IT'S TREE DECORATING NIGHT AND INSTEAD OF TWELVE DISAGREEMENTS, IN KEEPING WITH THE TWELVE DAYS OF CHRISTMAS, WE'VE ONLY HAD FOUR
BUT WE HAVEN'T STARTED DECORATING YET EITHER; OUR SAVING GRACE, THE PLASTIC TREE WITH LIGHTS WIRED ON!
IT'S REALLY PATHETIC, GOSH DARN-IT, WHEN GETTING INTO ARGUMENTS ABOUT THE PLACEMENT AND DECORATING OF THE CHRISTMAS TREE BECOMES A HOLIDAY TRADITION. I DON'T KNOW IF MY MOTHER AND FATHER, HAD SIMILAR SITUATIONS IN THEIR FAMILY HOMES, AS YOUNGSTERS, BUT IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN A TRADITION IN OURS. I REMEMBER ONE YEAR, MY MOTHER PURCHASED EXPENSIVE GLASS CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS, CIRCA 1962, FROM EATONS IN TORONTO. THEY'D BE WORTH A FORTUNE TODAY, AS VINTAGE CHRISTMAS ORNAMENTS CAN FETCH A KING'S RANSOM. EVEN BEFORE THE FIRST FULL DAY, THE NATURAL TREE THEY BOTH INSISTED ON HAVING, FELL TWICE, BREAKING AT LEAST FOUR OF THE TWELVE SHE HAD PURCHASED. SHE WAS FURIOUS, BUT MY DAD, AS THE TREE PLACEMENT ENGINEER, THOUGHT IT WAS UNNECESSARY TO TIE THE TOP OF THE TREE TO A CURTAIN ROD, OR HOOK ON THE CEILING, TO PREVENT IT TOPPLING OVER. THE ORNAMENTS LASTED ABOUT THREE CHRISTMASES, BEFORE THEY WERE ALL GONE, MERLE REFUSING TO BUY ANY NEW ONES, CITING ANNUALLY, EVERY TIME THE MATTER CAME UP FOR DISCUSSION, THAT MY FATHER HAD NO IDEA HOW TO ERECT A CHRISTMAS TREE; SO THEREFORE, ALL DECORATIONS HAD TO BE NEW-AGE PLASTIC, THAT COULD BOUNCE OFF THE FLOOR WHEN THE TREE FELL.
OUR FAMILY LIFE DURING THE HOLIDAYS, WAS A LOT LIKE THE MOVIE "CHRISTMAS STORY," EXCEPT FOR THE FACT WE WERE A FAMILY OF THREE, NOT FOUR, LIVED IN AN APARTMENT, NOT A HOUSE, AND HAD A CAR WITH FOUR GOOD TIRES; BUT OURS STALLED EVERY FIVE OR SIX MILES, STRANDING US AT ROADSIDE. MERLE ALWAYS HAD A BLANKET TO KEEP US FROM FREEZING TO DEATH. THE TRIP ON A WEEKNIGHT, TO THE CHRISTMAS TREE LOT, WHICH WAS BLOCKED OFF BY SUSPENDED LIGHTBULBS OVERHEAD, WAS INSIDE FIVE MILES, SO WE WERE AT LEAST CLOSER TO HOME WHEN THE ENGINE KONKED OUT. USUALLY, IF WE SAT FOR TWENTY MINUTES, AND MY FATHER CURSED LOUD ENOUGH TO CREATE A POSITIVE CHARGE, THE ENGINE WOULD EVENTUALLY TURN OVER, AND WE'D BE ON OUR WAY.
AT THE TREE LOT, MY FATHER ALSO THOUGHT HIMSELF AN EXPERT IN THE SELECTION PROCESS. KEEPING IN MIND, THAT WE ONLY EVER SHOPPED AT NIGHT, AND THE LIGHT BULBS DIDN'T HELP MUCH FOR VISIBILITY. MY FATHER WASN'T FRUGAL WHEN IT CAME TO BUYING A CASE OF BEER, OR OTHER ALCOHOL FOR THE HOLIDAYS, BUT WHEN IT CAME TO PURCHASING A SUITABLE TREE FOR THE LIVING ROOM, ED WAS SO CHEAP, AS THEY SAY, HE SQUEAKED. HE WOULD FIND THE "CHARLIE BROWN TREE," WITHOUT BRANCHES ON ONE SIDE, AND DECLARE, "HEY, IT'S GOING AGAINST THE WALL ANYWAY. WHO CARES IF IT DOESN'T HAVE ANY BRANCHES BACK THERE." THERE WAS ALWAYS SOMETHING WRONG WITH HIS ATTITUDE, IN MY RETROSPECTIVE, AND MY MOTHER STALWARTLY REFUSED DOZENS OF TREES, BECAUSE SHE CLAIMED THEY WERE MISSHAPEN. THE OTHER ALL-IMPORTANT ASPECT, FOR MY MOTHER, WAS IF THE TREE WAS LOSING NEEDLES ON THE LOT. SHE WOULD INSIST THAT ED BOUNCE THE TREE UP AND DOWN ON THE GROUND, SO SHE COULD INSPECT THE FALLEN DEBRIS WREATHING IN THE SNOW BELOW. SHE CLAIMED RIGHTLY OR WITHOUT BASIS, THAT ONE SUCH SHEDDING TREE, HAD KILLED HER EXPENSIVE VACUUM YEARS PREVIOUS, AND SHE WASN'T GOING TO TAKE A CHANCE BREAKING ANOTHER. ED HATED, BACK IN THOSE YEAR, PAYING ANY MORE THAN FIVE BUCKS FOR A TREE, BUT I KNOW HE WOULD GO AS HIGH AS SEVEN DOLLARS AND FIFTY CENTS. THE AVERAGE EVEN THEN, WAS FIFTEEN TO TWENTY FOR A NICE TALL SCOTCH PINE. ED LIKE SPRUCE, MERLE WANTED SCOTCH PINE. MERLE GOT HER WAY EVERY YEAR, ONCE I WAS ABOUT SEVEN OR SO. NEVER ANOTHER SPARTAN SPRUCE. WELL THAT'S NOT ENTIRELY TRUE, IF YOU WERE TO COUNT THE ARTIFICIAL TREE THAT WAS A "FOREST SPRUCE" MODEL.
WHEN WE GOT HOME WITH THE REAL TREE, ED BECAME A HAPPENSTANCE WOODSMAN. HE WAS NOT A HANDYMAN. NOT EVEN A QUARTER OF A HANDYMAN, AND HE OFTEN HURT HIMSELF, IN THE MOST BASIC OPERATION OF A SCREWDRIVER, OR PLIERS. A SAW? HE'D CUT HIMSELF EVERY SINGLE YEAR. HE LOOKED LIKE A ROUGH HEWN CANADIAN LOGGER. WE ONLY OWNED ONE SMALL SAW, A PAIR OF PLIERS AND ONE SCREWDRIVER, WHICH WERE ALL UTILIZED DURING A CHRISTMAS TREE RAISING EVENT. THE TREE-STAND WAS EVIL, ACCORDING TO ED. IT NEVER FIT PROPERLY, AND THE SCREWS ALWAYS MISSED THE MEAT OF THE TRUNK, AND THAT MADE THE WHOLE OUTFIT WONKY FROM THE GET-GO. I DON'T THINK, THAT IN MY YOUTH, WE EVER HAD A TREE THAT ACTUALLY STOOD STRAIGHT. IT ALWAYS HAD AN ANGLE TO IT, FORCING MY DAD, TO TRY AND FIX THIS BY TURNING IT TO DISGUISE THE FACT IT WASN'T ANCHORED PROPERLY IN THE BASE. THIS OF COURSE, LED TO THE MANY TREE COLLAPSES, AND ORNAMENT CARNAGE. FINALLY MERLE INSISTED THAT THE TREE TOP BE CONNECTED BY STRING TO THE CURTAIN ROD, ABOVE ONE OF OUR WINDOWS, WHICH WAS SIGNIFICANT BECAUSE IT WASN'T IN THE BEST SPOT FOR VIEWING; AND IT BLOCKED-OUT DAYLIGHT DURING THE DAY. BUT AT LEAST IT DIDN'T FALL OVER, WHICH WAS NICE. THERE IS SOMETHING DISTURBING ABOUT COMING HOME FROM SCHOOL, AND SEEING YOUR CHRISTMAS TREE ON THE FLOOR, AS IF IT HAD SUFFERED A HEART ATTACK.
DECORATING THE TREE WAS SHEER MADNESS, AND I WAS DISAPPOINTED EVERY SINGLE YEAR. MERLE WAS PERSNICKETY TO A SHARP POINT, ABOUT HOW THE CHRISTMAS TREE WAS DECORATED, AND TRIMMED WITH TINSEL. NO GARLANDS. WE HAD TO HAVE TINSEL, AND NOTHING ELSE WOULD DO. AND EVERY STRAND OF TINSEL HAD TO BE APPLIED PERFECTLY, TO HANG STRAIGHT DOWN, WITH ONLY A MINOR LOOP AT THE TOP OVER THE BRANCH. MERLE WOULD FREAK OUT ON ME, IF ANY STRAND HAPPENED TO BE SLIGHTLY SIDEWAYS, OR BUNCHED UP, AS HAPPENS WHEN FRICTION BUILDS UP. THEN THERE WERE THOSE HORRIBLE WORK-SOMETIMES TREE LIGHTS, AND YOU PROBABLY KNOW ALL ABOUT THOSE. I HAVE WATCHED MY POOR FATHER, STRUGGLE FOR HOURS AND HOURS, TO FIND THE BULBS THAT WERE CAUSING THE STRANDS OF LIGHTS TO FAIL. ONE BURNED-OUT OR LOOSE BULB, MEANT YOU HAD TO TEST EACH AND EVERY ONE, AND THERE WAS A GOOD CHANCE, HE'D HAVE TO TAKE A RUN TO THE BURLINGTON WOOLWORTHS TO GET REPLACEMENT BULBS. AND THEN, AFTER A COUPLE OF NIGHTS OF ILLUMINATION, ANOTHER BULB WOULD FAIL, AND THIS WAS ALWAYS HORRIFIC, BECAUSE IT WAS FAR MORE DIFFICULT TO FIX WHEN THE STRANDS WERE WRAPPED AROUND THE DECORATED TREE. MY DAD WAS A FORMER NAVAL GUNNER, HAVING SERVED IN THE LEGENDARY NORTH ATLANTIC SQUADRON, AND THE MAN KNEW HOW TO CUSS A BLUE STREAK, MUCH TO MY MOTHER'S CHAGRIN. BY TIME I WAS IN GRADE THREE, I KNEW ALL THE WORDS TO THREE OF HIS SAILOR-SONGS, AND NONE OF THEM WERE SUITABLE FOR THE SCHOOLYARD, OR SO MY TEACHER INFORMED ME. THE ONE ABOUT "HITLER HAVING ONLY ONE BALL," WASN'T ABOUT CHRISTMAS TREE DECORATING, BUT HE FOUND REASON TO SING IT NONE THE LESS. INSTEAD OF CHRISTMAS CAROLS BEING SUNG IN OUR HOUSE, THE AIR WAS BLUE WITH PROFANITIES AND CIGARETTE SMOKE. YUP, BOTH MY PARENTS SMOKED LIKE CHIMNEYS, AND I HAD SECOND-HAND SMOKER'S COUGH MOST OF MY CHILDHOOD. IF HE HAD THREE OR FOUR BEER, AND THE LIGHTS GAVE HIM A HARD TIME, IT'S ENTIRELY POSSIBLE, THE WHOLE TREE COULD GO FLYING OUT THE WINDOW. I DON'T REMEMBER HIM DOING THIS, BUT ALWAYS THREATENED TO TAKE EXTREME MEASURES TO ENJOY CHRISTMAS, AND THAT MAY HAVE BEEN WITHOUT A DECORATED TREE. MY FATHER WASN'T A PATIENT MAN. SO IT WAS GOING TO BE A GOOD START TO CHRISTMAS, WHEN HE WAS ABLE TO GET THE LIGHTS ON IN THE FIRST TWO HOURS, SO THAT MERLE COULD DO HER TRIMMING TO HER HEART'S CONTENT, WITH A FLASK OF EGGNOG. MERLE WASN'T PARTICULARLY CONCERNED WHETHER I HAD A CHANCE TO DECORATE PART OF THE TREE OR NOT; AS FAR AS SHE WAS CONCERNED, IT WASN'T MANDATORY FOR A PARENT TO EXTEND THIS COURTESY TO A CHILD. NOT LIKE SENDING A LUNCH TO SCHOOL, AND MAKING SURE I HAD CLEAN SOCKS AND UNDERWEAR EVERY MORNING. IT WAS A PROJECT SHE ENJOYED EVERY DECEMBER, AND IT DIDN'T REALLY BOTHER ME THAT I WASN'T ALLOWED TO PUT MORE THAN A FEW DECORATIONS ON THE OUTSTRETCHED BRANCHES. I WAS REALLY ONLY INTERESTED IN WHAT WOULD BE PLACED UNDER THESE SAME DECORATED BOUGHS, ON CHRISTMAS MORNING.
THE YEAR BEFORE SUZANNE AND I MARRIED, I HAD A SMALL ARTIFICIAL TREE, THAT SOMEONE GAVE ME, WHICH WAS LIKELY BEING THROWN OUT; AND I HAD A DOZEN ORNAMENTS AND A CAT NAMED "ANIMAL" THAT USED TO LAY IN THE BRANCHES. A FRIEND CAME OVER, AFTER A RINK RAT HOCKEY GAME IN BRACEBRIDGE, ONE NIGHT, AND WHEN EXAMINING A PRE-CHRISTMAS GIFT I HAD BOUGHT MYSELF, WHICH WAS A REALLY NICE GRASSMERE OTTER CANOE PADDLE, MADE BY STEVE MAHON, IT SNAPPED WITH A LOUD REPORT, IN TWO EQUAL PIECES. SO HE STUCK THE TWO SECTIONS IN THE TREE, AND SEEING AS I COULDN'T USE THEM FOR PADDLING, I CONSIDERED THEM INSTEAD, CHIC, RUSTIC, MUSKOKA CHRISTMAS TREE DECORATIONS. WHEN SUZANNE AND I MARRIED, WE CARRIED ON THE CHRISTMAS TREE TRADITION, FIRST WITH REAL TREES, AND THEN ARTIFICIAL TREES WHEN THE BOYS WERE YOUNG, BECAUSE THEY WERE CHEAPER. THOSE WERE THE DAYS WHEN WE WERE ON A TIGHT BUDGET, AND WE FOUND A BARGAIN, WITH A COUPLE OF NICE SCOTCH PINE (PLASTIC) TREES, AT THE LOCAL THRIFT SHOP. ONE YEAR, I DECIDED TO DOUBLE-UP THE BRANCHES, AND FOUND A WAY TO INTERTWINE THE BRANCHES OF A SECOND TREE, INTO THE ONE WE LIKED BEST. IT LOOKED RIDICULOUS. AND YES, EVEN THOUGH WE WOULD ROPE THE ARRAY OF TREES, ARTIFICIAL AND REAL, ONTO CURTAIN RODS AND HOOKS IN THE WALL, IT WAS USUALLY THE CASE SOMETHING CATASTROPHIC WOULD OCCUR, SENDING THE TREE TOPPLING IN ALL DIRECTIONS EXCEPT BACK. THIS WAS USUALLY BECAUSE OF THE CATS, AND THE DOG CHASING THEM, THAT ORNAMENTS WOULD FLY OFF THE TREE, AND THE WEIGHT OF TWO CATS ON THE BRANCHES AT THE TOP, WOULD BE TOO MUCH WEIGHT FOR THE TETHER AT THE TOP. THE JOYS OF BEING PET OWNERS.
SEVERAL YEARS AGO, AFTER SUZANNE CLAIMED THAT NEEDLES FROM A REAL TREE, HAD DESTROYED HER VACUUM, (HEARD THIS ONE BEFORE) WE BROKE DOWN, AND PURCHASED AN ARTIFICIAL TREE WITH LIGHTS ALREADY STRUNG AROUND IT. IT JUST FOLDS OUT, SNAPS TOGETHER AND YOU PLUG IT IN. A SIMPLE PLAN, AND BEST OF ALL, IT HAS A WIDE POD STAND, WHICH CAN STAND UP TO OUR CATS SLEEPING IN ITS BRANCHES. THE TREE THIS YEAR, IS OUR SECOND ONE PURCHASED WITH PRE-STRUNG LIGHTS, AND WE LIKED IT SO MUCH, IN FACT, WE'VE BEEN USING IT NIGHTLY YEAR ROUND, INSTEAD OF A FLOOR LAMP, AND AS A NIGHT LIGHT WHEN WE GO TO BED. THEY HAVE ENERGY EFFICIENT LIGHTS, AND BY GOLLY, I LIKE IT DECORATED TO SUIT THE SEASON. SO FOLKS, TONIGHT MARKS A CHANGE OF TRADITION FOR US, BECAUSE THE TREE DIDN'T HAVE TO BE ERECTED, OR THE LIGHTS CHECKED, REPAIRED, AND THEN STRUNG ON THE TREE. THEY WERE ALREADY THERE, AND THE TREE IS PERFECTLY STRAIGHT, FLOOR TO CEILING, AND THERE HASN'T BEEN MUCH IN THE WAY OF ARGUMENTS, SO FAR. JUST SOME MINOR DISPUTES ABOUT THE EXPECTATION I HAVE, FOR THE VOLUME OF DECORATIONS. I LIKE A FULL TREE, AND SUZANNE IS A MINIMALIST. ANDREW AND ROBERT WILL BE HOME LATER TONIGHT, AND THEY WILL BE ASKED TO PLACE THEIR SPECIAL DECORATIONS ON THE TREE, THAT SUZANNE HAS BOUGHT FOR THEM, EVERY CHRISTMAS SINCE THEY WERE TODDLERS. WE WILL BUMP INTO EACH OTHER FOR AN HOUR OR SO, TRYING TO NAVIGATE THE LIVINGROOM, ORNAMENTS IN HAND, AND BEFORE THE TREE IS FULLY DECORATED, THERE WILL BE EGGNOG SPILLED ON THE FLOOR, AND COOKIE CRUMBS ON THE RUG FOR THE CARS TO CLEAN UP. BUT I HAVE A FEELING THIS YEAR, THAT THERE WILL BE A LOT FEWER ARGUMENTS ABOUT TREE ANGLES, BEST-SIDES-OUT DISCUSSIONS, GARLANDS OR TINSEL (WE NO LONGER OWN TINSEL), AND WHETHER OR NOT THERE ARE AN ACCEPTABLE NUMBER OF ORNAMENTS ON DISPLAY. SUZANNE ONLY BROUGHT OUT ONE PLASTIC CONTAINER FULL OF BULBS AND STUFF, INCLUDING THE CRANBERRY GARLANDS, SO ONCE THE BOX IS EMPTY, WELL, MERRY CHRISTMAS. AT THE END OF THE NIGHT, AS PEACEFUL AS I EXPECT IT WILL BE, I WILL BE HAPPY TO REPORT, THAT NOT A SINGLE BOUGH WAS CUT OFF, OR SINGLE INCH LOPPED OFF THE TOP, IN ORDER THAT THE TREE FIT PERFECTLY BENEATH THE CEILING, AND STILL HOLD THE ILLUMINATED STAR.
I LOVE THE CHRISTMAS SEASON. I HAVEN'T ALWAYS FELT THE SAME ABOUT THE TRADITIONAL RAISING OF THE FAMILY CHRISTMAS TREE, BECAUSE OF ALL THE CARNAGE I'VE LIVED THROUGH AS A CURRIE; WITH A HEAVY IRISH INFLUENCE, ESPECIALLY THE IMPATIENCE PART. SUZANNE, IN THE TIME I'VE TAKEN TO WRITE THESE FEW PARAGRAPHS, HAS ALREADY ADDED AN EXTRA STRAND OF CHRISTMAS LIGHTS, AND WRAPPED THE FAKE SCOTCH PINE WITH GOLD AND CRANBERRY COLORED BEADS, AND THERE HAS ONLY BEEN MINOR GRUMBLING ABOUT SOME ORNAMENTS MISSING FROM THE BOX, AND REPRIMANDS TO OUR CATS ANGUS AND ZAPPA, FOR TRYING TO MAKE THEIR NESTS IN THE UPPER BOUGHS. ANDREW AND ROBERT LOVE DECORATING THE TREE, BUT THEY'RE WORKING LATE TONIGHT IN THEIR RECORDING STUDIO. DECORATING THE CHRISTMAS TREE ISN'T THE PRIORITY IT USED TO BE, AND I DO MISS THAT. JUST NOT THE ARGUMENTS THAT ALWAYS BEGAN WITH, "HEY, WHO ARE YOU CALLING STUPID," AND ENDED WITH, "I'M OUT OF HERE!"
IT IS NICE THOUGH, WHEN IT'S ALL TRIMMED UP AND SHIMMERING IN THE DARKNESS OF BIRCH HOLLOW. A COUPLE OF YEARS AGO, WHEN MY FATHER WAS IN THE FINAL DAYS OF HIS LIFE, JUST PRIOR TO CHRISTMAS, WE DIDN'T EVEN HAVE A TREE WITH ONLY A FEW DAYS LEFT BEFORE THE HOLIDAYS. I PICKED UP A TINY TABLE-TOP TREE, AT A LOCAL THRIFT SHOP, FOR A COUPLE OF BUCKS, AND WHILE IT LOOKED OKAY BEFORE WE PLUGGED IT IN, I COULDN'T BELIEVE MY MISFORTUNE, AT HAVING PURCHASED ONE WITH BLINKING LIGHTS. I CAN'T ABIDE BLINKING LIGHTS. THEY DISTRACT ME AND IT WAS POSITIONED BESIDE THE TELEVISION, FOR LACK OF A BETTER PLACE TO SET IT UP. IT WAS THE CHRISTMAS OF REGRETS THAT'S FOR SURE. NOT THIS YEAR. THE TREE HAS BEEN UP FOR AN ENTIRE YEAR, AND THERE HASN'T BEEN EVEN A SINGLE NEEDLE HIT THE FLOOR. THIS PLASTIC TREE ACTUALLY LOOKS PRETTY GOOD, AND THERE ARE NO BLINKING LIGHTS. BUT I CAN STILL HEAR THE VOICE OF MY FATHER, AS A HAUNTING ECHO, EXPLAINING TREE LOCATION ENGINEERING TO MY MOTHER, OVER SOME SPIKED EGGNOG, AND THEN BLAMING GOD WHEN THE TREE FELL OVER AND BROKE HER LAST FEW GLASS ORNAMENTS.
I BET YOU HAVE SOME UNIQUE CHRISTMAS TREE STORIES YOURSELF. BETTER WRITE THEM DOWN, FOR YOUR FAMILY'S POSTERITY.
CHRISTMAS IN GRAVENHURST -
A WRITER'S NIGHT - A CRICKET - A CHRISTMAS HEARTH - BY THE LIGHT OF THE OLD OIL LAMP - A SENTIMENTAL REFRAIN
Note to reader: This cricket of which I've informed you about, has annoyed me for the last hour. I have chased the bandy-legged wee beastie, from one corner to the next, and despite its sense of peril, it chirps with total disregard, for what the proprietor of this establishment might eventually resort to, for peace and quiet once more. I shall endeavor to tell my story, in between the exorcism of this insect, so pardon the deviations you might find within……as the cricket on the Christmas hearth, enjoys its winter respite, in the sanctuary of my humble book-strewn office.
WHEN I RETURNED HOME FROM UNIVERSITY, IN THE SPRING OF 1977, I OPENED UP A SMALL ANTIQUE AND GIFT BUSINESS WITH MY PARENTS, IN A TURN OF THE CENTURY BRICK HOME, ON MANITOBA STREET, IN BRACEBRIDGE. IT WAS THE FORMER HOME AND MEDICAL OFFICE BELONGING TO DR. PETER MCGIBBON, WHO ALSO SERVED AS OUR REGION'S M.P. IN OTTAWA, AND HE IS SAID TO HAVE PLAYED HOST TO A WOULD-BE PRIME MINISTER, SIR ARTHUR MEIGHEN.
OUR FAMILY OPENED THE BUSINESS ON THE MAIN FLOOR, AND RESIDED INITIALLY IN THE BACK OF THE HOUSE, WHERE I HAD A SMALL BEDROOM. BUT WHAT I DID GET, WAS ACCESS TO A THIRD FLOOR ATTIC, THAT WENT FROM THE FRONT OF THE LARGE HOUSE TO THE BACK, AND THAT AFFORDED ME A SPECTACULAR VIEW OF MEMORIAL PARK AND THE ILLUMINATED BANDSHELL. I HAD MY WRITING DESK PULLED AS CLOSE TO THE WINDOW AS I COULD, TO GET THE BEST PANORAMA OF THE PEDESTRIAN AND VEHICULAR TRAFFIC ON THAT SECTION OF UPPER MANITOBA STREET. IT WAS THE PLACE THAT GOT ME STARTED ON MIDNIGHT WRITING JAGS THAT WOULD END AT SUNRISE. IT WAS A FASCINATING PLACE TO WORK THROUGH THE FOUR SEASONS. IT WAS A PORTAL ONTO WHAT WAS THEN, MY HOME BASE. FRANKLY, I THOUGHT IT WAS THE PLACE I'D REMAIN UNTIL THAT LAST KEYSTROKE HIT THE PAPER. I WANTED TO BUY THE HOUSE. AH, THE CEASELESS DILEMMA OF THE WRITER. I DIDN'T HAVE THE FUNDS. AND I COULDN'T FORSEE A TIME, IN THE IMMEDIATE FUTURE, WHEN THAT WAS GOING TO CHANGE. ON A REPORTER'S SALARY, I WAS LUCKY TO MAKE RENT, LET ALONE PAY-DOWN A LARGE MORTGAGE.
I OFTEN THINK OF THAT PORTAL ONTO BRACEBRIDGE'S MEMORIAL PARK. EVEN HERE, AT BIRCH HOLLOW, WITH THIS FROZEN, BEAUTIFUL BOG, ACROSS THE ROAD, I DO, ON MIND-FULL OCCASION, MISS ALL THE ACTIVITY I WAS ABLE TO WITNESS DAILY, CRISS-CROSSING THE PARK…..THE KIDS ON THE WAY TO AND FROM SCHOOL, LEAVING THEIR FOOTPRINTS IN THE NEW SNOW…..WATCHING THEM MAKE SNOW-ANGELS AND SNOWMEN……SEEING YOUNG-TIMERS, OLD-TIMERS, WISE GUYS AND WISE GIRLS, MAKING TRIPS UP TOWN AND DOWN, AND THE MOTORCADE OF VEHICLES PASSING BY, DAY AND NIGHT.
YET I HAVE ALWAYS HAD GREAT APPRECIATION FOR SOLITUDE. THIS PLACE, THIS PORTAL OF COURSE, IS OF GREAT RELEVANCE TO MY OUTLOOK ON JUST ABOUT EVERYTHING THESE DAYS. WHEN I AWAKEN, AND LOOK OUT UPON THIS FROZEN LANDSCAPE, AND SEE HOW BRIGHT AND PROSPEROUS IT ALL LOOKS, I KNOW THERE IS NO FINER PLACE, FROM WHICH TO WRITE. I WAS YOUNGER AND MORE INTERESTED IN REPRESENTING THE DYNAMIC OF SMALL TOWN LIFE. THAT PARTICULAR VANTAGE POINT, ABOVE THE PARK, OFFERED ME THE VOYEUR'S PERSPECTIVE……NO ONE KNEW I WAS THERE….BUT I WAS WATCHING THEIR EVERY MOVE. THESE WERE THE ACTIONS AND REACTIONS THAT MADE THEIR WAY INTO MY EARLY NOVEL ATTEMPTS…..WERE THE EARLY CHARACTERS IN SHORT STORIES; THE SUBJECTS OF POETIC ATTEMPTS TO REPRESENT MY CONTEMPORARY CIRCUMSTANCES. I NEEDED THAT PERIOD TO WATCH AND LEARN. TO FEEL COMFORTABLE AS AN OBSERVER…..ON THE VERGE, THEN, OF BECOMING A TOWN HISTORIAN. IT WAS ALL HISTORY THAT WAS PASSING HERE, AND I WAS IN ONE OF THE MOST HISTORIC HOUSES ALONG THAT MAIN STRETCH OF SMALL TOWN COMMERCE. I SUPPOSE, FOR THOSE MANY HOURS SPENT WATCHING AND TYPING AT WINDOW-SIDE, THAT I EXHAUSTED WHAT I NEEDED TO, IN ORDER TO MOVE ON……EXPAND MY HORIZONS…..BREAK FREE OF THE BOOK I HAD WRITTEN MYSELF INTO……A HISTORY THAT VERY NEARLY SWALLOWED ME LIVE.
IT IS DIFFERENT HERE. I STARE OUT AT THE TREE LINE, WELL BEHIND THE HOLLOW OF THE BOG, AND FEEL UNBRIDLED BY THE ATMOSPHERE OF ADVENTURE, BECKONING THE VOYEUR TO COME FORTH…….AND WALK WITH SELF RIGHTEOUS CONVICTION, TO THE CENTRE OF THE STORM……THAT ONCE SCARED ME HALF TO DEATH. THERE IS NOTHING THAT CONFINES ME HERE…….JUST THE ROOF OVER MY HEAD, THE CATS ON MY LAP, AND THE ATTRACTION I HAVE NOW, TO THIS HOT TEAPOT AND ITS GLORIOUS CONTENTS.
I was out a while ago, and it seemed on the verge of rain. I've heard the weather prognosticators declaring……as if with early election results, (even before the polls close) that we will be having a green Christmas this year. I know they are only referring to the Toronto region of our province, as they don't spend much time these days, worrying about weather conditions in the hinterland. I suppose they've decided the market is too small, and unpopulated to deserve full weather disclosure on the nightly news.
It is all fine by me. I enjoy this landscape regardless of the weather……though I confess to being nervous about lightning strikes and damaging winds, as we have many, many maples and pines on our property. In the lamplight the lilacs and raspberry canes still have large clumps of snow and ice from the weekend bluster, and the rose bushes are bowed over awkwardly under the weight. Suzanne reminds me that I was supposed to wrap them up long before the first snow. I am delinquent and she will remind me many times until the job is complete. The rain will give me a reprieve I suppose. I'm going to get her to help me. I don't think she'd approve what I come up with to protect her most precious summer plants.
WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT MUSKOKA?
Prior to 1871, Reverend John Webster wrote one of the earliest descriptions of the Muskoka countryside. It's not a stretch to see this same landscape, either from my daily walks, or even to the most limited degree, from this wee portal at Birch Hollow, in Gravenhurst.
"The country is diversified - it is not one great plain, neither is it a mountainous country. We have hills and dales, rocks and lands, rivers and lakes in abundance. The scenery is most beautiful. It would be hard to surpass in loveliness some of those lakes, nestled as they are in an almost unbroken forest, still with enough of clearance on their shores to give them a beautiful romantic appearance. As you sail on those waters, and pass silently around numerous rocky islands, covered with trees, mostly pine and other evergreen trees, as the balsam, spruce, and hemlock; passing now and then an island with one solitary tree standing on it, to brave the buffeting of the storm alone, you can imagine you see some of the scenery described in some fairy tale you have read in childhood. But the Christian can, however, turn the whole scenery to a better account, as he reads his Bible, and reads of Christ, the 'Rock of Ages,' upon which the soul can anchor and be safe, while the storm of life passes over him."
As a researcher, I'm always looking for early descriptions of our region, from the first folks to make notes about what they encountered of weather, the seasons, curiosities of the landscape, and even much later, what artists and poets had to say about the hinterland they came to write about, and capture on paint boards. In a modern sense, I've tried to experience everything I have read, to either concur or disagree with their assessments. While it's not possible to re-create entirely, the pioneer landscape, isolation is potential through the region……just as it is, to paddle a canoe into tranquil, wild inlets and bays, and feel as if you are the first to have come that way. And I've looked out onto Muskoka from many different portals, and not just in wild areas, but in the midst of the urban din, in order to represent it accurately, and proportionately. From an upstairs window looking down on a busy town artery, a bustling park area, the vastly different glimpses of the seasons against the townscape, to this vantage point, looking out upon the frozen gardens, and the abutting bogland, and feeling the same about it all…….that from that first winter of this mission, in 1977-78, to represent my host region, I have never once been disappointed, or felt in anyway limited, as to what I could reap as inspiration, from the immersion in this amazing, and tantalizing lakeland.
"Some imagine that because we live back in the woods, we must be extremely lonely, and destitute of all means of enjoyment. This is a great mistake," wrote Thomas McMurray, in 1871, published in his settlers' guide book, "Muskoka and Parry Sound."
"We would not exchange positions with our city friends."
"Here in the bush, life is found, work and play both abound, and yet strangely agree, here extremes we'd unite, here the sombre and the bright, mixed together you see; unrestrained seem to run, both the serious and fun, in the wool-picking bee." Have you been to one of these. Lost in history, you see!
By the glow of the oil lamp, in my office now, there is a strange reflection of it, and me in the window beyond. It might be frightening to some, as I appear quite malevolent, as if a ghost hovering over a desk, like the ones Ebeneezer Scrooge had to contend, so many Christmases ago. My cats don't find me particularly frightening, as I pat their tiny heads and perky ears, and the dog scratching its behind has little concern as well, and I'm relieved it's just a strange but truthful reflection……and not really a ghost at all. For if I was to come back, from the great beyond, and sit again at this desk, I doubt my wafting vapor would support, these two burdensome cats.
I feel so wonderfully alive. Now for some more mortal pleasure…..the rest of this still hot tea.
Merry Christmas to you.
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