A DAY FOR THE RECORD BOOKS - LOTS OF SHOP VISITORS, LOTS OF ODD JOBS, AND THE FIRST STAGES OF PET ADOPTION
ROBERT WILL BE BRINGING HOME A NEW CHUM SOON -
It was kind of a stressful day all told, from the gentle way it began; it started with the Curries standing outside, before heading off to work, enjoying the clear morning air, and the sounds birds visiting Birch Hollow. We had a number of business appointments to keep, and a few miles to travel, some furniture to shift, and the four of us never got a chance throughout the work day, to actually enjoy the coffees we bought at stops here and there. We'd just sit down for a wee respite, embrace coffee cup and cookie, and then get a call that would demand us setting our drink back down, and putting the cookie with a bite out of it, back on the plate temporarily. Being busy is a good thing at this time of the year, especially today, as snow squalls started moving in off the lake. Got caught in two of them but they weren't blinding like some back in November. I like the occasional fast paced day, but this one was pretty nuts, and it was made even more of an adventure, when son Robert got a chance to see a pet being put up for adoption, at the local Humane Society shelter. I was the roadie for the day, as I usually am, with my trucker's cap, and I got paid an apple fritter and coffee, from Andrew, for the morning run, and a piece of pizza and a pop in the afternoon, from Robert. I work for food and adventure, so I was well paid today.
I started off this morning, staring at a Cardinal, that was, at least momentarily, staring back at me. We only see about four Cardinals each year, so this was kind of a treat. We had a short but meaningful meeting, and I offered my sincere apology that the squirrels had once again eaten all the seeds fit for Cardinals-kind. He, or she, I needed a birder to confirm this, flitted from branch to branch, and finally disappeared into the hardwoods of The Bog, across the road. There were a lot of bird calls this morning, including dozens of crows darting from hydro pole to pine bough, tree top to stump, cawing and complaining about my intrusion on their woodland. I heard our resident Blue Jays calling out but I couldn't see them this morning; but it was interesting to hear all the bird calls and fluttering about at Birch Hollow. I really enjoy hearing this first thing in the morning. It's why I find this place so special, just the way it is. It is a great habitat for the woodland creatures, and it's amazing to sit up on the verandah watching it all unfold. Even the night time traffic here, is quite amazing. Not the cars. The deer, fox, coyotes and owls (we have two). It's the way everybody should start off their days, enjoying the wonderful graces of vibrant nature, and ending them, with that final walk outside, to check out the starscape in that beautiful deep, black sky.
I was on the road with son Andrew early today, to run some errands in Bracebridge, and we took the back roads, to get our fill of the hinterland, before having to go back to the shop for the balance of the work day. We no sooner arrived back at the shop, after a slow and enjoyable drive, and I started working on today's blog, one hand on the keyboard, the other on a turkey sandwich (we're getting closer to the turkey soup part), when son Robert had to go to the Muskoka Animal Shelter (Ontario Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals) to fill out some adoption paperwork, for a soon to be released dog, he took a shine to during a recent visit. Robert is actually adopting the bandy-legged wee beastie himself, in part, because Suzanne and I are still trying to move on, but finding it difficult, from the loss of our old dog, Bosko, who passed away a couple of weeks ago. Robert and I were talking in the car, on the way to the shelter, and I realized that he had only spent a few weeks of his entire life, without a dog in the house. Even though we have some great little cats at Birch Hollow, and we love them dearly, there is a detectable, unhappy void, none the less. We're not upset at all, about a wee dog coming to live here, because we think Bosko, a surrendered dog herself, would be pleased to know that another homeless pet has been adopted. Afterall we have quite a bit of space here, and a great woodland across the road, to explore and sniff around, to the heart's content. It will take a little getting used to, because Bosko was a mid sized dog and the incoming dog is a light-weight. Suzanne and I have an understanding, that this addition to the family, isn't a replacement for Bosko. You know, we just have to say that, think that, and act accordingly, and it makes us feel less guilty about another canine, which will undoubtedly sleep upon the same section of carpet Bosko had enjoyed; and nudge our legs when it wants attention, or to go out, just like our old friend used to, getting his nose behind my knee cap, when I was sitting in the livingroom. I'm sure there will me moments when we will swear we hear Bosko's nails on the kitchen floor, or swear we can hear her breathing when we awake from a little nap in front of the television; only to take a peak, and see a tiny wee thing looking back at us. We will learn how to move on, as we have had to in the past, when our pets have given us everything they could, and grew tired in their labours to keep us entertained, and always in good company.
I don't want to jinx the adoption process, by offering her name just yet, because there are a few more hurdles before she comes home with Robert in a week or so. In the meantime, Suzanne will be prepping the old homestead for our little guest, and as is tradition, buying new food and water dishes, a collar and leash, and oh yes, some dog toys. She will also be speaking with considerable empathy, to our cats, Buddy, Angus, Chutney, Zappa, and Beasley, begging them to be on their best behavior when the new resident arrives. They currently have the run of the place, and that will change a tad with a new dog on the premises. When we adopted Bosko, we were told by Shelter staff, that she would not get along well with cats. We liked everything else about her, and decided to take a chance that she wouldn't eat any of them. It was a remarkable transition, that caused little chagrin whatsoever, after the first full day. The cats backed off and studied Bosko for most of the first week, before actually challenging for floor space. Even right to the end of Bosko's life, Angus, Zappa, and Beasley, were rubbing against her as if old and dear friends, passing along some creature comforts at a time of need. It was great to see, day to day, and very comforting to all of us, to know that we had all been able to live under the same roof, without too much collateral damage. The only time I ever saw Bosko take a run at one of our cats, was when Angus, the tommy of the group, took a run at its smaller sister, Zappa, and Bosko grabbed the male cat by the back of the neck, as a stern warning to cease and desist. In only a few minutes, with Angus unhurt but hiding under the table, Zappa came and rubbed against Bosko without any reaction from the dog, other than closing its eyes, and resuming its nap.
We will have to adjust our thinking and, of course, our emotions, but after seeing the face of the little critter headed our way, well sir, I think we will be in good shape in short order. She will be penned into the family chronology Suzanne keeps, to pass onto the boys, when we're pushing up the daisies, recording some anecdotes about our first three dogs, Alf, Kramer, and Bosko - all taken from television character names, from some of our favorite shows. As all our pets have contributed to our family life and times, I know we are about to embark on some very unique and interesting moments, with Robert's first dog. His cat is Zappa by the way. When the adoption is finalized and we have brought her home, I will publish some snapshots of our new guard dog at Birch Hollow. We are very thankful for the assistance from the Muskoka Animal Shelter for their kind assistance, putting us together on this, and so many other successful occasions, when our family connected with dogs that would change and enhance all our lives.
I can guarantee on thing for sure. This new pet will be spoiled with celebrity, because I will write about it frequently, in these blogs, and it will have quite an interesting interaction with all the well known musicians, who drop by the studio for a visit with Andrew and Robert, when they're passing through the region. Robert wants to be able to keep her in the studio during the day, and socialize with our guests; at least the ones without dog fur allergies. We would have loved to bring Bosko in her heyday to the shop, to lay in the studio, but she was too determined to protect us, and our digs, to have relaxed with the high traffic. She was not a sociable dog in this way, but she was loyal to us to the end. We hope it will be different with our new little friend. I'll let you know how it works out.
From the Archives
NEW YEAR'S IN BRACEBRIDGE -
THE OLD GANG, A LOT OF FUN UP ON LIDDARD AND AUBREY STREETS - AND THEN WE GOT SERIOUS - THAT WASN'T ANY FUN
WE MAY HAVE HAD THE STRANGEST ROAD HOCKEY CONFIGURATION IN CANADA. IT'S WORTH A HOCKEY BOOK ON ITS OWN. IT WAS AN "L" SHAPED DRIVEWAY, AT THE HENRY HOME, UP ON LIDDARD. THAT'S RIGHT. WE PLAYED ON A RIGHT ANGLE. CRAZY. WE DEVELOPED HOCKEY SKILLS NO ONE HAD EVER SEEN BEFORE. WE HAD ABOUT TWENTY FEET OF STRAIGHTAWAY, AND A RIGHT TURN TO THE OPPONENT'S NET. IF WE TURNED LEFT, WE RAN INTO A TOUGH MAPLE. FRANK HENRY, OWNER OF THE LIDDARD STREET HOCKEY VENUE, JUST SHOOK HIS HEAD WHEN HE WENT TO WORK, AND THEN CAME BACK, AND WE WERE STILL TWISTING WITH SHARP RIGHTS AND EQUALLY SHARP LEFTS, TO GET A CLEAR SHOT ON NET. IT WAS CRAZY. FRANK'S SON STEVE WAS THE HOST, AND HE INVITED THE NEIGHBORHOOD LADS TO PLAY ON SATURDAYS, AND AT TIMES WE FILLED THE RESIDENTIAL LOT WITH HOCKEYISTS, PLAYING THE GREAT CANADIAN GAME. WHEN STEVE AND HIS DAD WENT TO A HUGE EFFORT TO BUILD A NATURAL ICE PAD, AT THE BACK OF THE HOUSE, WE JUST STOOD IN THE DRIVEWAY BANGING OUR STICKS. IT WOULDN'T BE THE SAME WITHOUT THE LEFT AND RIGHT TURNS TO THE NET. WE'D KEEP DITCHING IN THE SNOWBANK.
WE HAD PLAYERS BACK THEN LIKE RANDY CARSWELL, WHO ALSO PROVIDED THE PLAY BY PLAY, SCOTT RINTOUL, ROD BALDWIN, RON BOYER, ROGER TAVERNER, RICK HILLMAN, STEVE, MYSELF, AND A HALF DOZEN DAY-PLAYERS LIKE HIS SISTERS LINDA AND SUSAN.
EVEN THOUGH I WAS A HUNT'S HILL LAD, AND PROUD OF IT, THERE CAME A POINT IN MY ROAD HOCKEY CAREER, WHEN MY TEAM-MATES STARTED TO LISTEN TO ROCK 'N' ROLL, AND GAVE UP ON THE ALICE STREET SHINNY. I WAS DEVASTATED. SOON THOUGH, A SHIFT TO A NEW NEIGHBORHOOD, GAVE A LOT MORE ZING TO THE ROAD HOCKEY TRADITION, AND IT BECAME THE REAL LIFE "70'S SHOW," WITH SOME GREAT FOLKS. THE HENRY'S HOME WAS THE PERFECT PLACE TO HOLD OUR SOCIAL CLUB MEETINGS, AND YOU KNOW, THEIR WATCHFUL EYES, AND KEEN ADVISORIES, KEPT US OUT OF THE KIND OF TROUBLE TEENAGERS ARE DRAWN TO….THAT ARE USUALLY A TAD SELF DESTRUCTIVE. WE KIND OF POLICED OURSELVES, AND ENJOYED TEENAGE REBELLION BY PLAYING SPORTS, FROM BASEBALL TO SUMMER HOCKEY, SLEDDING IN THE WINTER, HIKING IN THE SUMMER.
I GET KIND OF SAPPY AT THIS TIME OF YEAR. SITTING HERE, LOOKING AT THE OLD PHOTOGRAPHS OF THOSE KODAK MOMENTS, WHEN WE REALLY DIDN'T HAVE A CLUE HOW WE'D WIND UP EVENTUALLY. I'M PRETTY SURE THEY WOULD HAVE AGREED, I'D BE IN SOME PENAL COLONY BY NOW, FOR MOUNTING SOME GOVERNMENT OVER-THROW, OR WORSE, AND I'M PRETTY SURE THEY'D HAVE BEEN RIGHT, IF IT HADN'T BEEN FOR THE CALMING DEGREE OF SENSIBLE PROPORTION, MENTORED BY THE HENRYS. I REMEMBER THE DAWSON GALS, LINDA AND MARION, (I DATED BOTH), JUDY GREY, NANCY CRUMP AND LINDA HENRY…..ALL FINE FRIENDS, FROM A REMARKABLE PERIOD OF THE 1970'S……WHEN THERE WERE SO MANY LIFE CHANGING SHARP RIGHT, AND LEFT TURNS WE COULD HAVE MADE……JUST LIKE OUR HOCKEY GAMES. BUT WE DIDN'T. ALL HAVE HAD PROSPEROUS AND SUCCESSFUL LIVES AND CAREERS, AND I'M SO HAPPY FOR THEM.
AT THE TIME, I THOUGHT WE'D BE TOGETHER FOREVER. IT NEVER ONCE CROSSED MY MIND, THAT MANY WOULD MOVE AWAY FROM MUSKOKA, AND THAT THE OLD DAYS WOULD BE JUST THAT…….SOME DOG EARRED PHOTOGRAPHS IN AN OLD ALBUM, DUST COVERED AND SMELLING A LITTLE MUSTY. IN MY MIND HOWEVER, THESE MEMORIES HAVE ALL BEEN MUCH CLOSER, MUCH DEARER, AND RECALLED MUCH MORE FREQUENTLY……..THAN I'M SURE THEY THINK OF ME, ALL THESE YEARS LATER. WHAT THEY GAVE ME, WAS MY SENSE OF HOME TOWN, A GREAT CHILDHOOD AND A SAFE TEENAGEHOOD…..WHEN I THINK HONESTLY, I COULD HAVE VERY EASILY STRAYED. IF I HAD, EVEN BY A STRAY MOLECULE, LEFT THE PATH I TOOK FROM THAT VINTAGE, IT IS VERY UNLIKELY I WOULD BE WHERE I AM TODAY…….HERE AT BIRCH HOLLOW, WITH MY WIFE SUZANNE AND TWO FINE MUSICIAN LADS, ANDREW AND ROBERT. IT WAS BECAUSE OF THEM. THEY MIGHT THINK THIS RIDICULOUS, BUT IT'S TRUE NONE THE LESS. THEY TEMPERED ME AT A TIME WHEN NO ONE ELSE, INCLUDING MY PARENTS, COULD CHANGE HISTORY. IT WAS LINDA DAWSON WHO CHASTISED ME FOR DRINKING, AND I KNEW IT WAS A TERRIBLE WAY TO TREAT SOMEONE YOU CARED ABOUT. I STOPPED. I HAVE REMEMBERED THE LOOK OF DISDAIN ON HER FACE, ALL THESE YEARS LATER. LOOKING AT SOMEONE SHE TRUSTED, HAVING A HARD TIME STANDING UPRIGHT. WHILE IT'S TRUE I HAD MANY ENCOUNTERS WITH BOOZE OVER THE YEARS, AT THE TIME, IT WAS LINDA WHO SOWED THE SEED OF DISCONTENT…….AND MADE ME AWARE OF THE COLLATERAL DAMAGE OF HAVING TOO MUCH FUN.
I AM GRATEFUL FOR THESE FRIENDSHIPS OF ONCE. THEY WERE THE MAKING OF ME…..FOR BETTER OR WORSE……GOD BLESS AND OF COURSE, HAPPY NEW YEAR FROM ONE OF THE OLD GANG.
GRAVENHURST - IN THE BEGINNING - GREAT EXPECTATIONS ON THE MUSKOKA FRONTIER - AS FAR BACK AS 1858
OUR FIRST HOSPITALITY GRADING - THANKS TO MOTHER MCABE
THE SUDDEN DRAMATIC TURN OF THE WEATHER RECENTLY, HAS CREATED CITY-LIKE TRAFFIC CHAOS IN A COUNTRY SETTING. ALMOST ZERO VISIBILITY WHITE-OUTS AND SLIPPERY ROADS (NOT TO MENTION EXCESSIVE SPEED) HAVE CAUSED MANY MOTOR VEHICLE COLLISIONS, ON THE ICED-OVER ROADWAYS OF SOUTH MUSKOKA. CONTRIBUTING TO LOTS OF WORK FOR LOCAL FIRST RESPONDERS, THEMSELVES AT RISK, ENTERING DANGEROUS WHITE-OUT SITUATIONS, TO RESCUE THE INJURED AND ILL. DURING THESE RECENT PERIODS OF WARNINGS AND WATCHES, MANY HAVE OPTED TO STAY OFF THE ROADS, LIKE ME, AND LET THE BAD WEATHER PLAY ITSELF OUT. IN FACT, SITTING HERE NOW, IN UPTOWN GRAVENHURST, RECLINING IN THE COMFORTS OF ANDREW AND ROBERT'S RECORDING STUDIO, I'M SENSING THE ARRIVAL OF A MORE OPTIMISTIC CHRISTMAS MOOD, DESPITE THE THROES OF WINTER'S DRASTIC TRANSFORMATION. THIS WARM AND COZY PORTAL, FACILITATING MY VIEW OUT OVER THE MAIN STREET, MUSKOKA ROAD, AFFORDS A NICELY FRAMED WINTER VISTA OF THE OLD HOMETOWN; AND I MUST CONFESS TO GETTING DISTRACTED REGULARLY, WATCHING ALL THE BUNDLED-UP CITIZENS, TRUNDLING BY, WITH BIG AND LITTLE PARCELS, AND COLORFUL BAGS FULL TO OVERFLOWING, WITH ROLLS OF CHRISTMAS WRAP AND BOXES PROTRUDING AT THE TOP. PRESENTS? MAYBE, BUT NOT FOR ME. DRAT! THE PASSERSBY ARE SLIGHTLY HUNCHED OVER FROM THE WEIGHT, AND TRYING TO NAVIGATE THROUGH THE WIND INFLATING THEIR HALF OPEN COATS, AND TOSSING THEIR SCARVES BACK, AS IF THEY WERE PILOTING A BIPLANE. THEIR HATS ARE COVERED IN SNOW, AND SHOULD THEY BE BEARDED, OUT IN THIS OPEN STORM, THEY WOULD BE CARRYING WITH THEM, A WEIGHT OF SNOW AND ICE. ONE MAN HAS JUST DROPPED TWO OF HIS PARCELS, AND BEFORE HE COULD TURN TO PICK THEM UP, A KINDLY PEDESTRIAN, FOLLOWING BEHIND, ALREADY HAD THEM BOTH IN HIS HANDS, OFFERING THEM BACK WITH OUTSTRETCHED ARMS, TO THE GENTLEMAN, EVEN BEFORE HE COULD FULLY TURN BACK TO RETRIEVE HIS POSSESSIONS. A YOUNGSTER RUNS WITH RECKLESS ABANDON, AND TURNS SIDEWAYS TO SLIDE DOWN THE WALK. HE'S ONLY PARTLY SUCCESSFUL, AS HE TRIPS AND DROPS INTO AN AWKWARD ROLL, WHILE HIS FRIENDS LAUGH AND TRY THE SAME. TWO SUCCESSFUL AND TWO OTHERS ENDING UP IN A CLUMP OF SNOWSUITS ON THE CURB. NO ONE IS HURT. EACH IS COVERED IN SNOW, AND THEY LIKE IT THAT WAY. THEY'RE TOO SET ON PLAY, TO BE PACIFIED BY ANYTHING LESS THAN HORSEPLAY WITHOUT THE HORSE.
I AM HOLDING A COPY OF MUSKOKA'S FIRST HISTORY, WRITTEN BY THOMAS MCMURRAY, AUTHOR OF THE BOOK, "MUSKOKA AND PARRY SOUND," CIRCA
THE EARLY 1870'S. A BOOK THAT IS ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY-THREE YEARS OLD. THE BOOK BELONGED TO SUZANNE'S GRANDFATHER, JOHN SHEA, BUT IT HAD BEEN PASSED DOWN TO HIM FROM OTHER SHEA FAMILY MEMBERS, WHO HAD ARRIVED HERE AS SETTLERS, IN THE WINTER OF 1863. SUZANNE'S MOTHER GAVE IT TO ME, AFTER WE WERE MARRIED, AND IT WAS ONE OF THE MOST IMPORTANT ACQUISITIONS A REGIONAL HISTORIAN COULD RECEIVE. SO IN RESPECT TO THIS CHRISTMAS SEASON IN GRAVENHURST, I WANTED TO RE-PUBLISH SOME OF THE COMMENTS PRINTED BY THOMAS MCMURRAY, ABOUT THE REALITIES AND PROSPECTS FOR THIS HAMLET, AS FAR BACK AS 1858; WHEN THE FIRST PIONEERS BROKE TRAIL INTO THE DARK MUSKOKA WILDS. AT A TIME WHEN WE HEAR, AND READ, ABOUT THE ECONOMIC INEFFICIENCIES, STILL AFFECTING OUR TOWN, MAYBE WE SHOULD REFLECT BACK TO THE HARDSHIPS THAT HAVE BEEN ENDURED AND OVERCOME, SINCE THOSE INCREDIBLY DIFFICULT DAYS, WHEN A BASIC, NO FRILL LOG CABIN WAS AN IMPROVEMENT OVER A BRUSH SHANTY FOR COMFORTABLE ACCOMMODATION DURING A HARSH WINTER. TODAY OUT THERE? THIS WOULD HAVE BEEN A MODEST INTRUSION OF WINTER BACK THEN, AS WINTERS WERE MUCH MORE AGGRESSIVE AND SNOW-FILLED. WE'RE NOT GOING TO HIT FORTY-FIVE BELOW ARE WE?
"THE ROAD WAS COMMENCED IN WASHAGO, IN 1858; MESSRS ST. GEORGE AND O'BRIEN WERE THE CONTRACTORS. IN THE FALL OF 1859, MR. R.J. OLIVER WAS APPOINTED LOCATING AGENT AT $4 PER DIEM, UNDER THE GOVERNMENT OF THE HON. JOHN A. MACDONALD; MR. P.M. VANKOUGHNET BEING CROWN LANDS' COMMISSIONER. ON THE 1ST OF OCTOBER, 1859, HE MET THE SETTLERS AT THE SEVERN BRIDGE AND ISSUED ABOUT 17 LOCATIONS - ON THE ROAD ONLY - JAMES H. JACKSON, WILLIAM JOHNSON, AND JOHN YOUNG, JAMES MCCABE, DAVID LEITH, AND THE SIMMINGTONS, WERE THE FIRST SETTLERS IN THE TOWNSHIPS OF MORRISON AND MUSKOKA," WRITES MCMURRAY. "A SMALL SHANTY HAD BEEN OPENED AS A TAVERN, AND WAS KEPT BY A BROTHER-IN-LAW (MR. SWIFT) OF THE LATE JOHN TIPPING, ESQ., J.P. ORILLIA, WHO PURCHASED FIVE ACRES OFF LOT NUMBER 1, WEST FROM WILLIAM JOHNSTON. DONALD FERGUSON, A BRAVE HIGHLAND SCOTCHMAN, WAS THE FIRST SETTLER IN THE TOWNSHIP OF DRAPER. AT THIS PERIOD THE ROAD ONLY EXTENDED TO THE SOUTH FALLS, AND THE BRIDGE WAS NOT BUILT; BUT 'DONALD' NOTHING DAUNTED, CROSSED THE RIVER AND LOCATED ON A LOVELY SPOT CLOSE TO THE FALLS, ON THE NORTH SIDE OF THE RIVER. WHILE LOTS ON THE ROAD WERE LOCATED IN THE FALL OF 1859, IT WAS NOT TILL 1861 THAT THE LANDS IN THE TOWNSHIPS OF MORRISON, MUSKOKA, DRAPER AND MACAULAY, WERE THROWN UPON THE MARKET, AND AT THE SAME TIME, MR. R. J. OLIVER WAS APPOINTED CROWN LANDS'AGENT. IT WAS IN THE MONTH OF MAY, IN THIS SAME YEAR, THAT THE WRITER (MCMURRAY) BECAME A RESIDENT OF DRAPER, BEFORE THE TOWNSHIP WAS ENTIRELY SURVEYED.
"I CANNOT BUT REFER HERE TO THE BITTER OPPOSITION WHICH WAS MANIFESTED TOWARDS THE GOVERNMENT BY A PORTION OF THE PRESS AND A NUMBER OF GENTLEMAN, FOR ATTEMPTING TO OPEN UP THIS PART OF ONTARIO; EVERY FORM OF MISREPRESENTATION AND ABUSE WAS SOUGHT AFTER AND CIRCULATED, AND IT WAS EVEN ASSERTED THAT IT WAS ONLY TO 'AFFORD SITUATIONS FOR THEIR FRIENDS,' THAT THE COUNTRY WAS OPENED UP. THE TOWN OF BARRIE FIGURED VERY CONSPICUOUSLY IN THEIR OPPOSITION TO THE SETTLING-UP OF THE NORTH; AMONG THE FAULT FINDERS WERE MIGHT NAME R, L, AND M,; BUT, AS THEY HAVE LIVED TO SEE THEIR ERROR, WE DECLINE EXPOSURE; BUT, AS SAMPLE OF THE OPINION IN WHICH MUSKOKA WAS HELD IN THOSE DAYS, WE MAY JUST STATE THAT M. TOLD OUR AUTHOR THAT 'HE WOULD NOT PAY TAXES ON A SINGLE ONE HUNDRED ACRES OF LAND, FOR ALL THE LAND NORTH OF THE SEVERN. MUSKOKA HAS BEEN MUCH ABUSED; STILL IT HAD A FEW EARNEST FRIENDS WHO HAVE DONE THEIR DUTY NOBLY. MR. R. L. OLIVER, FOUGHT MANY A HARD BATTLE AND SILENCED MANY A FOE. WE FIND, ON EXAMINATION, THAT HE WROTE NOT LESS THAT 83 EDITORIALS AND LETTERS OF DEFENCSE OF THE COUNTRY; AND BY HIS WILLING PEN, HAS WON MANY FRIENDS IN THE SETTLEMENT."
ONE OF THE MOST PROMINENT PERSONAL STORIES IN MCMURRAY'S BOOK, REGARDS THE HOSPITALITY FOUND IN THE PIONEER CROSSROADS OF WHAT IS NOW GRAVENHURST. THE WRITER NOTES, "PROMINENT AMONGST THE EARLY SETTLERS STAND THE NAMES OF MR. AND MRS. MCCABE; THEY OPENED A TAVERN AT GRAVENHURST IN 1861, AND MANY A WORN-OUT TRAVELLER HAS BEEN GLAD TO SEE THEIR UNPRETENTIOUS LOG CABIN WHERE THEY MIGHT REST THEIR WEARY LIMBS AND GET SOME REFRESHMENTS TO SUSTAIN NATURE. NEVER SHALL THE WRITER FORGET HIS FIRST INTERVIEW WITH 'MOTHER MCCABE.' WHEN HE ARRIVED THERE, HE WAS HUNGRY AND FOOTSORE, BUT HE MET WITH AN 'IRISH WELCOME,' AND A DINNER WAS SERVED UP BY MOTHER MCCABE WHICH WOULD NOT HAVE DISGRACED ANY HOTEL NORTH OF TORONTO. THE OLD LOG SHANTY LOOKED DULL OUTSIDE, BUT WITHIN, ALL WAS CLEANLINESS AND ORDER; HER CLEAN WHITE CURTAINS KEPT THE MOSQUITOES OUT IN THE SUMMER, THE COLD OUT IN THE WINTER, WHILE HER FEATHER BEDS AFFORDED SWEET REST TO MANY A WEARY LAND-SEEKER. HOW WELCOME WAS THE SIGHT OF THE DIM LOW LIGHT THROUGH THE BUSH, TO THE WEARY TRAVELLER, CAN ONLY BE FULLY APPRECIATED BY THE EARLY PEDESTRIANS, WHEN NO HORSES OR VEHICLES WERE ON THE ROAD; THERE ARE HUNDREDS IN THE SETTLEMENT WHO REMEMBER THEM, AND SOME OF THEM HAVE CAUSE TO BLESS MOTHER MCCABE FOR HER GENEROSITY.
"THE FIRST DEATH IN THE SETTLEMENT WAS THAT OF POOR JOHNSTON; HE WAS DROWNED AT THE SEVERN BRIDGE, ONE SUNDAY WHILST FISHING. THE POOR WIDOW STRUGGLED HARD WITH HER TWO LITTLE BOYS - THE ELDER NOT MORE THAN NINE YEARS - AND, WITH THEIR HELP, SHE MANAGED BEFORE SHE DIED, TO CLEAR ABOUT EIGHT OR NINE ACRES; BUT ALAS, FELL IN THE HARNESS."
HERE THEN ARE THE EARLY CONTRASTS. HARDSHIPS OVERCOME ON ONE HAND. SETTLERS OVERCOME BY CIRCUMSTANCES, ON THE OTHER. IF PERCHANCE, I STOOD OUTSIDE, ON THIS SNOWY DAY, IN GRAVENHURST, WHERE PEOPLE ARE THINKING THIS WINTER WEATHER AN EXTREME HARDSHIP, AND I WAS TO ASK IF THEY KNEW WHO MOTHER MCCABE WAS, I'M REASONABLY SURE, UNLESS A RELATIVE OR HISTORIAN PASSED MY WAY, THAT NO ONE WOULD KNOW OR APPRECIATE THIS NAME. I WOULDN'T EXPECT THEY WOULD HAVE KNOWN THE FIRST ENCAMPMENT HERE, WAS KNOWN AS MCCABE'S LANDING, IN RESPECT TO THE MCCABE FAMILY'S STAKE IN THE TOWNSHIP. I CAN'T FAULT THEM FOR THIS, BECAUSE IT, TO THEM, IS A DETAIL OF ANCIENT HISTORY; EVEN THOUGH 150 YEARS DOES NOT QUALIFY AS ALL THAT OLD, AT LEAST BY BRITISH AND EUROPEAN STANDARDS.....AND OUR FIRST SETTLERS WERE FROM ENGLAND, IRELAND AND SCOTLAND, AS OBSERVED BY MR. MCMURRAY. I MIGHT FAULT A LOCAL TOWN COUNCILLOR FOR NOT KNOWING THIS INFORMATION, BUT CITIZENS GENERALLY HAVE BEEN ONLY MODESTLY EXPOSED TO THE HERITAGE OF THEIR HOMETOWN. THIS IS A SERIOUS SHORTCOMING OF OUR TOWN LEADERSHIP AND THE SCHOOLS OF THE COMMUNITY, THAT THERE IS SO LITTLE EMPHASIS ON HOW IT ALL BEGAN IN THEIR HOME REGION. INSPIRATION TO STUDY LOCAL HISTORY HAS TO COME FROM SOME SOURCE, MORE OFFICIAL IN CIVIC AFFAIRS AND EDUCATION, THAN JUST A COMPLAINING BLOGGER LIKE ME.
I WONDER WHAT IT WOULD HAVE BEEN LIKE, DURING THIS SNOWY PREAMBLE TO CHRISTMAS, TO LODGE WITH THE MCCABES IN THAT FAMILIAR LOG ABODE, HEATED BY THE ROARING FLAME, GENERATED BY OLD MUSKOKA TIMBER, CLEARED ON THAT FIRST HOMESTEAD FROM THE PRIMAL FOREST. I'D GLADLY ACCEPT A CUP OF HER FAMOUS "STIR-ABOUT," A CONCOCTION OF VINEGAR AND MOLASSES, STIRRED WITH HER FULL ARM, WITH SHIRT SLEEVES PULLED UP, EXTENDED DOWN INTO THE VESSEL WHERE THE MURKY, THICK, SWEET LIQUID WAS CONTAINED. THIS IS NOTED IN THE BOOK, "THE FIRST ISLANDERS," BY D.C. MASON, WHO ALSO COMMENTED ON THE FRESH "MURPHYS" SHE WOULD PULL FROM THE BACK GARDEN FOR THAT EVENING'S SUPPER. MURPHY OF COURSE, MEANING POTATO. SHE WOULD HAVE HAD SOME SORT OF ROOT CELLAR TO KEEP THE AUTUMN'S HARVEST OF VEGETABLES PRESERVED FOR THOSE WINTER DAYS....OF ONCE, LONG AGO.
WHAT WOULD MRS MCCABE AND HER HUSBAND MICKY, HAVE DONE TO CELEBRATE THE CHRISTMAS SEASON, IN THAT HUMBLE BUT WELCOMING LOG CABIN IN THE CANADIAN WILDS? I'D REALLY LIKE TO KNOW. SO IF YOU THINK YOU'VE GOT IT HARD, WALKING AGAINST THE WIND AND SNOW TODAY, THINK BACK TO THE PREVAILING WEATHER CONDITIONS THAT FACED THE TRAVELLERS OF THE 1860'S, WHERE PATHS WEREN'T NEATLY SHOVELLED, AND BRIDGES ACROSS CREEKS AND LOWLANDS, WERE FALLEN LOGS; AND FAILING THAT, THE PREVAILING ICE OF THE SEASON. HOPEFULLY THICK ENOUGH TO CROSS OVER. LOTS MISJUDGED WHAT THICKNESS COULD SUPPORT THE WEIGHT OF A TRAVELLER WITH PACKS; A HORSE OR OX LADEN WITH PERSONAL POSSESSIONS. THEN THERE WERE THE WOLVES HOWLING FOR THEIR DINNER. AS FOR HARDSHIPS.....AYE, ME THINKS WE'VE GOT IT PRETTY EASY.
TRUST YOU ARE ENJOYING THE CHRISTMAS SEASON IN THIS PICTURESQUE PART OF THE WORLD. IF NOT.....SLOW DOWN, LOOK ABOUT, AND SEE WHAT YOU'VE BEEN MISSING.
CHRISTMAS IN GRAVENHURST -
RE-VISITING THE HANDICRAFTS FROM THEN TO NOW - AND A WHOLE RANGE OF ARTISTIC, CREATIVE INGENUITY FROM OUR HOME TO YOURS
I JUST MADE EYE TO ANTENNAE CONTACT WITH MY EVER-CHIRPING CRICKET FRIEND. IT'S BEEN A LODGER HERE THIS FALL SEASON, AND I'M NOT SURE IF IT'S ONE CRICKET OR A HALF DOZEN. FORTUNATELY, I ONLY HEAR ONE AT A TIME. I'M HOPING I WILL NOT BE THE AUDIENCE OF A CHRISTMAS-SEASON CHORUS THEY MIGHT HAVE PLANNED FOR THIS VENUE OF BIRCH HOLLOW. OF COURSE I'VE HAD THIS DILEMMA, ABOUT WHAT TO DO WITH THE WEE BEASTIE IF I WAS TO MOUNT A SUCCESSFUL CAPTURE. IT'S NOT THE BEST WEATHER TO BE SENDING SUCH A CREATURE OUT OF DOORS. SO I KEEP HOPING WE CAN CHUM TOGETHER WITHOUT TOO MUCH CONTACT, SO I DON'T HAVE TO ENTERTAIN SUCH AN IDEA. FOR ALL I KNOW, I COULD BE BREAKING UP A FAMILY, BY CATCHING THIS INTERLOPER.
I BETTER START MAKING THESE NOTES BEFORE HE INTERRUPTS AGAIN. I KEEP HAVING TO PAUSE. NO REAL REASON. THE SOUND JUST DISTRACTS ME LONG ENOUGH, I FORGET MY LAST RELEVANT THOUGHT. HERE GOES.
As luck would have it, I found the book mentioned in a previous blog. There it was, wedged in the middle of a hundred other books, leaning a little to the left, but easy to pull out, without the usual landslide such retrieval activities frequently cause. It is entitled simply, "Handicrafts of New England." It is a 1950's circa edition, which had its seed in early magazine work from the mid 1940's. It was written by Alan H. Eaton, and published at the time, by Bonanza Books, of New York.
It begins, "There is no wealth but life. Life, including all its powers of love, of joy, and of admiration. That country is richest which nourishes the greatest number of noble and happy human beings." John Ruskin.
Robert Henri wrote, "Art when really understood is the province of every human being. It is simply a question of doing things, anything well. It is not an outside extra thing…..He (She) does not have to be a painter or a sculptor to be an artist. He / She can work in any medium. They simply have to find the gain in the work itself, not outside it."
"A study of the handicrafts of New England might well be considered an inquiry into the place of handicrafts in our present civilization, for within her boundaries are combined all the elements which make what we call modern civilization," notes Mr. Eaton in his introduction. "Notwithstanding the great industrial and commercial developments of this region today, there is practiced within the states of Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, Connecticut, and Rhode Island, perhaps the widest variety of handicrafts in any country. The spread of motivation ranges from those whose handicrafts must provide the necessities of life to others, who, although free from economic pressure, still make objects with their hands because of man's natural urge to convert materials of his environment into useful and beautiful forms.
"The word 'handicraft,' as used in this book, is a broad term including all these things which are shaped by hand either for the maker's own use or for others. The article may be fashioned entirely by hand, including the preparation of all the materials in basketmaking; or it may be part machine made, as in preparation of woods for fine cabinet-work, and the machine spinning of thread and yarn to be woven on a hand loom. But if the final product, the character of the thing itself, is shaped by hand, it is an object of handicraft. Thus the old world handicraft, as defined by Webster, is a good word,….. for it says exactly what it means."
From my own experience writing feature stories in Muskoka, and being a collector of many hand-made articles (particularly hand-made furnishings from a bygone era), from paintings to quilts, I believe Muskoka has a treasure-trove of fascinating biographies, of largely unsung craftspeople……who have never belonged to an arts and crafts movement, or been on a special tour of artists, or who have never sold anything they've created. Undoubtedly there are many artisans who simply give items away, ranging from home-made fishing lures and decoys, to hand-knit sweaters, mitts, and gloves. The book is a more thorough examination, than I can obviously offer at present, about the various guilds that were put in place, to allow these crafters to market their creations……and the many obstacles that were in the way, of establishing their work as regional industry……and creating a fair balance for the home-workers, to compete in the dog-eat-dog commercial environs of the post war period. The fascination for me, was the book's biographical work, highlighting so many different handicrafts, as it is referred, and giving readers an opportunity to know more about the cultural heritage that was in danger of disappearing…….as manufactured goods were faster to produce, cost less generally, and had the advantage of wide-scale marketing and shipping. It was tough, you bet, for a home knitter, to compete with volume and fair pricing, the parallel articles that were being manufactured by the multimillions for a bargain-conscious audience. Quality, for awhile, lost its significance. Price was becoming the bottom line. Of course, there have always been those who would gratefully choose "handmade" versus the product of a machine.
My introduction to the crafters in our region, came when I was editor of The Herald-Gazette, in Bracebridge, in the 1980's, and it was my job to edit the weekly submissions from our community correspondents. We had space reserved in the newspaper for all our small hamlets and community organizations, ranging from the Women's Institute, 4-H Clubs, Church Women's groups and many, many others. The copy was full of information about the comings and goings of local citizens, and events in these hamlets, as well as updates on fundraising projects, such as community quilts, which were to be auctioned off eventually, and the money directed at a wide array of missions, initiatives and local building projects. I read about every craft imaginable in these enlightening community columns…..that while admittedly more time consuming than most other editorial work, were particularly enjoyable because they were deep and sincere reflections of rural life and times.
I know so much more about our district because of the decade I spent working in their company. In fact, I read about my own future wife, in columns back then, written by Mrs. Bunn, under the heading "Windermere News," and in the Women's Institute and United Church reports, especially her quilt work for these same fundraisers. She was the go-to person when a quilt needed to be put together…..not so much the quilting itself…..which she can still do, but now mostly for repairs.
Suzanne is a home-knitter and she has begun selling her mitts, scarves, socks and hats at our boys music shop, and she's been getting custom orders for Christmas. And I used to get annoyed by the ticky-tacking sound of needles connecting……which at first seemed a whole lot like a dripping faucet. Now that she's turned it into a business, well sir, I can take my mind off the ticking, and be overjoyed by her newfound success. What began from youth, being taught by her mother Harriett, in Windermere, and was refined by suggestions and tricks of the trade by many family crafters over the decades, has always been a part of our Birch Hollow hubbub here…….she has made sweaters for family members for decades, and our boys had a lot of knitwear as kids. Robert now proudly wears his mom's handmade socks, and mitts, and begs her to fix any wear holes…….because he refuses to discard them for new.
I hope you don't perceive this to be a shameless info-mercial for my wife's knitting. But how many highly skilled knitters and quilters, afghan crafters, candlestick makers are out there, doing their thing, with nary a headline or a brief biographic notice. They are important to know about…..even if they aren't selling their wares. Low and behold, they are the fabric of our community, and our hometown. You'd be surprised to know how many of these kindly crafts folk, do their work for charity……mitts and baby knitwear are sent to hospitals and to missions around the globe, to help the less fortunate……a generosity that goes back to the war years and earlier, when those on the home front, made knit items, to send to the soldier's on the battlefront. It's still a benevolent act, being done in one form or other today…..and tomorrow, and unfortunately, we know so little about it all!
Over the centuries, we have had some amazing talents in this region, in a large and diverse field of handicrafts. Some we know about. Many we travel to see on studio tours, and at special art exhibits. Many of us have homes and offices decorated with these well executed, hand crafted pieces, from tea sets, to the most amazing glass creations, paintings and sculptures of international acclaim. And then we have the home-sewers and quilters, who have done the most exquisite work, without nary a fuss being made…….until it is either given as a gift or offered as an auction item in a local fundraiser…….the generosity that repeats many times each year throughout our district.
Excuse me for being aggravated sometimes, when I read the community press, and find the pre-occupation of doom and gloom consuming most of the ink. It used to be that newspapers serving this region, believed in the relevance of outreach and a strong connectedness to the rural areas….the hamlets and villages that still thrive in the beautiful countryside of this amazing region of Canada. Without the weight of BIA debates and the preponderance of politics at every turn, economics oppressing us, like carrying around barbells, the country accounts might serve quite refreshing today……as they always did during my editorial tenure. I found out Muskoka is much more than political posturing, grip and grin ribbon cuttings, and economic belly-aching to get a headline. There was a richness to harvest out there, that was and is still important, to our overall well being as a district…..and as a hometown. We have forgotten that our town isn't defined by the main street, the Wharf, South End developments, or the new recreation centre…….or even the ruckus at town hall. It's the bigger picture we often minimize because that's what the media, the business community, and the politicians reflect as being most important. How many times a year does a hamlet conundrum make a headline in our paper, unless there is some calamity. Maybe there aren't enough reporters to look at our rural climes. More likely, they don't appreciate the social /cultural importance, of including them in our town reporting…..as frequently as once in our mutual history. Gravenhurst is a tad bigger than most of us might believe, from the balance of reporting. There are a lot of great human interest stories out there……but who cares? Right? How many subscriptions and newsstand sales are going to increase because of a feature story on Barkway or Housey's Rapids? I'd read it! Heck I'd write it, if they'd print it!
It's time we got our poop together, and realized that our hometown, our home region, is much more diverse and exciting than most of us know…….and the folks who still rurally, for the love of open spaces, are just as important a consideration, as anything else we are trying to nurture and promote in Muskoka. While handicrafters don't only live in the rural areas of our municipality, it is where you will find many art studios……as the countryside is still the same inspiring locale, as it was in the beginning of our history here. I have a great deal of respect for those who craft anything at all. Alas, I'm only a writer, dependent on my wife to keep me clothed in the finest Muskoka knits. Now that's shameful advertising.
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