Writing About Your Home Town Does Require An Honest Appraisal To Be Of Value

THERE'S A LOT TO BE OBSERVED OUT THERE, THAT WE BYPASS REGULARLY AS IF, IT IS, AND WAS, NOTHING AT ALL!

I LIKED TO PUT MYSELF IN PLACES THAT HAD CURIOUS FEATURES, PECULIARITIES, AND A PORTAL FEW KNEW ABOUT

    Most recently, a column I wrote about the subtle social / cultural influences of the Muskoka River, on the inhabitants of Bracebridge, past and present, generated a few interesting comments from readers. None were negative, but each of them were validation, that the black, snaking course of the Muskoka River, of the North and South Branches, had indeed been part of their heritage as a local citizens. Even admitting that their families had been equally influenced, subtly, by basic association, and in some cases, profoundly, depending on their contact with the river. Possibly as swimmers, boaters, or shoreline residents. Each story was different, but they all concluded the river had been influential in a variety of ways, over many decades, and in some cases, generations, and it was important to hear this beyond my own generalization, that this was the case.
    I love writing about my old home town, and I've already begun looking at many more story ideas for the coming months, hopefully revealing a little bit more, of what is often misunderstood, or under-known about Bracebridge. I don't often share the opinions with my colleagues, in the field of local history, about what conditions, and social / cultural situations and circumstances, have influenced the character of the community I know today. I can't surface-summarize all that has gone on in this central Muskoka town, as some historians have attempted. The stories I write about my former hometown, are not run-of-the-mill, for sure, and that's because I have never found justification for keeping the color confined, when to me, it deserves to be known in the most magnified and illuminated way, as a unique and storied place, to have lived, for so many years. In order to pull the color out, and even let it hang out over the pre-drawn lines, I plan to carry on with some more intimate profiles, like that of the Muskoka River, because I hate that these opinions and recollections, are so few and far between in published histories. We are always influenced by our surroundings, and it's something we all need to address, of what impact our respective home towns, provided our character enhancement, over years of residency. Sometimes the influences are adverse, especially if we happened to have lived in crime-filled neighborhoods. This wasn't the case for me, and my family. We may have lived in a poorer area of town, mostly blue collar folks, but it was a solid neighborhood, of residents who cared for one another, and came together in times of crisis to offer assistance. Most of the time, these circumstances were known to only a very few, but none the less, most of us knew what had occurred, and were thankful we lived in a place with such free flowing benevolence, to any one who found themselves in peril. I loved that about Alice Street.
    Someone said to me, a few days ago, while chatting about one of my regional histories, published on this blog site, that, from my insights, it must have been the case, I was a voyeur from a young age. A spy by any other name. I was taken aback momentarily, because that's exactly how I saw myself, growing up in Burlington and then Bracebridge. I certainly would have been a first class hypocrite to have refuted the claim, because it was one of my favorite hobbies; to people watch. I never got tired of studying the place where I resided. I wasn't a voyeur in the sense of looking through bathroom windows, or anything so intrusive, that it bordered on illegality. I did pay attention to a lot of what was going on around me, or brushing past, because I found it entertaining. I must have suspected it would be of value one day down the road, but it likely never dawned on me, that I would become a writer / historian, and all the observations garnered by spying, would eventual form a pretty good personal archives, to validate my overview of local social / cultural / political heritage.
    When I use the word political, I'm definitely not talking party politics. I'm referring to the politics of small town living, and the bunching of socially elite to get what is most desired, out of the environs, to suit mutual agendas. Argue all you want, but politics in this regard, is still alive and well, and manipulating the course of history as it always has, and always will. I was fascinated how it worked, and once I became embedded in the local media, I was given access on many occasions, to get a close-up look at how the cogs moved, and connected, to progress agendas to fruition. I satisfied myself being a bystander; although I was invited to join many small "family compacts" simply because I offered a fast-track to publicity, through the newspaper, for whatever the group happened to be promoting at that time. I began to understand how one could be socially elevated by being invited to the right parties, and agreeing to the mantra of the moment. I knew many players in the real, live "survivor" game, long before it was a popular television show. I was far too independent to involve myself with anyone who would refer to me, as "like minded." It's not like there was anything illegal going on, although conflict of interest comes to mind, but it always seemed to me, one of those unfair realities of how those of financial means, get ahead in the world, by unleashing power in all its glory and diversity of impact. It wasn't based on the brightest or most creative minds, but rather, on the way joiners would bolster the mutual admiration initiatives; when some of the best leadership for the communities, were sidelined because of a shortfall in social and economic standing. In other words, they were of lesser income and had no sway with anything economic. In other words, there was really no advantage, or positional benefit, having them join the family compact. It wasn't a clear case of shunning but damn close. These are the people I called my friends. They didn't need to be the socially elite, to give me what I needed; and that was a group of citizens who had different ideas about the meaning of achievement and success, all done with nary a helping hand that wasn't their own.
     So the short answer is, that I was indeed a freelance spy, a voyeur, and the proverbial "fly on the wall," and I watched closely and listened carefully, the actions and reactions of the town "in-groups", manifesting their plans for betterment of the community, which more times than enough, failed long before the footings were ever poured. I may have even got in their way at times, certainly when working for the local press, because I took delight not succumbing to pressures applied from outside, offered by those who thought the editor of the paper should bow to their interests. Geez, they had me all wrong. I had been studying my home community since the mid 1960's, and I knew what to expect of these pushy citizens, long before I sat at the manager's desk. It was then, that I knew how important it had been, in those preamble writing years, to have studied the community as a curious bystander; call me a spy, or a voyeur, but I saw newsworthy events, that although I can't write about, did influence me greatly, about the underlying character of my home town and home district. It was a period of enlightenment that would forever, characterize the bones by which all other history clung, and was observed by a host of historians, noting, what in most cases, was the only the most obvious. I noticed what wasn't obvious to others, and it has been my advantage ever since, because I don't buy into the weak overviews some writers believe to be the truth and nothing but! There was a dark side to home town existence, but then, this is to state the obvious. It is the vast biography of all communities, big or small. The problem with perception, is that most older histories were sanitized, to only reveal the more glowing, achievement aspect of local heritage. It's as if our towns were not burdened by scandalous goings on, adultery leading to crime, sundry forms of debauchery, drunken shenanigans, also leading to crime, and cover-ups that may or may not have been of a serious nature. If I had become a contemporary historian, having only read the fundamental, accepted chronologies, I would also have likely decided, there was nothing remotely shady that had ever gone on; nothing to corrupt the good name of town. Well, I wanted to know it all, because I didn't believe I could be a thorough historian, coloring within the lines. I've been doing this for as long as I can remember, carrying on a curiosity I developed as a kid, watching my neighborhood go through its good times and hard; and believe me, we had some colorful characters, especially when there was booze involved, and adultery, being the suspicion. Some times the social elite became equalized in this way, of shady dealings, and less than christian dilly-dallying about.
     The reason I bring this up, as I have in the past, is to make it clear, that I've never felt it was any kind of enhancement whatsoever, to go through life ignorant of what was going on around me. I wanted to know about all this carrying-on, whether there was a negative connotation or not. It didn't matter. What did matter was that I understood the dimensions and undercurrents that were affecting everything on the surface, and boy oh boy, did it ever help me when I got in a jam, making assumptions with the press of which I was intimately responsible; and might have gone with a story that was way off base, simply because the nitty gritty hadn't been fully appreciated. It kept me from making huge errors in judgement, or allowing my reporters to submit stories, that didn't take into account, the underlying circumstances of how an event, or occurrence, achieved the status of being seriously newsworthy. Often times, it was the case there was underlying tragedy, that was rooted decades earlier, which precipitated the sting of the current event we were reporting. We all learned a lot in those years of reporting, and sleuthing-out stories, particularly that there were very few stand-alone situations, that didn't require some shoring-up, to qualify as being balanced and proportional to what was buried just below the surface. Some of my peers thought it best to bury stories, but I never gave up on the public's right to know. I did however, appreciate, the critical importance, of weighing background, and the damage that could be done, by half-ass reporting, and insensitive handling of information. We all have history, and we all have skeletons in the closet, and by knowing the place you are reporting on, as would the historian in due course, sometimes indeed, the story never gets written. Yet it is no less the history of the community. It has its place because it isn't fiction. It happened. It changed some component of our life and times, for a variety of reasons, because of its impact, most likely negative; but handling the information of its occurrence, is the kind of moral tug-of-war one never really wins, despite the shift of the argument. I had hundreds of these situation occur in my years as editor, but triple that in the years since. As an historian, I want to know everything about the locale I'm writing about, because if I don't, then the chances of me screwing up, and distorting history for others, is pretty much guaranteed. Those who know the truths of the chronology, and the impacts of these long hidden events, would read the material, and appreciate how far from the truth, the print had bulged, based on, what can only be considered, raw ignorance. You can laugh at my overviews, and opinions but by golly, it won't be the result of me leaving stuff out that makes you giddy. It's a stew and I don't leave anything out of the blend. I just might not be able to give you all the ingredients, because to some folks, it would be terribly hurtful. I'm an historian, just not a ruthless one!
     When I write about South Muskoka, as a dearly cherished home region, and Bracebridge as my former home town, I do so with all of this in mind. While I don't write specifically about certain highly sensitive events, and interactions, that in some way, did change the course of social history, having knowledge of them allows me to adjust the hues and tone, to allow for the reader's interpretation, that there is more to the story than ink on the page. I encourage you to read between the lines. It is censorship, but not exclusion, as far as how I interpret local history. It is very much, to me, as a former labourer on a ladder, like mixing paint, and having to absorb all the assorted colors, demanded of the mix, however stark and conflicting the ingredients seem initially; to then wind-up with a concoction that includes the whole of history, not just a select white wash, suited to the promotion, that the town is a most pleasant, wonderful place in which to dwell.
    In my own years researching the communities of our region, and the district itself, the end mix, has always seemed to me, to be moderate and tolerable regardless; not the dark coloration one might expect, all things considered. I just like the fact, the realities of history have been included in the mix; because it is the shade of what we have created as contributing residents for all these years; and I've never witnessed a time, when I felt it didn't blend on the brighter side of life. I think this is the bottom line for me; that for all the burdens and negatives of history, the attributes of a community, always seem to dominate in a most positive way. Much as if overcoming these same burdens, infuses the brightness of fortitude and neighborliness, to pull up from disadvantage, and perceived catastrophe. Burying the bad stuff never works. It becomes a nightmare that never ends. Absorbing it, as part of the rigors of any community, with a history, is the only way to achieve true enlightenment, about where we have come from, and what potential we have, to achieve successes in the future. Burdens are burdens, seen or unseen. It's how we overcome them, that writes the underlying argument, for the next chapter of the story. I've been working on it for decades. It's a fascinating story.