I Was Thinking About Golf For Some Reason Today Working In The Muskoka Antique Trade

FROM MY DEEP, DARK, MYSTERIOUS, LINKS OF THE PAST

FOUND SOMETHING I HAD FORGOTTEN ALL ABOUT - ON SALE AT ORILLIA'S CAROUSEL COLLECTABLES

     AS ANTIQUE FOLKS LIKE TO CLUSTER, IN NOSTALGIC, LOWLY LIT QUARTERS, SURROUNDED BY THE RELICS OF HISTORY, TO CHAT ABOUT THE GOOD OLD DAYS, (AND HOW TIME CAN STAND STILL), WE HAD A NICE VISIT WITH OUR FRIEND CINDY AND HER FATHER, WORKING ON THIS BEAUTIFUL, SUNNY SUNDAY, AT OUR FAVORITE ORILLIA SHOP, CAROUSEL COLLECTABLES. WE ALWAYS SEEM TO HAVE A LOT TO TALK ABOUT, AND THAT'S THE GREAT THING ABOUT HAVING AN INTEREST IN RELICS, THAT GO BACK TO THE BEGINNING OF TIME, UP TO THE COLLECTABLES OF THE PRESENT. OF ALL THINGS, WE WERE TALKING ABOUT OLD TRAVEL-TRAILERS, AND HOW NEAT IT WOULD BE TO HAVE ONE, IN OUR RESPECTIVE SIDE-YARDS, TO PLAY SILLY GOOSE NOSTALGIA. WHICH MEANS, SPENDING A LOT OF MONEY, ON RESTORATION, SPECIFIC PURCHASING TO SUIT THE PROJECT, AND DECORATION, JUST TO SIT THERE, WHEN ALL IS SAID AND DONE, TO ENJOY THE WAY IT WAS IN THE OLD DAYS; BUT CONVENIENTLY ALL IN THE PRESENT TENSE. SOME ANTIQUE ENTHUSIASTS ARE WEEKEND RE-ENACTORS, IN CIVIL WAR AND WAR OF 1812 BATTLES. A FEW OF US PREFER RE-ENACTING WITHOUT GUNS, CANONS AND THE REQUIREMENT OF RIDING A HORSE. I SUGGESTED SHE VIEW THE MOVIE, "THE LONG TRAILER," WITH LUCILLE BALL, AND DESI ARNEZ, WHICH WAS A WILDLY FUNNY FILM ABOUT NEWLYWEDS STRUGGLING WITH LIFE AND TRAVEL IN A HUGE TRAILER-HOME. I KNOW WHAT SHE MEANS, AND IT IS A VERY POPULAR RESTORATION TREND THESE DAYS, TO TAKE VINTAGE TRAVEL TRAILERS, AND BRING THEM BACK TO "CHERRY," TO BORROW THE WORDS FROM TIM TAYLOR, OF TELEVISION'S "HOME IMPROVEMENT." IF YOU NEVER SAW THE SHOW, TIM, PLAYED BY ACTOR TIM ALLEN, WAS ALWAYS WORKING ON A PROJECT THAT INVOLVED A VINTAGE CAR RESTORATION. BUT TRAILERS THESE DAYS ARE CATCHING THE ATTENTION OF AUTOMOBILE BUFFS, AND THE PRICES FOR THESE RELICS ON WHEELS, ARE GOING UP AND UP. A LOT OF THESE WONDERFUL OLD HOMES ON WHEELS ARE BEING CONSERVED, AND RESTORED, THANKS TO THIS NEW AGE INTEREST. SUZANNE WON'T LET ME BUY ONE, UNTIL I REDUCE THE OTHER "CRAP" WE HAVE STORED PRESENTLY, IN TWO STORAGE SHEDS IN OUR SIDE-YARD. I THINK I MAY CONSIDER THIS, BUT IT WILL TAKE AT LEAST HALF A DECADE TO GET IT ALL CLEANED-UP. THIS IS THE VERY NEGATIVE ASPECT OF BEING CONSUMED, RATHER OBSESSED, ABOUT ANTIQUES, AND POSSESSING THEM ALL!

   THERE'S ALWAYS LOTS TO TALK ABOUT, IN THE ANTIQUE FIELD, SO IT'S GREAT FOR A GUY LIKE ME, WHO SELDOM SHUTS HIS MOUTH, LONG ENOUGH FOR ANYONE ELSE TO SLIP A WORD IN EDGE-WISE. SUZANNE HITS ME ONCE, TO LET ME KNOW I'M GETTING ANNOYING. TWICE MEANS, "I CAN BELIEVE YOU WON'T SHUT-UP," AND THREE TIMES, LIKE BASEBALL STRIKES, MEANS, "YOU ARE PUTTING PEOPLE TO SLEEP; CAN'T YOU SEE THEM YAWNING; AND BY THE WAY I'M LEAVING." IT'S OFTEN THE CASE AROUND OUR HOUSE, THAT PEOPLE HEAD TO BED, AFTER THE NEWS, AND JUST SHUT THE LIGHTS OFF WHILE I'M STIL TALKING. THE CATS LISTEN TO ME, BUT THE CONVERSATION IN RETURN, IS PRETTY WEAK; AND A LITTLE UNFULFILLING. THEY WANT TO TALK ABOUT SEAFOOD SELECTIONS WE SERVE THEM, AND I WANT TO TALK ABOUT RUSSIAN INVADERS.

    WELL, THE VISIT TODAY, AS WELL AS US FINDING SOME NEAT STUFF, TO BRING BACK HOME TO GRAVENHURST, TURNED UP A BIT OF MY WRITING HERITAGE, THAT FRANKLY, I HAD LONG SINCE FORGOTTEN. IT WAS PART OF MY MYSTERIOUS LIFESTYLE, AND ALMOST ALL RECORDS OF IT WERE LOST IN TWO SIGNIFICANT WAYS. FIRST OF ALL, SUZANNE SOLD MY GOLF CLUBS AT A YARD SALE, TWENTY-FIVE YEARS AGO, (AND I ALMOST LOST THE BOOZE IN THE SIDE POCKET, UNTIL I CHASED THE LADY DOWN OUR STREET, TO RETRIEVE IT), AND I RECYCLED ALL MY FILE COPIES OF "THE MUSKOKA SUN," THE SUMMER SEASON PUBLICATION, WHERE I WORKED AS ASSISTANT EDITOR. AT CAROUSEL COLLECTABLES, I FOUND ONE ISSUE OF THE PAPER, DATED "THURSDAY, JULY 9TH, 1987," WHICH WAS A FEW MONTHS BEFORE WE MOVED FROM OUR OLD HOME, BELOW THE BRACEBRIDGE HIGH SCHOOL, TO A COTTAGE ON GOLDEN BEACH ROAD, NEAR BANGOR LODGE, AND BOWYER'S BEACH ON LAKE MUSKOKA. IT WAS JUST BEFORE SON ROBERT WAS BORN. ROBERT CAME ALONG, ONLY A FEW WEEKS AFTER MOVING, AND A DAY AFTER THANKSGIVING. SO THIS PAPER, IS ONE OF THE LAST I WROTE AT OUR OLD TANNERY HOUSE. THIS WAS A HOUSE, ONE OF THREE IDENTICAL ON THE BLOCK (IN A NEIGHBORHOOD KNOWN AS THE HOLLOW), ON WHAT WAS THEN, ONTARIO STREET, THAT HAD BEEN BUILT TO HANDLE RESIDENTIAL NEEDS OF TANNERY WORKERS, OF THE BEARDMORE TANNERY, SEVERAL BLOCKS AWAY, ON THE MUSKOKA RIVER. THEY DATED BACK TO THE EARLY DAYS OF THE 1900'S. IT WAS HAUNTED BY THE FORMER OWNER, WHO DIED IN THE BATHTUB ONE DAY. HER GHOST USED TO TURN THE BATHROOM LIGHT ON, AFTER WE WOULD TURN IT OFF. SHE WASN'T A NASTY SPIRIT, BUT SHE HAD SOME HOUSEKEEP QUIRKS, SUZANNE HAD TO DEAL WITH, DURING OUR SEVERAL YEAR RESIDENCY.

   I LIKED THAT HOUSE, AND IT WAS JUST DOWN THE STREET FROM THE OLD HERALD-GAZETTE OFFICE, AND WAS ESPECIALLY CONVENIENT FOR SUZANNE, WHO TAUGHT AT THE HIGH SCHOOL, A FOUR MINUTE WALK UP TANBARK HILL. (TANBARK WAS USED IN THE TANNING PROCESS, AND THE HILL WAS GIVEN THIS NAME, BECAUSE OF THE NUMBER OF HORSE DRAWN WAGON SPILLS, UP AND DOWN THE STEEP HILLSIDE).

     THE PAPER IS KIND OF SIGNIFICANT, BECAUSE IT CONTAINED COPY WRITTEN IN THE WINTER OF 1986-87. THIS WAS THE SECOND FULL YEAR, I HAD WORKED FROM HOME. IN THE FALL OF 1985, I HAD MOVED MY OFFICE FROM THE HERALD-GAZETTE BUILDING, TO A HUGE CLOSET IN THE OPEN AREA BETWEEN OUR KITCHEN AND LIVINGROOM, IN THE OLD TANNERY HOUSE, WHERE I INSERTED A DESK AND MY REFERENCE BOOKS, WHICH COULD BE CLOSED OFF WHEN NOT IN USE. DURING THE DAY, I WORKED AT WRITING PROJECTS, FOR THE SUMMER SEASON MUSKOKA SUN, WHILE LOOKING AFTER SON ANDREW, WHO WAS BORN IN JUNE 1985. I TOOK OVER AS MR. MOM, WHEN SUZANNE WENT BACK TO HER TEACHING JOB, IN SEPTEMBER OF THE SAME YEAR. IT WAS A CRAZY PERIOD IN OUR LIVES, BUT WE JAMMED IT ALL TOGETHER, AND IT ACTUALLY WORKED PRETTY WELL. I STOPPED LIVING AT THE LOCAL TAVERN AND PRESS CLUB, AND BECAME A DOTING FATHER AND HUSBAND. EVEN MY DRINKING BUDDIES WERE SHOCKED AT THE TRANSITION. WELL, THERE WERE SOME BUMPS, BUT NOTHING TOO SERIOUS. I LOVED WRITING AT HOME, AND IT BECAME ONE OF THE BEST JOBS OF MY LIFE, TO TAKE ON THE ROLE OF MR. MOM, WHICH LASTED FOR ME, UNTIL THE LADS WERE FINISHED HIGH SCHOOL. THEY ALWAYS HAD A PARENT AT HOME, IF THEY WERE FEELING POORLY. I ACTUALLY SUFFERED FROM PARENTAL WITHDRAWAL, WHEN I WASN'T NEEDED ANY MORE, TO TEND THE BO-BO'S, AND SICK DAYS, RUNNING AROUND WITH COLD CLOTHS, NEW CLOTHES, AND THE THROW-UP BUCKET. THE ONLY TIME I HAVE WRITTEN AWAY FROM HOME, SINCE 1985, WAS WHEN I BEGAN WRITING AT OUR GRAVENHURST SHOP. I DIDN'T THINK I COULD DO IT, BUT I PROVED MYSELF WRONG. I'M STILL WITH THE BOYS AFTER ALL THESE YEARS, BUT OBVIOUSLY MY DUTIES ARE A LITTLE EASIER, THAN WHEN ROBERT, FOR EXAMPLE, WOULD WHIP A HOT WHEELS TRUCK INTO HIS BROTHER'S EAR, AND A DONNYBROOK WOULD BREAK OUT AT MY FEET. WE HAVE SIMILAR EVENTS, BUT SUZANNE HANDLES THESE STAND-OFFS NOW. GEEZ, DID I GET ALL THIS FROM AN OLD COPY OF THE MUSKOKA SUN. IT SURE BROUGHT BACK SOME MEMORIES. NOW WHAT ABOUT THAT DEEP, DARK AND MYSTERIOUS PAST?

     WELL, BY GOLLY, LOOKING THROUGH THE PAPER, I FOUND A COLUMN I WROTE THAT HAD ME STUMPED. I HAD NO RECOLLECTION OF WRITING A SPORTS COLUMN, UNDER THE HEADING "GREAT DIVOTS." I DID WRITE ONE MANY YEARS EARLIER, KNOWN AS "COARSE GOLF," OF WHICH I KNEW A LOT ABOUT; AS I WAS VOTED THE PLAYER MOST LIKELY TO DO SOMETHING BAD ON THE LINKS. THEY SAID I PINCHED HER BUM, BUT THAT'S A GOLF LINK'S STORY FOR ANOTHER DAY.

     BUT MY "COARSE GOLF" COLUMN, WAS WRITTEN FOR SUBSCRIBERS OF THE HERALD-GAZETTE, A VERY CONSERVATIVE AND CHRISTIAN AUDIENCE, AND IT WAS A REAL SURPRISE, TO FIND THAT I HAD RE-VISITED THE GAME OF GOLF, TO COMPOSE A SERIES FOR BOB BOYER, THE DEEPLY CONSERVATIVE EDITOR OF THE MUSKOKA SUN. SO BY MAKING THIS PURCHASE, I NOW KNOW THE TRUTH; BECAUSE IF SOMEONE HAD TOLD ME I WROTE "GREAT DIVOTS," I WOULD HAVE ARGUED TO THE CONTRARY. IT IS AT LEAST, EVIDENCE TO ME, THAT I ACTUALLY USED TO PLAY GOLF, AND ALMOST ENJOYED IT. BUT HERE'S HOW I DID GET JOY. IT WAS A LITTLE DARK, YOU MIGHT SAY, BECAUSE THE ONLY WAY I COULD WIN A ROUND, WAS TO USE PHYSCOLOGICAL WARFARE. "THAT'S NOT NICE," YOU SAY. NO IT WASN'T. HERE'S SOME OF THE POOP I'D GET UP TO, JUST TO INCH UP A FEW STROKES.

     FIRST OF ALL, WHEN I FIRST SAW THE MOVIE "HAPPY GILMOUR," WITH ADAM SANDLER, I WAS OUTRAGED, BECAUSE I THOUGHT ONE OF MY OLD GOLF BUDDIES MUST HAVE WRITTEN A SCREEN PLAY, WITH ME AS A CENTRAL CHARACTER. YES, I WANTED TO BE A PROFESSIONAL HOCKEY PLAYER, AND INDEED, I GOLFED THE SAME AS I PLAYED HOCKEY. NOT QUITE SLAP SHOTS, BUT CLOSE. I PLAYED GOLF BECAUSE I ENJOYED WANDERING THROUGH NATURE. I MEAN THAT. TO WATCH ME PLAY A FAIRWAY, I WOULD WALK FROM SIDE TO SIDE, BECAUSE THAT'S HOW MY BALL USED TO TRAVEL. ONE ROUGH TO THE OTHER, UNTIL IT WAS, THEN, ONE SAND TRAP TO THE OTHER. IN FACT, I SHOT FROM THE ROUGH, THE WATER HAZARD, AND THE SAND TRAPS SO FREQUENTLY, I ACTUALLY PLAYED BETTER (ON THE SCORECARD), IN ADVERSE CONDITIONS, VERSUS THE MANICURED GRASS OF A FAIRWAY. I TOOK MY DATES GOLFING, AND WE MAY HAVE TRAMPLED DOWN THE ROUGH A BIT (ANOTHER REASON I WAS BANNED FROM SEVERAL COURSES). THE LAST TIME I TOOK A GIRLFRIEND GOLFING, WAS WHEN, AT A PROMINENT LOCAL CLUB, I WAS PLAYING WITH THE OWNER'S SON. WE WERE ON THE NINTH HOLE, AND I THINK THE YOUNG FELLOW MADE A COMMENT ABOUT HER LOOKING GOOD WHILE PUTTING. I LAUGHED, AND SHE TOOK IT THE WRONG WAY, MUFFED THE PUTT, AND THREW DOWN THE PUTTER ONTO THE GREEN IN SUCH A WAY, THAT THE HEAD GOUGED INTO THE SURFACE, AND STUCK THERE; WHICH CAN MAKE A GREENSKEEPER GO CRAZY. I THOUGHT THE GUY WAS GOING INTO CARDIAC ARREST, AND IT TOOK HIM A HALF HOUR TO FILL IN THE TWO INCH DEEP GOUGE, AND FOLD OVER THE GRASS. "IF MY DAD SEES THIS, HE'S GOING TO KILL ME," HE SAID, WHILE MY GIRLFRIEND HAD STORMED OFF TO THE CAR, VOWING NEVER, EVER TO GOLF AGAIN.

     IN MY NEWSPAPER DAYS, WE USED TO HAVE FIVE LADS IN THE HERALD-GAZETTE BUILDING, WHO WOULD GET TOGETHER ON SUNDAYS, TO GEAR UP FOR THE STRESSES OF THE COMING WEEK. WE NEVER ACTUALLY RELAXED ON THE GOLF COURSE HOWEVER, BUT WE DID DRINK TOO MUCH. THERE WAS ALWAYS A CHALLENGE ON, AND THAT MEANT THE LOSERS WOULD HAVE TO BUY ROUNDS AT THE TENTH HOLE (IT WAS ONLY A NINE HOLE COURSE). SO, SEEING AS I HAD ALREADY DRANK MY PAY CHEQUE PRIOR TO SUNDAYS, I HAD TO FIND A WAY TO KNOCK OFF THE COMPETITION. IF I COULDN'T DO IT WITH EXCELLENT PLAY, WHICH WASN'T AN OPTION, I FOUND WAYS TO WIN USING DEVIOUS TACTICS, INCLUDING, STEPPING ON MY OPPONENT'S BALL, OR PUTTING MY GOLF BAG ON TOP OF IT, FORCING A SEARCH OF THE ROUGH, AND AN EVENTUAL PENALTY STROKE. LOSING THE ROUND WOULD COST THE REST OF THE FOURSOME TWENTY TO THIRTY BUCKS EACH BECAUSE WE DRANK A LOT BACK THEN. THIS IS WHAT I WROTE ABOUT. GOOD TIMES. FOR ME MORE THAN THEM!

     WHAT I LEARNED, OVER TIME, WAS THAT SEVERAL OF MY PARTNERS HAD UNUSUAL QUIRKS THAT I EXPLOITED. I WON'T GET INTO ALL OF THEM, BUT I WILL ONE PARTICULAR TRICK THAT WORKED EVERY TIME. IN FACT, IT STARTED TO IMPACT OTHERS IN THE GROUP AS WELL. IT STARTED OFF, WHEN I BEGAN NOTICING THAT MY PRINTER FRIEND, HARRY RANGER, COULD NOT AVOID TAKING PENALTIES ON THE FOURTH HOLE OF THIS PARTICULAR GOLF CLUB. IT WOULD GET WORSE, IF I POINTED OUT TO HARRY, "HEY, BUDDY, ISN'T THIS THE HOLE YOU HATE," AND HE'D SHAKE HIS HEAD, AND THANK ME FOR REMINDING HIM. IT DIDN'T MATTER WHAT HE'D DO AS A PRACTICE, OR SING AS A LITTLE DIVERSION MUSIC, THE RESULT WAS ALWAYS THE SAME. HARRY WOULD WIND THAT SUCKER OFF EVERY TREE IN THE FOREST, AND ONCE OUT OF EVERY TEN DRIVES, HE'D FIND IT, AND TRY TO PLAY HIS WAY BACK TO THE FAIRWAY. JUST BEFORE HE'D TAKE HIS TURN, I'D FEEL OBLIGED TO MENTION, THAT HE WAS, AFTERALL, STILL ON THE FOURTH HOLE. THE POOR BUGGER WOULD FLUB THE SHOT INTO ANOTHER TREE, OR DEEPER IN THE FERN COVER. "CURRIE, YOU SON OF A BITCH," WAS THE RETALIATION OF CHOICE, ECHOING THROUGH THE MISTY WOODLANDS OF MUSKOKA. THE GUY WOULD BE LUCKY TO FINISH TEN OVER PAR, JUST ON ONE HOLE.

     SO WHAT I FIGURED OUT AFTER THIS, WAS THAT I COULD SIMPLY SAY "FOUR" ON ANY HOLE, ON THE COURSE, AND HARRY WOULD SHANK, SLICE, DUFF, MUFF, AND DRIFT THE BALL INTO THE WATER COURSE. JUST AS HE WOULD GET READY TO DRIVE-OFF FROM THE TEE, I WOULD SAY SOMETHING LIKE "I HAVE AN APPOINTMENT AT FOUR," OR "I HAVE FOUR DOLLARS ON ME," AND IT WOULD LODGE IN HIS MIND LIKE A SPIKE, AND EVERY SINGLE TIME, HARRY WOULD TOP THE BALL, OR EVEN MISS IT ENTIRELY. WE'D START LAUGHING SO HARD, CRIPES, WE'D ALL SLICE OR SHANK OFF THE TEE. IT EVEN WORKED ON THE FAIRWAY, WHEN I'D YELL OVER TO HARRY, THE FULL WIDTH OF THE FAIRWAY AWAY, IF HE KNEW WHETHER IT WAS FOUR O'CLOCK OR NOT. ALL YOU'D SEE IS A BIG HUNK OF TURF FLYING OVER THE HILLSIDE, AND THE MOST AWFUL CURSING AND THWACKING OF THE LANDSCAPE. SOMETIMES HE'D THROW HIS GOLF BAG, AND ONCE EVEN INTO THE WATER HAZARD. BY DOING THIS, I FOUND THAT THE OTHER CHAPS WERE ALSO PRONE TO FIXATING, AND ALTHOUGH THE NUMBER FOUR DIDN'T HAVE THE SAME IMPACT, STATEMENTS LIKE, "HAS YOUR WIFE MET YOUR GIRLFRIEND YET," OR, "SAY, WHY DO YOU KEEP WOMENS UNDERWEAR IN YOUR GOLF BAG." YOU GET THE IDEA. IT'S NOT LIKE THEY'D STAND BACK FROM THE TEE, AND ACTUALLY WORRY ABOUT WHAT I SAID. IT WAS JUST THE POWER OF SUGGESTION, AND IT WAS ENOUGH TO PUT THOSE DRIVES INTO THE BUSH TIME AND AGAIN. FOR FIVE YEARS, I BOUGHT ONLY ONE NIGHT OF BEER AT THE TENTH HOLE. I DID HOWEVER, FIND IT VERY DIFFICULT TO GET ANY ONE TO GOLF WITH ME; WHICH IN FACT, KIND OF ENDED MY RELATIONSHIP WITH THE LINKS. THE CLOSEST I'VE BEEN TO A GOLF COURSE IN THE PAST TWENTY-FIVE YEARS, WAS WHEN I WROTE A CLUB HISTORY FOR A LOCAL GOLF AND CURLING CLUB LAST YEAR. I NEVER ONCE HAD THE URGE TO EITHER PICK UP A GOLF CLUB OR CURLING STONE, FOR THE WHOLE TIME I WAS WRITING IT. SUZANNE CLAIMS THAT IT'S A KARMA THING, AND HARRY, WHO PASSED AWAY A SHORT WHILE AGO, HAS AS HIS LEGACY WISH, THAT GOD SHOULD NEVER LET ME GOLF AGAIN, OR ELSE.

     WELL, THIS IS A SHORT VERSION OF A VERY LONG RELATIONSHIP I HAD WITH GOLF, ONCE UPON A TIME. I'M VERY THANKFUL TO HAVE FOUND THIS COPY OF THE MUSKOKA SUN, THAT CONTAINED THE COLUMN I HAD FORGOTTEN I WROTE; WITH MEMORIES OF MY OLD GOLF BUDDY, HARRY RANGER; WHO I THINK ABOUT EVERY TIME I HEAR OR SEE THE NUMBER FOUR. THANKS CINDY AND CAROUSEL COLLECTABLES, FOR REPATRIATING ME WITH A PAST I'D HONESTLY FORGOTTEN I HAD. THAT 1987 EDITION WAS IMPORTANT TO ME FOR A LOT OF OTHER REASONS; IT WAS PROBABLY ONE OF THE MOST PROLIFIC WRITING PERIODS OF MY CAREER, ALL WHILE LOOKING AFTER ANDREW AND THEN ROBERT, AND FINDING OUT BY HAPPENSTANCE, THAT I COULD NO LONGER COPE WITH THE CRAZY ANTICS OF MY PEERS, AT THE NEWS OFFICE, HITTING ME WITH HALF EATEN SANDWICHES, AND SLOPPING COFFEE ONTO MY KEYBOARD; OR MIXING ME AN UNEXPECTED HOT TODDY WITH THE SHOP WHISKY, NO ONE WAS SUPPOSED TO KNOW ABOUT. I WILLINGLY TOOK THE BAIT, AND DRANK IT LIKE A DRUNKEN SAILOR. NOT GOOD FOR A COMMUNITY NEWS EDITOR. LOOKING AFTER THE BOYS WAS MUCH LESS A CARNIVAL ATMOSPHERE, AND I FOUND THEIR CHILDHOOD ENERGY, WAS EXACTLY WHAT I NEEDED TO KEEP ME INSPIRED, WHEN MONEY ALONE, WAS THE LESSER INSPIRATION. SO I'M SURE THAT CINDY DIDN'T KNOW SHE WAS UNCOVERING MY PAST, WITH THIS SIMPLE TRANSACTION, BUT LOW AND BEHOLD, THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT SHE DID. SO WHAT A NEAT SUNDAY OUTING. CAROUSEL COLLECTABLES BY THE WAY, WILL BE MOVING INTO A MUCH LARGER, MAIN FLOOR STORE-FRONT, ON THE MAIN STREET, OPPOSITE THE ORILLIA OPERA HOUSE, IN APRIL, SO IF YOU'RE DOWN THAT WAY, BE SURE TO DROP IN FOR A VISIT.