Technical Early Retirement; A Hammered Dulcimer and Albert Robinson Writes About Tom Thomson

Dusty Ukeline on the left and Banjo Uke on the right

Rare 1890's Hammered Dulcimer to companion another instrument in our collection; story follows

IMBEDDING MYSELF IN A WILD PLACE - FROM NEWSROOM TO MUSIC STUDIO - THE NEW WHIRLWIND IS PRETTY COOL

RECORDING STUDIO SET-UP BRINGS MUSICIANS A STRANGE NEW COMFORT ZONE

     THE NEWS PROFESSION AND THE ANTIQUE TRADE SHARE ONE IMPORTANT QUALITY, FOR A GUY AS PRONE TO BOREDOM AS ME. NOTHING IN THE NEWS WEEK, WAS SCHEDULED, EXCEPT GRIP AND GRIN PHOTOS, COUNCIL MEETINGS, STAFF MEETINGS (SO HORRIBLE I CAN'T DESCRIBE THEM IN GREATER DETAIL), AND PAY DAY. EVERYTHING ELSE THAT HAPPENED WAS THAT HELTER SKELTER YOU'D EXPECT OF A REPORTER TRYING TO GET A SCOOP. WE RAN A SCANNER SO WHEN THERE WERE FIRE, AMBULANCE AND POLICE CALLS, WE'D BE OFF AND RUNNING; SOMETIMES TRYING TO FINISH OUR LUNCH ON THE WAY. I FOUND IT SO INVIGORATING, THAT I PUT IN THE HOURS NECESSARY TO COVER BREAKING NEWS, WITHOUT ANY HOPE OF GETTING ANY OVERTIME COMPENSATION. I WANTED THE NEWES BYLINE AND THE PHOTO CREDIT. WHAT MY SALARY DIDN'T PROVIDE ME, THE CREDITS CERTAINLY DID. I'D SEND ITEMS OFF TO THE TORONTO STAR, AND THEY DID PAY HANDSOMELY, IF THEY MADE THE CUT. THE SAME CAN BE SAID FOR THE ANTIQUE TRADE, BECAUSE ALMOST ALL OF IT IS A HELTER SKELTER ARRANGEMENT, THAT IF IT WAS ART, WOULD LOOK LIKE A JACKSON POLLOCK PAINTING. IT'S WHAT TURNS ME ON ABOUT THE BUSINESS. WE DON'T GET OUR INVENTORY FROM A WHOLESALER, OR BY BROWSING THROUGH A CATALOGUE. WE EITHER FIND SOMETHING INTERESTING, OR IT FINDS US. TODAY IT HAPPILY WALKED IN THE DOOR OF THE SHOP. MAGIC! IMAGINE A JOB THAT NEVER FLAT-LINES IN EXCITEMENT! 

     IN THE ANTIQUE AND COLLECTABLE PROFESSION, THINGS CAN GET STRANGE, AND EVEN A LITTLE CRAZY, PRETTY FAST, ON DAYS WHEN, I SUPPOSE, THERE'S A FOURTH NORTH MOON OR SOMETHING OF EXTREME ATMOSPHERIC INFLUENCE. A METEOR WAS SUPPOSED TO PASS BY EARTH THIS AFTERNOON, AT ALMOST THE PRECISE TIME SOME WONDERFUL RELICS HIT OUR COUNTER. AS FOR THE "FOURTH NORTH MOON" REFERENCE, THAT'S WHAT SUZANNE AND I QUIP, WHEN SOMEONE WALKS OFF THE STREET CARRYING A COFFIN COFFEE-TABLE, OR A MEDICAL OFFICE SKELETON; OR MAYBE EVEN AN ALLEGEDLY HAUNTED WARDROBE, THAT MAY HAVE BEEN FOR FROCK STORAGE, IN THE BEDROOM OF AUTHOR C.S. LEWIS. WE HAVE A LOT OF ORDINARY DAYS, WHEN ALL WE GET OVER THE COUNTER, ARE OLD CROCKS AND SEALER JARS. ADD THE WHACKY THINGS A MUSIC SHOP PROPRIETOR CAN COME ACROSS, IN A DAY, AND YOU WILL GET THE LITTLE SHOP OF BEAUTIFUL HORRORS. WE HAVE A HARD TIME KEEPING A STRAIGHT FACE, AT THESE TIMES, BECAUSE SOME OF THE ARTICLES AND ARTIFACTS ARE SO DARN AMAZING. IT COSTS A LOT OF MONEY BUYING OVER THE COUNTER, BUT THIS WINTER, WITH THE WILD WEATHER, WE'VE SATISFIED OURSELVES BY DRIVING LESS, AND THE MONEY WE SAVED ON GAS, WE INFUSED INSTEAD, IN OVER THE COUNTER "BUY AND SELL" TRANSACTIONS.

     TAKE FOR EXAMPLE, THE LATEST ACQUISITION, OF A LARGE HAMMERED DULCIMER, JUST LIKE THE ONE-IN-THE-ROUGH, IN SEASONED PINE, WE HAVE SHOWN ON THIS SITE PREVIOUSLY. THIS IS OF MASSIVE SIGNIFICANCE TO US, BECAUSE WE HAVE NEVER BEEN ABLE TO PROPERLY STRING THE ONE I PURCHASED, FROM AN ANTIQUE SHOP IN BALA, SEVERAL YEARS AGO. THE SHOP OWNER, THEN, HAD A NOTE WRITTEN ON TOP, SUGGESTING THE STRINGLESS DULCIMER WOULD MAKE A GREAT COFFEE TABLE, IF A NEW OWNER COULD COME UP WITH SOME FASHIONABLE, DURABLE LEGS; AS IT IS A HEAVY PIECE. SO IMAGINE MY SURPRISE, AS THE OWNER OF THIS STRINGLESS WONDER, WHEN ANDREW BROUGHT IN THIS MUCH MORE ELABORATE DULCIMER, COMPLETE WITH BRIDGES AND STRINGS; WHICH ALLOWS US TO COPY THE SET-UP FOR THE OTHER ONE IN OUR COLLECTION. THIS HAS BEEN A PROBLEM, BECAUSE EVEN DULCIMER EXPERTS, HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO FIGURE OUT THE STRINGS, BRIDGING AND TUNING; ALTHOUGH EACH OF THOSE WHO HAVE LOOKED AT IT, IN THE PAST, HAVE WANTED TO OWN IT OUTRIGHT. I JUST COULDN'T STAND THE IDEA OF SELLING WHAT HAD, ACCORDING TO THE STORY, BEEN USED FOR ENTERTAINMENT IN A MUSKOKA LUMBER CAMP, AS FAR BACK AS THE 1890'S. I'VE ALWAYS IMAGINED ONE OF SUZANNE'S RELATIVES, WHO WORKED IN THESE CAMPS, PLAYING THE GREAT PINE BEAST.

     THE NEW ADDITION TO OUR DULCIMER COLLECTION, CAME FROM A COLLECTOR OF MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS, WHO HAD PURCHASED IT FROM AN ANTIQUE SHOP IN TORONTO, SEVERAL YEARS AGO, AND NOT MUCH WAS KNOWN ABOUT IT THEN. WE THINK THAT BELOW THE DUST OF THE AGES, THE BOTTOM AND TOP ARE MADE OF CURLY MAPLE. IT HAS HOLES FOR TWO SMALL LEGS, AND ONE THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN USED TO PROP IT UP ON AN ANGLE, FOR EASIER PLAYING. IT IS ALSO FROM THE LATE 1800'S, IF YOU LOOK AT ITS CONSTRUCTION. ANDREW PURCHASED TWO OTHER VINTAGE INSTRUMENTS, INCLUDING A 1930'S BANJO-UKE, AND A UKELINE FROM THE 1920'S. BUT IT'S HARD TO MASK OUR JOINT EXCITEMENT ABOUT THE HAMMERED DULCIMER, BECAUSE IT HAS BEEN A TEN YEAR STRUGGLE TO HAVE IT PROPERLY IDENTIFIED. AS YOU CAN SEE FROM THE IMAGE ABOVE, THIS IS NOT AN EASY INSTRUMENT TO STRING, AND IT WAS SUGGESTED BY EXPERTS, THAT IT WOULD HAVE ORIGINALLY USED PIANO WIRE INSTEAD OF STRINGS. ANDREW TELLS ME THAT IT HAS PIANO WIRE ON IT NOW, WHICH IS JUST CRAZY LUCK, BECAUSE WE COULD NEVER HAVE FIGURED IT OUT THE NOTES OTHERWISE; AND I MIGHT HAVE HAD TO MAKE A TABLE OUT OF IT AFTER ALL. IT'S HOW FAST THE MOOD CAN CHANGE IN A SHOP, THAT TODAY, HAD BEEN QUIET FOR MOST OF THE DAY. THEN BINGO, BANGO, BONGO, YOU GET THIS REALLY NEAT COLLECTION OF VINTAGE INSTRUMENTS, THAT CAME TO US VIA NORTH BAY. AS EVERYONE IN OUR FAMILY, ARE HARD CORE TREASURE HUNTERS, AND ARE MOST DEFINITELY INFLUENCED BY THE NEXT BIGGEST FIND, WE HAVE ONCE AGAIN AGREED, BY MUTUAL WINKS, THAT THE ANTIQUE BUSINESS IS THE PERFECT PROFESSION FOR US.

     THIS PAST SUNDAY, SUZANNE WAS WORKING ALL OVER THE HOUSE, ON A SPRING CLEANING MISSION, AND I WAS DISPATCHED TO THE STORE, (FOR CONVENIENCE) WHERE THE BOYS WERE RECORDING A SONG, WRITTEN AND PERFORMED BY A LOCAL MUSICIAN. I FINISHED WRITING MY BLOG, AND GRABBED A COUPLE OF PRIMITIVE INSTRUMENTS OFF A CHAIR BESIDE, AND STARTED STRUMMING THE WIRE STRINGS. I THOUGHT BACK TO THE WAY OUR INTEREST IN MUSIC GENERATED, AND ALL THE AUCTIONS AND ESTATE SALES WE TRAVELLED TO, LOOKING FOR THE MOST PRIMITIVE AND UNUSUAL PIECES WE COULD FIND. STRANGE, AFTER ALL THESE YEARS, THE MOST VINTAGE OF INSTRUMENTS ARE STILL FINDING US; AND OF THIS WE ARE SO PLEASED. THERE'S SUCH A NICE PATINA ATTACHED, AND I'M NOT JUST NOTING THIS OF THE BEAUTIFUL WOOD FINISH. THERE'S A MUSICAL HERITAGE BEGGING TO BE RELEASED, AND THE ONLY WAY TO DO THAT, IS TO START PLAYING EACH OF THEM, JUST AS I DID THE OTHER DAY; ON MY OWN, SETTLED COMFORTABLY IN THE LARGE STUDIO ROOM. WHERE MY NOISE WASN'T GOING TO BOTHER ANYONE ELSE. PLEASE EXCUSE ME IF I GET ALL BUBBLY, BECAUSE IT'S WHAT THE ANTIQUE AND COLLECTABLE BUSINESS CAN DO TO YOU, WHEN YOU LEAST EXPECT IT; BUT THEN I'M LIEING, BECAUSE WE ALWAYS ANTICIPATE TREASURE IS LURKING OUT THERE SOME WHERE, AND WILL CATCH OUR ATTENTION BECAUSE, WELL, IT'S ESSENTIAL TO MAINTAIN OUR MOJO. IT'S NOT A BUSINESS FOR THE FAINT OF HEART. SOME THINGS THAT COME IN COULD STOP YOUR HEART, LIKE A SHRUNKEN HEAD, OR HUMAN SKULL IN A CEREMONIAL BOX. OR, BY THE FACT, YOU HAVE JUST COME FACE TO FACE WITH THE HOLY GRAIL, AND MONTY PYTHON IS NOWHERE TO BE FOUND.

     AS ANTIQUE DEALERS, WHAT ARE OUR FAVORITE TELEVISION SHOWS? RERUNS OF "THE GHOST WHISPERER," PLUS EVERY EPISODE OF "GRIMM," "ONCE UPON A TIME," AND "THE BIG BANG THEORY." WE ALSO LIKE COMIC BOOKS, STAR WARS AND STAR TREK!

     I WAS JUST TALKING WITH SON ROBERT, WHO WAS NICELY, AND POLITELY, TRYING TO KICK ME OUT OF HIS STUDIO, (A LESSON WAS ABOUT TO ARRIVE), AND HAD JUST MENTIONED, IN PASSING, HE'D LIKE TO HAVE A BAG-FULL OF THE CENT CANDY, HE AND HIS BROTHER USED TO BUY, AT BRACEBRIDGE AND GRAVENHURST CORNER STORES. SO I HAD TO IMPOSE ON HIM, A FEW SUNDRY TALES, ABOUT MY OWN OLDEN DAYS, WHICH IS AN HOUR LONG DISCERTATION, EVEN WHEN I'M TRYING TO HURRY. BLACK BALLS, AT A DOZEN FOR TEN CENTS, MEANT THAT I COULD LAST A WHOLE WEEKEND, FOR FIFTY CENTS WORTH. THE JUJUBES, JAW BREAKERS, OPECHEE PACKETS OF HOCKEY AND BASEBALL CARDS, WITH THE ROCK HARD SHEET OF GUM, POP IN REAL GLASS BOTTLES, CHIPS AND POPCORN WITH PRIZES IN THE BOXES. GADS, DO I EVER HAVE SOME GREAT RECOLLECTIONS OF MY YOUTH SPENT, HUNKERED DOWN, TRADING PRIZES FOR EMPTIES, ON THE ROTTING STEPS OF THE LOCAL CORNER STORES, UP ON TORONTO STREET, IN BRACEBRIDGE. ISN'T IT A BUMMER, WHEN A PARENT LOOKS UP, WHILE AWAITING A CHUCKLE OR TWO, AND SEES THAT THE YOUNGER GENERATION HAS JUST THEN, BUGGERED OFF, BECAUSE THE STORY WAS ONCE AGAIN TOO BLOODY LONG, FOR A SOBER PERSON TO STAY TUNED. I SHOULD BE USED TO THIS BY NOW. BACK IN MY DAYS WITH THE COMMUNITY PRESS, I COULD REGALE AN AUDIENCE, OF MY PEERS, WITH THESE SENTIMENTAL ANECDOTES, OF BEING A CORNER STORE GROUPIE. IN ALL FAIRNESS, I WAS KNOWN AS THE GREAT ROOM-CLEARER. IN THE MUSIC STUDIO, I'M LIMITED TO ONE STORY A DAY, AND ALREADY THIS WEEK, I'VE EXCEEDED THIS CEILING THREE-FOLD. GEEZ, I'VE BEEN ALL NOSTALGIC AS OF LATE, THINKING BACK TO THE DAYS OF THE COLD WAR, WHEN WE HALF-EXPECTED AN INCOMING MISSILE TO END OUR RECREATION. SO IF WE HAD TO PERISH, WE MIGHT AS WELL GO WITH CANDY BREATH.

A LITTLE NOTE OF CLARIFICATION

     ANDREW AND ROBERT HAVE LIVED UNDER PUBLIC SCRUTINY SINCE BEFORE THEY WERE BORN. I'M NOT SURE IF THIS HAS CAUSED EMOTIONAL SCARRING OR NOT. I'M SORRY IF IT HAS. AS THEY HAVE APPEARED IN PRINT, VIA MY FEATURE STORIES, AND COLUMNS, EVEN MONTHS BEFORE EACH WAS BORN, THEY TEND TO ATTRACT SOME ATTENTION WHEN THEY DO SOMETHING OFF-SCRIPT. WE'VE BEEN A MEDIA FAMILY BY THE REALITY THEIR MOTHER, SUZANNE, MARRIED A WRITER, WHO HAS ALWAYS FOUND HIS FAMILY TO BE INTERESTING SUBJECTS FOR PUBLIC CONSUMPTION. "FOR PUBLIC HUMILIATION," SUZANNE QUIPS, FROM AN ARMCHAIR, WHERE SHE IS PRESENTLY KNITTING A BEARD-GUARD FOR ME. ONE THAT WILL CATCH THE FOOD THAT MISSES MY MOUTH AT DINNER. YES, I WAS EVEN AT BEDSIDE, WHEN DR. LYNCH DELIVERED THE LADS, AND EACH GOT THEIR OWN SPECIAL COLUMN, THAT WEEK, UNDER THE HEADLINE, "FROM THE BLEACHERS." I'VE GOT READERS ONBOARD, WHO BEGAN READING MY COLUMNS IN THE EARLY 1980'S, IN MUSKOKA PUBLICATION NEWSPAPERS, AND HAVE BEEN FOLLOWING IN VARIOUS MAGAZINES (AND ONLINE) EVER SINCE. THE BOYS ARE SPECIAL TO US, OF COURSE, BUT BECAUSE OF ALL THE MEDIA MILEAGE, THEIR ACTIONS ARE SCRUTINIZED VERY CLOSELY. IT'S OKAY SOME TIMES, BUT A DRAG AT OTHER TIMES. HERE'S WHY!

     YOU WOULDN'T BELIEVE SOME OF THE RUMORS THAT HAVE BEEN SPREADING RECENTLY, IN GRAVENHURST AND AREA, ABOUT ANDREW'S UNEXPECTED RETIREMENT FROM HIS SOUND TECHNICIAN RESPONSIBILITIES, AT SEVERAL MUSKOKA ENTERTAINMENT VENUES. EVERY SPIN AND SLANT OF SCUTTLEBUT, INCLUDING TALL, TALL TALES, THAT "ANDREW HAS LEFT THE AREA," AND "CLOSED HIS BUSINESS," TO HAVING JUST HOOKED-UP WITH A TRAVELLING BAND, AS THE PERMANENT SOUND STAFF. JUST SHORT OF CLAIMS HE JOINED THE "FRENCH FOREIGN LEGION," TO ASSUME A NEW IDENTITY; TO WORKING THE ENTERTAINMENT CIRCUIT, AS A BARKER, FOR A TRAVELLING CARNIVAL. LAST TIME I LOOKED, HE WAS SITTING ON THE COUCH, BESIDE ME, HAVING JUST LOST HALF OF HIS DONUT, WITH AN AWKWARD DUNK INTO HIS COFFEE CUP. HE'S NOT WEARING A PITH HELMET, SO HE'S NOT HEADED TO MEET DR. LIVINGSTONE, IN THE DEEPEST, DARKEST JUNGLE (I PRESUME), AND SEEING AS HE'S BOOKED IN, WITH BROTHER ROBERT, TO TRAVEL TO THE BIG SMOKE NEXT WEEK, TO MEET-UP WITH HIS MUSICAL MATES, OBVIOUSLY, SOME OF THE RUMORS ARE UNFOUNDED. SOME ARE TRUE. THE SOFT LIFE IS GIVING HIM A LITTLE POT BELLY, AND HE DOES RECLINE ON THE SOFA HERE, IN BETWEEN CUSTOMERS. I THINK HIS MOTHER AND I WOULD KNOW, IF HE HAD BEEN ARRESTED FOR MUSICAL MISCHIEF, OR HAD BECOME THE NEW OWNER OF THE TORONTO MAPLE LEAFS. GADS, PLEASE DON'T DO THAT, SON! SO IT'S JUST A LITTLE BIT OF SPECULATION, THAT ANDREW LEFT SOUND TECHNICIAN CONTRACTING, FOR SOMETHING QUITE EXOTIC. MAYBE IT'S EXOTIC FOR HIM, BECAUSE HE WILL HAVE A LITTLE LESS HUSTLE AND BUSTLE IN HIS WORK WEEK. WITH SUCH A HISTORY OF INK IN HIS BLOOD, COURTESY HIS OLD DAD, HE AND ROBERT, HAVE JUST LEARNED TO LIVE WITH THE HYPE, AND UNWANTED ATTENTION, AS YOU MIGHT EXPECT OF FOLKS INADVERTENTLY SENTENCED TO A LIFE OF PUBLIC SCRUTINY; OF WHICH THEY HAVE NO CONTROL. BUT THEN THEY'VE NEVER ASKED ME TO CHANGE THE WAY I WRITE, OR WHAT I FIND FASCINATING, ABOUT THEIR ACTIVITIES, TO OFFER READERS. VERY FEW PEOPLE CAN CLAIM TO HAVE APPEARED IN PRINT, AS MANY TIMES AS THEY HAVE, SINCE THE MID 1980'S, WHEN SUZANNE AND I WERE FAMILY PLANNING. LOTS OF PHOTOGRAPHS AS WELL. SO THIS IS A MINOR EXPLANATION, FOR WHY RUMORS TEND TO FLARE UP, WHEN ONE OF THE BOYS DOESN'T SHOW UP, WHERE THEY ARE EXPECTED, AS A MATTER OF TRADITION.

THE APPROVED VERSION OF EVENTS

     THESE DAYS, I FEEL MUCH MORE CONFIDENT, WHEN WRITING ABOUT THE BUSINESS PARTNERSHIP WITH OUR SONS, WHEN I GIVE THEM AN OPPORTUNITY TO APPROVE EDITORIAL COPY BEFORE IT IS PUBLISHED. THE INTRODUCTION ABOVE WASN'T APPROVED, AS THE OFFICIAL VERSION, BUT THE MATERIAL BELOW WAS CLEARED. THEY'LL CRAB ABOUT IT, UNTIL I EXPLAIN, THAT I WROTE IT AS "DAD," AND NOT AS THE WRITER IN RESIDENCE. THAT'LL COVER MY ASS, IN CASE OF A LAW SUIT.

     

     THE GRAVENHURST GRAPEVINE HAS BEEN SMOKING HOT, FOR THE PAST FEW WEEKS, AT LEAST FOR SON ANDREW, WHO HAS BEEN GETTING ALL KINDS OF CURIOUS E-MAILS AND MESSAGES, ABOUT HIS RECENT DEPARTURE FROM A LOCAL ENTERTAINMENT VENUE. SOME OF HIS FRIENDS HAVE BEEN COUNTING TOO; NOTING THAT HE'S COINCIDENTALLY OR NOT, RETIRED FROM TWO LOCAL VENUES IN THE PAST EIGHT MONTHS. HE HAD BEEN A LONG-TIME OPERA HOUSE TECHNICIAN, ALONGSIDE HIS BROTHER ROBERT, WHO, HOWEVER, HAD ONLY MANAGED A YEAR UNDER HIS BELT, WHEN IT BECAME TOO MUCH OF A COMPROMISE TO THEIR OWN MUSIC BUSINESS, TO CONTINUE OUTSIDE CONTRACTING. AS WE ALSO RENT-OUT OUR SOUND EQUIPMENT, KNOWN AS "BACK-LINE," AND OPERATE THEM FOR ENTERTAINMENT VENUES, THE WORK-LOAD WAS CUTTING TOO DEEPLY, INTO THE WAY WE WERE ABLE TO STAFF THE SHOP SIX DAYS A WEEK. WHAT MANY FOLKS, WHO KNOW THE BOYS, DON'T REALIZE, IS THAT THEY HAVE A SIGNIFICANT NUMBER OF MUSIC STUDENTS THROUGH THE WEEK; AS WELL AS RECORDING SESSIONS, FOR LOCAL AND EVEN NATIONAL MUSICIANS. LATE NIGHTS, PLUS THE ADDED STRESSES OF RUNNING A MAINSTREET BUSINESS, DURING THE DAY, WORKING LATE INTO THE NIGHTS, AND KEEPING EVERYONE HAPPY WITH THE BALANCE OF ATTENTION THEY WERE GETTING, (INCLUDING THE MUSICIANS), WAS PLAYING HAVOC ON DAY TO DAY NAVIGATION. AS WITH ANY FAMILY BUSINESS, YOU TRY TO PLUG HOLES WHEN YOU CAN, BUT SUZANNE AND I DON'T HAVE THE QUALIFICATIONS TO INFILL TOO MUCH, FOR ROBERT AND ANDREW, WHEN IT COMES TO OUTSIDE TECHNICAL WORK. I HELP TOTE EQUIPMENT, AND SUZANNE DOES ALL THE ACCOUNTING, BUT THAT'S PRETTY MUCH THE EXTENT OF IT....AND THAT WAS JUST NOT ENOUGH, TO GIVE THE LADS A BREAK. ON A COUPLE OF OCCASIONS RECENTLY, THEY HAD TO MAKE IMMEDIATE CHOICES ABOUT THEIR SCHEDULE, AND IT CAUSED SOME CHAGRIN WITH OUR PARTNERS. WE UNDERSTOOD THIS, AS A BUSINESS ASSOCIATE, BUT WHEN IT CAME RIGHT DOWN TO THE NITTY GRITTY OF OUR GAME PLAN, AS SET OUT A DECADE AGO, IT CLEARLY DEMONSTRATED THAT THERE COULDN'T BE DIVIDED LOYALITIES ANY LONGER. WE KNEW THE CROSSROADS WAS JUST AHEAD, BUT WE DIDN'T EXPECT TO ARRIVE THERE QUITE SO SPEEDILY.

     BOTH BOYS ARE STILL AVAILABLE FOR SOUND GIGS, AT THEIR DISCRETION, AND ARE ALWAYS AVAILABLE FOR SOUND SYSTEM CONSULTING; BUT WITH OUR ONGOING BUSINESS EXPANSION, AND A BUSY SPRING SEASON FOR RECORDING, COMING UP, LEAVING THE HEAVY SCHEDULE OF TECH. RESPONSIBILITIES, HAS MADE LIFE A LITTLE MORE COMFORTABLE AT THE HOME STUDIO. ANDREW WAS JUST TELLING ME HOW NICE IT IS, TO HAVE THE DAY TO DAY USE OF THE SOUND EQUIPMENT, THAT WE USED TO RENT OUT, AS BACK-LINE, THAT COULDN'T BE FULLY UTILIZED IN THE STUDIO, BECAUSE IT WAS USUALLY STATIONED AT SOME OTHER VENUE, FOR AN UPCOMING SHOW. AS WE HAVE LOTS OF MUSICIANS VISITING, AND PLANNING RECORDING SESSIONS, IN THE NEXT COUPLE OF MONTHS, THE EXTRA EQUIPMENT IS GOING TO COME IN HANDY; AND WE HOPE IT WILL ADD TO THE ADVANTAGES OF WORKING AND PLAYING HERE, ON THE MAIN STREET OF GRAVENHURST.

     THERE HAVE BEEN SOME WONKY STORIES GOING AROUND, AS TO WHY WE DECIDED TO PULL IN THE PROVERBIAL HORNS, AT THIS POINT. WE'VE HEARD SOME REALLY STRANGE SCENARIOS ABOUT THIS DEPARTURE, AND IT'S WHY WE FEEL COMPELLED TO INFILL SOME INFORMATION. IF YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE A SOUND TECHNICIAN, WELL SIR, ANDREW AFTER TEN YEARS AT THE GRAVENHURST OPERA HOUSE, COULD WRITE A BOOK ABOUT IT.....ESPECIALLY WORKING WITH SOME OF THE GREAT TALENTS THAT HAVE BEEN ON THAT BEAUTIFUL STAGE. ANDREW HAS WORKED WITH SOME HUGE ACTS OVER THE YEARS, AND WITH BROTHER ROBERT, ENJOYED MIXING-IT-UP WITH THE PARADE OF TALENTED, INTERNATIONALLY RECOGNIZED PERFORMERS; MANY OF THEM ENTERTAINING ON "THE BARGE," DURING THE SUMMER SEASON OF CONCERTS, AT GULL LAKE PARK. WE ENCOURAGED BOTH BOYS TO GET INVOLVED WITH CIVIC PROGRAMS, AT A YOUNG AGE, AND THEY EVEN PRODUCED ABOUT A DOZEN CONCERT NIGHTS, ON BOTH THE BARGE AND AT THE OPERA HOUSE.    BUT TRUTHFULLY THEY WERE BACK-BREAKING EVENTS, AND KEEPING THE PERFORMERS PLEASED WITH THEIR SOUND QUALITY, WAS A PAINSTAKING SITUATION THAT COULD NEVER BE TAKEN LIGHTLY. THERE WERE TOO MANY STAKEHOLDERS WHO STOOD TO LOSE, IF ANDREW, OR ROBERT, DROPPED THE BALL, SO TO SPEAK. IF WE DO THIS AT OUR STUDIO, WE CAN FIRE EACH OTHER....FOR AN HOUR OR SO. WHEN A MUSICIAN, OR BAND, WEIGHS THEIR OUTPUT, AS RELATES TO THEIR REPUTATION, AND LEGACY, BY GOLLY, IT WOULD BE THE WORSE CASE SCENARIO, (NOW MULTIPLY THAT BY TEN) IF THE SOUND TECHNICIAN SCREWED UP, AND PROVIDED A LESSER QUALITY SOUND. BOTH LADS KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE SCOLDED, LECTURED, CRITIQUED, YELLED-AT, SCORNED, AND OVER-RULED. ON THE OTHER SIDE, THEY'VE BOTH HAD THE SUDDEN JOY, AFTER A TOUGH GIG, OF BEING CONGRATULATED, AND INFORMED "THE SOUND WAS PERFECT." KEEPING THE MUSICIANS, THE PAYING CUSTOMERS, AND THE VENUE MANAGEMENT HAPPY, IS A FAR GREATER CHALLENGE THAN MANY CASUAL OBSERVERS MIGHT APPRECIATE. AS THEY BOTH HAVE TAKEN THEIR JOBS, AND RESPONSIBILITIES SERIOUSLY, AS PART OF THEIR OWN STORE-FRONT BUSINESS, THEY HAVE ALWAYS TREATED THEIR SOUND GIGS AS AN EXTENSION OF WHAT THEY HAVE TO PERFORM DAILY IN THE SHOP. IN PLAIN TERMS, THEY APPLY THEIR SIGNATURES TO THE JOB, AND IF IT IS SUBSTANDARD, THEY TAKE IT PERSONALLY. I'VE SEEN IT MANIFEST, AND BOTH GENTS GO SLEEPLESS AS A RESULT. SUZANNE HAS WORRIED IT WOULD GIVE THEM ULCERS. I CONCUR. THERE JUST ISN'T ENOUGH OF THEM TO GO AROUND ANY MORE. IT WORKED ONCE, BECAUSE THE STORE WASN'T TOO BUSY. SO I SUPPOSE, IN REGARDS TO THE SOUND AND TECHNICAL COMPONENT, ONE SIDE OF THEIR BUSINESS PLAN HAS SUCCUMBED TO THE SUCCESS OF RETAIL, MUSIC INSTRUCTION AND STUDIO WORK. THAT DOESN'T MEAN TO SUGGEST, ANDREW PARTICULARLY, ISN'T DISAPPOINTED ABOUT THE TURN OF EVENTS, THAT FORCED HIM TO CHOSE ONE OVER THE OTHER. BOTH OF THEM LOVE WORKING UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL WITH MUSICIANS, IN PERFORMANCE SETTINGS. DESPITE KNOWING THE RISKS, OF BEING RUN HARD, THROUGH THE MILL, OVER MATTERS OF DEMANDED SOUND QUALITY, THEY'RE STILL DOING THE SAME THING IN THE STUDIO. SOUND QUALITY IS JOB ONE. SO THEY EXPECT FEEDBACK FROM ASSOCIATE MUSICIANS IF IT'S NOT UP TO SNUFF.

    THEY'VE MADE QUITE A NUMBER OF FRIENDS IN THE MUSIC INDUSTRY DURING THE PAST DECADE, WORKING THE LOCAL VENUES, AND I'M SURE YOU CAN APPRECIATE, IT WILL TAKE AWHILE TO GET USED TO BEING ANCHORED IN ONE LOCATION; TO INSTEAD MEET UP WITH MUSIC MATES ON HOME TURF.

EARLIER THIS WINTER, WE HAD TO RE-WORK OUR MUSIC "SESSIONS" EVENTS, AT THE SHOP, DUE TO THE POTENTIAL THAT WE MIGHT (ONE DAY) VIOLATE FIRE REGULATIONS, SHOULD OUR NUMBER OF GUESTS SURPASS THIRTY. WELL, ALTHOUGH WE HAD SAFELY STAYED UNDER THIS NUMBER, WE KNEW SOME OF OUR UPCOMIING FEATURE ENTERTAINERS, WERE GOING TO DRAW MANY MORE PATRONS; AND THE WORK AND EXPENSE TO MEET THE FIRE SAFETY REQUIREMENTS, FOR SUCH A MEETING PLACE, COULDN'T BE JUSTIFIED; TO STILL ALLOW US TO MEET ALL OUR OTHER LONG-PLANNED PROJECTS, INCLUDING THE CREATION OF A BETTER QUALITY RECORDING STUDIO. HEY, THAT'S LIFE. SOMETIMES YOU DON'T GET YOUR WAY. OF COURSE, WE'RE DISAPPOINTED BUT WE ADAPT QUICKLY. YET SINCE THE MIDDLE OF FEBRUARY, THEIR FREE TIME HAS BEEN SWALLOWED UP; LIKE THE OOZE OF QUICKSAND, THAT MIGHT CONSUME A BIG FELLOW LIKE ME. THEY WONDER ALOUD HOW THEY USED TO FIT ALL THIS OTHER ACTIVITY IN, AND STILL RUN THE STORE.

     I WAS THE ONE, THE GAME CHANGER, I SUPPOSE, WHO SUGGESTED TO ANDREW, MOST RECENTLY, THAT HIS FREELANCE WORK AS A SOUND TECHNICIAN, WAS CARRYING TOO MANY BURDENS, THAT WERE TAKING AWAY FROM DAY TO DAY BUSINESS. WE ALWAYS NEW THE DAY WOULD COME, WHEN IT WOULD COME DOWN TO THE CHOICE, OF EITHER MAKING OUR STOREFRONT MORE DIVERSIFIED, AND EXPANDING OUR SERVICES IN-HOUSE, OR ADDING MANPOWER TO MAINTAIN OUR SOUND CONTRACTING. I'VE ALWAYS BEEN A KEEN WATCHER OF OUR LADS, WHILE TRYING NOT TO OVERBURDEN THEM WITH ATTENTION. NOTICING HOW THEY COPE WITH STRESS IN BUSINESS, PREPARES US FOR ADJUSTMENTS IN TIME MANAGEMENT. MOM FINDS MONEY TO SEND THEM ON A LITTLE HOLIDAY. SO WE BREAK REGULARLY, AND THEY TAKE-OFF SOMEPLACE THEY FIND RESTORATIVE AND INSPIRATIONAL. YES, IT ALWAYS HAS SOMETHING TO DO WITH MUSIC. IT WAS GETTING TO A POINT THAT ANDREW WAS NOT ENJOYING HIS OUTSIDE WORK, AND IN ORDER TO GET AHEAD OF A BIGGER PROBLEM, I SUGGESTED ONE EVENING, AFTER A BAD DAY, THAT IT WAS FINALLY THE TIME TO LET GO OF SOME OF THE OUTRIGGERS, HE HAD EMPLOYED FROM THE EARLY DAYS OF HIS BUSINESS PLAN. WE HAD ALWAYS KNOWN THAT THERE WOULD BE A TIME, WHEN WE'D HAVE TO CUT SOME OF OUR OUTSIDE WORK, BECAUSE THE DEMANDS OF THE STORE-FRONT HAD GROWN. IT JUST ARRIVED A LITTLE SOONER, THAN WAS EXPECTED. SOME TIMES IT'S JUST BETTER THAT WAY. SO NO, HE WASN'T SHOT FROM A CANON TO ANOTHER MUNICIPALITY, OR STRANDED ON GILLIGAN'S ISLAND, JUST IN CASE YOU HEARD ONE OF THOSE STRANGE RUMORS.

     I'M STILL ALLOWED TO WORK FROM A CHAIR, IN THE CORNER OF THE STUDIO, AND THROUGHOUT THE WEEK, BY HAPPENSTANCE OF A VISIT, FROM A TRAVELLING MUSICIAN, I GET THE OPPORTUNITY TO SIT-IN ON SOME AMAZING CONVERSATIONS; AND A LITTLE INFORMAL MUSICAL INTERLUDE IF I'M LUCKY. IT'S IMPOSSIBLE TO AVOID BEING INSPIRED BY THE ACTIONS AND REACTIONS OF OTHERS, WHO PASS THIS WAY. THE BOYS ARE FAR MORE RELAXED, AND THEY ARE PRESENTLY USING NINETY PERCENT OF THE EQUIPMENT, THEY USED TO RENT OUT EVERY MONTH. THEY TELL ME IT'S A MUCH BETTER SITUATION FOR RECORDING, AND PRACTICE, INCLUDING THE NEWEST STUDIO SET UP, IN THE BACK ROOM, THAT WAS PREVIOUSLY USED FOR OUR SESSIONS EVENTS. I THINK BOTH LADS ARE CATCHING UP ON SOME RECREATION TIME, AND ENJOYING THE SHOP ENIVIRONS EVEN MORE, NOW THAT THEY DON'T HAVE TO RUN HERE AND THERE, TO MEET THE DEMANDS OF OTHERS. NOW THEY'RE TRULY WORKING FOR THEMSELVES, WHICH IS THE FIRST TIME IN OVER A DECADE. THE TUG AND PULL OF BEING A FREE LANCE SOUND TECHNICIAN, IS A REALITY OF THEIR MUSIC PAST; A COUPLE OF CHAPTERS IN THE BOOK THEY WANT ME TO WRITE. HEY, THEY'VE WRITTEN SONGS TO ACCOMPANY MY PROJECTS. IT'S THE LEAST I CAN DO. AS SUZANNE WANTS TO KEEP ME FROM CLOGGING UP THE SHOP, WITH MY MUDDLING-ABOUT, I CAN INSTEAD, CONTENT MYSELF AT THIS KEYBOARD, WRITING ABOUT THEM GOOD OLD DAYS. AND THEY WERE. BUT I'M JUST AS EXCITED WAITING FOR THE NEXT WILD MUSIC-RELATED WHIRLWIND, THAT WILL BLOW THROUGH THIS BUILDING; WHICH SO FAR, HAS MADE MY STINT IN THE NEWSROOM, OF THE FORMER HERALD-GAZETTE, SEEM LIKE AN EXTENDED RESPITE. IT'S HARD TO DESCRIBE THE DYNAMIC OF A MUSIC STUDIO, INSIDE A FORMER MOVIE THEATRE, WITH A CONTINUOUS PARADE OF MUSICIANS; BUT COMPARED TO A BUNCH OF POLITICIANS AND BUSINESS EXECUTIVES, WHO FILLED USED TO FILL MY NEWSROOM, GOSH, I'M IN HEAVEN HERE, IN THESE FINAL DAYS OF AUTHORDOM FOR AN OLD HACK.....NOT DOWN ON HIS LUCK. THIS IS THE BEST FORTUNE I'VE EVER HAD!

IN QUEST OF TOM THOMSON - THE CONCLUSION, AS WRITTEN BY ARTIST ALBERT H. ROBINSON, CIRCA 1937

A BOOK ON THOMSON I JUST COULDN'T LIVE WITHOUT -

WHAT AN AMAZINGLY BRIGHT AND CHEERFUL LATE WINTER DAY, HERE IN SOUTH MUSKOKA. I HAVE JUST TAKEN A LITTLE JAUNT THROUGH THE WOODLANDS ABOVE THE BOG, AND THE SUNLIGHT IS DAZZLING ON THE NEW SNOW, SCULPTED AROUND THE TRUNKS OF HARDWOODS AND VENERABLE OLD PINES, FROM THE WEEKEND'S STORM. THE PATH IS ICE-COVERED ALREADY, THE SLIDING WORK OF MANY FEET OVER THE PAST SEVERAL DAYS. IT IS LIKE WALKING INTO A TOM THOMSON PAINTING, WITHOUT CAUSING ANY DAMAGE. THE PLAY OF LIGHT AND SHADOW OF HARDWOOD AND EVERGREEN, IS SPECTACULAR, AND FROM SO MANY VANTAGE POINTS, I CAN FRAME A HALF DOZEN PAINTINGS I'D LOVE TO OWN…..DEPICTING THE PLACE I LOVE TO ESCAPE. I HAVE BEEN WRITING ALL MORNING, TRYING TO GET A START ON THE BIOGRAPHY OF MUSKOKA ARTIST, RICHARD KARON, AND CAN ADMIT HAPPILY, I HAVE GOTTEN PAST THAT FIRST HURDLE MOST WRITERS DREAD……"CHAPTER ONE." IT WILL TAKE A FEW WEEKS YET TO COMPOSE THE "ON-LINE" BIOGRAPHY, I INTEND TO PRESENT ON THIS BLOG-SITE, LATER IN MARCH. ADMITTEDLY I WAS THINKING ABOUT MR. KARON, WHILE WALKING THROUGH THESE SUNLIT WOODS, WONDERING HOW HE MIGHT HAVE PAINTED THIS GRANDLY ILLUMINATED SCENE. I WAS ALSO THINKING ABOUT TOM THOMSON, THE NEXT PROJECT FOR ME, AFTER RETURNING HOME TO BIRCH HOLLOW. IT IS THE CONTINUATION OF THE REVIEW OF MY NEWLY ACQUIRED, ALBERT ROBINSON BOOK, (ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN 1937), WHICH IS A BRIEF BUT HIGHLY REGARDED THOMSON BIOGRAPHY…..A BOOK I NEEDED MANY YEARS AGO, BUT EITHER COULDN'T AFFORD, WHEN I DID FIND A COPY, OR ONE THAT WAS MISSING PAGES OR EVEN THE FULL COLOR IMAGES IN THE BACK. I FOUND A FINE CONDITION COPY THAT HAS ALL OF ITS PAGES, AND A NICE CLEAN GREEN CLOTH WRAPPING ON PERFECT BOARDS (COVER STOCK). NOT ONE DOG EARRED PAGE IN THE BOOK. AS AN ENTHUSIASTIC THOMSON RESEARCHER, AND COLLECTOR OF RELATED MOMENTOS (CAN'T AFFORD HIS ORIGINAL ART), IT WAS THE FIND OF 2012. IT'S LOOKING LIKE A GOOD YEAR OUT ON THE ANTIQUE HUSTINGS.

WHILE THE PICTURES HE PRODUCED BETWEEN 1913 AND 1917 REPRESENT HIS MAJOR CONTRIBUTION, THE BACKGROUND AND TRAINING FOR THIS MAGNIFICENT OUTPOURING EXPLAINS TO SOME EXTENT THE QUALITY OF HIS WORK. THOMSON LIVED AS A BOY IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD OF GEORGIAN BAY, AND HERE HIS INBORN LOVE OF THE LAKES, WOODS AND STREAMS WAS NOURISHED THROUGHOUT HIS CHILDHOOD. HE WAS PASSIONATELY FOND OF FISHING, AND IN LATER YEARS ATTAINED AN ENVIABLE REPUTATION AS AN ANGLER EVEN AMONG THE PROFESSIONAL GUIDES OF THE (ALGONQUIN) PARK. IN THE EARLY SPRING, BEFORE THE ICE BROKE FROM THE STREAMS AND RIVERS, HE MADE HIS OWN TACKLE FROM BEADS, FEATHERS AND PIECES OF METAL, WITH THE LOVING HANDS OF A TRUE ENTHUSIAST."

The above passage was written by Canadian Artist, Albert H. Robinson, in a 1937 "Canadian Artist Series" booklet, entitled simply "Tom Thomson." Robinson had known Thomson from the graphic arts business in Toronto. He was a friend and traveling companion of painter A.Y. Jackson, and he was familiar with the other artists of the Group of Seven. It is a small but important book in the study of the early life and work of this Canadian landscape painter. The book, which has evaded me for about a dozen years, was found in the used books offered by the Gravenhurst Book Store, located on Muskoka Road. I am grateful to the book shop proprietor, for offering this wonderful piece of Canadiana. Thanks to them, I have now acquired this missing component of Thomson biography. In reality, I've been trying to acquire a "fine condition" copy of the Robinson book, but most of the books I found, in the past five years, were badly damaged, and seriously over-priced. I've been rustling-up Thomson reference material, since the mid 1990's. My personal "Thomson archives," built-up one book, one article, one document at a time, has been used extensively in four previous feature series, which have run in regional publications, primarily in the examination of the artist's mysterious death in July 1917, while traversing Algonquin Park's Canoe Lake. The little booklet was published by The Ryerson Press, of Toronto, and designed and printed by one of the best known graphics company, in Canada at the time…….Rous & Mann Limited, where many of Canada's painters got their start in the art profession. Both Thomson and Robinson came to work for Rous & Mann by 1912, leaving the Grip Co.

In 1937 when Robertson published the brief biographical text, on Thomson, accompanied by full color reproductions of the artist's best known creations, there had only been a few books and articles written about his life and art, following his sudden death. Only several months after Thomson's death, his biggest supporter, Dr. J.M. McCallum had contributed an article on his friend, to the Canadian Magazine, dated October 1917. F.B. Housser made mention of Thomson in his book, Canadian Art Movement, in 1926. In 1927, O.J. Stevenson wrote about Thomson in a text entitled "A People's Best," and in the same year, Newton MacTavish mentioned him in the book, "The Fine Arts in Canada." Blodwen Davies came next, with one of two pieces on Thomson, the first being "Paddle and Palette," in 1930, and then "Tom Thomson," in 1935. Robinson had begun the Canadian Landscape Painters in 1932. I'm still missing several of these early Thomson references, but I'm forever hopeful I can fill these in before the 100th anniversary of his death, in July 2017, when I hope to launch another series of articles on his art career in Canada.

"My first meeting with Thomson was about 1908. A tall, lanky young man in a dark blue serge suit and gray flannel shirt applied for a position in the art department of Grip Limited, where I was art director. He was clean cut, almost classical in features, with a mop of black hair combed down over his right forehead. There was something intriguing about Thomson, a quiet reserve, a reticence almost approaching bashfulness. There was no bombast or assertiveness as he handed me a bundle of his work and asked if there was an opening in the art department."

Robinson writes, "His samples consisted mostly of lettering and decorative designs applied to booklet covers and some labels. A quick glance at his drawings revealed something more than mechanical and technical proficiency; there was feeling for spacing and arrangement, an over-tone of intellectual as well as aesthetic approach to his work, and we quickly closed arrangements for him to join the staff. Shortly after hiring him, I received a gratuitous and unsolicited telephone call from his previous employer, belittling Thomson as an erratic and difficult man in a department. This was as absurd as it was untrue. Thomson was a most diligent, reliable and capable craftsman. Nothing seemed to disturb the even tenor of his way. Only once did I see him lose his temper and that was in 1912. A man under the influence of liquor got into the studio and made himself as objectionable as possible. Tom tried to continue his work, but when the visitor became personally abusive, Tom's slow temper finally rose. He took off his coat and threw the visitor out of the building. The noise of overturning chairs and tables attracted my attention, but by the time I got there, Tom was brushing imaginary dust off his hands and settling back in to finish his drawing."

"Tom Thomson possessed a complete and satisfactory world within himself." wrote Albert Robinson, adding, "He apparently did not feel any great need for human companionship, and so made friends slowly. When he joined "Grip" (graphic company in Toronto), it was some time before he found common interests with other members of the art staff. Among his fellow workers in the department, were such men as J.E.H. MacDonald, F. Horsman Varley, Frank Carmichael, Arthur Lismer, William Broadhead, Frank (Franz) Johnston, T.W. McLean, Ben Jackson, Ivor Lewis and many others. These men sketched and painted in their spare time and during their holidays. Ben Jackson was an enthusiastic fisherman who arranged his sketching trips with angling opportunities. Thomson and Jackson were soon planning trips together, lunge fishing in Scugog Lake, or trout fishing in some favorite stream known to Tom. Jackson took his paints along as a mild diversion from fishing, and on one of these trips made a sketch of Tom which now hangs in the National Gallery, Ottawa. Jackson who had fished the streams of New Brunswick, with crack fishermen from the New England states, said that he never saw anyone who could cast a fly with the ease and precision of Thomson. On some of these trips Tom began making the casual sketch, and occasionally joined other members of the staff on their sketching trips round Toronto."

There is a well known black and white photograph of Thomson fly fishing below the Tea Lake Dam, just west of Tea Lake, and Canoe Lake where Thomson resided when not on a fishing or sketching trip. Our family always stopped in at the Tea Lake dam, on our camping or day trips to the park. We have stood on those same rocks as Thomson did, in the early 1900's, and where he anchored himself, to sketch the original dam. It is a beautiful and quiet little place, that afforded him a perfect campsite to both fish and paint.

Robinson points out that, "William Broadhead, a brilliant young English artist, after listening all winter to McLean's stories of canoeing and camping in the wilds, was fired with a desire to see the country himself, and in the summer of 1911, Broadhead and Thomson set out on a canoe trip through the Mississauga Reserve, leaving the rails at Biscotasing. This was, I believe, Thomson's first experience on an extended camping trip in the north. It was also Thomson's first serious sketching trip. He brought back a number of sketches although he lost some in a canoe upset. These sketches were timid and self conscious in execution, but had caught the real northern character. I recall one in particular of drowned land which impressed me as having the weird loneliness of the country. It was on this trip also, that Thomson met Grey Owl, (before he was exposed as englishman, Archie Belaney) now known in America and Europe as author and lecturer, who visited him in Toronto the following winter."

The artist Robinson, writes of his friend Thomson, by noting a change in employment status in the Ontario printing industry. "In 1912 I became associated with Rous & Mann Limited, and several of the artists, including Thomson, followed to the new art department, where he worked until the spring of 1914. In the summer of 1912, Thomson took his first extended vacation in Algonquin Park, and brought back a series of sketches which showed a tremendous advance in technical power and purity of color. Strolling up from the station (in Toronto) in his woodsman outfit and carrying the bundle of sketches, he reported his return to work and left the sketches for inspection. We urged him to paint one of his sketches upon a large canvas. So 'A Northern Lake' came into being in 1913, his first attempt on a large canvas. It attracted the admiration of his fellow artists, and to his astonishment was purchased by the Government of Canada."

"J.E.H. MacDonald told Dr. J.M. McCallum of Toronto, about Thomson's north country sketches. The genial doctor soon looked him up and persuaded him to devote his entire time to painting. His art training had been and continued to be the association with competent painters. The few remaining years of his life he devoted whole-heartedly to painting, sketching in the spring, summer and fall, and returning to his studio "Shack" on Severn Street to work on large canvases during the winter months." wrote Robinson, adding, "The basic knowledge of design obtained through his commercial art training explains the decorative beauty of composition and arrangement which so marks his painting. In this respect, there is a common bond between Thomson and J.E.H. MacDonald. Both were eminent and capable designers, and both approached the problem of landscape painting with a finely discriminating knowledge of form and arrangement. MacDonald, however, felt the appeal of a greater variety of subject matter, while Thomson concentrated with intensity on the Northern Ontario wilderness which claimed his whole devotion. Both of these men made important contributions to Canadian painting, evolving technics which were personal and adequate and unclouded either by convention or tradition. The work of each was alive with charm of design and beauty of color."

Robinson suggested that "From year to year Thomson grew in ability to summarize, in the beauty of his color arrangements, in confidence, and brilliancy of technique. His paintings are frank and beautiful statements of the moods and inner meanings of the scenes freed of all extraneous and distracting detail. His sense of design and color wove enchantment into a sketch, never cluttering or confusing it, but rather adding a richer and more subtle significance. Thomson left probably more than four hundred sketches, perhaps twenty important canvases, with as many slighter or experimental pictures. His tragic and untimely death on Canoe Lake robbed our Dominion of a great interpreter of the Canadian wilderness - a faithful student whose sincerity, unresting passion for true and swift insight into the heart of all that was beautiful, gave him skill and power to isolate essentials, which lifted his landscapes from the purely representative to the realms of personal creative art."

It was Thomson's friend, J.E.H. MacDonald, who penned the inscription, on the plaque of the memorial cairn, on Canoe Lake's Hayhurst Point, that reads, "To the memory of Tom Thomson, artist, woodsman, and guide, who was drowned in Canoe Lake, July 8th, 1917. He lived humbly but passionately with the wild. It made him brother to all untamed things in nature. It drew him apart and revealed itself wonderfully to him. It sent him out from the woods only to show these revelations and it too him to itself at last."

For a wee bit more on Tom Thomson, please join me for tomorrow's blog. Thanks for visiting today.

Critical Thinking Doesn't Have To Be Negative; History Needs To Be Challenged

3 Dimensional Art That Can't Help But Make You Feel Good

A Victorian Winter Scene That's Just Plain Happy

At Times This Seems Like A War Scene And At Other Times Just Another Urban Landscape

THE HONOR IS ALL OURS - OR IT SHOULD BE - THERE'S SOMETHING IN THIS PROVENANCE-THING WE SHOULD KNOW

THE PHILOSOPHER AND THE POET - AND THE IMPACT THEY NEVER MADE ON SOUTH MUSKOKA

     THE RUSSIAN INTRUSION IN THE CRIMEA REGION. OF THE UKRAINE, IS THE RESULT OF A GENEROUSLY WELCOMING INVITATION. THE RUSSIANS ARE IN THE UKRAINE TO PROTECT THE RUSSIAN POPULATION, APPARENTLY IN FEAR OF THEIR LIVES. THERE ARE NO MILITARY BOOTS ON THE GROUND. EVERY BODY IS HAPPY, HAPPY, HAPPY.
    TODAY'S BLOG ISN'T ABOUT THE RUSSIAN'S RIGHT TO SHAPE THEIR VERSION OF EVENTS. OR THE WAY THEY MIGHT CHOOSE, IN THE FUTURE, TO JUSTIFY THE YEAR THEY DECIDED TO RE-VISIT THE CRIMERA, FOR A LITTLE SOCIAL VISIT. THEY DON'T READ MY BLOG ANYWAY, SO THERE'S NOT MUCH POINT IN CHASTISING THEM. I'M A SPECK ON THE FACE OF THE EARTH, AND THE ONLY WEAPON I HAVE, COMES IN THE FORM OF FIVE CATS SWORN TO PROTECT OUR HOUSE. THEY'RE HOUSE CATS, SO THERE'S NO DANGER OF THEM INVADING THE NEIGHBOR'S PROPERTY ON MY BEHALF.
     WHAT BOTHERS ME MOST, ABOUT PROPAGANDA, IS THAT IT REQUIRES EVERYONE WHO CONSUMES IT, TO BE COMPLETELY STUNNED. IT WORRIES ME HOW MANY PEOPLE DO ACCEPT IT AT FACE VALUE, WITHOUT FEELING ANY NECESSITY TO DOUBLE CHECK COUNTERPOINT. JUST BECAUSE THE RUSSIANS SAY THEY'VE BEEN INVITED TO THE CRIMEA, LIKE LONESOME COUSINS, DOESN'T MEAN THEY'RE RIGHT. IT MIGHT SUGGEST SOMEONE IS DELUSIONAL, SOMEWHERE! BUT PROPAGANDA COMES IN ALL SHAPES, SIZES AND ADJECTIVES, AND SOMETIMES, FOR A PERIOD, IT FOOLS US. I'VE SPENT TOO MANY YEARS AS A REPORTER AND REGIONAL HISTORIAN, TO LET THIS RIDICULOUS MISINFORMATION FLY; BUT ALAS, THERE ARE THOSE WHO JUST CAN'T BE BOTHERED DOING ADDITIONAL RESEARCH, JUST TO VALIDATE A POINT OF VIEW.
     I WROTE THE PIECE BELOW, OVER SEVERAL DAYS, CERTAINLY HAVING BEEN INFLUENCED BY RECENT WORLD EVENTS. AND ON TOP OF THAT, TRYING TO DIGEST ALL THE SPIN FROM POLITICIANS AND THE EXPERT CLASS, ON HOW THINGS LIKE THIS ESCALATE. I JUST HAVE TO GO BACK ON MY OWN HISTORY STUDIES, TO RECKON WITH THE FACT IT DOES REPEAT....SOME TIMES, OVER AND OVER. THE PROBLEM COMES, WHEN ALL THE PROPAGANDA GETS TOSSED AT HISTORIANS, JUST AS THE BARE BONES FACTS OF AN EVENT. SO DOWN THE ROAD, AND LONG AFTER OUR GENERATION IS GONE, HISTORIANS OF THE FUTURE WILL HAVE TO FIGURE OUT WHAT PORTION IS FICTION, AND WHAT REMAINS AS FACT. THERE ARE FAR MORE TALKING HEADS OUT THERE, THROWING MISTRUTHS UPON THE MEDIA. SO THE TASK OF SORTING WHAT IS HISTORY, AND WHAT IS CREATIVE WRITING, IS GETTING TOUGHER ALL THE TIME. SO THIS WAS MY "STRIKING OUT AT" ATTEMPT, AGAINST THOSE WHO TELL FIBS AND GET AWAY WITH IT; AND MY OWN RELIANCE ON POSITIVE CRITIQUE, TO CLEAR THE OLD DRAINPIPE OF UNWANTED DEBRIS. MAYBE IT WILL MAKE SENSE, IF YOU'RE AS FRUSTRATED BY MISTRUTHS AS I AM; BUT THEN AGAIN, POSSIBLY YOU'LL THINK OF ME AS A RIPE NUTTER.....DROWNING IN HIS OWN STRANGE FICTION.
     "THERE IS NO PERSON WHOSE STATEMENT ON ANY POINT, CAN BE ABSOLUTELY ACCEPTED; AND ANY ONE WHO SUPPOSES THAT HE CAN WRITE A FINAL AND AUTHORITATIVE ACCOUNT OF ANY HISTORICAL EVENT, IS LIKELY TO FIND HIMSELF DISAPPOINTED." (WRITTEN BY AMERICAN HISTORIAN GEORGE FISHER)
     I FEEL SLIGHTLY LESS THAN A TOOL, HAVING READ THIS. AS A WORKING HISTORIAN, I WORRY ABOUT STUFF LIKE THIS. IT WAS A COMMENT SUPPORTED BY CANADIAN HISTORIAN, WILLIAM DAWSON LESUEUR, THE FELLOW WHO GAVE OUR COMMUNITY ITS NAME, BACK IN THE SUMMER OF 1862, WHEN WE WERE GRANTED OUR POST OFFICE. SINCE THE LATE 1990'S, WHILE WORKING ON THIS STORY, OF HOW GRAVENHURST, AND BRACEBRIDGE GOT THEIR NAMES, I WAS INTRODUCED TO THE RATHER STRANGE INTELLECTUAL LIFE, OF DR. LESUEUR, ONE OF CANADA'S EARLY SCHOLARS; WHO ALSO, AS HISTORY HAS IT, WAS A HIGH RANKING POSTAL AUTHORITY, SERVING THE STILL-YOUNG COUNTRY.
     "THE POOR STUPID BASTARD, SPENT HIS LIFE DEFENDING PHILOSOPHERS AND POETS, ALL THE WAY TO THE HEREAFTER. NOW MAY HE FINALLY GET SOME PEACE!" NO, THIS IS NOT WHAT'S INSCRIBED ON LESUEUR'S TOMBSTONE. IT'S WHAT I WANT SUZANNE AND THE BOYS TO INSCRIBE ON MINE.
     I WAS LAYING ON THE BED LAST NIGHT, SLEEPLESS IN CONTEMPLATION, WITH THE GLOW OF THE STREET LAMPLIGHT BATHING THE ROOM. I CAN'T GO TO SLEEP IN TOTAL DARKNESS. I GET CLAUSTROPHOBIC. GOES BACK TO CHILDHOOD. ON ALICE STREET, THERE WAS A STREET LIGHT THERE AS WELL, THAT GAVE ME ENOUGH BRIGHTNESS TO SEE SHAPES AND THE DOOR, BUT NOT BRIGHT ENOUGH TO INHIBIT SLUMBER. WHEN I LIVED IN THE WONDERFULLY HISTORIC MCGIBBON HOUSE, ON BRACEBRIDGE'S MANITOBA STREET, THE LIGHTS FROM MEMORIAL PARK, AND THE MARQUEE OF THE NORWOOD THEATRE, GAVE ME THE PERFECT MIX OF LIGHT AND DARKNESS, WHICH I NOW REALIZE IS PART OF MY BIOGRAPHY.
    EVEN WHEN I GO BACK TO SOME OF MY EARLIEST ATTEMPTS AT WRITING FICTION, "LIGHT AND SHADOW," WERE IMBEDDED FREQUENTLY, WITHOUT PURPOSEFUL INTENT. BUT IT IS A SORT OF BIOGRAPHICAL FOOTNOTE, THAT I HAVE A PROFOUND NEED FOR ILLUMINATION, TO TRIUMPH OVER DARKNESS; GOOD VERSUS EVIL, I SUPPOSE; I CALL IT THE "SHANE SYNDROME." THE IMPRESSION OF THE BRIGHT AND CHEERFUL CONNECTION TO LIGHT, BUT THE NAGGING SUSPICION, DARKNESS HAS AN OMINOUS POTENTIAL. COWBOYS WITH WHITE HATS AND BAD GUYS WITH BLACK. I SUSPECT I FEEL THE SAME THING ABOUT HISTORY, AND HOW I APPROACH IT CRITICALLY. MAYBE I'D REST MORE COMFORTABLY IN FULL LIGHT. SUZANNE REMINDS ME IT COSTS TOO MUCH TO LEAVE THE LIGHTS ON, AND THAT I MIGHT BE WEIRD, IF THAT WAS THE ONLY WAY I COULD SLEEP. SO IT'S THE WAY I DEAL WITH MY OBSESSIVE NEED TO REVISIT THE HISTORICAL RECORD I'M MOST SUSPICIOUS OF.....
   WHEN I LIVED AT SEVEN PERSON COTTAGE, ON LAKE JOSEPH, IN WEST MUSKOKA, THERE WERE SEVERAL LIGHTS SOURCES FROM THE WHARF AND MARINA, THAT GAVE ME THE LIGHTNESS I CRAVED. WHEN I LIVED WITH MY FAMILY ON ALPORT BAY, OF LAKE MUSKOKA, I INSISTED ON KEEPING THE PORCH LIGHT ON, BECAUSE IT GAVE ME SOME MINOR BUT ACCEPTABLE ILLUMINATION. I DID THE SAME WHEN WE LIVED, FOR A WHILE, AT THE FAMILY COTTAGE ON LAKE ROSSEAU, IN WINDERMERE, AND IT USED TO DRIVE SUZANNE NUTS. SHE'S A TOTAL DARKNESS-IS-BEST PERSON, WHICH HAS BEEN ONE OF OUR MOST SERIOUS MARITAL IMPEDIMENTS. SUZANNE HAS BEEN WILLING TO COMPROMISE BUT NOT MUCH. I'M GETTING BY WITH LESS LIGHT THESE DAYS, WHEN I RETIRE TO BEDLAM, BUT IT'S STILL ENOUGH TO EASE MY MIND WHEN WAKING SUDDENLY, KNOWING I'M NOT ENTOMBED IN A COFFIN; WITHOUT FIRST HAVING BECOME, UNFORTUNATELY "DECEASED." I'M LOOKING FORWARD TO THE HEAVENLY LIGHT, BUT I STRESS THE "LIGHT" PART. THE POINT I'M STRETCHING INTO A FINE FIBRE, IS THAT I NEED LIGHT IN OTHER WAYS AS WELL. NOT THE ACTUAL ILLUMINATION PART, BUT THE EMOTIONAL SENSATION OF LIGHT, IN THE FORM OF POSITIVE THINKING. I GRAVITATE CONSTANTLY, TO THOSE WRITERS, ARTISTS, MUSICIANS AND PHILOSOPHERS, WHO CAN FIND "THE POSITIVE" BURIED IN ADVERSE CIRCUMSTANCE. I'LL GIVE YOU AN EXAMPLE, OF WHERE THIS ATTITUDE MAY HAVE COME FROM.
     I WAS EXPOSED TO POSITIVISM FROM CHILDHOOD. SOME WAS A LITTLE MISGUIDED. I KNOW THAT NOW. BUT I GENERALLY APPRECIATED BEING CONNECTED IN THIS WAY, TO THE SO CALLED "SUNNY SIDE" OF LIFE. MY FATHER, HAVING SHOT DOWN GERMAN WAR PLANES, DURING HIS STINT AS A NAVAL GUNNER, IN THE NORTH ATLANTIC SQUADRON, AND WHO HAD MANY SAILORS DIE WITHIN HIS REACH, AFTER BEING PULLED FROM THE FRIGID WATERS, WAS A FIRST CLASS EXAMPLE OF AN ALPHA MALE. OF IRISH DESCENT, HE GREW UP IN TORONTO'S CABBAGETOWN THE HARD WAY. HIS KNUCKLES HAD BEEN INJURED SO MANY TIMES, IN FISTICUFFS, IT ALMOST GOT HIM CLEAR OF WAR SERVICE, EVEN THOUGH HE HAD VOLUNTEERED. I NEVER THOUGHT OF MY FATHER AS A CUDDLY POPPA, OR AN EASY GOING OVERSEER. BUT HE WAS SCARED OF DOCTORS AND THE HOSPITAL. IT WAS SO SEVERE, YUP, IT EVENTUALLY KILLED HIM. HE HAD SUFFERED A STROKE, ALONE IN HIS APARTMENT, AND WHEN NEIGHBORS CAME, AFTER HEARING HIM FALL DOWN, HE DISMISSED THEM WITH HIS CLASSIC RETORT, "I'M OKAY. NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT HERE." HIS WAS THE ARTFUL LIKE. I'D HEARD THAT MY WHOLE LIFE. BY TIME WE ARRIVED, TWO DAYS LATER, ED, NOT ONLY HAD ONE FOOT ON A BANANA PEEL, BUT STILL REFUSED TO GO TO THE HOSPITAL. AND YES, THE AMBULANCE ATTENDANTS HAD TO INSIST, AND HE REQUIRED STRAPPING BEING SEATBELTED INTO PLACE. THE SAME GUY WHO COULD SHOOT A PLANE DOWN, AND FEEL GOOD ABOUT THE HIT, COULDN'T STAND THE THOUGHT OF GETTING MEDICAL TREATMENT; OR EVEN ADMITTING HE WAS SICK. APPARENTLY IT WAS UNMANLY IN HIS EYES TO SHOW SUCH WEAKNESS.
     DURING MY CHILDHOOD, ED TREATED EVERY ILLNESS I HAD, AND HE AND MERLE ENDURED, WITH A GOOD OLD, TRUSTWORTHY BOTTLE OF CANADA DRY GINGER ALE. NOW, I MUST FOOTNOTE HERE, THAT MY MOTHER ALWAYS CIRCUMVENTED MY DAD'S PROTOCOLS, WHEN HE WAS AT WORK, PHONING THE DOCTOR FOR APPOINTMENTS. I'M NOT SURE IF HE EVEN KNEW, MERLE WAS RUNNING ME OFF TO SEE DOCTOR PROCTOR, OR DOCTOR PRESTON, WHEN WE LIVED IN BURLINGTON. CRIPES, MY DAD WAS TRYING TO TREAT MY HERNIA, THE ONE I GOT JUMPING ON THE BED AND FALLING OFF, WITH GINGER ALE. THE BULGE JUST WOULDN'T GO AWAY, WITHOUT THE DOCTOR'S ASSISTANCE. POOR ED. BUT WHEN HE GOT A CHANCE TO PUT IN AN ORDER FOR MEDICAL SUPPLIES, FROM THE LOCAL DRUG STORE, THERE WAS ALWAYS A BOTTLE OF CANADA DRY DELIVERED TO OUR APARTMENT, WITH A FLASK OF COUGH SYRUP FOR GOOD MEASURE. I DON'T KNOW IF ANY OTHER BABY BOOMERS REMEMBER THE GINGER ALE THING, FROM THE DRUG STORE, OR THOSE HONKING BIG CONTAINERS OF VICS VAPO RUB (USED ON THE CHEST AND THROAT, WITH A WORK-SOCK TO FASTEN AROUND THE NECK). ED WASN'T DENYING US TREATMENT FOR WHAT AILED US, BUT RATHER PUTTING ENORMOUS FAITH IN THE REMEDIES HE HAD EXPERIENCED AS A CHILD HIMSELF. I CAN'T IMAGINE HOW MANY GALLONS OF GINGER ALE WERE USED MEDICINALLY IN OUR FAMILY, BUT IT WOULD BE BEST MEASURED IN TERMS OF BARRELS. HIS SECRET WEAPON, WAS THAT GINGER ALE MADE YOU FEEL BUBBLY GOOD, AND CHEERFUL. IF YOU WERE CHEERFUL, YOU WERE ALSO POSITIVE. POSITIVE TO HIM MEANT AN UNSPECIFIED LIGHTNESS. ED NEVER DWELLED IN HIS SHADOW, BUT HE DEFINITELY HAD ONE, AND IT WAS FULL OF TROUBLED MEMORIES.
     THE EXTREME PART OF THIS RELIANCE ON THE HEALING POWER OF GINGER, WAS WHEN MY MOTHER SUFFERED THE FIRST OF NUMEROUS STROKES, AND WHEN I ASKED ED, AT THEIR APARTMENT, IF HE HAD CALLED THE AMBULANCE YET, HE ANSWERED, "I'VE GIVEN HER TWO GLASSES OF GINGER ALE." WHICH EXPLAINED WHY HER BLOUSE WAS SOAKING WET AND GINGER SCENTED, ON ONE SIDE, AS HER FACE WAS PARALYZED; BUT MY DAD MUST HAVE FIGURED OUT THAT GINGER ALE COULD WORK EXTERNALLY AS WELL, TO HEAL WHAT WAS AILING HER. SO IT WASN'T SURPRISING, TO FIND OUT, THAT ED HAD ALSO SELF MEDICATED WITH GINGER ALE, AFTER HE SUFFERED HIS STROKE. HEY, WHO KNOWS. MAYBE IT WORKED TO KEEP HIM GOING FOR THE NEXT THREE DAYS THAT HE WAS ALONE.
     DO YOU KNOW SOMETHING? WE ALWAYS HAVE A BOTTLE OF CANADA DRY IN OUR FRIDGE. NOW IT'S MORE OF A FAMILY TRADITION THAN FOR DAILY CONSUMPTION. ANDREW USED TO DRINK GINGER ALE WHEN HE STAYED WITH HIS GRANDFATHER, DURING THE YEAR HE SPENT, TAKING A BUSINESS COURSE IN BRACEBRIDGE. NOW, FOR GOSH SAKES, WE STILL HALF-BELIEVE GINGER ALE IS THE GREAT ALL PURPOSE ALIXIR. AS ED HAD FELT THAT GINGER ALE ELIMINATED THE NEED FOR DOCTORS AND HOSPITALS, IT ALSO ILLUMINATED SOME OF HIS OTHER EMOTIONAL ISSUES. HE HAD A PHOBIA OF DOCTORS AND DENTISTS. I NEVER KNEW HOW SEVERE IT WAS, UNTIL HE BEGAN SELF-MEDICATING WHEN HE'D SUFFER A BOUT OF GOUT, AND BE IN TERRIBLE PAIN. GINGER ALE, VODKA AND ASPIRIN. IT MADE HIM FORGET THE PAIN IN HIS ANKLE, BUT WAS KILLING HIM IN MANY OTHER WAYS. ALL BECAUSE THIS OLD SALT, WHO HAD BEEN SO CLOSE TO DEATH AND WAR, KNOWING INTIMATELY, THAT U-BOATS WERE STALKING HIS SHIP ACROSS THE NORTH ATLANTIC (MEANING HIS VIOLENT DEATH COULD ARRIVE ANY MOMENT), SUFFERED FROM A CHILD-LIKE FEAR OF GETTING SICK. IT DIDN'T STOP HIM FROM GETTING SICK MIND YOU. BUT HE WAGED A MENTAL WAR AGAINST ILLNESS RIGHT UP TO THE END. FOR HIM, HIS LIGHTNESS IN LIFE, WAS THE POWER OF POSITIVE THINKING. HE WAS A STALWART BELIEVER, THAT YOU COULD "WILL" YOURSELF TO GOOD HEALTH. BUT HE WOULD NEVER HAVE CONSUMED A DROP OF GINGER ALE HIMSELF, IF HE HADN'T FELT THE NEED FOR ITS MEDICINAL ADVANTAGES. HE WOULD PUT IN A BOTTLE FOR OTHER PEOPLE, SUCH AS FOR HIS GRANDSONS, AND HIS WIFE....OR IF I WANTED A GLASS. BUT NOT FOR HIMSELF. IT WAS HIS MAGICAL SNAKE OIL. HIS GUARANTEE, HE ALWAYS HAD MEDICINE AVAILABLE, THAT WOULD CURE EVERYTHING. STRANGE THING THOUGH. A MAN WHO DRANK SUBSTANTIALLY FOR MOST OF HIS LIFE, AND WHO ONCE SMOKED TWO PACKS OF CIGARETTES EVERY DAY, INCLUDING SUNDAY, SHOULD HAVE DIED IN HIS FORTIES. FRIENDS WHO HEARD HIM COUGH, THOUGHT HE WAS GOING TO DIE SOON. WHILE HE QUIT SMOKING IN HIS EARLY FIFTIES, HIS LUNGS SHOULD HAVE LOOKED LIKE BADLY WORN TENNIS SHOES. THE SON OF A GUN LIVED TO EIGHTY THREE YEARS OF AGE. HE OUT-LIVED MY MOTHER BY TWO YEARS. SO I'M LEFT WONDERING, IF HIS POSITIVE BELIEF, IN CURES LIKE GINGER ALE, AND AN OPTIMISTIC WAY OF LOOKING AT LIFE, STAVED OFF THE GRIM REAPER FOR SOME ADDITIONAL YEARS. AND YES, HE LIKED TO HAVE HIS ROOM SOFTLY ILLUMINATED BY OUTDOOR LIGHTS, AND MY MOTHER WANTED IT BLACK AS THE DEEPEST OF NIGHTFALL. THEY SLEPT APART FOR MOST OF THEIR MARRIED LIFE.
     I SHARE MANY OF MY FATHER'S TRAITS AND A FEW OF HIS BAD HABITS. I AM FIERCELY POSITIVE, AND AN UNYIELDING OPTIMIST. BUT IT'S NOT LIKE I CAN HELP IT. I HAVE MY BOUTS OF NEGATIVITY, LIKE WHEN THIS MORNING, I COULDN'T CLEAR THE SINK DRAIN OF AN OBSTRUCTION. SO I LET LOOSE A SOUL-LESS TIRADE OF CURSES, BEFORE I FELT BETTER. WE PARTED ON GOOD TERMS, WHEN I LEFT THE HOUSE, WISHING IT A GOOD DAY, AND TRUSTING THAT THE MANY LITRES OF VINEGAR, AND SPRINKLING OF BAKING SODA (BORROWED FROM PIONEER TIME SOLUTIONS), WOULD SUCCESSFULLY UNCLOG THE DRAIN PIPE BY TIME WE GOT HOME AFTER WORK. BUT I KNOW THE "POSITIVE" REALITIES I HAVE TO LIVE WITH, ARE DEEPLY IMBEDDED IN MY PSYCHE. I AM REPELLED, AND I MEAN THIS, BY THOSE WHO EXUDE NEGATIVITY; FROM THEIR MOUTHS OR THEIR PORES. I DON'T DISLIKE THEM, BUT I KNOW BETTER THAN TO GET INTO AN ARGUMENT; WHICH WOULD BE INSTANTANEOUS IF I STUCK AROUND LONG ENOUGH TO EXCHANGE PHILOSOPHIES, OR COMMENT ON WORLD AFFAIRS. I ALREADY GOT INTO A VERBAL DONNYBROOK THIS WEEK, WITH SOMEONE WHO ARGUED THAT IT WAS RUSSIA'S RIGHT TO INVADE THE UKRAINE. I IMMEDIATELY ASSUMED IT WAS THEIR PRIMARY INTEREST TO START A DEBATE, FOR ENTERTAINMENT. I DIDN'T TAKE THE BAIT. EVERYONE IS ENTITLED TO THEIR OPINION. SOME HAVE A LITTLE MORE TO DO WITH HISTORICAL FACT, THAN OTHERS.
    IT'S FOR THIS REASON OF "LIGHT" ABOVE "SHADOW," THAT I HAVE PAID PARTICULAR ATTENTION TO POETS AND PHILOSOPHERS, TO SOMEWHAT VALIDATE MY OWN FEELINGS OF LIVING AN OPTIMISTIC WAY OF LIFE. I FEEL A LITTLE GUILTY, YOU SEE, BECAUSE I HAPPEN TO SHARE OPINIONS, THESE DAYS, LIKE THE RETROSPECTIVES OF WRITER WASHINGTON IRVING, WHO ONCE NOTED, DESPITE ALL THAT IS PORTRAYED NEGATIVELY ABOUT THE WORLD, THERE ARE STILL MANY SPLENDID JOYS TO BEHOLD. THERE ARE NEGATIVE POETS AND PHILOSOPHERS. BUT THERE IS STILL OPTIMISM IN PESSIMISM, AND TRUTHS IN NEGATIVITY.
     I SUBSCRIBE HEARTILY, AS AN HISTORIAN, TO THE PURSUIT OF "CRITICAL THOUGHT." IT'S KIND OF NECESSARY FOR ANY HISTORIAN, TO BE ABLE TO ASSESS ALL ACCOUNTS OF HISTORY, AND ALL PERTINENT FACTS; NOT JUST UPHOLDING ACCEPTED HISTORY AS ALL THE FACT NEEDED. I'VE RUN INTO THIS A LOT, ESPECIALLY IN MY HOME REGION, WHERE HISTORICAL ACCOUNTS ARE SELDOM CHALLENGED, EVEN WHEN NEW INFORMATION IS MADE AVAILABLE. I RAN INTO THIS, THE FIRST TIME, WHEN I HELPED PROVE, THAT THE TOWN OF GRAVENHURST WAS NOT NAMED, AFTER THE TITLE OF A TOWN IN ENGLAND, AS REPORTEDLY NOTED IN THE BOOK, "BRACEBRIDGE HALL," WRITTEN BY WASHINGTON IRVING. UP UNTIL THE TURN OF THIS PRESENT CENTURY, IT WAS ASSUMED, THE NAME "GRAVENHURST" WAS INCLUDED IN THE TEXT OF THIS 1820'S BOOK. WITH THE HELP OF SOME IRVING SCHOLARS, IN THE UNITED STATES, AND READING THE BOOK COVER TO COVER MYSELF, IT WAS DISCOVERED, WITHOUT DOUBT, SOMEONE WAS TELLING A CENTURY OLD PORKY. TO THAT POINT IN HISTORY, THE YEAR 2000, NONE OF THE HISTORIANS HAD READ "BRACEBRIDGE HALL," TO DETERMINE, WITHOUT DOUBT, THAT THE BRACEBRIDGE HISTORIAN, WHO WAS PERPETUATING THE FACTUAL ERROR, WAS BASING HISTORY ON A LONG-HELD RUMOR. I CAN TELL YOU ONE THING, WAS I EVER IN HOT WATER, FOR UNCOVERING THE TRUTH. TO CHALLENGE ACCEPTED THOUGHT AND RECORD WAS NEAR-BLASPHEMY. I FELT THIS WAY FOR A LONG TIME, BUT THAT'S THE GOOD THING ABOUT BEING A POSITIVE THINKER. YOU JUST KEEP MOVING ON TOWARD THE LIGHT.
     IN THE PROCESS OF EXECUTING THIS RESEARCH, I BECAME ATTACHED TO THREE OF THE WORLD'S POSITIVE THINKERS, AND PHIOLSOPHERS. FIRST OF ALL, HERE IN OUR BALLYWICK OF SOUTH MUSKOKA, WE HAVE A TOWN NAMED AFTER A TRULY MAGNIFICENT BOOK, BY WASHINGTON IRVING, AUTHOR OF "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW," AS WELL AS "BRACEBRIDGE HALL." THAT'S PRETTY NEAT, DON'T YOU THINK. LIVING IN A TOWN THAT WAS NAMED AFTER THE BOOK WRITTEN BY SUCH A REVERED, INTERNATIONALLY ACCLAIMED AUTHOR. WELL, I LIVE IN A TOWN THAT WAS NAMED AFTER THE WORK OF A HIGHLY SKILLED AND ACCOMPLISHED POET / PHILOSOPHER, NAMED WILLIAM HENRY SMITH. NO ONE IS VERY EXCITED ABOUT THIS EXCEPT ME. I MAY HAVE AUTHORED THE BOOK OF MY MISFORTUNE AS A DIRECT RESULT. THE BOOK BY WILLIAM HENRY SMITH, WAS TITLED, "GRAVENHURST; OR THOUGHTS ON GOOD AND EVIL." THE PERPETRATOR OF THIS LITERARY CONNECTEDNESS? DR. WILLIAM DAWSON LESUEUR, POSTAL AUTHORITY BY DAY, HISTORIAN AND LITERARY CRITIC IN THE AFTER-HOURS. KNOWN AS A GREAT POSITIVE FORCE, AND CRITICAL THINKER, HE BESTOWED LITERARY HONORS UPON TWO UNSUSPECTING HAMLETS; GRAVENHURST, IN 1862, AND BRACEBRIDGE, IN 1864. HE JUST DIDN'T EXPLAIN THE REASON HE BESTOWED THIS LITERARY PROVENANCE. HE JUST THOUGHT WE'D FIGURE IT OUT. THAT TOOK UNTIL 2000, AND THEN, IT WAS A MILD IMPLOSION OF INTEREST. NO ONE REALLY CARED. IN THIS NEW-AGE, IT APPARENTLY WASN'T A BIG DEAL TO BE CONNECTED WITH EITHER WRITER, OR ONE OF CANADA'S MOST RESPECTED HISTORIANS. BUT IF IT DID ONE THING, FOR ONE PERSON, IN THIS WHOLE REGION, SUFFICE TO SAY, BY THE FACT I'M STILL WRITING ABOUT IT FOURTEEN YEARS LATER, I HAVE BEEN EVER-MORE SMITTEN BY THEIR POSITIVE PERSPECTIVES. CALL IT THE "SMITH, IRVING, LESUEUR CONDITION." LIKE A THE SLIVER THAT IS DEEP TO THE BONE, I FEEL THE IRRITATION CONSTANTLY, THAT THEY HAVE NOT BEEN SUFFICIENTLY REVERED BY THE SUBJECT TOWNS. YET IT'S A SLIVER OF INSPIRATION, I DON'T WANT CUT AND DUG OUT OF MY SOUL. IT'S TOO IMPORTANT FOR SUCH A TRIVIAL PURSUIT. HERE'S WHAT KIND OF LIGHT AND SHADOW, AND POSITIVISM, THEY BRING TO MY PERSPECTIVE OF THE TOWNS IN WHICH I HAVE MOST HISTORY.

IN THE SPIRIT OF MODERN CRITICISM - THAT WE CAN'T DO WITHOUT

    "Well, it is not going too far to say that there are many today who, to all intents and purposes, look upon the book as the first cause and primal source of history; and consistently therewith the teaching of history is understood as the unloading on the child's mind, of the information contained in prescribed texts. The truth of the matter is something very different, namely that we must make our history for ourselves almost as much as we must make our poetry. If our ambition chances to lie in that direction. The friend of my youth in those old Montreal High School days, thought that taking poetry was the same thing as making it; and today children are taught to take history from books just as they might take apples from a barrel - the history just as authentic and finished and integral a product as the apple. But only in so far as we have a personal conviction well or ill-grounded, but sincere, as to how things happened in the past, and as to the relation of one event to the another, have we entered into the realm, or breathed the air, or caught the spirit of history?"
   While I'd like to at times, spin this at our own town council, it would be lost by the fact, they have little if no interest in the work of philosophers. The reality, the man who wrote this, also named our community, would have no real impact to measure. Yet me thinks, of Dr. LeSueur's words as inspirational, and full of light, about the potential of the inquisitive mind. Ah, to challenge the shadows of complacency. I am a truly a dreamer in this regard.
     "How can school children, it may be asked, attain to such convictions? Can they investigate for themselves and boldly settle doubtful historical problems? Must they not receive some one version of history on authority? They should receive nothing on authority, I would reply. They should be distinctly told that in history there is no authority in the strict sense of the word; that there are simply authors, some better, some worse informed; some more, some less competent; some with clearer, some with obscurer vision; some more accurate in observation and statement, some less so; some with too little imagination, some with too much; some who theorize to excess, some whose facts have no theory to hold them together; some radical in their views and some conservative; some who have no fixed point of view, some swayed by national, some by theological prejudice; some whose judgements are warped by party passion or private interest; some flatterers of power, some of the populace; some mere rhetoricians, some special pleaders, some servile copyists, some simple prevaricators; finally that no one at his best is able to do more than approximate to the truth in his redaction or interpretation of facts."
     Dr. LeSueur wrote, "Criticism should be the voice of impartial and enlightened reason. Too often what passes for criticism is the voice of hireling adulation or hireling enmity. Illustrations of this will occur to everyone, but there is no use in blaming criticism, which, as had been said, is an intellectual necessity of the age. The foregoing remarks have been made in the hope that they may help clear away some prevalent misconceptions, by showing the organic connection, so to speak, that exists between criticism as a function, or as a model of intellectual activity, and the very simplest intellectual processes. Such a mode of regarding it should do away with the odium that in so many minds attaches to the idea of criticism. Let us all try to be critics according to the measure of our abilities and opportunities. Let us aim at seeing all we can, at gaining as many points of view as possible. Let us compare carefully and judge impartially; and we may depend upon it; we shall be the better for the very effort."
     I won't beat around the bush. I'm honored to live in a town, that was named by such an accomplished writer / philosopher; who named this charming lakeside settlement, as a literary memorial, to honor the work of a British author, who was greatly admired by LeSueur, also a well-respected literary critic. I know it isn't easy, by today's general disinterest in such provenance, to accept that our community, was named after a book written by a British poet. If it had been a British general's last name, or the title of a great battle, maybe the revelation would be of more acceptable heritage. Which is too bad, but there is no way to reverse history in this regard. But as long as I am able, as an underling regional historian, I will use this important source, of illumination, to present the work of both Mr. Smith, and Dr. LeSueur, in Gravenhurst, and Washington Irving, in Bracebridge.
     As a matter of general interest, it was LeSeur who argued with writer / historian, Stephen Leacock, about the imprudence of writing the popular history of Canada, to suite the status quo of the time; and who squared off against the soon to be Prime Minister of Canada, Mackenzie King, about the competence of his grandfather, William Lyon Mackenzie, the so called firebrand of the Rebellion in Upper Canada. So much annoyance and disrespectful prying, in fact, that King, kept the book the historian was writing, from being published, for more than forty years after LeSueur's death. Yet it has been proven since, that LeSueur had been right all along. His biography of Mackenzie is now considered one of the authority texts on the great Scot.
     The way I have come to look at history now, and its chronicle, up to and including the present, is as if Dr. LeSueur himself, had led me to the mouth of his blazed trail, that has never once led me astray. It is the light that I follow, and no matter how many times, I get frustrated by local politics and historical impasse, I never forget the words, "Let us all try to be critics according to the measure of our abilities and opportunities." We shall be better for the enquiry.
     Not just to be annoying a__holes! But to firmly place fact where fiction has long bricked-the-wall.
     Laying in that half-dark bedroom, staring out at the lamplight, I conducted this fading retrospective. Strange bedfellows, you might say, and I would agree. But lately, I have frequently found myself at that historian's impasse, wondering if there is any real point, beating this seemingly dead horse; trying to sell a concept, that we should, for a change, in this town, embrace criticism as a bold new method, for cutting loose the anchors, low and behold, we've been dragging behind us for years. That instead of fearing criticism, as the work of heretics, our town should open its doors to the kind of change, Dr. LeSueur was writing about - criticism instead, being "the voice of impartial and enlightened reason."
     Then I must have dozed off, as is usually the case, when I finally succumb to the commonplace of the hypothetical town, William Henry Smith wrote about, way back when. One day it will arrive, you see, when counterpoint won't be feared, as only the handiwork of dissidents.
    You can still access this scholarly book, "Gravenhurst; or Thoughts on Good and Evil," by William Henry Smith, by searching online, at "Googlebooks."

Stumbling Down Memory Lane; In Muskoka, I Lived The Life Of A Gnome

The RCA Victor Table Radio Is Like The One We Had On Top Of Our Fridge

A VISIT FROM AN OLD NEWSPAPER COLLEAGUE - I CAN'T BELIEVE I FORGOT ALL THE FUN WE USED TO HAVE - SOME SAY, TOO MUCH

WE KEPT THINGS LIGHT, WHEN NEWS COVERAGE GOT A LITTLE HEAVY

     HE CAME INTO THE SHOP, PRECARIOUSLY BALANCING THREE OVER-FLOWING COFFEES. I'D SEEN IT BEFORE. MANY TIMES IN FACT, WHEN SCOTT MCCLELLAN WOULD OFFER TO DO THE COFFEE RUN FOR THE NEWSROOM. I GOT USED TO HIM HANDING ME MY STEAMING HOT JAVA, STRETCHED OVER THE KEYBOARD OF OUR OLD "MDT" TERMINALS, SPLASHING THE HOT LIQUID EITHER INTO THE ELECTRONICS, OR OVERSHOOTING, AND SCALDING MY CROTCH. HEY, IT WAS THE THOUGHT THAT COUNTED. THE COFFEE WAS WHAT KEPT US TUNED-IN TO A THANKLESS, LOW PAYING JOB. AS SOON AS I ROUNDED THE CORNER OF THE SHOP, THIS MORNING, SHORTLY AFTER ANDREW TOLD ME THAT AN OLD FRIEND HAD COME TO VISIT HIS "MOM AND DAD," I RECOGNIZED THE SILHOUETTE AGAINST THE WINDOW. GEEZ, THAT COVERS A LOT OF TERRITORY, AND HONESTLY, THERE ARE SOME OF MY OLD CRONIES I DON'T WANT SUZANNE TO MEET UNEXPECTED. I WAS A WEE BIT OF A RASCAL IN MY YOUTH, AND HUNG OUT WITH SOME REAL CHARACTERS; YOU KNOW THE ONES. THE PARTY-TILL-DAWN TYPES, AND THOSE WHO LIVED WITH "HAIR OF THE DOG" REMEDIES, AS A REMEDY FOR LIVING LIFE TOO HARD FOR THEIR (OUR) OWN GOOD. ADMITTEDLY, I WAS ALONG FOR THE RIDE, BUT ALWAYS IN THEIR SHADOW. COULD THIS BE ONE OF THOSE PARTY LADS, INFORMING ME, OR MY WIFE, THAT I OWED AN UNPAID BAR TAB, FROM WAY BACK WHEN; OR FINDING OUT THAT A SIGNIFICANT-OTHER SUDDENLY CONFESSED THAT I HAD ONCE PINCHED HER BUM. SO WHEN I GOT A GLIMPSE OF OUR "BEST MAN," BALANCING PAPER COFFEE CUPS WITHOUT LIDS, IT WAS ONE OF THOSE "THANK GOD" MOMENTS. SCOTT AND I HAVE A PACT, YOU SEE, THAT WE WILL NEVER CONFESS OUR SINS, OR SUNDRY OTHER TRANSGRESSIONS, AS LONG AS ONE OR THE OTHER IS STILL ALIVE. AFTER THAT, WHO THE HELL CARES? CHANCES ARE, ANY ONE WHO WAS INVOLVED IN SAID DEBAUCHERY WILL BE LONG GONE BY THEN .
     SCOTT MCCLELLAN, HIS WIFE KIM, AND THEIR TWO DAUGHTERS, LIVE IN AUSTRALIA, WHERE THEY HAVE BEEN FOR MANY YEARS NOW. I WORKED WITH BOTH OF THEM, BACK WHEN THEY WERE STILL DATING. KIM WAS A WRITER FOR THE SUMMER SEASON EDITION OF "THE MUSKOKA SUN," WORKING WITH EDITOR BOB BOYER, AND SCOTT WAS MY ACE REPORTER, TAKING UP RESIDENCE WITH THE REST OF US GNARLY NEWS HOUNDS, AT THE BRACEBRIDGE HERALD-GAZETTE. THIS WAS BACK IN THE EARLY TO MID 1980'S. SCOTT WAS A RECENT GRADUATE OF THE JOURNALISM PROGRAM AT CARLETON UNIVERSITY IN OTTAWA, AND IT TOOK US QUITE A WHILE TO BEAT THOSE PROTOCOLS OUT OF HIM. ONCE WE EVEN DUKED-IT-OUT, IN THE PARKING LOT OF THE ALBION HOTEL, IN BRACEBRIDGE, WHEN WE CARRIED THE DEBATE ABOUT JOURNALISM, AND COMMUNITY NEWS, PAST THE JUGS OF DRAFT AT THE PRESS CLUB (OUR TABLE AT THE TAVERN), TO THE ADJACENT TARMAC. HE HIT ME ON THE END OF MY HONKING BIG NOSE, AND IT STARTED TO BLEED, SO I INVOKED THE MERCY RULE, BEFORE HE COULD HIT ME A SECOND TIME. AS WE WERE ALL ABOUT GETTING EVEN IN THOSE WONKY DAYS OF SMALL TOWN NEWS REPORTING, TO RETALIATE WITHOUT FISTICUFFS, I USED TO DISAPPEAR FROM THE HOLIDAY HOUSE BAR, AFTER BEEFING UP THE TAB. SCOTT WOULD ASK FELLOW REPORTER, BRANT SCOTT, WHERE "TED" HAD GONE, AND HE'D SUGGEST, "I DON'T KNOW, BUT I'LL GO AN SEE IF HE'S IN THE BATHROOM." YOU'D HAVE THOUGHT THAT AFTER THE FIFTH TIME OF STICKING HIM WITH THE BAR BILL, HE'D HAVE FIGURED THIS OUT. BRANT AND I WOULD THEN AMBLE OFF TO ANOTHER WATERING HOLE BY THIS POINT. WE LOVED WORKING WITH GREEN REPORTERS. AYE, SCOTTIE WAS A GOOD SPORT!
     SCOTT WAS ONE OF OUR AMAZINGLY TALENTED WRITERS, WHO MADE THE EDITOR, ME, LOOK GOOD ALL THE TIME. HE GOT A LOT MORE PRAISE THAN I EVER PASSED ON TO HIM.....WHICH WAS ANOTHER REASON NOT TO SMACK THE EDITOR ON THE NOSE. HE WAS THOROUGH, AND INVESTIGATIVE, AND COULD SMELL A STORY, CLEAR THROUGH THE THICK BLUE HAZE OF THE WHITE OWLS WE WERE SMOKING. THE ONLY TIME I HAD TO EDIT HIS COPY, AND SPIN A NEWSPAPER-SURVIVAL STORY AT THE SAME TIME, CAME WHEN HE REVIEWED A PLAY BEING PUT ON BY MUSKOKA FESTIVAL. MUSKOKA FESTIVAL, BACK THEN, SPENT MANY THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS, ADVERTISING WITH OUR NEWSPAPER AND THE MUSKOKA SUN; SUCH THAT, TRUTH BE KNOWN, THEY WERE ACTUALLY FUNDING HIS EMPLOYMENT, WHICH AT THAT POINT, WAS WITH THE MUSKOKA SUN INITIALLY. HE HAD REFERRED IN HIS COPY, TO THE PLAY BEING AS AWFUL, AS THE MISSISSAUGA TRAIN DISASTER HAD BEEN DISRUPTIVE. IT WAS A BIT OF TRIAL BY TORTURE, EXPLAINING TO HIM, THAT NOT BEING A DAILY PAPER, WITH THE ADVANTAGE OF HUGE NATIONAL ADVERTISING, WE HAD TO COURT ALL THE SMALL BUSINESSES TO KEEP OUR PUBLICATION IN PRINT. MUSKOKA FESTIVAL HAD A LOT OF PARTNER SMALL BUSINESSES, THAT SUPPORTED THE SUMMER THEATRE SCHEDULE, AND IF THE MANAGEMENT OF THE FESTIVAL GOT MAD AT US, WE COULD LOSE THE ADVERTISING CONTRACT, TO THE COMPETITION, WHICH AT THAT TIME WAS THE BRACEBRIDGE EXAMINER. IT MIGHT HAVE MEANT HIS JOB WOULD HAVE BEEN LOST; NOT BECAUSE HE WAS WRONG ABOUT THE PLAY; BECAUSE IT WAS AS BAD AS HE HAD NOTED. BUT, HAVING THEIR ADS PULLED, BECAUSE THEY WERE OFFENDED BY THE REVIEW, OR THAT THEY COULD HAVE RIGHTFULLY CLAIMED ATTENDANCE HAD DECLINED, AS A DIRECT RESULT, PUT ME IN THE AWKWARD POSITION OF HAVING TO INSIST THE CRITIQUE BE TONED-DOWN. IT WAS THE ONLY TIME I HAD EVER BEEN FORCED TO DO THIS, AS AN EDITOR, AND I HATED MYSELF, FOR HAVING TO CUT THE PROVERBIAL LEGS OFF MY OWN STRICT BELIEF, IN FREEDOM OF THE PRESS. AND THE PRESSURE CAME FROM THE ADVERTISING MANAGER, WHO MADE IT CLEAR, SOME ONE WAS GOING TO BE VACATING THE BUILDING UNLESS THERE WAS A RESOLVE TO THE ISSUE. HE MADE IT CLEAR, HE WASN'T LEAVING. SO THAT LEFT SCOTT AND I, AND AT THAT POINT, WELL SIR, MY RENT WAS IN ARREARS BY MONTHS....NOT "A" MONTH. SO IT WAS THE FIRST OCCASION THAT I HAD TO NEGOTIATE ACCEPTANCE OF THE "MERCY RULE," AND IT WAS TO SPARE BOTH OF OUR JOBS. SO WE SPENT ABOUT AN HOUR, TRYING TO FIND AN ACCEPTABLE ALTERNATIVE TO "TRAIN DISASTER," SO THAT HE WOULD FEEL THE MESSAGE WAS THE SAME, JUST WITHOUT THE JAGGED EDGE. IF IT HAD BEEN A NEWS STORY, INSTEAD OF A THEATRE REVIEW, I WOULD HAVE DEFINITELY FOUGHT THE ADVERTISING MANAGER, SUGGESTING IT WASN'T HIS RIGHT TO INTERVENE; REGARDLESS WHETHER ADVERTISERS WOULD HAVE BEEN UNHAPPY OR NOT.
     SCOTT AND I COULD ARGUE ABOUT JOURNALISTIC INTEGRITY TILL THE COWS TOOK FLIGHT, AND STILL NEVER ARRIVE AT A COMMONPLACE. THE ONLY MIDDLE GROUND, WAS A TAVERN TABLE, AFTER WE HAD PUT ANOTHER ISSUE "TO BED" (WHICH MEANT IT WAS OFF TO BE PRINTED). WE'D START TALKING ABOUT THE STORIES OF THE WEEK, UNTIL THE OPPOSITION PRESS CORP WOULD SHOW UP, AND THEN WE JUST STARTED TALKING ABOUT HOW CRAPPY IT WAS, TO BE AN UNDER-PAID JOURNALIST TRAPPED IN A SMALL TOWN. THE ONLY OTHER TIME SCOTT AND I HAD A SIGNIFICANT DISAGREEMENT, WAS WHEN HE TOLD ME, "TED, YOU'LL NEVER MAKE IS AS A WRITER IN A SMALL TOWN." SO I PUNCHED HIM IN THE EYE. SO HE HIT ME ON THE END OF THE NOSE AGAIN. SEC0ND VERSE, SAME AS THE FIRST. HE WAS JUST ADVISING ME TO GET A JOB AT A DAILY PAPER, TO OPEN UP SOME DOORS IN THE WRITING INDUSTRY. I LIKED LIVING IN MUSKOKA. I WASN'T GOING TO MOVE. THE JOB WOULD HAVE TO COME TO ME INSTEAD. IT WAS THE NUMEROUS PINTS, THAT LET TO ME HITTING HIM, AND SCOTT STRIKING BACK. SO BY GOLLY, WHAT DO YOU THINK I DID NEXT. I ASKED HIM TO BE MY BEST MAN. WHAT A COUPLE OF ODD DUCKS. BUT I DRAW BACK TO THE FACT HE WAS A FINE WRITER, AND DURING OUR YEARS OF ASSOCIATION, HE INSPIRED ME TO MORE FINELY HONE MY CRAFT. AS AN EDITOR, I WROTE A LOT LESS THAN OUR REPORTERS, BECAUSE PART OF MY JOB WAS EDITING THEIR WORK. I'LL NEVER ADMIT IT TO THE GUY, BUT HE SHAMED ME INTO WORKING HARDER AND LONGER, TO BE BETTER AT MY WRITING; AND TO KNOCK OFF THIS STATUS QUO CRAP, AND TAKE SOME CHANCES. I CAN'T SAY THAT I BECAME A SUCCESSFUL WRITER STAYING HERE IN MUSKOKA, FOR ALL OF THESE YEARS. FACT IS, I MADE MY MARK IN THE ANTIQUE INDUSTRY MORE SO, AND WRITING BECAME THE POOR COUSIN. I WILL NEVER TELL HIM HE WAS RIGHT ABOUT THIS, TO HIS FACE, UNLESS HE BRINGS US A NICE BAKERY CHELSEA BUN, WITH HIS NEXT DELIVERY OF COFFEE. HE LEFT CANADA, WITH HIS BRIDE, KIM, AND HE BEGAN A SUCCESSFUL, LONG TERM CAREER IN MARKETING; WELL BEYOND THE DAY TO DAY WRITING GRIND, TO MAKE A LIVING. IF WE KNEW THEN, WHAT WE KNOW NOW, WE MIGHT NEVER HAVE STRUCK EACH OTHER, AFTER LONG NIGHTS AT THE PRESS CLUB....WHICH BY THE WAY, IS NOW AN EMPTY LOT, ON BRACEBRIDGE'S MAIN STREET, OPPOSITE THE FORMER TRAIN STATION. I'VE ALWAYS THOUGHT THERE SHOULD HAVE BEEN AN HISTORIC SITE MARKER, ERECTED ON THE PROPERTY, TO ACKNOWLEDGE THAT THE BRACEBRIDGE PRESS CLUB, HAD MET THEIR REGULARLY, DURING THE HALCYON DAYS OF THE 1980'S; TO DECIDE WHAT THE PUBLIC WAS GOING TO READ THAT WEEK, THAT MONTH, THAT YEAR.
     SCOTT AND I WERE CANOEING PARTNERS, IN A NUMBER OF RACES, HERE IN MUSKOKA, DURING THIS SAME TIME PERIOD. WE EVEN WON OUR DIVISION (FOR THOSE HUNG-OVER COMPETITORS), OF THE ANNUAL MUSKOKA SHIELD CANOE RACE, BACK IN THE EARLY 1980'S. WE LATER FOUND OUT, THE PERSON WHO WAS TIMING US, HAD MADE A CLERICAL ERROR, AND WE HAVE ACTUALLY FINISHED CLOSER TO LAST PLACE. THEY LET US KEEP THE TROPHY AND RIBBON, BUT ASKED THAT WE NEVER, EVER, ENTER COMPETITIVE RACING AGAIN. WE DIDN'T LISTEN TO GOOD ADVICE, AND THE NEXT TIME WE TRIED, I NEARLY DROWNED IN THE MUSKOKA RIVER, WITH MY SOON-TO-BE BRIDE, SUZANNE. SCOTT AND KIM WERE IN ANOTHER CANOE, AND NEARLY RAN ME OVER, WHILE I WAS TRYING TO REMAIN UPRIGHT IN THE RAPIDS. IN FAIRNESS, THEY WERE IN NO POSITION TO RESCUE US. DANNY LACROIX AND HIS DAUGHTER ANGIE, WERE CLOSER TO US, AT THAT MOMENT, SO I FORGIVE THEM FOR HEADING TO THE FINISH LINE. "YOU'RE NEVER GOING TO LET ME FORGET THAT, ARE YOU," HE SAID, HANDING ME A MUFFIN AND A LIDLESS HOT COFFEE, SLOPPING OVER THE RIM. "GOOD TIMES," I SAID. "GOOD TIMES."
     SCOTT HAS COME HOME FOR A BIT, TO VISIT WITH HIS PARENTS IN KILWORTHY. IT WAS GREAT RELIVING SOME OF THOSE GOLDEN MOMENTS OF OUR YOUTH, AND RECOLLECTIONS FROM SOME OF THE HOCKEY GAMES WE PLAYED, AND LOST MISERABLY, AS MEMBERS OF THE HERALD-GAZETTE RINK RATS. WE WERE TWO OF THE FOUNDING MEMBERS OF THE CLUB THAT IS STILL ON THE ICE ALL THESE YEARS LATER. BUT THE COLUMN I WAS GOING TO WRITE, NEVER MADE IT TO THE SCREEN THIS MORNING.....SOMETHING ABOUT RUSSIA INVADING THE CRIMEA. I SOFTENED, YOU SEE, IN REMINISCENCE. HOW CAN WORLD SAFETY TAKE A BACK SEAT TO THE ANTICS OF THE PRESS CLUB BACK IN THE 1980'S....IT JUST DID. SO PLEASE ACCEPT MY APOLOGY FOR GETTING MIRED DOWN IN THE HISTORY I USUALLY ONLY WRITE ABOUT. I GOT A CHANCE TO RELIVE SOME TODAY. AND IT WAS KIND OF SPECIAL.

MEMORIES OF THE AUTUMN I KEPT COMPANY WITH GNOMES AT SEVEN PERSONS' COTTAGE

TRY TO IMAGINE THIS - TALK ABOUT LIVING A FANTASY

     BACK IN THE AUTUMN OF 1979, I THINK IT WAS (IN THE FOG OF AGE), I LIVED THE RESIDENTIAL EXISTENCE OF A GARDEN VARIETY, HONORARY GNOME. YOU READ CORRECTLY. A REPORTER BY DAY, AN OUT OF PLACE BIG GUY IN A LITTLE PERSON'S ABODE. IT WAS DURING A PARTICULARLY ACTIVE DRINKING PERIOD IN MY LIFE, SO IF IT READS A LITTLE PECULIAR, IMAGINE COMING HOME A LITTLE TIPSY, TO A SERIOUSLY DOWNSIZED COTTAGE……IN EVERY WAY. I FELT LIKE GULLIVER AT TIMES, BENDING OVER TO GET IN THE FRONT DOOR, HOPING I WASN'T GOING TO BE WRESTLED TO THE GROUND, AND THEN TIED DOWN, BY THE SMALL IRATE NEIGHBORHOOD RESIDENTS.

     I'VE WRITTEN A FEW OTHER EDITORIAL PIECES, IN RECENT YEARS, ABOUT MY FIVE MONTH OCCUPANCY OF "SEVEN PERSONS' COTTAGE," WHICH I RENTED, WITH GREAT GLEE, FROM EARL AND JESSIE MACDONALD, OF FOOT'S BAY, ON THE SHORE OF BEAUTIFUL LAKE JOSEPH. IT WAS MOST DEFINITELY A MEMORABLE SUMMER. BUT IT WAS THE AUTUMN SEASON IN THIS TO-SCALE ENGLISH COTTAGE, THAT WAS MOST SPIRITED TO A FLEDGLING WRITER, LOOKING FOR INSPIRATION. IN FACT, I HAVE LOOKED FOR YEARS AND YEARS TO FIND A SIMILAR TYPE ABODE, TO USE AS A WRITING RETREAT. NO LUCK. THERE WAS ONLY ONE "SEVEN PERSONS' COTTAGE," BUT BY GOLLY, I GOT TO LIVE IN IT FROM SPRING TO AUTUMN.

     THE SCALE MODEL OF A MUCH LARGER ENGLISH LAKESIDE COTTAGE, SUCH AS MIGHT BE FOUND ON LAKE WINDERMERE, IN THE LAKE DISTRICT OF ENGLAND, WAS SITUATED ON THE LOW SHORE-SIDE, BENEATH TOWERING PINES THAT BORDERED THE COTTAGE ROAD. I EVEN HAD MY OWN MINIATURE HARBOR WITH A TINY DOCK AND A LITTLE BOAT, IN CASE A RESIDENT GNOME WANTED TO GO ON A LITTLE TOODLE OF THE LAKE. THERE WAS EVEN A CROQUET COURSE SET UP ON THE LAWN, JUST OUTSIDE MY BEAUTIFUL SIDE WINDOW, WHICH ALWAYS REMINDED ME OF THE VIEWING AREA, HIGH ON THE STERN OF A GREAT OCEAN-GOING SCHOONER.

THERE WAS A MOOD WITHIN THAT WAS ENCHANTING - AND YOU'D FEEL LIKE A KID IN A CANDY SHOP

     The down-sized English cottage had been built by a neighbor of the MacDonalds, and I was fortunate enough to meet him, when Jessie took me over one day to visit. His was the cottage next door. I always remember the scent of pipe tobacco, and seeing the owner's huge collective of pipes with carved faces, if memory serves. It was this gentleman who had painstakingly built the wee cottage, with amazing carpentry skills. He was an artist as far as I was concerned. The MacDonalds then purchased the property, and rented it out to various folks during the summer months. Earl and Jessie were wonderful people to rent from, and often times I'd wake up in the morning, with Earl rapping on the door, so I'd wake up to see the ducks gathered in the little harbor. He loved that property, and the two of them were great to socialize with, during my brief stay. They knew I didn't have many friends around, so they'd come to tell me there was a lunch for me at their house, and I should come over and relax. I was a poor….and I mean that, reporter, and I ate cheaply if I ate at all. So I wasn't adverse at all to their hospitality. And as Earl promised me it would be a great retreat for a writer, he was absolutely correct. I wrote through the day for The Beacon, and wrote at night for me……first about my lost love, and then eventually, about love left to seek out. I arrived somewhat beaten down by life, but quickly found the bright and cheerful little cottage, had too much spirit within, to nurture sadness.

     It was on misty autumn mornings, living in the gnome-sized cottage, which was a cross between a trip to Narnia with C.S. Lewis and a Robbie Burns experience, in Bonnie Scotland. You could forget where you were. It was the magic of the place. At night, looking out onto the lake, and watching the lights of the boats gyrating across the waves of the lake, made it seem, from the window, as if the house was actually floating as well. To set the mood for me, on that first day when I cross the threshold of this magic little place, a copy of the newly released book, "Gnomes," was on the built-in desk, inside the door. The book was brought to North America in translation by Martha Stewart's husband, who after this enormous success, which made millions by the way, helped with the hugely successful book, "Entertaining," still a milestone book in Martha's mountain of publications. I read the Gnomes book numerous times during that stay on Lake Joseph. Every time I had to hunch over to get in the tiny door, at the cottage entrance, I got a chuckle seeing the gnome book staring back at me. I never arrived at the cottage without expecting to find these tiny souls at home. Enchanted? I learned all about enchantments that season. People coming to see me succumbed to the spell, moments on the property. It was a chick magnate let me tell you, and they always found the keeper of the cottage….me….to be cute and cuddly in the midst of tiny attributes, like scaled-down hearth and fireplace, staircase, small chairs and tables, and even miniature gargoyles carved into the wood mantlepiece. They begged to stay over. I never had it so good. (Of course this only refers to a period of time, as my wife would not like to read this kind of personal anecdote, as it was before we met).

     I stayed until late in the fall that year, until the first flurries came whipping over that chilled lake, and through the barren hardwoods. I didn't mind being huddled under the wool blankets they left me, in the warm glow of the crackling flames in the small but completely adequate fireplace…..where I had a comfortable arm chair pulled close. I'd sit there in this relative paradise, of so many inspirations around me, and settle to a splendid peacefulness, cradling a hot cup of tea made in the tiny kitchen the gnomes found spacious. I never felt alone in that cottage. Not that it was haunted, but because of its character and beautifully aged woodwork, it felt so historic and storied, whether it was or it wasn't. I can remember coming home late at night, and swearing to have heard voices inside. I woke up that way at night, hearing the pitter patter of little feet, that weren't there……or at least there were no bodies to go with the footsteps. But it wasn't an unsettling occupation, and if there were ghosts in that tiny place, they were of the most welcoming variety. I felt at home on my first night, which is unusual for me, as I come from a family of sentimentalists, who hate being separated for long from their cherished residences. As I had just separated from my girlfriend of five years…..after asking her if she wanted to get married……and she quipped, "to who," and strangely enough, Seven Persons' Cottage was a respite to a broken heart. It seemed to know how miserable I was, and by golly, after about the first week, I'd returned to writing in the evenings, something I'd abandoned after Gail gave me the proverbial heave-ho for another guy. Don't you just hate when that happens. That summer, I went from wanting to drink myself into a long term stupor, to restoring my interest in the future…..which I blamed on Gail for stomping into the ground, with the last bouquet I sent her on a reporter's budget. It wasn't much to look at, but it was the thought that counted. Right? Gail came to Seven Person's Cottage once to see how I was holding up, and I guess she was satisfied with the "we can still be friends" thing, and when she left, you know……I felt the gnome-like sensibility bloom from the heart of that place on the shore of a beautiful lake. It was my "serenity now!" It saved me I think. I arrived there feeling like I'd been mauled by zoo animals, my heart ripped out of my chest, and that dear little place, with the MacDonald's kindnesses bestowed, and my Abba record (I only had one record) for my failing turntable……turned my life around in a modest spring to autumn residency. How many of you can say that one of your best friends was a to-scale English cottage, where a great bard should have been holed-up, writing romantic poetry for lost love. I was just a poor bard but I did write poetry.

     The truly curious aspect of design, at Seven Persons Cottage, was that it could easily accommodate seven guests. The most I had over at one time was four, but it was a comfortable arrangement, considering three of them were young ladies, smitten with the pipe smoking writer-in-residence. Yup, I used to smoke my pipe and write. It just seemed important to act like the great writers, even if I was still a bum in the industry. The girls thought I was special. Of course so did my mother. Gail, not so much. The furniture was all small, and like the dining-room table, it had leaves that folded out to accommodate more guests around the table. The bedrooms had bunk beds, and small chairs for reading before bed, and the kitchen had small scale cupboards and a bar fridge that was more than enough for the non-cooker me. It got me thinking, you know, about how much space is wasted and extravagant in the average North American house, when this small (condo size) cottage, made efficient use of every square foot…..such that after awhile, you didn't even recognize it as downsized, unless you went outside, and saw the doll house architecture on a big lot. No space was wasted. We could learn a lot from that cottage design. If I had the money, let me tell you, it would have been mine. I always feel that way about the great places I've lived in my life, and if I owned every neat place that inspired me to write, well, my property tax bill would be in the millions. In Gravenhurst, thankfully, I'm only paying a King's Ransom, for Birch Hollow, as compared to the gigantic lakefront assessment for the little Gnome cottage.

     I used to hate leaving Seven Persons Cottage in the morning, but I was thrilled to arrive back home in the early evening, exhausted but cheerful about the next few hours, sitting by the hearth, having a wee sip of brandy, (the cheapest kind) in Robbie Burns honor, and then typing away until I could compose no more. And when on autumn evenings like this, that I donned my nightcap, and extinguished the oil lamp, it was sort of like The Waltons……as every creak and groan in the old woodwork, seemed to be wishing me a good night's slumber. I retired to bedlam relaxed, contented, and resolved, that if the gnomes should take over the cottage while I slept……I'd be good with that, as long as they swept up their crumbs from those late evening snacks.

     A friend, who I have deep respect, looked at me one day recently, as I spun another of my trademark yarns, and wanted to, I'm sure, ask me if there is a shred of truth to all these collected tales I've offered for public consumption, for all these years as a writer. I suppose it's a case, that unless one sees and experiences it first hand, no amount of convincing will truly make up the sensory deficiency, between story teller, and listener. I would have liked to taken this friend to Seven Persons Cottage, to see the "fantastic" of what I have known as my special enchantments, because me thinks, we all need to know magic exists beyond childhood……and the strange dreams in the recess of sleep. I will occasionally dream about my time at Seven Persons' Cottage, and I will wake up, suddenly, to look around and see if it's true………that I have returned to that quaint little lakeside cottage, that saved my life, way back……and gave me so much to write about. But I find myself feeling good cheer none the less, and know that my Birch Hollow, you see, as a present haven, is the friendly composite of all the fascinating places I have ever lived. It now is as spartan, plain and convenient, comfortable and pleasantly haunted, as I remember from the days when…….I kept company with gnomes on a misty lakeshore in the Muskoka heartland. It may all be fiction, and possibly just a very long dream about the life I have enjoyed. The welts from pinches, tell me I'm not dreaming.

     Thanks so much for sharing this recollection with me today. Please join me for another adventure, coming soon.

Historians Know That It's Not An Old Wives Tale That "History Repeats"

Country Joe and The Fish "Fixing To Die Rag" Going To Viet Nam

IF ONLY SOMEONE OF AUTHORITY WOULD LISTEN TO THE WARNING CRIES OF THE HISTORIAN

HISTORY REPEATS? JUST WATCH!

     THERE ARE CITIZENS ALL OVER THE WORLD, RIGHT NOW, FED UP WITH THIS UNDERLING THING! SMART, ENTERPRISING FOLK, WHO WOULD VERY MUCH LIKE TO OUST SOME LEADERSHIP-KNOBS FROM OFFICE. THERE ARE MANY OF US DAY TO DAY'ERS, TRYING TO FIGURE OUT THE MEANING OF LIFE, AND WHY WE CAN'T LIVE IN HARMONY. EVEN THOSE WHO LIVE IN HARMONY CORNERS, HERE IN GRAVENHURST, ARE FINDING LESS OF IT THESE DAYS, WITH ALL THIS MILITARY AND POLITICAL POSTURING, AROUND THE GLOBE.
     THE POETS AND PHILOSOPHERS, THE MUSICIANS AND THE ARTISTS, ARE EXPRESSING THEMSELVES IN OH SO MANY WAYS, YET THOSE WHO CARRY THE BIG GUNS, ARE TRULY THE MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE. PLAYING GOD. THE WINNERS AND LOSERS. THE GIVERS AND THE TAKERS. WOULDN'T IT BE GREAT IF THERE WAS A SUPERMAN, OR THE KIND OF SUPER HEROES THAT WOULD KEEP SUPER-POWERS HUMBLE? WHAT IS THE ULTIMATE PRIZE FOR POLITICAL AMBITION? FOR MILITARY SUPREMACY? WILL THE ULTIMATE CONFLICT OF THE TITANS PRODUCE THE RESULTS THAT WERE MAPPED OUT IN THE WAR ROOM? OR IS IT ALL A BIUG GAMBLE ON PROPAGANDA, TO GET DESIRED RESULTS? I'M PRETTY SURE, THE CITIZENS OF THE WORLD, AT THIS MOMENT, ARE FED-UP WITH THE CHEST THUMPING STUFF, THAT ONLY ACCOMPLISHES WHAT FEAR ALWAYS DOES! TAKES YEARS OFF OUR LIVES. BUT THEM AGAIN, WE'VE BEEN HERE BEFORE. HISTORY IS REPEATING. BUT THEN, THIS SHOULDN'T BE A SURPRISE.
     I'M A REGIONAL CANADIAN HISTORIAN. THAT SIMPLY DEFINED, MEANS I KNOW SOME OLD STUFF ABOUT THE DISTRICT OF MUSKOKA, IN THE PROVINCE OF ONTARIO, IN THE NATION OF CANADA. THE FACT THAT I OCCASIONALLY COMMENT ON WORLD HISTORY, AS I HAVE DONE RECENTLY, IS A PRETTY SUBSTANTIAL STRETCH OF EXPERTISE, WHEN IT COMES TO COMMENTING ON THE FLARING INTERNATIONAL CRISIS IN THE UKRAINE. I FEEL THAT MY UNIVERSITY EDUCATION IN HISTORY, WAS NOT WORLDLY ENOUGH, AND TRUTH IS, ON MY DIPLOMA, IT NOTES CLEARLY, THAT I HAVE A DEGREE IN CANADIAN HISTORY ONLY. NOT WORLD HISTORY. I'M NOT QUALIFIED TO BE A PANELIST ON A CNN NEWSCAST, AND I HAVEN'T EVEN TRAVELLED EXTENSIVELY IN EUROPE, SO I COULDN'T EVEN TELL YOU WHAT THE UKRAINE, OR RUSSIA LOOKS LIKE UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL. GEEZ, I HAVEN'T EVEN TRAVELLED EXTENSIVELY IN CANADA. SO WHO IS THE GUY BEHIND THESE WORDS, AND WHY DOES HE FEEL THE NECESSITY TO WEIGH-IN ON SUCH A SENSITIVE WORLD ISSUE, AS RUSSIA INVADING THE UKRAINE. WELL, BY GOLLY, I GET MAD WHEN THE LOCAL SNOW REMOVAL CONTRACTORS, SEND THE SNOW FROM MY NEIGHBORS OVER TO OUR HOUSE, INCLUDING THE NEWSPAPERS MANGLED IN THE DRIVEWAY. SO IF ALL OF A SUDDEN, OUR NEIGHBORS BANDED TOGETHER, AND PUT ALL THEIR SNOW ON OUR PROPERTY, OUR HOUSE WOULD COLLAPSE. IT'S A MOOT EXAMPLE, BUT BEING INTRUSIVE ISN'T THE CHARACTER OF A GOOD NEIGHBOR. NOW IF I WAS LAYING IN THE DRIVEWAY, AFTER SUFFERING A HEART ATTACK, I WOULD APPRECIATE THEIR INTRUSION. OR IF FLAMES WERE LEAPING OUT OF THE ROOF. JUST NOT INTRUSION FOR INTRUSION'S SAKE. SO, AS A CITIZEN OF THE WORLD, AND A PROPERTY OWNER WHO GETS HIS SHARE OF SOMEONE ELSE'S CAST-OFFS, I FEEL A GROUND LEVEL DESIRE TO COMMENT.
     I GUESS ALL I CAN FALL BACK ON, IS THAT I READ A LOT, AND BECAUSE OF MY LENGTHY TENURE IN THE ANTIQUE PROFESSION, I HAVE ALWAYS MADE IT A POINT, TO KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON IN THE WORLD. I'M A RABID NEWS WATCHER, AND THAT IS SOMETHING I GOT FROM MY PARENTS. THE NEWS BROADCASTS IN OUR HOUSE, WERE TRUMPED ONLY BY HOCKEY NIGHT IN CANADA, AND THE GREY CUP. SO OVER MY LIFETIME, I HAVE TRIED TO EDUCATE MYSELF TO ALL THE LATEST WORLD EVENTS, WITH MY WELL-WORN ATLAS AT MY SIDE; BECAUSE IT'S IMPORTANT TO KNOW WHAT'S HAPPENING OUT THERE; WHETHER WE LIKE IT OR NOT, THESE EVENTS CAN ALTER AND LIMIT THE WAY WE LIVE. YOU JUST HAVE TO DO A LITTLE RESEARCH. LIKE ASKING THOSE PEOPLE WHO HAVE LIVED THROUGH THE WAR YEARS, AND THE GREAT DEPRESSION, WHAT IT WAS LIKE TO "DO WITHOUT." WHATEVER OUR PARENTS AND GRANDPARENTS LIVED WITHOUT, ON THIS CONTINENT, THOSE LIVING IN THE WAR ZONES AND BEYOND, WEREN'T JUST INCONVENIENCED BY SHORTAGES, BUT DEPRIVED. HARDSHIPS SO EXTREME, TODAY THE YOUNG GENERATION, READS ABOUT THEM AS IF THEY ARE WORKS OF FICTION. THE MOST FRUSTRATING PART OF THIS PRESENT SITUATION, IN THE UKRAINE, IS THAT MOST HISTORIANS FAMILIAR WITH MILITARY CRISIS, AND ITS CHRONICLE THROUGH THE AGES, SAW THIS PRESENT CONFLICT BREWING A LONG, LONG TIME AGO. IT'S NOT LIKE THERE HASN'T BEEN A LOT WRITTEN ABOUT THINGS HAPPENING IN THE CRIMEA AREA OVER THE CENTURIES. AS FOR THE RUSSIANS, AND THEIR MOST RECENT CLAIMS THAT THEY ARE NOT GOING TO INVADE THE UKRAINE, (NO BOOTS ON THE GROUND), TELL ME, WHAT IS THE NEW DEFINITION OF A "LIE." IT SEEMS LIKE THE DEFINITION DEPENDS ON WHAT COUNTRY YOU ARE REPRESENTING. WHEN I TOLD A LIE TO MY MOTHER, I GOT A CRACK ON THE BACK OF THE HEAD. EVEN IF IT WASN'T A LIE, BUT SOUNDED LIKE ONE, I GOT A CRACK ON THE HEAD. RUSSIA'S LIE TO THE REST OF THE WORLD? NOW, IN THE REVISED-TO-SUIT DEFINITION, "NO" MEANS "YES." "WE'RE DEFENDING OUR RUSSIAN CITIZENS," COMES THE CLAIM. NOW THERE'S A GOOD ONE. ALL THE REASON IN THE WORLD TO INVADE ANOTHER COUNTRY.
     I CAN REMEMBER THINKING, BACK A FEW MONTHS, THAT THE OLYMPIC COMMITTEE SHOULD SERIOUSLY RE-CONSIDER, SHUTTING DOWN THE GAMES. THERE WERE WARNING SIGNS, AND NOT JUST FROM KNOWN TERRORIST ACTS. IT WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN THE FIRST TIME, THAT OLYMPIC GOODWILL, WAS USED FOR POLITICAL ADVANTAGE, AND THE SPREAD OF PROPAGANDA THROUGH SPORT. A SMALL GUY LIKE ME, ON A REALLY BIG PLAYING FIELD, SHOULD JUST KEEP HIS MOUTH SHUT, AND HIS FINGERS OFF THE KEYBOARD. RIGHT? BELIEVE ME, I KNOW MY PLACE. IN THIS CASE, HOWEVER, SO MANY FINE HISTORIANS, WHO KNOW THEIR MILITARY HISTORY INSIDE AND OUT, SHOULD HAVE BEEN CONSULTED AND LISTENED TO, PRIOR TO THE GAMES; BECAUSE MY HUNCH IS, THAT WHEN THEY WOULD AGREE, THAT "HISTORY REPEATS," SOME PREPAREDNESS MIGHT HAVE BEEN INITIATED IN ADVANCE. IF A LITTLE SCHMUCK LIKE ME, HOLED-UP IN A SMALL MUSKOKA TOWN, COULD SEE THIS INVASION HAPPENING WEEKS AGO, I'M SURE THE SCHOLARS OF WORLD HISTORY, WOULD HAVE BEEN ABLE TO WRITE A BOOK ABOUT IT....USING THE PARALLEL EVENTS OF THE PAST. BUT IF ANYONE, OF MY STATION IN LIFE, HAD DARED TO SUGGEST, THE OLYMPICS SHOULD HAVE BEEN CANCELLED, IT WOULD HAVE BEEN THE HIGHEST LEVEL OF BLASPHEMY TO THE GOD OF SPORT. THE GOD OF HIGH HOPES. IF ONLY OUR HOCKEY TEAM COULD BEAT THE AMERICANS AND THE RUSSIANS.....HOW POWERFUL THIS WOULD BE IN BUILDING NATIONAL PRIDE. I'M JUST GOING TO THROW THIS OUT THERE, BUT HOW DO WE FEEL NOW, WHEN WE HAVE CANADIAN PARA-OLYMPIC ATHLETES, IN RUSSIA, DURING THIS TIME OF CRISIS. DO WE CALL THEM BACK RIGHT NOW, CONSIDERING WE'RE ADVISING CANADIANS IN THE CRIMEA TO GET OUT WHILE THEY CAN? I HAVEN'T READ, OR HEARD, ANY REFERENCE TO THEIR POSITION, AS GOODWILL PAWNS, IN A COUNTRY, THAT HAS JUST INVADED ANOTHER. IT'S ONE THING TO ANNOUNCE WE MAY NOT PARTICIPATE IN THIS SUMMER'S G-8 IN RUSSIA, BUT WHAT ABOUT OUR ATHLETES THERE RIGHT NOW; ONE IN FACT FROM OUR OWN COMMUNITY.
     I CAN'T HELP WONDERING, WHY IT IS, WITH ALL OUR EXPERIENCE IN HISTORICAL PRECEDENTS, WE CAN'T GET IT THROUGH OUR HEADS, THAT BAD THINGS ARE GOING TO HAPPEN WHEN GREED IS ALLOWED TO RUN ITS COURSE. GOSH, I LEARNED THAT IN THE SANDBOX, WHEN RAY GREEN HIT ME IN THE HEAD WITH A TOY TRACTOR, BECAUSE I WAS CROWDING HIS PLAY-SPACE. I LEARNED IT AT SCHOOL, WHEN THE BULLIES DECIDED THAT I SHOULD BE BEATEN EVERY DAY AT RECESS, BECAUSE I WAS NEW TO TOWN. I FOUND OUT MORE ABOUT ASKEW REASONING, WHEN A PUBLIC SCHOOL TEACHER, AND A PRINCIPAL, INFORMED SUZANNE AND I, THAT OUR SON WOULD HAVE TO MAN-UP IN THE PLAYGROUND, IF HE DIDN'T LIKE BEING PUMMELED. I'VE NEVER BEEN VERY GOOD, AS TINY A MAN, AS I AM, ACCEPTING THAT GREED AND BULLYISM ARE STATUS QUO SITUATIONS. SO AS I NEVER BACKED DOWN TO ANYONE, AND BELIEVE ME, THAT COST ME A LOT OF SHOTS TO THE BEAK, I SHARE WITH A LOT OF FREE CITIZENS OUT THERE, WHO WANT THE WORLD TO JOIN FORCES TO PROTECT THE INTEGRITY OF THE UKRAINE; BECAUSE IT'S THE RIGHT THING FOR THE FREE WORLD, WHICH WE HAVE ENJOYED SO MUCH, FOR SO LONG, ON THIS CONTINENT.
     WHERE IT GETS A LITTLE STICKY, JUST AS IT WAS DURING THE CUBAN MISSILE CRISIS, IN THE EARLY 1960'S, IS THAT RUSSIA DOESN'T CARE WHAT WE THINK ABOUT THEIR LATEST FORAY INTO THE CRIMEA. THERE ARE SAGE MILITARY STRATEGISTS, AND SCHOLARS, WHO MAY KNOW DIFFERENTLY; SO I'M HOPING THAT THEY'RE SITTING SIDE BY SIDE THOSE WITH BIG GUNS, TRYING TO INFUSE SOME REASON AT A CRITICAL JUNCTION; BECAUSE OUR EARTH COULD BE REDUCED TO DUST, IF ALL THE WEAPONS ARE FIRED OFF INTO GREAT BLUE BLUE YONDER AT ONCE. THIS COULD BE A BIG BANG ARGUMENT, FOR SURE. EVEN AS A REGIONAL HISTORIAN, WHO HAS WRITTEN QUITE A BIT ABOUT MUSKOKA'S CONTRIBUTION TO WORLD WARS, I KNOW A LOT ABOUT WHAT IT WAS LIKE TO LIVE BACK THEN, KEEPING THE HOME FIRES BURNING, AND SO MUCH MORE TO HELP THE WAR EFFORT. WHAT WAS IT LIKE LIVING WITH RATION BOOKS AND FOOD TOKENS? A WORLD CONFLICT WITH RUSSIA, WILL NECESSITATE A LOT OF CHANGES FROM THE GOOD LIFE, MOST OF US TAKE FOR GRANTED; AND CONSIDER IT THE ENTITLEMENT THEY DESERVE. IT SCARES ME MORE THESE DAYS, TO THINK ABOUT THE COLLATERAL DAMAGE OF WAR, ON THE HOMEFRONT, SIMPLY BECAUSE WE ARE SO ILL PREPARED AND NAIVE ABOUT WHAT IT COULD MEAN FOR ALL OF US. BEING WITHOUT A CELL PHONE FOR A WEEK, COULD CAUSE CANADIANS TO HAVE NERVOUS BREAKDOWNS. RATIONING GAS? ARE YOU MAD? RATIONING MEAT, MILK, EGGS? HEAVEN FORBID. YET SO MANY NEW CANADIANS, ARRIVING HERE OVER THE PAST THIRTY YEARS, HAVE COME TO THIS COUNTRY FROM AREAS AROUND THE WORLD, THAT WERE WAR-TORN AND IMPOVERISHED AS A RESULT. CANADA IS A SAFE HAVEN. THE ONLY POLITICAL TURBULENCE THESE DAYS, COMES FROM THE SCANDAL IN THE SENATE, AND WHAT'S HAPPENING AT TORONTO CITY HALL. SO HEARING AND READING ABOUT THE LATEST INCURSION, INTO THE CRIMEA, AND WONDERING WHAT IT MEANS WHEN RUSSIAN TROOPS, ARE DIGGING TRENCHES ALONG THE BORDER, FORGIVE ME, IF I THINK IT'S TIME FOR THE GOVERNMENT OF CANADA TO BRING OUR PARA-OLYMPIANS HOME NOW. BUT WHO AM I TO SUGGEST SUCH A THING? A REGIONAL HISTORIAN WHO DABBLES IN ANTIQUES? I'M PROBABLY ATTRACTING NATIONAL SECURITY ATTENTION, BY STATING THIS....BUT, WELL, IT'S THE SAME THING MANY OTHER CANADIANS, WITH EDUCATIONAL BACKGROUND IN WORLD AFFAIRS, ARE THINKING AT THIS TIME; THAT THE OLYMPIC GROUNDS ARE NOT SAFE ENOUGH, WHEN NOT SO FAR AWAY, SOLDIERS ARE PREPARING THEMSELVES FOR BATTLE. OR ARE THERE OTHER REASON FOR DEPLOYING SOLDIERS TO DIG TRENCHES? MAYBE THEY'RE FOR IRRIGATION.

SO HOW DO YOU PREPARE FOR "THE BIG ONE?"

     I remember, as a kid, growing up in Bracebridge, watching American draft dodgers, sunning themselves, on the rocks along the Muskoka River, above the swimming hole, we called "Bass Rock." In the late 1960's, my parents warned me about the arrival of a few draft dodgers, who had escaped to Canada, to avoid having to fight in Vietnam. I knew a lot about Vietnam, because, even in my early teens, I was a heavy consumer of news print, and anything deemed newsworthy by the electronic media. I had heard my parents, and some of our neighbors, talking about draft dodgers, and from what I picked up from reading, and viewing news reports, it seemed quite exciting, and exotic, that these folks were landing in our little town, here in the woodlands of South Muskoka. All of a sudden, we were in the international spotlight, for harboring fugitives. Neat. We didn't make a lot of news, here in Muskoka, so it was something to talk about.
     I heard the rumors, that these draft dodgers, had been welcomed into the monastery, above Bass Rock, operated by the Society of St. John The Evangelist. I don't think the community, at large, cared about this, but there were pockets of residents, who wanted them removed, as they might negatively influence our own sons and daughters. Some called them criminals, and hippy activists, who smoked pot and listened to the music of rebellion.....although I don't ever remember them attributing it to a particular band or artist. The more I heard about these draft dodgers, the more the Hunt's Hill gang wanted to see them. So despite the warnings of parents, to stay away from Bass Rock, we were down there twice as often. It's not like they were wearing signs that identified them as draft dodgers, so we had to forge our own conclusions, based on what we witnessed, in and around the rapids of Bass Rock. We really did expect to see reefer smoking, long-hairs, with the American flag sewn on to the ass of their jeans. What was mildly disappointing, is that they were nothing like what we were told to expect. They were just young men, alive and well, sunning themselves on the river bank, while, arguably, some of their contemporaries were being killed in the jungles of Vietnam.
     You know, I never saw a hippy at the SSJE property, or down by the river, where there was a small dock and a canoe shed, I believe it was. I did see a number of neatly attired young men, who would swim in the river when the water was low, and who would sun themselves while reading a book. The Fathers from the monastery used to do the same thing, and sometimes they weren't wearing their black robes. You really couldn't tell the draft dodgers from those who were members of the SSJE. I'm not sure if the local newspaper, or even national media, ever did a story on them, although I do seem to remember something of this nature. They sure didn't look like what I imagined, were fugitives from justice. They didn't appear to pose any threat to the thirty or so kids, who would gather at the rocks, to swim on hot summer days. What was inspired from their stay in our town, however, was an attitude. I'd like to think the so called draft dodgers enjoyed their stay in our fine town, and Muskoka, but I can tell you, it left an impression on all of us, who to that point, had been a little too young to understand the full consequences of Vietnam; and the thousands of lives it affected. Here then, was a spin-off, from that unwanted war, on an unsuspecting Muskoka community, that had to adapt fast, about how to deal with national policy on returning deserters. Let's just be happy with the fact, they got to stay in Canada until the eventual amnesty in the united States. Although our contact was limited, and only a few of my chums had actually communicated with them, their presence put us a lot closer to the anti-war movement....and those songs of protest.....which kind of gave us a leg-up, understanding why draft dodgers were here in the first place. So as far as being corrupted by the draft dodger? It was the kind of disruption in our naive lives, that we needed, in order to understand our true moral place in the world.....which at times was pretty frightening.
     I want to close off today, by making one final comment about past wars, and pending conflict. Suzanne and I grew up with parents who had served overseas (and on the seas) during the Second World War. Norman was a tank specialist in the military, and my father, Ed, was a gunner onboard the ship "Coaticook," serving with the North Atlantic Squadron. There was one common reality in both households. War service was not discussed. It wasn't until my father's final hours on this earth, that he opened up about what he had seen, of death and destruction, in his service of home and country. Norman had come upon mass graves, and had pulled bodies out of plane wreckages, and even to his final days, all he would extend to his daughter, and his grandsons, were a few dog-eared old photographs of himself, at the site of some of these wreckages. In fact, many years now since his death, Suzanne was just this week, able to secure a photograph of her father and mother, from a cousin on the west coast. It was taken sometime during the war, as Norman is in military dress. So that's it. This is what we learned about the war, as baby boomers. Maybe your exposure was different and more thorough. So we were left to piece it all together, which we have been doing ever since. We know why they didn't want to talk about it. That's the problem. They were our instructors....our tutors, to prepare us for the eventuality, history would repeat. I know that if both men were alive today, they would watch the news with great trepidation of that looming potential, there will be another world war.....one of these days.
     Let's pray it doesn't come to this, and the peace loving people of the world, can pull this one back from the brink of calamity.

Home Economics A New Trend In Old Shops; Better Homes For Leaner Times

Historic Document-Toronto St. David's Presbyterian Church St. Clair Avenue. Hand Decorated and Presented to
 Mr. A. E. Miller, Organist. Art Work By Frank Show Cards, Seymour Avenue, Toronto

THE TREND TOWARD HOME ECONOMICS - IT'S COMING DOWN THE PIKE; YOU WATCH

STAYING AT HOME - BETTERING THE COMMUNITY - GOING BACK IN TIME WHEN TRAVEL WAS LIMITED

     THE TRUTH BEHIND THE ANTIQUE AND COLLECTABLE BUSINESS, IS THAT WE ARE TREND FOLLOWERS, NOT SO MUCH TREND SETTERS. WE ARE AFFECTED BY ALL KINDS OF NATIONAL AND INTERNATIONAL REALITIES. JUST WHEN WE THINK THAT WE'LL CORNER THE MARKET ON DEPRESSION GLASS, THE TREND CHANGES WITHOUT WARNING. ONE YEAR THERE WILL BE A RUSH ON ANYTHING IN "JADE-ITE," "AMERICAN, OR CANADIAN GLASS," ON TO TEA CUPS AND SAUCERS, FLOW-BLUE CHINA, TO VINTAGE CLOTHING AND ADORNMENTS. SINCE I OPENED MY FIRST SHOP IN THE LATE 1970'S, I'VE SEEN SO MANY TRENDS COME AND GO, AND YES, I'VE GOT STUCK WITH A WHOLE BUNCH OF STUFF I COULDN'T SELL....UNTIL THAT IS, THERE WAS A CHANGE OF DIRECTION IN COLLECTING. WE'VE ALL BEEN THROUGH IT, AND WHILE WE TRY TO STAY "AHEAD OF THE CURVE," AS THEY SAY, SOME TIMES IT'S JUST IMPOSSIBLE. SO AS A DEFENSE, YOU KEENLY MAINTAIN THE CAPABILITY TO CHANGE DIRECTION ON THE FLY; BECAUSE THAT'S ABOUT ALL THE TIME YOU'LL HAVE, TO DUMP ONE COLLECTABLE, AND ASSUME ANOTHER. IT'S FUN IN SOME WAYS, AND A MILLSTONE IN OTHER WAYS. AS I'VE NOTED PREVIOUSLY, ONGONG EDUCATION FOR ANTIQUE DEALERS, IS REQUIRED, UP TO RETIREMENT. A LOT OF KNOW-IT-ALL ANTIQUE DEALERS, HAVE BEEN SENT BACK TO THE DRAWING BOARD, WHEN THEY FOUND OUT BY HAPPENSTANCE, THAT THEY HAD WAY TOO MUCH DEPRESSION GLASS TO FOR THE FAILING MARKET DEMAND; SUCH THAT WHEN CUSTOMERS STOPPED ASKING FOR IT, THERE WAS NO BACK-UP INVENTORY, TO HELP MAKE RENT. THE MARKET PLACE IS VERY RESPONSIVE, IN OUR LINE OF WORK, TO DIPS IN THE ECONOMY. WHEN OUR CUSTOMERS ARE WORRIED ABOUT INVESTMENT VALUE, WE HAVE TO MAKE SURE WE ARE PRICED SENSIBLY IN THIS REGARD, AND NOT OVER-PRICED ACCORDING TO PRESENT MARKET VALUES. IN LEAN TIMES, WE GET FAR MORE COMPARISON SHOPPERS, WHO HAVE RESEARCHED THE PRICES OF HARVEST TABLES, OR HOOSIER CUPBOARDS, FOR EXAMPLE, AND WILL QUESTION WHY THE ONE WE HAVE IN THE SHOP, IS PRICED OVER OR BELOW OTHERS THEY HAVE SEEN IN AREA SHOPS. GENERALLY, WHEN THE ECONOMY IS STRONG, AND FOLKS ARE FEELING SUPER CONFIDENT, IN THE NEXT YEAR'S PAY CHEQUES, WE HAVE MORE IMPULSE BUYING, AND MUCH LESS DICKERING.
     AS FOR MAJOR WORLD EVENTS, AND TRENDS, RELATED TO ALL THE NEW WAVES OF INTEREST, (IN OLD AND COLLECTABLE PIECES) WE HAVE TO MAINTAIN OUR RETAIL RELEVANCE, BY ADAPTING SLOWLY TO WHAT IS MOST DESIRED AT THE TIME. WE HAVE OUR LIMITS, AND MOST OF US DON'T LIKE TO STRAY TOO FAR FROM OUR AREAS OF EXPERTISE; BUT WE STILL NEED TO TURN A PROFIT..., SO WE FLIRT WITH TRENDS THAT APPEAL TO US. A NEW AGE COLD WAR, COULD BE ONE OF THOSE WORLD INFLUENCES, AND THAT MAY, AS ONE OF THE SCENARIOS, CAUSE A DIP IN THE ECONOMY; AND RAISE A NEW FEAR ABOUT GLOBAL SAFETY; POSSIBLY IT WILL ALSO BE THE HARBINGER FOR A NEW PERIOD OF FRUGAL HOME ECONOMICS.  
     FOR US BABY BOOMERS, WHO HAPPENED TO WATCH (AND ADORE) THOSE OLD TELEVISION SITCOMS, LIKE "ANDY OF MAYBERRY," YOU MIGHT REMEMBER, FROM THE SHOW'S SCRIPT, THAT IT WAS A BIG DEAL, ON A FRIDAY OR SATURDAY NIGHT, FOR ANDY AND HELEN, BARNEY AND THELMA, TO TRAVEL FROM MAYBERRY, TO MOUNT PILOT, FOR "DINNER AND A MOVIE." GOSH, EVEN IN MY FAMILY, I REMEMBER IT WAS A BIG DEAL TO MOTOR TO TORONTO, BACK IN THE 1960'S, FROM BRACEBRIDGE, AND THAT MEANT A COMMITMENT OF TWO AND A HALF HOURS TO GET THERE. WE DIDN'T DO THIS ONCE A MONTH, AND I WOULD DOUBT WHETHER WE TRAVELLED THIS FAR TO VISIT FAMILY, TWICE OR THREE TIMES A YEAR. UNLESS OF COURSE THERE WAS AN ILLNESS OR DEATH IN THE FAMILY, THAT NECESSITATED UNEXPECTED TRAVEL SOUTH. IN THE 1970'S, WE DID TRAVEL TO FLORIDA, BUT THIS WAS A HUGE COMMITMENT OF FINANCES, FOR A PAY-CHEQUE TO PAY-CHEQUE FAMILY. OUR FAMILY AUTOS WEREN'T IN GREAT SHAPE, AND AS A KID, I SPENT A LOT OF TIME EITHER WALKING WITH MY FATHER, TO THE NEAREST SERVICE STATION, OR HELPING TO PUSH THE CAR WHENEVER MY FATHER NEEDED A RUNNING START, TO FIRE THE IGNITION.
    POINT IS, THERE WAS A DAY FOR MOST CITIZENS, IN NORTH AMERICA, WHEN TRAVEL WAS A LUXURY....A TREAT, TO START A VACATION, OR FOR SOMETHING NECESSARY. OUR PARENTS AND GRANDPARENTS DIDN'T GET THE URGE TO DRIVE A HUNDRED MILES FOR THE HELL OF IT.....BECAUSE, WELL, WE WERE A LOT MORE CONTENT TO STAY AT HOME. OUR COMMUNITIES WERE TRULY "HOME" TOWNS, WHERE WE MADE OUR LIVES. WE NEEDED CHANGE, BUT NOT CONSTANTLY....LIKE WE TRAVEL OUT OF THE HOME REGION TODAY, WITH RECKLESS ABANDON, AND ACCEPTANCE, THAT "IT'S ONLY MONEY." BUT WHAT HAPPENS WHEN FUEL PRICES GET SO OUT OF PROPORTION TO PERSONAL ECONOMY, THAT TRAVELLING EVEN FIFTY MILES, FOR RECREATION, BECOMES TOO TAXING TO JUSTIFY. I HOPE I HEARD WRONG, IN A NEWS BRIEF THIS WEEK, THAT GAS WOULD BE SITTING AT $1.40 PER LITRE BY EASTER. WHAT'S TO BECOME OF US? A WORLD CRISIS, ON TOP OF ALREADY HIGH FUEL PRICES, ON THIS CONTINENT, AND COST OF LIVING EXPENSES, ARE SLOWLY BUT SURELY PUTTING "US" OF MODEST AND FIXED INCOME, BACK TO THOSE DAYS IN MAYBERRY, WHEN GOING TO MOUNT PILOT FOR A NIGHT OUT, WAS A ONCE A MONTH TREAT. GOVERNMENT STATS KEEP INFORMING US THAT THE COST OF LIVING INCREASES ARE HOLDING STEADY. THEY OF COURSE, ARE NOT INCLUDING GAS PRICES. AS FOR FOOD, THE STATISTICIANS OBVIOUSLY DON'T SHOP IN THE SAME GROCERY STORES THAT WE VISIT.
     WE CAN LEARN A LOT FROM THOSE OLD SITCOMS OF ONCE. THANK GOODNESS THEY'VE BEEN PRESERVED FOR MODERN DAY CONSUMPTION. THERE ARE A LOT OF THINGS WE NEED TO KNOW, ABOUT THE POST WAR PERIOD IN OUR HISTORY.....AND, ALTHOUGH IT'S ALL DOCUMENTED IN THE HISTORY BOOKS....WELL SIR, IT'S NOT OF MUCH USE, IF THEY AREN'T BEING READ. BUT IT IS BEING VIEWED, AND IS HAPPILY IMBEDDED IN HOME-THEMED SITCOMS LIKE "ANDY OF MAYBERRY," "PETTICOAT JUNCTION," "MY THREE SONS," "I LOVE LUCY," "LEAVE IT TO BEAVER," "FATHER KNOWS BEST," AND "THE HONEYMOONERS." JUST TO NAME A FEW.
     SUZANNE, WHO GREW UP IN WINDERMERE, ON THE SHORE OF LAKE ROSSEAU, REMEMBERS HER PARENTS MOTORING TO HUNTSVILLE, JUST ABOUT EVERY SATURDAY, (EXCEPT IN THE SUMMER, WHEN THE MARINA WAS IN OPERATION), TO DO THE WEEKLY SHOPPING. IN HUNTSVILLE, THEY WOULD DO GROCERY SHOPPING AT THE A&P OR LOBLAWS, VISIT EATONS DEPARTMENT STORE ON THE MAIN STREET, FLOTRONS (FOR WOOL), STEDMANS AND "THE NOW SHOP" (FOR STATIONARY), THEN DINE AT THE MACDONALD'S RESTAURANT (NOT RONALD'S), WHERE YOU COULD ALSO GET KENTUCKY FRIED CHICKEN. SUZANNE FONDLY RECALLS GOING INTO THE FORMER "HUNTSVILLE SEWING CENTRE," TO PICK UP SUPPLIES. SOME TIMES, FOR A CHANGE, THE FAMILY WOULD MOTOR SOUTH TO BRACEBRIDGE. THEY DIDN'T TRAVEL TO ORILLIA, BARRIE OR TORONTO FOR A CHANGE OF PACE. THEY COULDN'T AFFORD TO DO THIS, AND NEITHER COULD WE. WE KEPT OUR SHOPPING REGIONAL BECAUSE IT WAS COST AND TIME EFFICIENT. AND WE LIKED DOING THIS. I CAN NEVER REMEMBER FEELING SHORT CHANGED, BECAUSE WE WEREN'T WHIPPING OFF TO THE BIG SMOKE EVERY OTHER WEEKEND.
     WHEN MY FAMILY LIVED IN BURLINGTON, MY FATHER INSISTED ON TAKING US ON SUNDAY-OUTINGS, IN THE SPRING, THROUGH AUTUMN, ESPECIALLY FOR BARBECUES AT FORT ERIE, AND AT A LITTLE PARKETTE IN THE COMMUNITY OF CHIPPEWA. WHEN WE MOVED TO BRACEBRIDGE, IN THE MID 1960'S, WE ALWAYS SEEMED TO BE BROKE, AND OFTEN THE EXTENT OF OUR SUNDAY EXCURSION, WAS TO HIGH FALLS PARK, JUST OFF HIGHWAY ELEVEN, A FEW MILES NORTH OF TOWN. EVEN ON SHORT TRIPS, OUR BIGGEST WORRY, WAS WHETHER OR NOT THE CAR WOULD GET US THERE, AND BACK. SOME TIMES YES, AND FREQUENTLY, NO! FOR US CURRIES, WE TRAVELLED REGULARLY, FROM ALICE STREET, TO MANITOBA STREET IN BRACEBRIDGE, (TWO BLOCKS) OFTEN ON FOOT, TO GET OUR GROCERIES. USUALLY ON FRIDAY NIGHTS, WHICH OF COURSE WAS THE WEEKLY PAYDAY. HAVING A SUCCESSION OF CRAPPY, FREQUENTLY STALLING VEHICLES, WE USED TO LEAVE IT AT HOME A LOT....TAKING OUR CHANCES ON FOOT TO VISIT LORNE'S MARKETERIA OR MUSKOKA TRADING. LORNE'S USED TO DELIVER OUR GROCERIES THE NEXT DAY. POINT IS, WE DIDN'T HAVE THE PRIVILEGE OF DRIVING ALL OVER GOD'S HALF ACRE, ON A LARK, BECAUSE WE JUST DIDN'T HAVE THE MONEY. TRIPS WERE MATTERS OF TRADITION NOT HAPPENSTANCE....OR "BECAUSE I FELT LIKE IT," THE WAY PEOPLE MOTOR ABOUT TODAY, SNAPPING THEIR CREDIT CARDS DOWN TO COVER HUNDRED DOLLAR FILL-UPS. BUT YOU KNOW WHAT, TIMES "THEY ARE A CHANGING." AND WE'RE ON TOP OF IT, AS COLLECTOR / DEALERS. WE'RE REFLECTING SOME OLD TIME HOMESTEAD VALUES, ON A BUDGET, AND SO FAR, OUR PATRONS SEEM TO APPROVE. LET ME EXPLAIN HOW WE'RE ACHIEVING THIS, BIT BY BIT, AS A STORE PHILOSOPHY.
     THE WHOLE ISSUE OF "STAY-CATIONS" WAS JUST INHERENT TO BEING POOR, AND YOU KNOW, AFTER AWHILE, OUTSIDE OF THE HOLES IN MY SHOES AND THE ARSE RIPPED OUT OF MY PANTS, I DIDN'T REALLY WORRY ABOUT WHAT OTHER PEOPLE THOUGHT. I GOT BY, LIVING IN A GOOD HOMETOWN, WHERE I COULD FIND LOTS OF THINGS TO DO, ON BUDGET, PARTNERING WITH THE OTHER KIDS WHO WERE STAYING HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS. IT WAS A TIME I THINK WE NEED TO REVISIT, WHEN WE THOUGHT A LOT MORE ABOUT HOME TOWN ADVANTAGES, BECAUSE IT WAS WHERE WE SPENT MOST OF OUR YEAR. THERE WERE SO MANY OF US, RULED BY SIMILAR CIRCUMSTANCES, WHO, LIKE THE CHARACTERS OF MAYBERRY, MADE THE MOST OUT OF HOMETOWN LIFE AND TIMES. THEY MAY HAVE OFFERED SOME VOCAL CRITIQUES OF "THIS PLACE," AND VIGOROUSLY POINTED OUT, WITH ARMS WAVING, WHAT IT DIDN'T POSSESS, THAT OTHER SIMILAR TOWNS DID; BUT ALL IN ALL, THERE WAS ACCEPTANCE, THAT GENERALLY SPEAKING, ALL WAS GOOD IN THE UNIVERSE.....AND BEING HOME WASN'T SUCH A BAD THING. LIKE THOSE MAYBERRY RESIDENTS, WHO PUT GOOD-NEIGHBOR EFFORT, OR SO THE SHOW SUGGESTS TO US, INTO MAKING LOCAL ATTRACTIONS COMPELLING AND WARMLY TRADITIONAL....LIKE WHEN ANDY, BARNEY, AND GOOBER, DECIDED TO RE-FORM THE MAYBERRY CITIZENS BAND....FOR THE ENTERTAINMENT OF THE COMMUNITY. HEART WARMING STUFF. OH YEA, IT WAS HOLLYWOOD. THINGS LIKE THIS DON'T HAPPEN IN REAL LIFE. WELL, IT WAS REMARKABLY SIMILAR TO GROWING UP IN BRACEBRIDGE AT THE SAME TIME. I LOVED IT! I WISH SOME OF THE OLD TRADITIONS HAD SURVIVED. AH, THOSE OLD NEIGHBORHOODS AND THE SHARING THAT WENT ON. HOW MANY RESIDENTS OF THESE SUBDIVISIONS OF TODAY, HAVE THE KIND OF NEIGHBOR TO NEIGHBOR RELATIONS LIKE WE USED TO KNOW.....SUCH THAT ASKING FOR A CUP OF SUGAR OR FLOUR IS NORMAL FARE. YOU'D BE SURPRISED, THAT EVEN IN A SMALL TOWN, MANY RESIDENTS, AT BEST, ARE ONLY SLIGHTLY FAMILIAR WITH THEIR NEIGHBORS. NOW THAT IS SAD. WHAT MAKES A HOME TOWN STRONG, HAS TO DO WITH THE STRENGTHS OF GOOD NEIGHBORS. IT'S WHAT USED TO PULL US TOGETHER IN TIMES OF CRISIS. IT'S IN OUR COMMUNITY CHRONICLE.
     THERE WAS ONE PARTICULAR SCENE, FROM THE SHOW, THAT HAS STUCK WITH ME FOR DECADES. IT WAS A SEGMENT THAT FOCUSED ON SUNDAY "AFTER CHURCH," AND A SKETCH FOLLOWING LUNCH; THE SCENE BEING SET ON THE OPEN VERANDAH, WHERE ALL HAD GATHERED TO RELAX, SHARE CASUAL CONVERSATION,  AND MEET AND GREET CITIZENS WHO HAPPENED TO PASS BY. IT WAS THEN THAT CONVERSATION ROLLED AROUND TO A PLAN TO RE-FORM THE CITIZENS' BAND, AND THAT'S HOW THE REST OF THE SHOW WAS DEDICATED. IF THERE'S IS ANYTHING I MISS, ABOUT OUR SMALL TOWN LIFE, IN THIS BUDDING NEW CENTURY, IT'S THE FACT THIS IS SELDOM PRACTICED IN THE MODERN TRADITION OF SOCIAL INTERACTION. I CAN REMEMBER WALKING HOME FROM DOWNTOWN, IN BRACEBRIDGE, UP HUNT'S HILL, AND TURNING LEFT ONTO FRONT STREET, (EVENTUALLY TO ALICE STREET), AND TALKING TO A HALF DOZEN RESIDENTS, SITTING IN THE COOL SHADE OF THEIR FRONT PORCHES. AT NIGHTS, IT WAS LIKE A SCENE OUT OF "TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD," WHERE THE LAWYER'S FAMILY SITS OUT ON THE ELEVATED FRONT PORCH, LATE INTO THE SUMMER NIGHT, TALKING TO PASSERSBY. WHAT HAPPENED? WHY DID THIS CHANGE. THERE ARE STIL PORCHES AND BIG VERANDAHS ON MANY HOUSES. THEY JUST AREN'T USED ALL THAT MUCH. I GUESS THE BACKYARDS ARE THE RECREATIONAL ALTERNATIVES, OR THE RECREATION ROOMS, WHERE THE ENTERTAINMENT UNITS AND VIDEO GAMES ARE SITUATED. OF COURSE, I ALSO FEEL THE SAME VOID, WHEN I CAN'T HEAR THE LOCAL KIDS LAUGHING, OR SEE THEM RUNNING THROUGH THE WOODLANDS ACROSS THE ROAD. THERE'S SOMETHING AMAZINGLY SPIRITED, HEARING YOUNG PEOPLE HAVING A GOOD TIME. I LIKE LISTENING TO THE SING-SONG OF BIRDS IN THE LILACS, THE CHATTER OF THE SQUIRRELS, IN THE OVERHEAD BRANCHES, THE RUSTLE OF THE WIND THROUGH THE PINES, AND CHILDREN LAUGHING AT PLAY. IN OUR NEIGHBORHOOD TODAY, EVEN THOUGH THERE ARE MORE CHILDREN THAN I REMEMBER, DATING BACK MORE THAN TWENTY YEARS, YOU SELDOM HEAR THEM PLAYING OUTSIDE. JUST AS YOU ARE UNLIKELY TO FIND TOO MANY OF OUR RESIDENTS OUT ON THEIR PORCHES SOCIALIZING. SUZANNE AND I WILL HAVE OUR DINNERS OUT ON THE PORCH, AND I'VE BEEN KNOWN TO SLEEP THERE, ON PERFECT SUMMER NIGHTS, WHEN THE CRICKETS WILL SERENADE ME INTO A PLEASANT SLUMBER. THESE, APPARENTLY, ARE OLD TIME VALUES, AND TRADITIONS I SUPPOSE. BUT METHINKS THE TIME IS COMING, WHEN EXPENSES FOR TRAVEL, AND RISING COSTS FOR JUST ABOUT EVERYTHING ELSE, WILL EVENTUALLY KEEP US A LITTLE CLOSER TO HOME....SORT OF LIKE THE STAY-CATION TREND, WHERE HOLIDAY MONEY IS INVESTED IN OUR PERMANENT RESIDENCE, AND SURROUNDING AREA. NOW, THAT'S GOOD FOR EVERYONE....AT LEAST FOR THE SO CALLED "LOCALS".

HOME ECONOMICS AND THOSE FAMILY RELICS OF ONCE, IN VOGUE AGAIN

     I married a Home Economics teacher. In the eighties, the board of education changed the program name, to "Family Studies." I don't know why, but I preferred Home Economics because, by golly, that's what it was.....the examination and study of "home economy." For some reason, this title seemed antiquated to administrators. Now, funny thing, it's home economics where we are most woefully inadequate, as far as education, for soon-to-be graduates; who by the way, may have a hard time baking a cake, let alone making a substantial meal; the type that doesn't come prepared for the microwave. When I was in high school, back in the late 1960's, the Home Economics office, was where we went, if we tore the seat out of our pants, or ripped the arm of a shirt; if a teacher suspected a student hadn't had breakfast, or a meal the night before; if there was a need for motherly tenderness, a lot of students felt the comfort of home economics teachers, who seemed, back then, to be the most diversified and responsive department in the thousand-student high school in Bracebridge. Suzanne, who went to school at the same time, as I did, benefitted from the program as a student, and then had a chance to work with some of the veteran home economics teachers, after graduating from Teacher's College. Through the transition into Family Studies, which was a watered down version of the original department, in my opinion, Suzanne, regardless of new protocols, conducted her work in the same fashion, as she had learned in the old tradition of home economics. So she became the house-mother to a lot of students in her thirty-one years, some who still visit our shop, to catch up on school news. "Hello Mrs. Currie," comes the greeting, and I don't even need to look, to see who is at the counter. I recognize their voices from so many other encounters, and meetings, from the aisles of grocery stores, to shopping adventures along our main streets, here in South Muskoka. I love it, and I know she still connects the same way, as she always did with the kids. It's makes her feel good, when she gets a chance to meet up with that old gang. But she taught differently than she was supposed to, by board rule. She was a Home Economics teacher to the end, and helped a huge whack of kids, learn how to run a household, from basic cooking to sewing, and budget their money by sensible proportion.
     Well, that's exactly what our business is turning out to be. After all those years in teaching, Suzanne is transforming her shop into a home economics haven, where the old ways, are still out there in plain view, and in practical use....from cook books and cookery nostalgia, to sewing collectables, and loads of material....and honestly, there are times, when I look in on her, and it seems like those occasions, when I'd drop in, at the Bracebridge High School, and see her working at one of the classroom sewing machines, with a student. Now she has her sewing machine set up behind the sales counter, and slowly, the whole room is evolving into a vintage craft emporium; something by the way, she has been hoping to re-create in the millinery tradition, since we began in the antique business, back in the late 1980's. The model she uses, beyond the practical aspects taken from the home economics classrooms, comes from the historic "Ned Hay General Store," now situated at Muskoka Pioneer Village, in Huntsville. Suzanne would study that refurbished and re-stocked store to the smallest detail, whenever we visited, in order to devise a plan, at how to recreate it for herself, as an antique shop; attainable when she reached retirement age. By golly, that has taken a lot of years, but as she is a patient person, and a methodical, calculating collector, I think she's going to achieve her goal before the year is out. And so far, our customers have decided it's a good way to go; and for crafters in particular, who appreciate re-cycled lace and buttons, we're finally appealing to their hobby interests. So far we've been selling bits and pieces of sewing related nostalgia almost daily. Finally, an antique business, Suzanne can truly enjoy by total immersion. Selling furniture, china, glass and silver isn't all we do as antique dealers. It's what is expected of us generally, but then we've never been stalwart supporters of protocols we didn't write ourselves.
     World crisis, whether economic in nature, political, or, unfortunately, the turmoil that involves military conflict, does very much influence the antique and collectable business. Often it is a retrospective change, versus having an immediate impact. At present, especially with some economic stresses in the nation, we have seen an increased focus on frugality as a mainstay. So we brought our prices down, and we thusly, have to adjust how much we pay for our inventory. But we are focusing more on the legacy of home economy, in the tradition of what Suzanne used to teach; and we have found quite a few dealers around, who are trending the same way....showing inventories reflective of home values from the past, with considerable focus on kitchen nostalgia....and home crafting.  Many of our customers love their home life, and want to have inspiring, interactive decor, that makes them feel connected to the heritage they have enjoyed in their lives; memories of those old time kitchens, and sewing rooms, at the homes of grandparents, aunts and uncles, and their own parents. So when they reference stay-cations, quite a few people we know, are making their homes the kind of inspiring, rejuvenating, oasis experiences, such that it's never, ever, a disadvantage staying home for a change. I kind of like this shift of trends. A time, once again, when the market place, is keenly interested in what knitters are crafting; what is being sewn....., cut, spun, woven, dyed or sculpted; customers being quite please that an antique shop like ours, would be willing to offer these home crafts for sale. In reality, the honor is all ours. These hand made articles are tomorrow's antiques and collectables.....and tomorrow has arrived now. Forgive me for this "Mayberry" moment. It's just the way I feel. Home values have been slipping. So it's nice to see so many folks returning to the way it was....and putting the "home" feeling back in the place where we hang our hats.
     I've got quite a bit more to write on this subject, along the familiar them, "what's old is new again."