIOUS RECOLLECTIONS HANDED DOWN TO THEM. THE PROBLEM OF COURSE, IS THAT MOST DON'T BELIEVE THEY ARE WORTH SAVING, OR PASSING ON TO THE MODERN AND FUTURE GENERATIONS. I HAVE WORKED FOR YEARS TRYING TO CONVINCE THOSE WITH THESE LEGACY TALES, AND ORAL HISTORIES, TO WRITE THEM DOWN, AND PASS THEM ALONG; OR TO CALL ME, AND WE'D MAKE A BLOG OUT OF IT, OVER A CHAT OVER COFFEE, AND OF COURSE, SUZANNE'S FRESH BAKED COOKIES. I BELIEVE OUR COMMUNITY SOUL, OUR IDENTITY, SPLITS OFF A LITTLE THINNER, EACH YEAR, WHEN WE LOOK OVER THE NAMES OF THOSE CITIZENS WHO HAVE PASSED AWAY; AND WITH THEM, PIECES OF THE PUZZLE; THE EVIDENCE OF OUR RIGHTFULLY ATTAINED CHARACTER. A DEEPER, RICHER, MORE COLORFUL CHARACTER WE POSSESS, MOSTLY WITHOUT KNOWING IT!
WHEN I WRITE, RATHER ABRUPTLY, AND WITH CONSIDERABLE CONVICTION, ABOUT WHAT I SEE AS A WATERING DOWN, AND REVISIONIST ERA CONSUMING US, IT'S BECAUSE WE'VE ALLOWED THE MODERNIST AGENDA TO TAKE OVER. NOT AS A COUP, OR BECAUSE THEY'RE PURPOSELY TRYING TO SANITIZE OUR HISTORY. MORE, BECAUSE THEY ARE MODERNISTS, WHO HAVE GROWN UP WITH A SCHOOL-ROOM CONCEPT OF HISTORY; VERSUS THE WAY MANY OF US HISTORICAL TYPES, EMBRACE IT, FOR ITS RESIDENT COMFORTS, INSIGHTS AND INSPIRATION. I SEE HISTORY BECOMING LESS RELEVANT EVERY YEAR, AND JUST BECAUSE THERE ARE COMMUNITY SUPPORTED MUSEUMS, WELL LOOKED AFTER ARCHIVES, AND HERITAGE ARCHITECTURE DESIGNATIONS, DOES NOT MEAN WE ARE EMBRACING HISTORY IN THE BROADEST SENSE. I DON'T EXPECT ALL CONSTITUENTS WILL FEEL LIKE I DO. BUT WHEN QUESTIONS ARE RAISED TO THEM, ABOUT THEIR HOMETOWN, AND WHAT MAKES IT A GOOD PLACE TO LIVE, INEVITABLY, EVEN FROM THE IMPRINT OF HISTORY CLASS, THOUGHTS ABOUT THE PAST WILL FROTH FORWARD, AS IF IT IS IMPORTANT AFTERALL. JUST BECAUSE OUR INVENTORY OF HISTORICAL SITE MARKERS, STATUES, MUSEUMS AND HISTORICAL ATTRACTIONS, SEEM UP-TO-SNUFF, AND PRUDENT TAX INVESTMENT, AS FOR CONSERVATION AND CELEBRATION, IT TAKES MORE COMMITMENT TO LINK IT ALL TOGETHER. IF I HAD THE MONEY, AND A LOT MORE OF MY LIFE TO CONTRIBUTE, I WOULD SET UP A FOLK ART, FOLK HISTORY MUSEUM IN THIS TOWN, TO MAKE MY POINT, THAT SOME OF THE MOST IMPORTANT HERITAGE WE'VE EVER HAD, AS A SETTLEMENT, DATING BACK TO THE LATE 1850'S, WAS NEVER PROPERLY DOCUMENTED; REMAINING ORAL, AND CASUALLY REMINISCED HISTORY FOR EVER AFTER. iT MIGHT SURPRISE YOU, THERE IS STILL A PLETHORA OF THESE FOLK TALES, THAT CAN BE RECOVERED AND PRESENTED BACK TO THE COMMUNITY. THESE ARE STORIES THAT COLOR-IN, WHAT FORMAL HISTORIANS SEE AS AN ALREADY WELL DOCUMENTED CHRONOLOGY; EXPLAINING SOMEWHAT, WHY THESE RELICS OF FOLK HISTORY, WERE LARGELY IGNORED AS BEING FRIVOLOUS, AND NOT HAVING AN IMPACT ON WHAT HAD ALREADY BEEN ASCERTAINED AS BEING MOST IMPORTANT. DESPITE THE FACT EVEN THE MOST THOROUGHLY RESEARCHED HISTORIES CAN BE STREWN WITH ERRORS.
FOLK HISTORY IS A LITTLE BIT LIKE A MAUD LEWIS "NAIVE" PAINTING, SO WILDLY POPULAR THESE DAYS. WHILE MOST CITIZENS DON'T LOSE SLEEP ABOUT THIS MISSING COMPONENT OF OUR COMMUNITY HERITAGE, IT DOES COME UP IN CONVERSATION, AS IT HAS IN MY PRESENCE EVEN RECENTLY; THAT GRAVENHURST IS A TRACE OF ITS FORMER SELF, AND BY THIS, IT IS SUGGESTED, THE OLD TIME VALUES AND CHARACTERISTICS WE'VE GROWN ACCUSTOMED TO, ARE BEING DESPATCHED BY A NEW SOCIAL, POLITICAL ORDER; ONE THAT DOESN'T HOLD TO TRADITION IN THE SAME WAY AS ONCE. WHILE IT IS IMPOSSIBLE FOR THIS TO HAPPEN, WHEN PROPER STEWARDSHIP IS EMPLOYED, IT IS UNDENIABLE THIS WATERING-DOWN IS BEING FORWARDED, AS IF A RACE TO FILL, WHAT APPEARS TO BE, AN OPEN CANVAS. I HAVE STUDIED THIS CLOSELY FOR THE PAST FOUR YEARS, AND IT DOES CONCERN ME. IT JUST UPS THE STAKES FOR STEWARDS LIKE ME, TO KEEP HERITAGE MATTERS IN THE PUBLIC DOMAIN.
IN THE SUMMER OF 1978, I WORKED ON MY FIRST MAJOR HERITAGE PROJECT, WITH A TEAM OF TWO REPORTERS, TWO SECRETARIES TO TRANSCRIBE AUDIO TAPES, AND AN AUDIO TECHNICIAN, ON CONTRACT WITH THE MUSKOKA BOARD OF EDUCATION; TO RECORD THE STORIES OF A SELECT NUMBER OF MUSKOKA'S OLDEST AND LONG-TIME RESIDENTS. I WISH IT COULD HAVE BEEN A MULTI-YEAR PROJECT, BECAUSE THE INFORMATION FROM THIS EXERCISE, WAS ABSOLUTELY AMAZING. THESE WERE NOT REHEARSED INTERVIEWS IN ANY WAY, AND NOTHING WHATSOEVER WAS SCRIPTED IN ADVANCE. THESE WERE FOLK TALES. RECOLLECTIONS THAT WERE A LITTLE BIT FACT AND A LITTLE BIT ACCEPTABLE FICTION. THESE WERE MUSKOKA INSPIRED RECOLLECTIONS, AND THEREFORE, THE LIBERTIES WERE OF THE SAME HONESTLY, AS MAUD LEWIS PAINTINGS ARE COLORFUL AND FULL OF LIFE..., AS NAIVE AS THEY ARE! WHAT IMPACTED ALL OF US, BY THE TIME WE FINISHED PACKAGING THE KITS, OF TAPE RECORDINGS, FOR STUDENTS OF THE BOARD OF EDUCATION SCHOOLS, WAS WHEN WE THOUGHT BACK TO THE UNIQUE INTERPRETATION OF HISTORY WE HAD ALL HEARD, AND BY OUR INTERVENTION, BEEN A PART OF AS REPORTERS. BUT IT WAS WHEN OUR NEW FRIENDS BEGAN DIEING, SHORTLY AFTER COMPLETION, THAT IT ALL BECAME SO MUCH MORE PROFOUND, ABOUT WHAT HAD BEEN ACCOMPLISHED, TO ENRICH OUR STORE OF RESOURCES FOR FUTURE HISTORIANS. AND IT WAS PARTICULARLY MOVING, WHEN FAMILY OF THE DECEASED, CONTACTED US, REQUESTING COPIES OF OUR INTERVIEWS, AS KEEPSAKES FOR THEIR FAMILY. WOW. MOST OF US DIDN'T APPRECIATE THE WEIGHT OF OUR WORK, AND THE FINISHED PRODUCT, UNTIL THIS POINT. WE HAD MANAGED TO KEEP THIS ORAL HISTORY ALIVE. NOW IMAGINE, HOW MUCH WE DIDN'T SECURE, AND CONTINUE TO MISS, AS OUR ELDERS SLIP FROM THIS MORTAL COIL.
I HAVE BEEN WRITING ABOUT FOLK HISTORY, I SUPPOSE, SINCE THEN; BECAUSE I HAD FIRST-HAND EXPERIENCE ABOUT ITS TRUE SIGNIFICANCE. I DO VERY MUCH FEEL, THAT CONTEMPORARY APPRECIATION FOR FOLK HISTORY, IS SERIOUSLY DIMINISHING; AND DUE TO THIS DISINTEREST, WE'RE MISSING OPPORTUNITIES TO HAVE IT RECORDED, AS A MATTER OF CIVIC DUE DILIGENCE. GRAVENHURST HAS A CHARACTER PROFOUNDLY DIFFERENT THAN THAT OF BRACEBRIDGE, OR HUNTSVILLE, WITHIN THE DISTRICT OF MUSKOKA. IT IS A DIFFERENCE FORGED BY ITS CITIZENRY, BASED ON ITS GATEWAY POSITION ON THE LAKES, AND IN THE CLIME OF SOUTH MUSKOKA. AS A REGIONAL HISTORIAN, I WOULD NEVER, EVER, MAKE A SOFT, GENTLE PARALLEL BETWEEN OUR TOWNS. WE'RE IN COMPETITION WITH EACH OTHER, MAKE NO MISTAKE ABOUT IT.
FOLLOWING MY CONVICTION THAT THIS IS SO, AND BEING DETERMINED TO KEEP FOLK HISTORY ALIVE, EVEN AS A PARTICIPANT IN ITS PROPAGATION, IT IS HOW I WILL HANDLE THE UPCOMING SERIES, "CHRISTMAS IN MUSKOKA." CALL ME OLD FASHIONED! PLEASE! BUT I AM CONTEMPORARY IN MY VIEW OF THE WORLD! FOLK HISTORY HAS ITS PLACE. I WANT TO SHOW YOU WHY!
From the Archives
MEMORIES OF THE AUTUMN I KEPT COMPANY WITH GNOMES AT SEVEN PERSONS' COTTAGE
TRY TO IMAGINE THIS - TALK ABOUT LIVING A FANTASY
BACK IN THE AUTUMN OF 1979, I THINK IT WAS (IN THE FOG OF AGE), I LIVED THE RESIDENTIAL EXISTENCE OF A GARDEN VARIETY, HONORARY GNOME. YOU READ CORRECTLY. A REPORTER BY DAY, AN OUT OF PLACE BIG GUY IN A LITTLE PERSON'S ABODE. IT WAS DURING A PARTICULARLY ACTIVE DRINKING PERIOD IN MY LIFE, SO IF IT READS A LITTLE PECULIAR, IMAGINE COMING HOME A LITTLE TIPSY, TO A SERIOUSLY DOWNSIZED COTTAGE……IN EVERY WAY. I FELT LIKE GULLIVER AT TIMES, BENDING OVER TO GET IN THE FRONT DOOR, HOPING I WASN'T GOING TO BE WRESTLED TO THE GROUND, AND THEN TIED DOWN, BY THE SMALL IRATE NEIGHBORHOOD RESIDENTS.
I'VE WRITTEN A FEW OTHER EDITORIAL PIECES, IN RECENT YEARS, ABOUT MY FIVE MONTH OCCUPANCY OF "SEVEN PERSONS' COTTAGE," WHICH I RENTED, WITH GREAT GLEE, FROM EARL AND JESSIE MACDONALD, OF FOOT'S BAY, ON THE SHORE OF BEAUTIFUL LAKE JOSEPH. IT WAS MOST DEFINITELY A MEMORABLE SUMMER. BUT IT WAS THE AUTUMN SEASON IN THIS TO-SCALE ENGLISH COTTAGE, THAT WAS MOST SPIRITED TO A FLEDGLING WRITER, LOOKING FOR INSPIRATION. IN FACT, I HAVE LOOKED FOR YEARS AND YEARS TO FIND A SIMILAR TYPE ABODE, TO USE AS A WRITING RETREAT. NO LUCK. THERE WAS ONLY ONE "SEVEN PERSONS' COTTAGE," BUT BY GOLLY, I GOT TO LIVE IN IT FROM SPRING TO AUTUMN.
THE SCALE MODEL OF A MUCH LARGER ENGLISH LAKESIDE COTTAGE, SUCH AS MIGHT BE FOUND ON LAKE WINDERMERE, IN THE LAKE DISTRICT OF ENGLAND, WAS SITUATED ON THE LOW SHORE-SIDE, BENEATH TOWERING PINES THAT BORDERED THE COTTAGE ROAD. I EVEN HAD MY OWN MINIATURE HARBOR WITH A TINY DOCK AND A LITTLE BOAT, IN CASE A RESIDENT GNOME WANTED TO GO ON A LITTLE TOODLE OF THE LAKE. THERE WAS EVEN A CROQUET COURSE SET UP ON THE LAWN, JUST OUTSIDE MY BEAUTIFUL SIDE WINDOW, WHICH ALWAYS REMINDED ME OF THE VIEWING AREA, HIGH ON THE STERN OF A GREAT OCEAN-GOING SCHOONER.
THERE WAS A MOOD WITHIN THAT WAS ENCHANTING - AND YOU'D FEEL LIKE A KID IN A CANDY SHOP
The down-sized English cottage had been built by a neighbor of the MacDonalds, and I was fortunate enough to meet him, when Jessie took me over one day to visit. His was the cottage next door. I always remember the scent of pipe tobacco, and seeing the owner's huge collective of pipes with carved faces, if memory serves. It was this gentleman who had painstakingly built the wee cottage, with amazing carpentry skills. He was an artist as far as I was concerned. The MacDonalds then purchased the property, and rented it out to various folks during the summer months. Earl and Jessie were wonderful people to rent from, and often times I'd wake up in the morning, with Earl rapping on the door, so I'd wake up to see the ducks gathered in the little harbor. He loved that property, and the two of them were great to socialize with, during my brief stay. They knew I didn't have many friends around, so they'd come to tell me there was a lunch for me at their house, and I should come over and relax. I was a poor….and I mean that, reporter, and I ate cheaply if I ate at all. So I wasn't adverse at all to their hospitality. And as Earl promised me it would be a great retreat for a writer, he was absolutely correct. I wrote through the day for The Beacon, and wrote at night for me……first about my lost love, and then eventually, about love left to seek out. I arrived somewhat beaten down by life, but quickly found the bright and cheerful little cottage, had too much spirit within, to nurture sadness.
It was on misty autumn mornings, living in the gnome-sized cottage, which was a cross between a trip to Narnia with C.S. Lewis and a Robbie Burns experience, in Bonnie Scotland. You could forget where you were. It was the magic of the place. At night, looking out onto the lake, and watching the lights of the boats gyrating across the waves of the lake, made it seem, from the window, as if the house was actually floating as well. To set the mood for me, on that first day when I cross the threshold of this magic little place, a copy of the newly released book, "Gnomes," was on the built-in desk, inside the door. The book was brought to North America in translation by Martha Stewart's husband, who after this enormous success, which made millions by the way, helped with the hugely successful book, "Entertaining," still a milestone book in Martha's mountain of publications. I read the Gnomes book numerous times during that stay on Lake Joseph. Every time I had to hunch over to get in the tiny door, at the cottage entrance, I got a chuckle seeing the gnome book staring back at me. I never arrived at the cottage without expecting to find these tiny souls at home. Enchanted? I learned all about enchantments that season. People coming to see me succumbed to the spell, moments on the property. It was a chick magnate let me tell you, and they always found the keeper of the cottage….me….to be cute and cuddly in the midst of tiny attributes, like scaled-down hearth and fireplace, staircase, small chairs and tables, and even miniature gargoyles carved into the wood mantlepiece. They begged to stay over. I never had it so good. (Of course this only refers to a period of time, as my wife would not like to read this kind of personal anecdote, as it was before we met).
I stayed until late in the fall that year, until the first flurries came whipping over that chilled lake, and through the barren hardwoods. I didn't mind being huddled under the wool blankets they left me, in the warm glow of the crackling flames in the small but completely adequate fireplace…..where I had a comfortable arm chair pulled close. I'd sit there in this relative paradise, of so many inspirations around me, and settle to a splendid peacefulness, cradling a hot cup of tea made in the tiny kitchen the gnomes found spacious. I never felt alone in that cottage. Not that it was haunted, but because of its character and beautifully aged woodwork, it felt so historic and storied, whether it was or it wasn't. I can remember coming home late at night, and swearing to have heard voices inside. I woke up that way at night, hearing the pitter patter of little feet, that weren't there……or at least there were no bodies to go with the footsteps. But it wasn't an unsettling occupation, and if there were ghosts in that tiny place, they were of the most welcoming variety. I felt at home on my first night, which is unusual for me, as I come from a family of sentimentalists, who hate being separated for long from their cherished residences. As I had just separated from my girlfriend of five years…..after asking her if she wanted to get married……and she quipped, "to who," and strangely enough, Seven Persons' Cottage was a respite to a broken heart. It seemed to know how miserable I was, and by golly, after about the first week, I'd returned to writing in the evenings, something I'd abandoned after Gail gave me the proverbial heave-ho for another guy. Don't you just hate when that happens. That summer, I went from wanting to drink myself into a long term stupor, to restoring my interest in the future…..which I blamed on Gail for stomping into the ground, with the last bouquet I sent her on a reporter's budget. It wasn't much to look at, but it was the thought that counted. Right? Gail came to Seven Person's Cottage once to see how I was holding up, and I guess she was satisfied with the "we can still be friends" thing, and when she left, you know……I felt the gnome-like sensibility bloom from the heart of that place on the shore of a beautiful lake. It was my "serenity now!" It saved me I think. I arrived there feeling like I'd been mauled by zoo animals, my heart ripped out of my chest, and that dear little place, with the MacDonald's kindnesses bestowed, and my Abba record (I only had one record) for my failing turntable……turned my life around in a modest spring to autumn residency. How many of you can say that one of your best friends was a to-scale English cottage, where a great bard should have been holed-up, writing romantic poetry for lost love. I was just a poor bard but I did write poetry.
The truly curious aspect of design, at Seven Persons Cottage, was that it could easily accommodate seven guests. The most I had over at one time was four, but it was a comfortable arrangement, considering three of them were young ladies, smitten with the pipe smoking writer-in-residence. Yup, I used to smoke my pipe and write. It just seemed important to act like the great writers, even if I was still a bum in the industry. The girls thought I was special. Of course so did my mother. Gail, not so much. The furniture was all small, and like the dining-room table, it had leaves that folded out to accommodate more guests around the table. The bedrooms had bunk beds, and small chairs for reading before bed, and the kitchen had small scale cupboards and a bar fridge that was more than enough for the non-cooker me. It got me thinking, you know, about how much space is wasted and extravagant in the average North American house, when this small (condo size) cottage, made efficient use of every square foot…..such that after awhile, you didn't even recognize it as downsized, unless you went outside, and saw the doll house architecture on a big lot. No space was wasted. We could learn a lot from that cottage design. If I had the money, let me tell you, it would have been mine. I always feel that way about the great places I've lived in my life, and if I owned every neat place that inspired me to write, well, my property tax bill would be in the millions. In Gravenhurst, thankfully, I'm only paying a King's Ransom, for Birch Hollow, as compared to the gigantic lakefront assessment for the little Gnome cottage.
I used to hate leaving Seven Persons Cottage in the morning, but I was thrilled to arrive back home in the early evening, exhausted but cheerful about the next few hours, sitting by the hearth, having a wee sip of brandy, (the cheapest kind) in Robbie Burns honor, and then typing away until I could compose no more. And when on autumn evenings like this, that I donned my nightcap, and extinguished the oil lamp, it was sort of like The Waltons……as every creak and groan in the old woodwork, seemed to be wishing me a good night's slumber. I retired to bedlam relaxed, contented, and resolved, that if the gnomes should take over the cottage while I slept……I'd be good with that, as long as they swept up their crumbs from those late evening snacks.
A friend, who I have deep respect, looked at me one day recently, as I spun another of my trademark yarns, and wanted to, I'm sure, ask me if there is a shred of truth to all these collected tales I've offered for public consumption, for all these years as a writer. I suppose it's a case, that unless one sees and experiences it first hand, no amount of convincing will truly make up the sensory deficiency, between story teller, and listener. I would have liked to taken this friend to Seven Persons Cottage, to see the "fantastic" of what I have known as my special enchantments, because me thinks, we all need to know magic exists beyond childhood……and the strange dreams in the recess of sleep. I will occasionally dream about my time at Seven Persons' Cottage, and I will wake up, suddenly, to look around and see if it's true………that I have returned to that quaint little lakeside cottage, that saved my life, way back……and gave me so much to write about. But I find myself feeling good cheer none the less, and know that my Birch Hollow, you see, as a present haven, is the friendly composite of all the fascinating places I have ever lived. It now is as spartan, plain and convenient, comfortable and pleasantly haunted, as I remember from the days when…….I kept company with gnomes on a misty lakeshore in the Muskoka heartland. It may all be fiction, and possibly just a very long dream about the life I have enjoyed. The welts from pinches, tell me I'm not dreaming.
Thanks so much for sharing this recollection with me today. Please join me for another adventure, coming soon.
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