Christmas in Muskoka The Small Town Experience

BRACEBRIDGE AND THE SPIRITS OF CHRISTMASES PAST - THE TOWN OF THE 1960'S AND 1970'S WAS A NEAT ERA TO EXPERIENCE

THE SMALL TOWN EXPERIENCE WASN'T LOST ON ME

     LIKE YOU FINE FOLKS, I ALWAYS LOVED WHEN THE FIRST SNOWFALL ARRIVED; INITIALLY AS PREAMBLE FLURRIES, ACROSS THE GLORIOUS MUSKOKA LANDSCAPE. AFTER SCHOOL, WE'D RUN BACK HOME, TO OUR HUNT'S HILL ABODES, DRESS IN OUR PLAY SNOWSUITS, ACCORDINGLY THICK AND RESISTANT, FOR HIGH IMPACT COLLISIONS, (WITH TREES); HOIST SLEDS UP UNDER OUR ARMS, AND START PREPARING THE OLD ROAD, LEADING UP TO THE SANDPIT, BEHIND THE WEBER APARTMENTS, FOR THE TRADITIONAL SLEDDING RUN. WE WOULD HAVE A NICE LITTLE COURSE ICED-OVER, AFTER A COUPLE OF DAYS WORK, WEATHER PERMITTING, AND THE OLD WHEEL RUTS, FROM THE DUMP TRUCKS, WITH THE MIDDLE HIGHER THAN THE OUTSIDE EDGES, WOULD SERVE MUCH AS A MAJOR BOBSLED COURSE, WHILE THE LEFT SIDE, WAS FOR WALKING UP AND DOWN WITH TOBOGGANS; SLEDS WITH RUNNERS AND THOSE ALUMINUM SAUCERS THAT COULD WHIP DOWN THAT HILLSIDE, WITH SPARKS FLYING OUT AROUND THE EDGES. IT WAS QUITE A SIGHT. THE RIDER DIDN'T HAVE THE SAME PERSPECTIVE AS WE DID, OR THEY'D HAVE BEEN SCARED TO DEATH, RUNNING DOWN THE ICE-COVERED SLOPE, IN DARKNESS, LIKE A WAR PLANE THAT HAD JUST BEEN SHOT OUT OF THE SKY. WE COULD CLEARLY SEE THE ORANGE AND BLUE SPARKS, THINKING THAT AT ANY MOMENT, THE WHOLE THING WOULD EXPLODE IN FLAMES. THERE WAS ALWAYS A FALSE SENSE OF SECURITY AT THE TOP OF THE HILL, AS IF NOTHING BAD COULD HAPPEN ON THE WAY DOWN. THEN, ON A SAUCER, OUT OF CONTROL SPINNING COULD OCCUR, AND WHEN THE TIN ETCHED HARD, DOWN OVER THE EXPOSED GRAVEL, WHICH WAS INEVITABLE, ANYTHING COULD HAVE HAPPENED. I LIKED TO HAVE A SLED I COULD CONTROL. THE FUN SEEMED TO BE WHEN THE SLED WENT OUT OF CONTROL. ON OCCASION, A TOBOGGAN WOULD GO OUT OF BOUNDS, HALFWAY DOWN THE HILLSIDE, AND DRIFT RIGHT THROUGH THE GANG HAULING THEIR SLEIGHS UP THE OTHER SIDE. OH THE HUMANITY. BOOT AND BEHINDS IN THE AIR, FALLING AWKWARDLY BACK DOWN THE HILLSIDE. WHAT A FILM CLIP THAT WOULD HAVE MADE FOR THE EVENING NEWS. OR COMICS FOR THE FUNNY PAGES.

     IT WASN'T A LONG COURSE OR ALL THAT HIGH I SUPPOSE. IT WOULD HAVE BEEN AN ELEVATION OF TWO STORIES, ACCORDING TO OUR APARTMENT MEASURE. WHAT MADE IT CHALLENGING, AND VERY MUCH LIKE AN EPISODE OF "JACK-ASS," WAS THE FACT, THE SLEDS HAD TO NAVIGATE A TIGHT RIGHT TURN AT THE BOTTOM OF THE HILL, OR RUN INTO THE PORTABLE CEMENT MIXER, ANCHORED AT THE CORNER OF WAYNE WEBER'S CONSTRUCTION SHED. IF YOU DIDN'T HIT THE IRON WORK OF THE MIXER, THERE WERE LEFTOVER CEMENT BLOCKS, AND OLD FORTY-FIVE GALLON DRUMS A FEW FEET BACK. ON THE RIGHT SIDE, IF YOU TURNED TOO ABRUPTLY, THE SLED COULD CAREEN INTO TWO OLD TRUCKS, WAYNE, AT ONE TIME, HAD USED TO HAUL SAND FROM THE SAND-PIT. IT WAS SORT OF AN URBAN OBSTACLE COURSE, WHEN I THINK ABOUT IT NOW, AND ONE OF THE MOST DANGEROUS HILLSIDES YOU COULD USE FOR RECREATIONAL SLEDDING. IN FACT, WE USED TO HIT THESE RATHER FIRM AND FROZEN-IN REMNANTS OF THE CONSTRUCTION INDUSTRY, QUITE FREQUENTLY. WE SHOULD HAVE AT LEAST BEEN WEARING HOCKEY HELMETS. IT WAS JUST CONVENIENT TO US. MAYBE WE WERE A LITTLE LAZY, NOT FEELING LIKE CROSSING TOWN TO FIND A BETTER HILLSIDE. UNDER GOOD CONDITIONS, YOU COULD WORK UP A PRETTY FAIR SPEED, AND THE HOLLOW OF THE TIRE RUT, WOULD USUALLY KEEP YOU ON TRACK TO FINISH ON THE FLAT, IN BETWEEN LARGE METAL OBJECTS AND THE RETIRED TRUCKS. WE NEVER HAD EVEN ON BROKEN ARM OR LE; JUST A FEW BUMPS ON THE NOGGIN, TO SMARTEN US UP. IT WAS WONDERFULLY SCENIC AT THE TOP BUT IT DIDN'T FINISH IN THE KIND OF ENVIRONMENT THAT YOU WOULD LABEL PICTURESQUE. MY MOTHER AND HILDA WEBER, THE OWNER OF THE PROPERTY, HATED US PLAYING THERE, BUT WE WERE A LITTLE MORE SAVVY WITH THAT COURSE DESIGN, THAN IT MIGHT HAVE INITIALLY APPEARED. SO SERIOUS INJURIES WERE FEW AND FAR BETWEEN. IF WE DID GET HURT, WE DIDN'T REPORT IT TO OUR KIN FOLK, FOR FEAR HILDA WOULD SHUT THE SLOPE DOWN.

     EVERY NOW AND AGAIN, WE'D GET INVITED OVER TO JIM NIVEN'S HOUSE, UP ON THE HIGH END OF RICHARD STREET, WHERE THEY HAD A TREE-LINED SUICIDE DROP, WITH ROCK OUTCROPPINGS, THAT NO ONE EVER SUCCESSFULLY NAVIGATED, UNLESS YOU COUNT, ARRIVING AT THE BOTTOM, WITH BROKEN BRANCHES PROTRUDING FROM YOUR SNOWSUIT, AND SPITTING TWIGS OUT OF YOUR MOUTH....., AS WELL AS THE ARSE RIPPED OUT OF YOUR PANTS; FRICTION BURNS WHERE THE UNDERWEAR USED TO BE. WE'D START OUT ON A THREE PERSON TOBOGGAN, AND HALFWAY DOWN THE HILL, THERE WOULD BE TWO LESS RIDERS, BUT A LOT MORE SCREAMING, AS THE WOOD SLED BOUNCED OVER EXPOSED ROCKS AND GLANCED OFF NASTY LITTLE SHRUBS HERE AND THERE, ALL THE WAY DOWN. ONCE OR TWICE WE TRIED SLEDDING DOWN FLYNN'S HILL, ON RICHARD STREET, JUST BEFORE THE NIVEN'S HOUSE, AND THAT WAS TERRIFYING. WE'D USE THE HILLSIDE FOR OUR HOMEMADE GO-CARTS, BUT THEY AT LEAST HAD WORKABLE BRAKES. THE ONLY WAY TO STOP THE SLEDS OR DISCS ON AN ICY SLOPE, AS HIGH AND FAST AS IT WAS, INVOLVED TUCKING ONE'S HEAD TO THE CHEST, AND ROLLING OFF AT OUR OWN RISK. THE PROBLEM CAME WHEN TWO OR MORE DECIDED ON THE SAME EXIT STRATEGY, AND WOUND UP WADDING INTO A BALL OF HUMANITY, TUMBLING AND SLIDING DOWN THE REST OF THE HILL. JUST AS A CAR WAS TURNING UP THE STREET. WHAT A WAY TO GO!

     A FEW TIMES WE'D HIKE DOWN TO THE OLD TURKEY FARM, ON SANTA'S VILLAGE ROAD, BUT THERE WERE A LOT OF TERRAIN ISSUES IN THAT DEEP VALLEY, LEFTOVER FROM THE FARM DAYS. EVEN A GRASS MOUND COULD STOP A SLEIGH IN ITS TRACKS, AND CATAPULT THE RIDERS INTO OUTER SPACE. THERE JUST WASN'T MUCH IN THE WAY OF CLEAN, UNOBSTRUCTED TOBOGGAN HILLS IN OUR NEIGHBORHOOD. SO WE WORKED WITH WHAT WE HAD, AND THE MOST ACTIVELY USED AND ENJOYED, I DARE SAY, ESPECIALLY WHEN WE EXPANDED IT ONE YEAR, TO THE HIGHEST PART OF THE SAND-PIT, WHICH WHEN ICE-COVERED, WOULD GIVE US THE OLYMPIC LUGE SPEED. IF THE COURSE WAS A LITTLE SOFT, WE WOULD COME FLYING OFF THE UPPER LEDGE, WHICH WOULD HAVE MADE IT A THREE STORY HAIR-RAISING DROP TO THE BOTTOM, BUT GET STUCK ON THE FLAT PART OF THE CRATER, LONG BEFORE THE UPPER LIP OF THE ROAD DOWN. A FEW OF US, ON SAUCERS, WOUND UP IN THE MID SECTIONS OF THE EVERGREENS, THAT LINED THE LEFT SIDE OF THE SLOPE, AND A FEW OF THE MORE PROFICIENT SLEDDERS COULD EVEN SAVE THEMSELVES INJURY, BY GRASPING THE BOUGHS, AND REMAINING IN THE TREE'S BOSUM, TO AWAIT RESCUE FROM THE PIT CREW. I DID THE SAME THING ONE DAY, BUT INSTEAD OF CATCHING THE BOUGHS, MY MITTS WERE FROZEN, AND THE NEEDLES SLIPPED THROUGH MY HANDS. I SHOT RIGHT THROUGH THE BORDER TREES, AND RIGHT OVER THE EMBANKMENT WHERE HILDA HAD HER ROCK GARDEN. NOW THAT HURT. I LANDED WITHOUT THE BENEFIT OF THE SAUCER BENEATH MY CHEEKS, SO I WALKED WITH A LIMP FROM A SORE ASS FOR THE NEXT WEEK. NO WONDER MY KNEES AND HIP ARE WONKY NOW.

     IT WAS KIND OF A CRAZY COURSE, BUT YOU KNOW, AT AROUND CHRISTMAS, WHEN THERE WOULD BE A DOZEN KIDS UP THERE ON THE HILLSIDE, IN A DUSTING OF SNOW OVER THE HILLSIDE, IT WAS QUITE PLEASING VISUALLY.....IF I'D HAD THE GOOD SENSE TO CAPTURE THOSE MOMENTS ON FILM. AT NIGHT, WE'D BRING SOME COAL OIL LANTERNS, AND HANG THEM ON BRANCHES DOWN THE SLOPE. THIS MADE IT IMPERATIVE NOT TO FLY OFF THE TRACK. WE'D REALLY LOOK SPECTACULAR IN A BALL OF COAL-OIL FLAMES, IF WE TOOK OUT THOSE LAMPS. THESE NIGHTS, IF YOU LOOKED DOWN AT THE WEBER APARTMENT, AT THE BACK, YOU COULD SEE PEOPLE SITTING, OR STANDING AT THE WINDOWS, WATCHING US AT OUR WINTER SPORT. I CAN ALWAYS REMEMBER THE EXCITEMENT, COMING OUT OF THE BACK DOOR OF THE APARTMENT, AND HEARING THE VOICES AND LAUGHTER OF MY CHUMS, FILLING THE WINTER AIR. SOMETIMES WE PLAYED A COUPLE OF GAMES OF ROAD HOCKEY FIRST, AND THEN HIT THE SLOPES. IT WAS NEVER THE OTHER WAY AROUND, BECAUSE SLEDDING WAS A HIGH DEMAND RECREATION, AND WE'D BE SOAKED THROUGH, AFTER A COUPLE OF HOURS GOING UP AND DOWN THE HILL. MOST OF THE MOISTURE WEIGHING-DOWN OUR SUITS, WAS FROM A MASSIVE OUTPOURING OF SWEAT. WE SELDOM WENT SLEDDING WHEN THERE WAS AN ARCTIC CHILL. THAT WAS HOCKEY WEATHER.

     WE MADE THE BEST OUT OF THE LANDSCAPE WE WERE AFFORDED. THE HUNT'S HILL GANG STAYED AT HOME, WITH EXCEPTION OF BRIEF FORAYS TO SAMPLE OTHER SLEDDING VENUES, AND HOCKEY SURFACES, AND OF COURSE TO RELUCTANTLY AMBLE OUR WAY TO BRACEBRIDGE PUBLIC SCHOOL. SO EVEN THOUGH WE HAD A SUICIDE HILL OVER AT NIVENS, AND A CONSTRUCTION EQUIPMENT CIRCUIT AT THE WEBER APARTMENTS, WE NEVER COMPLAINED ABOUT OUR LOT IN LIFE. WE JUST WORKED WITH THE RESOURCES AVAILABLE, AND OUR MOTHERS WERE ON STAND-BY WITH MEDICAL PROVISIONS, TO BANDAGE WHAT WAS CUT AND SCRAPED. THE MOST SERIOUS INJURY I EVER HAD, AS A WINTER SLEDDER, WAS WHEN I DECIDED TO WHIP DOWN THE HILL ON A SLED WITH METAL RUNNERS, ON AN ICED-OVER TRAIL. THERE HAD BEEN A PERIOD OF FREEZING RAIN I THINK, WHICH ADDED A BIT OF EXCITEMENT TO THE SPEED FACTOR ON THE SLOPE. EVERYONE ELSE NAVIGATED THE RUN FAST BUT SAFELY THAT NIGHT, EXCEPT ME. THIS WAS THE FIRST TIME I'D EVER TAKEN THE HILLSIDE, STOMACH DOWN. WHEN I BEGAN AT THE TOP OF THE SAND-PIT, I WAS DOING GREAT, WITH A BLUE LIGHTNING STREAK, UNTIL I GOT TO THE HUMP ON THE UPPERMOST SECTION OF THE OLD ROADWAY. THE SLED STOPPED DEAD FOR SOME REASON. I WENT FLYING OFF AT THE SAME BREAKNECK SPEED, BUT SOMEHOW SPUN AROUND, SO THAT I WAS SLIDING FEET FIRST, INSTEAD OF THE OTHER WAY AROUND. THIS WOULD HAVE BEEN OKAY, IF I HADN'T STILL BEEN POSITIONED ON MY STOMACH. WELL SIR, MY COAT PULLED UP OVER MY HEAD, AS DID MY SWEATER AND UNDERSHIRT, AND I LUGED THAT LENGTH OF ROUGH ICE ON MY BARE STOMACH.....MUCH OF THE SKIN BEING LEFT ON THE HILLSIDE IN SMALL PORTIONS. IT LOOKED LIKE I'D BEEN SKINNED ALIVE. WHEN I GOT IN THE HOUSE, MY MOTHER GOT SICK TO HER STOMACH. IT LOOKED SO BAD, SHE THOUGHT I'D REMOVED MY INTESTINES. MY DAD TOOK A WASH-CLOTH AND CLEANED ME UP TO SEE WHERE THE HOLES WERE. ALL I WAS MISSING WAS A LAYER OF SKIN AND BODY FAT, BUT THERE WERE NO EXPOSED ORGANS. I WASN'T CRYING THEN. IT CAME LATER WHEN MERLE DECIDED THE ONLY TREATMENT FOR MY WOUNDS, WOULD BE IODINE. MY MATES COULD HEAR ME SCREAMING OUT ON THE SLOPE, WITH TOQUES ON, AND SLED RUNNERS ENGAGING THE ICY SLOPE. THEY PROBABLY COULD HAVE HEARD ME DOWNTOWN. THE NEIGHBORS WERE USED TO THIS KIND OF STUFF, SO NO ONE SHOWED ANY REAL INTEREST. I'M SURE THEY WERE WHISPERING, "AH, IT'S JUST THE CURRIE KID AGAIN. HE'S ACCIDENT PRONE. I DON'T KNOW HOW HE'S LIVED THIS LONG." I SUGGESTED I MIGHT NEED A COUPLE OF DAYS OFF SCHOOL. WELL, THAT DIDN'T FLY. NEITHER DID I. IT WAS THE LONGEST FORCED HIATUS I EVER HAD, FROM RECREATION, UNTIL MY SKIN GREW BACK. YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT A BIG SCAB. IT WAS MY NICKNAME FOR THE REST OF THAT WINTER, BECAUSE EVERYBODY, EVEN THE GIRLS, HAD TO HAVE A LOOK-SEE. "THAT'S HORRIBLE CURRIE....JESUS, PUT YOUR SHIRT DOWN WILL YOU?"

     WHEN I GOT INTO HIGH SCHOOL, AND THOUGHT OF GIRLS IN A DIFFERENT WAY, THAN JUST MATES TO PLAY HOCKEY AND BASEBALL WITH, I'D ACCEPT INVITATIONS TO GO SLEDDING UP ON LIDDARD STREET, WHERE IT INTERSECTS WITH AUBREY. IT WAS ALSO A CRAZY SLOPE, WITH ALL KINDS OF NATURAL OBSTRUCTIONS, BUT THE IDEA WASN'T AS MUCH ABOUT SLEDDING AS RECREATION, BUT DATING WITHOUT THE FORMALITY ATTACHED. A DATE DIDN'T INVOLVE RECREATION, AS FAR AS WE WERE CONCERNED. IT WAS JUST A PLACE TO CHECK OUT OUR COMPATIBILITY, IN A WHIP OF SPLINTERING WOOD AND SMOKING METAL DOWN THE HEIGHT OF THE EIGER SANCTION, WHERE, AT THE BOTTOM, MALE AND FEMALE WOULD CRUMBLE TOGETHER IN A HALF-EMBRACE, WITH A NEAR-ROMANTIC WARMTH TO IT; ANY INJURY BEING OF LESSER CONSIDERATION, THAN THE POSSIBILITY THE RIDERS HAD INADVERTENTLY HUGGED, OR TEMPORARILY HELD HANDS, AND LEARNED INTIMATELY, WHAT INSPIRED LAUGHTER, AND WHAT EXTREMES, IN TERMS OF DISCOMFORT, WARRANTED TEARS. LOOKING BACK, WE ALL HAD "FACE PLANTS" INTO THE CRUSTY SNOW, AND I SEEM TO RECALL WIPING THE ICE CHUNKS OFF LINDA'S FACE, AS WELL AS A FEW TEARS. I'LL BET SHE REMEMBERS THAT IT WAS ME WHO WAS CRYING. SHE MAY BE RIGHT. BACK IN THE WINTER OF 1972-73, MY SLEDDING PARTNER WAS LINDA DAWSON, A SWEET GAL WHO LIVED FURTHER ALONG ON LIDDARD STREET. WE ACTUALLY BEGAN DATING SHORTLY AFTER. WE'LL CALL THAT THE ALLURE AND ALCHEMY OF WINTER SLEDDING. I KIND OF THINK IT WAS THE TERROR OF THOSE WICKED RIDES DOWN THE TREED SLOPE, THAT BROUGHT US TOGETHER. FUNNY THING THOUGH. ONCE WE BEGAN DATING, WE NEVER AGAIN HIT THE SLOPES. LINDA LIKED TO ICE SKATE, SO THAT'S WHAT WE DID EVERY SATURDAY AND SUNDAY AFTERNOON, AT THE BRACEBRIDGE ARENA. WE LET THE SINGLES USE OUR SLEDS, TO HOPEFULLY HOOK UP. YOU KNOW, I NEVER REALLY THOUGHT ABOUT THIS, AS A PARTNERING RITUAL OR PRE-DATING, BUT THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT IT WAS, FOR A LOT OF TEENS, GROWING UP IN A SMALL TOWN WITH A LOT OF HILLS AND SNOW....AND FREE TIME.

     I ENJOYED THE WINTER SEASON AS A KID. I DIDN'T LIKE IT SO MUCH WHEN I LIVED IN THE CITY. I DIDN'T NOTICE THE COLD AS MUCH IN MUSKOKA, AS I HAD THE COLD, DAMP OF A BURLINGTON WINTER; AS THAT K NIFE-BLADED WIND CAME SWEEPING IN OFF LAKE ONTARIO....MAKING EVERY STEP TOWARD LAKESHORE PUBLIC SCHOOL, AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH. THERE WERE TIMES WHEN I WONDERED WHAT MY FATHER HAD BEEN THINKING ABOUT, MOVING US FROM THE CITY TO THE RURAL CLIME, BUT THAT WAS A SHORT PERIOD OF DOUBT....THAT FADED INTO THE FAMILY CHRONICLE, ONCE I STARTED ENJOYING THE PLEASURES GOD GAVE US KIDS IN THIS BEAUTIFUL REGION ON EARTH. I WAS HAPPY TO BECOME MUSKOKAN.