Christmas in Muskoka 2016 Hometown Charity

LEARNING FROM THE PAST - WHERE DID OUR HOMETOWN CHARITY COME FROM?

SHARING THE GOOD HARVEST BETWEEN NEIGHBORS

     THERE'S AN EARLY MUSOKA FOLK STORY ABOUT THE SHOOTING OF A LARGE MOOSE OUT OF SEASON, ACCORDING TO WILD GAME REGULATIONS, OF THE TIME, AND IT DETAILS HOW MANY PEOPLE BENEFITTED FROM THE OFFENSE. ONE OF THOSE WHO HAD A SUBSTANTIAL ROAST, FROM THE HUNT, WAS A WELL KNOWN PREACHER, AND SEVERAL LOCAL FOLKS WHO KNEW IT HAD BEEN ILL-GOTTEN. IT HAD BEEN IDENTIFIED AS ONE OF THE LARGEST OF THE CREATURES, EVER SEEN IN THE MUSKOKA WOODS. MANY MEALS WERE ENJOYED FROM THAT ILLEGAL BUT HAPPENSTANCE MOOSE HUNT. THE ONLY REDEEMING ASPECT OF THE STORY, BECAUSE I'M CERTAINLY NOT CONDONING HUNTING OUT OF SEASON, IS THAT SO MANY OTHERS BENEFITTED WHO NEEDED IT. THE SHARING OF BOUNTY AMONGST EARLY HOMESTEADERS WAS REGULARLY PRACTICED, WHETHER IT WAS A QUANTITY OF FISH TO SHARE, MEAT FROM GAME OR THE KILL OF LIVESTOCK, OR JUST THE HARVEST FROM THE FIELDS AND THE PRESERVES, MADE IN THE HOMESTEAD KITCHEN. IN SOME WAYS, IT WAS EASIER THEN, TO IDENTIFY THOSE WHO WERE DISADVANTAGED AND SUFFERING FROM LACK OF PROVISIONS. MUSKOKA WAS A SHARING PLACE, NO DOUBT ABOUT IT. WE STILL ARE. BUT IT'S A LOT EASIER TO BE INVISIBLE IF THIS IS WHAT A RESIDENT CHOOSES. THIS WAS A PROBLEM SUZANNE AND I SAW UP CLOSE, YET STILL MISSED BY A COUNTRY MILE. WE HAD A CHANCE TO MAKE A DIFFERENCE. WE WERE TOO BUSY WITH OUR OWN PROBLEMS AT THE TIME, TO PAY ATTENTION TO ANY ONE ELSE. I HATE RETROSPECTIVES LIKE THIS. WE KNOW ALL ABOUT PIONEER CHARITY, AS HISTORIANS, BUT WE MISSED ALL THE SIGNS OF NEED..... SIMPLY BECAUSE WE WEREN'T LOOKING FOR THEM.

     I KNEW A DEAR, SOULFUL ELDERLY WOMAN, QUITE A FEW YEARS AGO, WHO BELONGED TO ONE OF MUSKOKA'S WELL KNOWN RESORT FAMILIES, THAT DATED WELL BACK INTO THE TOURISM HISTORY OF OUR LAKELAND COMMUNITY. THEY OWNED A LARGE TOURIST RESORT ON LAKE ROSSEAU, WHERE STEAMSHIPS STOPPED REGULARLY WITH CITY GUESTS AND SUPPLIES....IN ITS MULIT-DECADE HEYDAY. IT IS WELL DOCUMENTED IN LOCAL HISTORIES, AND IS A NAME THAT HAS SURVIVED TO THE PRESENT, OUT OF HIGH REGARD FOR THE FAMILY THAT OPERATED IT. I WON'T GIVE HER NAME, EVEN THOUGH SHE IS NOW DECEASED, BECAUSE SHE WOULD BE MAD AT ME IF I DID.....AND I'M PRETTY SURE SHE COULD GIVE ME A WHACK ON THE BACK OF THE HEAD, REACHING DOWN FROM THE GREAT BEYOND TO DO SO! SHE AND I HAD MANY HISTORY-CHATS, WHEN WE HAD OUR PREVIOUS ANTIQUE SHOP IN BRACEBRIDGE. SHE PROVIDED ME WITH HISTORICAL INFORMATION THAT NO OTHER AUTHOR HAS UNCOVERED, ABOUT THOSE EARLY RESORT YEARS, AND THE NEIGHBORLINESS OF PROPRIETORS AND MEMBERS OF THE COMMUNITIES, WHERE THEY LIVED AND WORKED. SHE WOULDN'T LET ME TAKE NOTES. WHAT SHE WANTED ME TO DO WAS SIMPLE. PAY ATTENTION. ASK QUESTIONS, BUT IT WAS IMPORTANT THAT IT WAS KEPT CASUAL, AS SHE HAD BEEN MISQUOTED BY OTHER HISTORIANS, WHO I WON'T MENTION; FEELING DISPLEASED WITH HOW HER COMMENTS WERE TAKEN OUT OF CONTEXT. IF SHE SUSPECTED I WAS WRITING SOMETHING, BELOW THE COUNTER, SHE WOULD STOP AND LOOK OVER THE EDGE, WHERE I HAD A LITTLE SHELF, PERFECT FOR CONCEALING A NOTEPAD. SHE WAS ELDERLY, AND WHAT I WAS BEING TOLD, COULD HAVE MADE THE GUTS OF A GOOD BOOK ABOUT RUNNING A MUSKOKA RESORT IN THE LATE 1800'S. BUT IT WAS SO IMPORTANT TO HEAR THESE STORIES, THAT I DECIDED TO MAKE NOTES FOR MY OWN GOOD, AFTER SHE HAD LEFT THE SHOP. THEN, SOMEHOW I LOST THEM, IN THE MOVE WE MADE BACK TO GRAVENHURST. BUT THIS ISN'T ABOUT RESORT HISTORY IN PARTICULAR. IT'S WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO OUR REGION VIA MODERNIZATION AND PROGRESS. MOSTLY, THE DE-CENTRALIZATION OF THE BUSINESS COMMUNITY, AS SHE WOULD HAVE KNOWN IT, IN THE SO CALLED, GOOD-OLD-DAYS.

     FOR AT LEAST THREE YEARS, WE'D ENGAGE IN THIS CASUAL COUNTER-TALK, ABOUT MUSKOKA HISTORY, AND HER FAMILY CHRONICLE. SHE KNEW MY WORK IN THE FIELD OF LOCAL HISTORY, AND SHE WOULD OFTEN COME IN TO MAKE COMMENT, ON THAT WEEK'S "MUSKOKA SKETCHES" COLUMN, I USED TO WRITE FOR THE WEEKLY NEWSPAPER, "THE MUSKOKA ADVANCE." I LIKED TO TALK WITH HER, AND SHE WAS ALSO VERY CONTEMPORARY, AND COULD DISCUSS CURRENT EVENTS, POLITICS AND PROBLEMS OF THE ECONOMY. TOWARD THE END OF OUR IN-STORE RELATIONSHIP, SHE WAS STARTING TO DRIFT IN CONVERSATION, AND THE TALK BECAME MORE INTIMATE ABOUT FAMILY RELATIONS, AND HER LIFE GROWING UP IN A RESORT ENVIRONMENT.....SO REMOVED FROM THE PRESENT, IT SEEMED AS IF SHE WAS RELIVING THE PAST IN A VERY VIVID DREAM-SCAPE, RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. IT WAS AS IF I BECAME ONE OF THE FAMILIAR HOTEL GUESTS, AND WE WERE BOTH BACK AT THE RESORT, LOOKING THR0UGH A WINDOW ONTO THE LAKE. HER CLARITY WAS AS SHARP AS EVER, BUT IT WAS EVIDENT THE LONGER WE CHATTED, SHE WAS RETREATING FURTHER THAN BEFORE; AND REALITY WAS BECOMING MORE DELUDED EACH WEEK WHEN SHE'D COME FOR A VISIT. ALL OF US CURRIES, INCLUDING THE BOYS, LIKED HER VERY MUCH, BECAUSE SHE TALKED WITH SUCH ENTHUSIASM AND AFFECTION, AND WAS VERY GENEROUS.....OFTEN GIVING SUZANNE REMNANTS OF OLD LACE WORK, AND EVEN DOLLS SHE HAD AS A CHILD.

     THE POINT OF THIS SHORT EDITORIAL, IS THE FACT, THIS WOMAN, LIVING IN BRACEBRIDGE, HAD WALKED TO THE GROCERY STORE EVERY DAY FOR HER FOOD NEEDS. SHE CHOSE HER APARTMENT, BASED ON ITS CLOSE PROXIMITY TO ONE OF THE MAJOR FOOD STORES. WHEN IT CLOSED, GETTING THE SAME PROVISIONS, REQUIRED HER WALKING DOWN AND BACK UP THE LONG AND STEEP MONCK HILL, TO THE PLAZA WHERE THERE WERE TWO FOOD STORES. THE CLOSING OF THE A&P STORE ON MANITOBA STREET, MEANT SUBSTANTIAL HARDSHIP FOR HER, AND BEING EXTREMELY PROUD AND INDEPENDENT, SHE ALSO REFUSED HELP. WHAT WE FOUND OUT MUCH LATER, UNFORTUNATELY, WAS THAT A CONTRIBUTOR TO HER INCREASING DEMENTIA, WAS THE FACT SHE WAS STARVING TO DEATH IN FRONT OF OUR EYES. SHE WAS SHOPPING INSTEAD, AT A NEIGHBORHOOD CONVENIENCE STORE, AND IT WAS EXHAUSTING HER MONTHLY INCOME. EVEN THOUGH HER FAMILY HAD OWNED A MAJOR LAKE ROSSEAU RESORT, SHE WASN'T LEFT WITH A HUGE QUANTITY OF CASH TO LIVE ON MONTHLY. HERE WAS THIS CHARMING LADY, VISITING WITH US SEVERAL TIMES EACH WEEK, WHO WAS MALNOURISHED TO THE POINT OF DELUSION, AND WE JUST WROTE IT OFF TO HER AGE. TO THAT POINT HOWEVER, SHE HAD BEEN OUT AND ABOUT, EVEN IN THE MOST ADVERSE WEATHER CONDITIONS. SHE WASN'T FIT TO COVER THE DISTANCE OF THE MONCK HILLSIDE, AND DIDN'T HAVE A LOT OF MONEY TO PAY FOR CABS. ONE UNFORTUNATE CIRCUMSTANCE LED TO ANOTHER, AND THEN SHE BECAME SO WEAK AND DELUDED, SHE WAS FINALLY TAKEN TO HOSPITAL FOR TREATMENT. WHEN HER NEPHEW CAME IN TO TALK WITH US, ABOUT HIS AUNT, SUZANNE AND I BOTH STOOD THERE WITH MOUTHS WIDE OPEN, COMPLETELY STUNNED BY THE CLEAR REALITY, WE HAD BEEN A WITNESS TO A SOCIAL / WELFARE INJUSTICE, AND DID NOTHING TO HELP HER....OTHER THAN ENGAGE IN CONVERSATION. WE DON'T FEEL MUCH CONSOLATION THAT SHE DIDN'T TELL US OF HER SITUATION....BECAUSE FRIENDS ARE SUPPOSED TO BE AWARE OF THINGS LIKE THIS. I FELT REALLY BAD SAYING, "WE DIDN'T KNOW," AND "SHE NEVER SAID A THING." EVEN WORSE THAN THIS, WAS THE FACT WE HADN'T NOTIFIED ANYONE, OR GONE TO CHECK HER APARTMENT, WHEN WE HADN'T SEEN HER FOR THREE WEEKS. THAT WAS OUR FAULT. AND THAT'S WHAT HAPPENED IN A SMALL MUSKOKA TOWN, WHEN WE WEREN'T PAYING ATTENTION.

    WHAT WAS PROGRESS TO SOME IN TOWN, BECAME A DISADVANTAGE TO OTHERS. IT'S NOT UNTIL YOU PUT A FACE ON "OTHERS" AND REALIZE WHAT YOU'VE BEEN MISSING ABOUT THE BIG PICTURE, WAS ALL WITHIN ARM'S LENGTH. IN RETROSPECT, WE WOULD HAVE GLADLY DRIVEN HER TO GET GROCERIES, OR PICKED-UP SUPPLIES FOR HER, IF ONLY WE HAD KNOWN. WELL FOLKS, AND I CAN'T HELP THAT THIS READS LIKE I'M PREACHING, THERE ARE LOTS OF SIMILAR SITUATIONS OUT THERE, THAT WE SHOULD REACT TO, AND RECTIFY BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE. OUR FRIEND WAS HOSPITALIZED FOR A LENGTHY PERIOD, AND WAS LATER ADMITTED TO A NURSING HOME. DID IT ALL COME DOWN TO THE MOVING OF A GROCERY STORE? NO, IT WAS THE RESULT OF US NOT RECOGNIZING THE SIGNS OF DISTRESS, WE SHOULD HAVE IDENTIFIED SOONER. I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE THAT IT TOOK US THREE WEEKS TO SERIOUSLY WONDER WHAT HAD HAPPENED TO HER. WHAT KIND OF FRIENDS ARE WE? BUT YOU KNOW, IT CAN HAPPEN THAT EASILY. WE WERE MORE CONCERNED ABOUT THE WELFARE OF OUR OWN BUSINESS, AND FAMILY, TO PAY ATTENTION TO THE WELFARE OF A GOOD AND REGULAR CUSTOMER....WHO HAD BEEN SO KIND TO US OVER OUR YEARS OF FRIENDSHIP. I NEVER GOT A CHANGE TO APOLOGIZE TO HER. OFFERING IT TO HER NEPHEW WAS EMBARRASSING, BECAUSE IT WAS THE ADMISSION OF OUR OWN GUILT OF INHUMANITY. IF THIS WAS AN ISOLATED CASE...., THEN WE'D BE A MUCH MORE HUMANE SOCIETY; BUT TRUTH IS, THERE ARE HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS, IN OUR COUNTRY, WHO ARE IN THE SAME DIRE STRAITS, GOING UNDETECTED IN THE HUSTLE AND BUSTLE OF A SPINNING WORLD.

     THERE IS A GENERAL ASSUMPTION, THERE ARE POOR AND DESTITUTE LIVING IN OUR COMMUNITY. WE ALL BELIEVE THAT THEIR COMMON WELFARE IS BEING LOOKED AFTER, BY SOCIAL SERVICES, AND THEIR FOOD NEEDS BEING PROVIDED BY THE FOOD BANK. BUT HERE'S THE HITCH. SO VERY MANY OF THESE PEOPLE, ESPECIALLY SENIOR CITIZENS, ARE TOO EMBARRASSED TO ASK FOR ASSISTANCE; TOO PROUD TO ADMIT THEY CAN'T MAKE ENDS MEET. THEY'RE NOT ON THE RADAR. THEY ARE THE ONES WHO HAVE FALLEN THROUGH THE CRACKS. THEY ARE THE INVISIBLE POOR, WHO CAN BE FORGOTTEN JUST LIKE OUR FRIEND.....AND OF COURSE, WE SHOULD FEEL SOME SENSE OF RESPONSIBILITY. IF ONLY TO IDENTIFY THESE PROBLEMS, AND HELP INITIATE SOLUTIONS....BY MAKING A CALL TO THOSE WHO CAN BRING IMMEDIATE RELIEF. THIS IS WHEN GOOD NEIGHBORS COME THROUGH FOR THOSE DOWN ON THEIR LUCK, OR DISADVANTAGED BY PHYSICAL ISSUES.....WHO CAN'T HELP THEMSELVES.

     THIS CHRISTMAS SEASON, PLEASE CONSIDER MAKING A DONATION TO A LOCAL FOOD BANK; THE MANNA FOOD BANK IN BRACEBRIDGE, AND THE SALVATION ARMY FOOD BANK IN GRAVENHURST....OR A FOOD BANK IN YOUR OWN HOMETOWN. IF YOU KNOW OF SOMEONE WHO HAS BEEN EXPERIENCING SOME HEALTH AND FINANCIAL PROBLEMS, MAYBE YOU COULD FIND IT IN YOUR HEART, TO LOOK IN ON THEM NOW AND AGAIN. A CHRISTMAS GREETING FOR SOMEONE SUFFERING FROM LONELINESS, IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN YOU MIGHT THINK...WHEN THERE IS NO OTHER ACKNOWLEDGEMENT, FAMILY OR FRIENDS TO VISIT. THIS MULTI PART SERIES, ON SALVATION ARMY MISSIONARY / ARTIST, ADA FLORENCE KINTON, IS DEDICATED TO THE WORK OF THESE FOOD BANK VOLUNTEERS, WHO MAKE IT THEIR BUSINESS TO HELP THE LESS FORTUNATE.....HAVE A MERRY CHRISTMAS. HER JOURNAL CONTINUES TO INSPIRE ME, AND I'M A TOUGH NUT TO CRACK.

     WHAT A BEAUTIFUL EARLY WINTER DAY IT IS, HERE IN SOUTH MUSKOKA; THIS MOMENT, OUR REGION BEING SO GENTLY IMPRESSED WITH LIGHT SNOW FLURRIES WITH LOTS OF FOLKS HIKING UP AND DOWN THE STREET.....IN THE FESTIVE ESSENCE OF A ROCKWELL PAINTING; THE OLD HOMETOWN LOOKING SO HISTORIC AND NOSTALGIC TODAY, ON THE CUSP OF CHRISTMAS.

Christmas in Muskoka 2016 Tree Decorating

IT'S TREE DECORATING NIGHT AND INSTEAD OF TWELVE DISAGREEMENTS, IN KEEPING WITH THE TWELVE DAYS OF CHRISTMAS, WE'VE ONLY HAD FOUR

BUT WE HAVEN'T STARTED DECORATING YET EITHER; OUR SAVING GRACE, THE PLASTIC TREE WITH LIGHTS WIRED ON!

     IT'S REALLY PATHETIC, GOSH DARN-IT, WHEN GETTING INTO ARGUMENTS ABOUT THE PLACEMENT AND DECORATING OF THE CHRISTMAS TREE BECOMES A HOLIDAY TRADITION. I DON'T KNOW IF MY MOTHER AND FATHER, HAD SIMILAR SITUATIONS IN THEIR FAMILY HOMES, AS YOUNGSTERS, BUT IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN A TRADITION IN OURS. I REMEMBER ONE YEAR, MY MOTHER PURCHASED EXPENSIVE GLASS CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS, CIRCA 1962, FROM EATONS IN TORONTO. THEY'D BE WORTH A FORTUNE TODAY, AS VINTAGE CHRISTMAS ORNAMENTS CAN FETCH A KING'S RANSOM. EVEN BEFORE THE FIRST FULL DAY, THE NATURAL TREE THEY BOTH INSISTED ON HAVING, FELL TWICE, BREAKING AT LEAST FOUR OF THE TWELVE SHE HAD PURCHASED. SHE WAS FURIOUS, BUT MY DAD, AS THE TREE PLACEMENT ENGINEER, THOUGHT IT WAS UNNECESSARY TO TIE THE TOP OF THE TREE TO A CURTAIN ROD, OR HOOK ON THE CEILING, TO PREVENT IT TOPPLING OVER. THE ORNAMENTS LASTED ABOUT THREE CHRISTMASES, BEFORE THEY WERE ALL GONE, MERLE REFUSING TO BUY ANY NEW ONES, CITING ANNUALLY, EVERY TIME THE MATTER CAME UP FOR DISCUSSION, THAT MY FATHER HAD NO IDEA HOW TO ERECT A CHRISTMAS TREE; SO THEREFORE, ALL DECORATIONS HAD TO BE NEW-AGE PLASTIC, THAT COULD BOUNCE OFF THE FLOOR WHEN THE TREE FELL.

     OUR FAMILY LIFE DURING THE HOLIDAYS, WAS A LOT LIKE THE MOVIE "CHRISTMAS STORY," EXCEPT FOR THE FACT WE WERE A FAMILY OF THREE, NOT FOUR, LIVED IN AN APARTMENT, NOT A HOUSE, AND HAD A CAR WITH FOUR GOOD TIRES; BUT OURS STALLED EVERY FIVE OR SIX MILES, STRANDING US AT ROADSIDE. MERLE ALWAYS HAD A BLANKET TO KEEP US FROM FREEZING TO DEATH. THE TRIP ON A WEEKNIGHT, TO THE CHRISTMAS TREE LOT, WHICH WAS BLOCKED OFF BY SUSPENDED LIGHTBULBS OVERHEAD, WAS INSIDE FIVE MILES, SO WE WERE AT LEAST CLOSER TO HOME WHEN THE ENGINE KONKED OUT. USUALLY, IF WE SAT FOR TWENTY MINUTES, AND MY FATHER CURSED LOUD ENOUGH TO CREATE A POSITIVE CHARGE, THE ENGINE WOULD EVENTUALLY TURN OVER, AND WE'D BE ON OUR WAY.

    AT THE TREE LOT, MY FATHER ALSO THOUGHT HIMSELF AN EXPERT IN THE SELECTION PROCESS. KEEPING IN MIND, THAT WE ONLY EVER SHOPPED AT NIGHT, AND THE LIGHT BULBS DIDN'T HELP MUCH FOR VISIBILITY. MY FATHER WASN'T FRUGAL WHEN IT CAME TO BUYING A CASE OF BEER, OR OTHER ALCOHOL FOR THE HOLIDAYS, BUT WHEN IT CAME TO PURCHASING A SUITABLE TREE FOR THE LIVING ROOM, ED WAS SO CHEAP, AS THEY SAY, HE SQUEAKED. HE WOULD FIND THE "CHARLIE BROWN TREE," WITHOUT BRANCHES ON ONE SIDE, AND DECLARE, "HEY, IT'S GOING AGAINST THE WALL ANYWAY. WHO CARES IF IT DOESN'T HAVE ANY BRANCHES BACK THERE." THERE WAS ALWAYS SOMETHING WRONG WITH HIS ATTITUDE, IN MY RETROSPECTIVE, AND MY MOTHER STALWARTLY REFUSED DOZENS OF TREES, BECAUSE SHE CLAIMED THEY WERE MISSHAPEN. THE OTHER ALL-IMPORTANT ASPECT, FOR MY MOTHER, WAS IF THE TREE WAS LOSING NEEDLES ON THE LOT. SHE WOULD INSIST THAT ED BOUNCE THE TREE UP AND DOWN ON THE GROUND, SO SHE COULD INSPECT THE FALLEN DEBRIS WREATHING IN THE SNOW BELOW. SHE CLAIMED RIGHTLY OR WITHOUT BASIS, THAT ONE SUCH SHEDDING TREE, HAD KILLED HER EXPENSIVE VACUUM YEARS PREVIOUS, AND SHE WASN'T GOING TO TAKE A CHANCE BREAKING ANOTHER. ED HATED, BACK IN THOSE YEAR, PAYING ANY MORE THAN FIVE BUCKS FOR A TREE, BUT I KNOW HE WOULD GO AS HIGH AS SEVEN DOLLARS AND FIFTY CENTS. THE AVERAGE EVEN THEN, WAS FIFTEEN TO TWENTY FOR A NICE TALL SCOTCH PINE. ED LIKE SPRUCE, MERLE WANTED SCOTCH PINE. MERLE GOT HER WAY EVERY YEAR, ONCE I WAS ABOUT SEVEN OR SO. NEVER ANOTHER SPARTAN SPRUCE. WELL THAT'S NOT ENTIRELY TRUE, IF YOU WERE TO COUNT THE ARTIFICIAL TREE THAT WAS A "FOREST SPRUCE" MODEL.

     WHEN WE GOT HOME WITH THE REAL TREE, ED BECAME A HAPPENSTANCE WOODSMAN. HE WAS NOT A HANDYMAN. NOT EVEN A QUARTER OF A HANDYMAN, AND HE OFTEN HURT HIMSELF, IN THE MOST BASIC OPERATION OF A SCREWDRIVER, OR PLIERS. A SAW? HE'D CUT HIMSELF EVERY SINGLE YEAR. HE LOOKED LIKE A ROUGH HEWN CANADIAN LOGGER. WE ONLY OWNED ONE SMALL SAW, A PAIR OF PLIERS AND ONE SCREWDRIVER, WHICH WERE ALL UTILIZED DURING A CHRISTMAS TREE RAISING EVENT. THE TREE-STAND WAS EVIL, ACCORDING TO ED. IT NEVER FIT PROPERLY, AND THE SCREWS ALWAYS MISSED THE MEAT OF THE TRUNK, AND THAT MADE THE WHOLE OUTFIT WONKY FROM THE GET-GO. I DON'T THINK, THAT IN MY YOUTH, WE EVER HAD A TREE THAT ACTUALLY STOOD STRAIGHT. IT ALWAYS HAD AN ANGLE TO IT, FORCING MY DAD, TO TRY AND FIX THIS BY TURNING IT TO DISGUISE THE FACT IT WASN'T ANCHORED PROPERLY IN THE BASE. THIS OF COURSE, LED TO THE MANY TREE COLLAPSES, AND ORNAMENT CARNAGE. FINALLY MERLE INSISTED THAT THE TREE TOP BE CONNECTED BY STRING TO THE CURTAIN ROD, ABOVE ONE OF OUR WINDOWS, WHICH WAS SIGNIFICANT BECAUSE IT WASN'T IN THE BEST SPOT FOR VIEWING; AND IT BLOCKED-OUT DAYLIGHT DURING THE DAY. BUT AT LEAST IT DIDN'T FALL OVER, WHICH WAS NICE. THERE IS SOMETHING DISTURBING ABOUT COMING HOME FROM SCHOOL, AND SEEING YOUR CHRISTMAS TREE ON THE FLOOR, AS IF IT HAD SUFFERED A HEART ATTACK.

     DECORATING THE TREE WAS SHEER MADNESS, AND I WAS DISAPPOINTED EVERY SINGLE YEAR. MERLE WAS PERSNICKETY TO A SHARP POINT, ABOUT HOW THE CHRISTMAS TREE WAS DECORATED, AND TRIMMED WITH TINSEL. NO GARLANDS. WE HAD TO HAVE TINSEL, AND NOTHING ELSE WOULD DO. AND EVERY STRAND OF TINSEL HAD TO BE APPLIED PERFECTLY, TO HANG STRAIGHT DOWN, WITH ONLY A MINOR LOOP AT THE TOP OVER THE BRANCH. MERLE WOULD FREAK OUT ON ME, IF ANY STRAND HAPPENED TO BE SLIGHTLY SIDEWAYS, OR BUNCHED UP, AS HAPPENS WHEN FRICTION BUILDS UP. THEN THERE WERE THOSE HORRIBLE WORK-SOMETIMES TREE LIGHTS, AND YOU PROBABLY KNOW ALL ABOUT THOSE. I HAVE WATCHED MY POOR FATHER, STRUGGLE FOR HOURS AND HOURS, TO FIND THE BULBS THAT WERE CAUSING THE STRANDS OF LIGHTS TO FAIL. ONE BURNED-OUT OR LOOSE BULB, MEANT YOU HAD TO TEST EACH AND EVERY ONE, AND THERE WAS A GOOD CHANCE, HE'D HAVE TO TAKE A RUN TO THE BURLINGTON WOOLWORTHS TO GET REPLACEMENT BULBS. AND THEN, AFTER A COUPLE OF NIGHTS OF ILLUMINATION, ANOTHER BULB WOULD FAIL, AND THIS WAS ALWAYS HORRIFIC, BECAUSE IT WAS FAR MORE DIFFICULT TO FIX WHEN THE STRANDS WERE WRAPPED AROUND THE DECORATED TREE. MY DAD WAS A FORMER NAVAL GUNNER, HAVING SERVED IN THE LEGENDARY NORTH ATLANTIC SQUADRON, AND THE MAN KNEW HOW TO CUSS A BLUE STREAK, MUCH TO MY MOTHER'S CHAGRIN. BY TIME I WAS IN GRADE THREE, I KNEW ALL THE WORDS TO THREE OF HIS SAILOR-SONGS, AND NONE OF THEM WERE SUITABLE FOR THE SCHOOLYARD, OR SO MY TEACHER INFORMED ME. THE ONE ABOUT "HITLER HAVING ONLY ONE BALL," WASN'T ABOUT CHRISTMAS TREE DECORATING, BUT HE FOUND REASON TO SING IT NONE THE LESS. INSTEAD OF CHRISTMAS CAROLS BEING SUNG IN OUR HOUSE, THE AIR WAS BLUE WITH PROFANITIES AND CIGARETTE SMOKE. YUP, BOTH MY PARENTS SMOKED LIKE CHIMNEYS, AND I HAD SECOND-HAND SMOKER'S COUGH MOST OF MY CHILDHOOD. IF HE HAD THREE OR FOUR BEER, AND THE LIGHTS GAVE HIM A HARD TIME, IT'S ENTIRELY POSSIBLE, THE WHOLE TREE COULD GO FLYING OUT THE WINDOW. I DON'T REMEMBER HIM DOING THIS, BUT ALWAYS THREATENED TO TAKE EXTREME MEASURES TO ENJOY CHRISTMAS, AND THAT MAY HAVE BEEN WITHOUT A DECORATED TREE. MY FATHER WASN'T A PATIENT MAN. SO IT WAS GOING TO BE A GOOD START TO CHRISTMAS, WHEN HE WAS ABLE TO GET THE LIGHTS ON IN THE FIRST TWO HOURS, SO THAT MERLE COULD DO HER TRIMMING TO HER HEART'S CONTENT, WITH A FLASK OF EGGNOG. MERLE WASN'T PARTICULARLY CONCERNED WHETHER I HAD A CHANCE TO DECORATE PART OF THE TREE OR NOT; AS FAR AS SHE WAS CONCERNED, IT WASN'T MANDATORY FOR A PARENT TO EXTEND THIS COURTESY TO A CHILD. NOT LIKE SENDING A LUNCH TO SCHOOL, AND MAKING SURE I HAD CLEAN SOCKS AND UNDERWEAR EVERY MORNING. IT WAS A PROJECT SHE ENJOYED EVERY DECEMBER, AND IT DIDN'T REALLY BOTHER ME THAT I WASN'T ALLOWED TO PUT MORE THAN A FEW DECORATIONS ON THE OUTSTRETCHED BRANCHES. I WAS REALLY ONLY INTERESTED IN WHAT WOULD BE PLACED UNDER THESE SAME DECORATED BOUGHS, ON CHRISTMAS MORNING.

     THE YEAR BEFORE SUZANNE AND I MARRIED, I HAD A SMALL ARTIFICIAL TREE, THAT SOMEONE GAVE ME, WHICH WAS LIKELY BEING THROWN OUT; AND I HAD A DOZEN ORNAMENTS AND A CAT NAMED "ANIMAL" THAT USED TO LAY IN THE BRANCHES. A FRIEND CAME OVER, AFTER A RINK RAT HOCKEY GAME IN BRACEBRIDGE, ONE NIGHT, AND WHEN EXAMINING A PRE-CHRISTMAS GIFT I HAD BOUGHT MYSELF, WHICH WAS A REALLY NICE GRASSMERE OTTER CANOE PADDLE, MADE BY STEVE MAHON, IT SNAPPED WITH A LOUD REPORT, IN TWO EQUAL PIECES. SO HE STUCK THE TWO SECTIONS IN THE TREE, AND SEEING AS I COULDN'T USE THEM FOR PADDLING, I CONSIDERED THEM INSTEAD, CHIC, RUSTIC, MUSKOKA CHRISTMAS TREE DECORATIONS. WHEN SUZANNE AND I MARRIED, WE CARRIED ON THE CHRISTMAS TREE TRADITION, FIRST WITH REAL TREES, AND THEN ARTIFICIAL TREES WHEN THE BOYS WERE YOUNG, BECAUSE THEY WERE CHEAPER. THOSE WERE THE DAYS WHEN WE WERE ON A TIGHT BUDGET, AND WE FOUND A BARGAIN, WITH A COUPLE OF NICE SCOTCH PINE (PLASTIC) TREES, AT THE LOCAL THRIFT SHOP. ONE YEAR, I DECIDED TO DOUBLE-UP THE BRANCHES, AND FOUND A WAY TO INTERTWINE THE BRANCHES OF A SECOND TREE, INTO THE ONE WE LIKED BEST. IT LOOKED RIDICULOUS. AND YES, EVEN THOUGH WE WOULD ROPE THE ARRAY OF TREES, ARTIFICIAL AND REAL, ONTO CURTAIN RODS AND HOOKS IN THE WALL, IT WAS USUALLY THE CASE SOMETHING CATASTROPHIC WOULD OCCUR, SENDING THE TREE TOPPLING IN ALL DIRECTIONS EXCEPT BACK. THIS WAS USUALLY BECAUSE OF THE CATS, AND THE DOG CHASING THEM, THAT ORNAMENTS WOULD FLY OFF THE TREE, AND THE WEIGHT OF TWO CATS ON THE BRANCHES AT THE TOP, WOULD BE TOO MUCH WEIGHT FOR THE TETHER AT THE TOP. THE JOYS OF BEING PET OWNERS.

     SEVERAL YEARS AGO, AFTER SUZANNE CLAIMED THAT NEEDLES FROM A REAL TREE, HAD DESTROYED HER VACUUM, (HEARD THIS ONE BEFORE) WE BROKE DOWN, AND PURCHASED AN ARTIFICIAL TREE WITH LIGHTS ALREADY STRUNG AROUND IT. IT JUST FOLDS OUT, SNAPS TOGETHER AND YOU PLUG IT IN. A SIMPLE PLAN, AND BEST OF ALL, IT HAS A WIDE POD STAND, WHICH CAN STAND UP TO OUR CATS SLEEPING IN ITS BRANCHES. THE TREE THIS YEAR, IS OUR SECOND ONE PURCHASED WITH PRE-STRUNG LIGHTS, AND WE LIKED IT SO MUCH, IN FACT, WE'VE BEEN USING IT NIGHTLY YEAR ROUND, INSTEAD OF A FLOOR LAMP, AND AS A NIGHT LIGHT WHEN WE GO TO BED. THEY HAVE ENERGY EFFICIENT LIGHTS, AND BY GOLLY, I LIKE IT DECORATED TO SUIT THE SEASON. SO FOLKS, TONIGHT MARKS A CHANGE OF TRADITION FOR US, BECAUSE THE TREE DIDN'T HAVE TO BE ERECTED, OR THE LIGHTS CHECKED, REPAIRED, AND THEN STRUNG ON THE TREE. THEY WERE ALREADY THERE, AND THE TREE IS PERFECTLY STRAIGHT, FLOOR TO CEILING, AND THERE HASN'T BEEN MUCH IN THE WAY OF ARGUMENTS, SO FAR. JUST SOME MINOR DISPUTES ABOUT THE EXPECTATION I HAVE, FOR THE VOLUME OF DECORATIONS. I LIKE A FULL TREE, AND SUZANNE IS A MINIMALIST. ANDREW AND ROBERT WILL BE HOME LATER TONIGHT, AND THEY WILL BE ASKED TO PLACE THEIR SPECIAL DECORATIONS ON THE TREE, THAT SUZANNE HAS BOUGHT FOR THEM, EVERY CHRISTMAS SINCE THEY WERE TODDLERS. WE WILL BUMP INTO EACH OTHER FOR AN HOUR OR SO, TRYING TO NAVIGATE THE LIVINGROOM, ORNAMENTS IN HAND, AND BEFORE THE TREE IS FULLY DECORATED, THERE WILL BE EGGNOG SPILLED ON THE FLOOR, AND COOKIE CRUMBS ON THE RUG FOR THE CARS TO CLEAN UP. BUT I HAVE A FEELING THIS YEAR, THAT THERE WILL BE A LOT FEWER ARGUMENTS ABOUT TREE ANGLES, BEST-SIDES-OUT DISCUSSIONS, GARLANDS OR TINSEL (WE NO LONGER OWN TINSEL), AND WHETHER OR NOT THERE ARE AN ACCEPTABLE NUMBER OF ORNAMENTS ON DISPLAY. SUZANNE ONLY BROUGHT OUT ONE PLASTIC CONTAINER FULL OF BULBS AND STUFF, INCLUDING THE CRANBERRY GARLANDS, SO ONCE THE BOX IS EMPTY, WELL, MERRY CHRISTMAS. AT THE END OF THE NIGHT, AS PEACEFUL AS I EXPECT IT WILL BE, I WILL BE HAPPY TO REPORT, THAT NOT A SINGLE BOUGH WAS CUT OFF, OR SINGLE INCH LOPPED OFF THE TOP, IN ORDER THAT THE TREE FIT PERFECTLY BENEATH THE CEILING, AND STILL HOLD THE ILLUMINATED STAR.

     I LOVE THE CHRISTMAS SEASON. I HAVEN'T ALWAYS FELT THE SAME ABOUT THE TRADITIONAL RAISING OF THE FAMILY CHRISTMAS TREE, BECAUSE OF ALL THE CARNAGE I'VE LIVED THROUGH AS A CURRIE; WITH A HEAVY IRISH INFLUENCE, ESPECIALLY THE IMPATIENCE PART. SUZANNE, IN THE TIME I'VE TAKEN TO WRITE THESE FEW PARAGRAPHS, HAS ALREADY ADDED AN EXTRA STRAND OF CHRISTMAS LIGHTS, AND WRAPPED THE FAKE SCOTCH PINE WITH GOLD AND CRANBERRY COLORED BEADS, AND THERE HAS ONLY BEEN MINOR GRUMBLING ABOUT SOME ORNAMENTS MISSING FROM THE BOX, AND REPRIMANDS TO OUR CATS ANGUS AND ZAPPA, FOR TRYING TO MAKE THEIR NESTS IN THE UPPER BOUGHS. ANDREW AND ROBERT LOVE DECORATING THE TREE, BUT THEY'RE WORKING LATE TONIGHT IN THEIR RECORDING STUDIO. DECORATING THE CHRISTMAS TREE ISN'T THE PRIORITY IT USED TO BE, AND I DO MISS THAT. JUST NOT THE ARGUMENTS THAT ALWAYS BEGAN WITH, "HEY, WHO ARE YOU CALLING STUPID," AND ENDED WITH, "I'M OUT OF HERE!"

     IT IS NICE THOUGH, WHEN IT'S ALL TRIMMED UP AND SHIMMERING IN THE DARKNESS OF BIRCH HOLLOW. A COUPLE OF YEARS AGO, WHEN MY FATHER WAS IN THE FINAL DAYS OF HIS LIFE, JUST PRIOR TO CHRISTMAS, WE DIDN'T EVEN HAVE A TREE WITH ONLY A FEW DAYS LEFT BEFORE THE HOLIDAYS. I PICKED UP A TINY TABLE-TOP TREE, AT A LOCAL THRIFT SHOP, FOR A COUPLE OF BUCKS, AND WHILE IT LOOKED OKAY BEFORE WE PLUGGED IT IN, I COULDN'T BELIEVE MY MISFORTUNE, AT HAVING PURCHASED ONE WITH BLINKING LIGHTS. I CAN'T ABIDE BLINKING LIGHTS. THEY DISTRACT ME AND IT WAS POSITIONED BESIDE THE TELEVISION, FOR LACK OF A BETTER PLACE TO SET IT UP. IT WAS THE CHRISTMAS OF REGRETS THAT'S FOR SURE. NOT THIS YEAR. THE TREE HAS BEEN UP FOR AN ENTIRE YEAR, AND THERE HASN'T BEEN EVEN A SINGLE NEEDLE HIT THE FLOOR. THIS PLASTIC TREE ACTUALLY LOOKS PRETTY GOOD, AND THERE ARE NO BLINKING LIGHTS. BUT I CAN STILL HEAR THE VOICE OF MY FATHER, AS A HAUNTING ECHO, EXPLAINING TREE LOCATION ENGINEERING TO MY MOTHER, OVER SOME SPIKED EGGNOG, AND THEN BLAMING GOD WHEN THE TREE FELL OVER AND BROKE HER LAST FEW GLASS ORNAMENTS.

     I BET YOU HAVE SOME UNIQUE CHRISTMAS TREE STORIES YOURSELF. BETTER WRITE THEM DOWN, FOR YOUR FAMILY'S POSTERITY.

Christmas in Muskoka 2016 Injured Logger Part Two

THE STUFF OF LEGEND - CIRCA 1868 - OUR TRIP DOWN THE GEORGIAN BAY WITH AN INJURED LOGGER - PART TWO

     IN YESTERDAY'S BLOG, I OFFERED A SELECTION OF WORK, PUBLISHED IN BERT SHEA'S FIRST BOOK (OF TWO), "HISTORY OF THE SHEAS AND THE BIRCH OF A TOWNSHIP," DEALING WITH STORMY WINTER PASSAGE OF JOHN LILY SHEA AND PRESUMABLY WILLIAM SHEA, ROXBOROUGH BILL, WITH A LOGGER BY THE NAME OF GILES. MR. GILES HAD EXPERIENCED A BAD CUT ON HIS LEG, WITH AN AXE BLADE, AND HAD LOST A GREAT DEAL OF BLOOD BEFORE IT COULD BE TIED-OFF. JOHN LILY AND WILLIAM WERE HAULING THE SLEIGH WITH THE INJURED MR. GILES, DOWN FROM A GEORGIAN BAY LUMBER CAMP, AND IF IT HADN'T BEEN FOR THE MAP DRAWN BY A FIRST NATIONS TRAVELLER, ON SNOWSHOES, THERE IS A DISTINCT POSSIBILITY THE RESCUERS AND SLEIGH WOULD HAVE BROKEN THROUGH THIN ICE AND SURELY DROWNED. THE TRIP HAS BEEN SUCCESSFUL SO FAR, BUT THE WEATHER HAS BEEN ADVERSE, WITH SNOW AND TERRIBLE COLD. NOW WE RESUME THE STORY, WRITTEN AS A LENGTHY POEM.

     "WE WERE PUSHING ON IN SILENCE, THE SUN DRIFTING WEST; NEW PLACES IN THE SHORELINE SEEMED HIGHER THAN THE REST; AND IN THE SUNSET WE COULD SEE THE WOODS AND ROCKY SHORE, THIS SPOKE TO US OF COMFORTS WHEN HUNGER WOULD BE O'ER.

     "HOW WOULD IT BE SAYS WILLIAM TO CAMP ON YONDER SITE; 'OH NO,' SAYS ROXBOROUGH BILL; 'WE WILL FINISH THE DAY UP RIGHT;" 'BY SCISSORS,' SAYS JOHN LILY. 'YOU WILL HAVE US ALL ON YOUR SLEIGH;' SAYS ROXBOROUGH BILL, 'IF YOU WILL, YOU CAN FINISH UP THAT WAY.

     "SO WE TRAVELLED ON IN SILENCE BUILDING STRICTLY TO THE PLAN; FOR IT LOOKED THAT DISCUSSION COULD BRING MUTINY OF THE CLAN; THE SUN SANK IN SILENCE CASTING BEAUTY ON THE SHORE; WHICH WAS SLOWLY DRAWING NEARER BUT WE HAD A FEW MILES MORE.

     "BUT THE MOON CAME OUT IN SILENCE CASTING BEAUTY ON OUR NIGHT; AND IT CAST A GLORIOUS PICTURE IN THAT FEBRUARY NIGHT; IT SEEMED TO GIVE US COURAGE AS IF ANOTHER DAY; BUT WE WERE DESPERATE HUNGRY AND CHANGED OFTEN ON THE SLEIGH.

     "WE REALIZED THE STRAIN WE HAD TAKEN FOR THE CAUSE; WE WERE CROSSING PARRY SOUND AND ITS RUGGED YAWNING JAWS; AT THE TIME WE KNEW NOT THE GEOGRAPHIC WAY; NOR THE MILES WE HAD TRAVELLED ON THAT LONG IRKSOME DAY.

     "BUT NOW THE SHORE WAS COMING T'WAS EARLY IN THE NIGHT; IT DID NOT SEEM INVITING FROM ITS RUGGED ROCKY HEIGHT; AS OUR EYES PEERED THROUGH THE MOONLIGHT FOR THE SHELTER OF A COVE; AND AT LAST THERE SEEMED A PROMISE IN ITS DIRECTION, THERE WE STROVE.

     'SO WE DREW IN THE SLEIGH, BY THE HOLDER'S SIDE; OUR PASSENGER HE WAS WEARY FROM HIS LONG AND CHILLING RIDE; AND FROM DRIFTWOOD CARRIED IN BY GEORGIAN'S ROLLING MAIN; A CHEERY FIRE SOON WAS MADE AND WE WARMED HIM UP AGAIN.

     "SAYS GILES, 'I CANNOT GRUMBLE BUT I'LL BE GLAD WHEN THIS TRIP IS O'ER; AND MY SHANTY I HAVE ENTERED ON THREE MILE'S PLEASANT SHORE'; SAYS JOHN L. AS HE STUDIES THE MAP OF BARK HE BORE, 'BY THE CLOSE OF ANOTHER DAY, WE SHOULD REACH LAKE JOSEPH SHORE.

     "THEN THE AIR WAS LADEN BY ODOR OF BURNING PINE; AND TEA MADE IN THE WOODSMAN WAY THAT TASTES SO VERY FINE; THE SMELL OF BACON FRYING IN AN OPEN FRYING PAN; TWAS ALL THAT WE COULD ASK, TWAS LIFE FOR A HUNGRY MAN.

     "AND AS WE SAST AND CHATTED, AND FINISHED UP THE TEA, WE SPOKE ABOUT TOMORROW AND WHERE ABOUT WE WOULD BE; SAYS GILES. 'I HOPE WE CAN CAMP ON A PLEASANT WOODED SHORE, AND NOT AMONG THE BOULDERS WHERE THE WAVES OF AGES ROAR.'

     SAYS WILLIAM, 'GILES IS DOING FINE, NEXT HE WILL BE PULLING THE SLEIGH; IT'S THE BEST SIGN HE COULD GIVE TO HEAR HIM TALK THAT WAY; AND THEN MORE WOOD WE GATHERED OUR FIRE FOR TO KEEP, AND SAT UPON OUR SNOWSHOES THE FIRE AT OUR FEET.

     "WE TOOK THE TRAIL AT DAYLIGHT TO JOURNEY ALONG THE SHORE; IN SEARCH OF AN INLET THAT WAS SOMEWHERE JUST BEFORE; ERE MID-MORNING HAD FLOWN AS WE TRAVELLED OUR WAY; ROUNDING A ROCKY POINT THERE LAY THE HIDDEN BAY.

     "HEADING EAST, WE TURNED OUR BACKS, ON THE GEORGIAN BAY; WE KNEW WE WERE HEADING FOR SHELTER AND HOME BY ANOTHER DAY; THE VIRGIN FOREST BEFORE US, SMALL LAKES ON THE CHARTED LINE; AND WE FELT A HOME IN THE WOODS, AS SONS OF THE VIRGIN PINE.

     "THE TWO WHO WERE DRAWING THE SLEIGH TRAVELLED IN INDIAN FILE; AND ONE WHO CARRIED THE GRUB BROKE TRAIL AND DREW FOR A WHILE; THE GOING IN THE WOODS WAS HEAVY, NOT LIKE THE GEORGIAN BAY; THE SNOW WAS LOOSE IN THE FOREST IT LAY, IN ITS FLEECY WAY.

     "WE TRAVELLED ALONG IN THE FOREST AND ON THE ICY WAY; AS DESCRIBED BY THE PLAN ON THE BARK, THE CHART HAD SHOWED THE WAY; BY NIGHT WE CAME FROM THE FOREST TO A LAKE, OUR FRIEND CALLED SMALL; AND WE CROSSED IT; TWAS SURROUNDED BY HEMLOCK, A FOREST GREEN AND TALL.

     "THEN OUT A NARROW OUTLET TO A SLIM ISLAND BAY, SAYS JOHN L., 'THINK WE HAD BETTER ON THE SHORE OF THE LAKE JOE STAY'; WE ALL AGREED TO HIS COUNCIL, WE HAD HAD A GOOD MARCH THAT DAY; AND HERE WAS SHELTER AND WOOD WE COULD REST, AS KINGS IN THE FOREST WAY.

     "FROM THE FOREST WE BUILT A SHELTER OF GREEN BALSAM, A STURDY WALL; AND THE FLOOR WE COVERED WITH BOUGHS, TO CARPET OUR BANQUET HALL; THE FIRE WE BUILT IN THE CENTRE AND ARRANGED OUR SEATS FOR EASE; WE WERE GUESTS IN THE ANCIENT FOREST; AND NATURE HAD GIVEN US THE KEYS.

     "WE WERE HOSTS ONE TO EACH OTHER, AND PARTOOK OF OUR SUPPER FINE; AND OUR HALL WAS LIT BY THE MOONLIGHT, AND THE FLAME OF THE BURNING PINE; THE ODOUR THAT FILLED THE DINER WAS THE RAREST OF NATURE'S HEAT, AND WE FELT IN OUR RUSTIC PALACE WE WERE INDEED BY OUR MAKER'S BESSED.

     "AND TO FINISH THE EVENING'S ENTERTAINMENT, ROXBOROUGH BILL CLEARED HIS THROAT; AND WITH THE EASE OF A NOTED WARBLER, HE POURED FORTH THE TENDER NOTES; HE SANG THROUGH THE EVENING, AS THE SPARKS MOUNTED UP IN THE NIGHT, AND FADED OUT IN THE FOREST AS THE NOTES, THROUGH THE VEIL TOOK THEIR FLIGHT.

     "THEN WE LAID US DOWN IN CONTENTMENT TO REST FOR ANOTHER DAY; FOR THE LAST LAP OF OUR JOURNEY OF THAT TRIP DOWN THE GEORGIAN BAY; THE FIRE BURNED LOW IN THE MEANTIME AND THE COALS KEPT A GLOW IN THE NIGHT, AS WE SLEPT IN OUR RUSTIC CHAMBER TO WAKE WITH THE DAWN OF LIGHT.

      "AS WE SLIPPED OUR FEET INTO OUR SNOWSHOES, AND ADJUSTED THE HARNESS RIGHT, OUR EYES SCANNED THE WOODED SHORELINE THAT BORDERED THE TRACKLESS WHITE; THE SMOKE FROM OUR DYING CAMPFIRE ASCENDED IN A SLENDER THREAD, AS WE BROKE THE HISSING SILENCE, BY THE SWISH OF THE SNOWSHOE TREAD.

     "OUR FACES SET FOR THE CHANNEL, DOWN LAKE JOSEPH WAY, JOHN L. WAS BREAKING THE TRACK, THAT LED IN THE HOMEWARD WAY; THROUGH THE ISLES AND POINTS OF LAKE JOSEPH, THAT THE VISAGE OF WINTER BORE, WITH CAUTION WE CROSSED THE JOE RIVER, AND OVER TO LAKE ROSSEAU SHORE.

     "HERE WE KINDLED A FIRE FOR DINNER, AIR, WE EAT OR DRINK OF THE TEA; WE BROKE THE ICE FROM OUR WHISKERS, AS JOHN STUDIED THE MAP, SAYS HE; 'WE'LL CROSS THE ISLAND BEFORE US, IT SHOWS THE NARROWEST WAY; AND THEN WE WILL HEAD FOR THE PORTAGE AND DINE TONIGHT AT GREEN BAY.

     "WE PLIED FRESH PINE ON THE FIRE; THE FLAME AS OUR SPIRITS FELT THE LIGHT; WE THOUGHT OF THE TRAIL BEHIND US, AND OF THOSE WE WOULD SEE TONIGHT; IN OUR HOME IN THE LITTLE CLEARING MIDST, THE MIGHTY FOREST WALL; WOUJLD THEY BE HERE AS WHEN WE LEFT THEM, IN THE EARLY DAYS OF FALL?

     "OUR DINNER HOUR WE SHORTENED, AND WE FELL TO OUR STEADY STRIDE; WE CROSSED THE BIG ISLAND BEFORE US, AND O'ER THE CHANNEL WIDE; AND BY THE ISLANDS THAT GUARDED, THE WAY TO THE PORTAGE BAY, WE PAUSED AT SMALLBONE'S CABIN, TO PASS THE TIME OF DAY.

     "AND THEN BY THE INDIAN TRAIL FROM ROSSEAU TO THREE MILE SHORE, WE REACHED THE BAY BY WANE OF THE DAY, OUR JOURNEY WOULD SOON BE O'ER; THE WINDS FELL SILENT, AS IF TO REST FOR THE NIGHT; AS WE WITH OUR HELPLESS PATIENT, HAD WON IN THAT DESPERATE FIGHT.

     "THE DOOR OF THE CABIN SWUNG OPEN, AND OUR PARENTS WELCOMED US IN; TO COMFORTS OF HOME AND SHELTER, FROM KING WINTER'S RIGORS AND DIN; THE KETTLE SANG ON THE FIRE, AND THE STEW SMELT GOOD ON THE STOVE; THE WASYS WERE COZY AND HUMBLE, WE WERE AT HOME, WITH THEM THAT WE LOVED.

     "GILES TOOK A TURN FOR THE BETTER, HIS FOOT HEALED UP WITH A SCAR, AND HE LIVED TO BE AN OLD HERO, IN THE LAND WHERE OLD HEROES ARE; HE SANG MANY SONGS TO HIS CHILDREN, AND TALKED OF THE WINTERS THAT WERE COLD; OF WHEN THEY BROUGHT HIM FROM THE SHANTY, THOSE MEN SO BRAVE AND SO BOLD.

     "AT LAST WHEN HE HAD GROWN WEARY WITH YEARS, HIS HEAD LOWERED AND WHITE, AS THE DAWN OF ANOTHER DAY OPENED, HIS SOUL THROUGH THE VEIL TOOK ITS FLIGHT; BUT HIS NAME LINGERS ON IN THE MEMORY, OF THE SONS OF THE BRAVE AND THE FREE, AS THEY SIT AND TALK BY THEIR CAMPFIRES, OF THE THING, AS OF OLD, USED TO BE."

      ALSO IN THE BOOK, CREDITED TO BERT SHEA, IS THE POEM ENTITLED "DEATH OF A PIONEER," AND MAY HAVE BEEN INSPIRED BY THE STORY OF OLD GILES.

     "THEY WASHED THEIR BODIES SO WHITE AND CLEAN; THOSE MEN OF THE PIONEER DAYS; THEIR BLOOD THEY LEFT TO SET IN THEIR VEINS, IT WAS THEIRS, AND IT IS THERE TO STAY.

     "THEY COMBED THEIR HAIR AND FOLDER THEIR HANDS, THEIR EYES THEY CLOSED WITH CARE; AND A CLEAN PRESSED VEST THEY GIRDED ON, AND COMBED OVER THEIR WHISKERS THERE.

     "IN THE CASKET MADE FROM CLEAN WHITE PINE, THE CHOICE FROM THE FOREST GROVE, WITH PINS OF OAK TO JOIN IT TIGHT, BY STROKES OF THE HAMMER DROVE.

     "SO THEY LAID HIM THERE, TO REST IN PEACE, WHILE THE YEARS IN HURRY FLY; TILL THE DAY WHERE EARTH AND TIME SHALL CEASE; TO WAKE AT THE TRUMPET'S CRY.

     "AND THERE HE IS RESTING IN SILENCE LONG, HIS SLUMBER UNMARRED BY THE CLAY, THE STORMS PASS ON, THE SEASONS CHANGE, AND THE WILD FLOWERS SPRING WITH MAY.

     "BUT STILL THERE IS A MURMUR AT EVENTIDE, AS THE BREEZES WHISPER LOW; AND MEMORY STEALS O'ER THE GRASSY SPOT, AS SOFTLY, AS THE FALL OF THE SNOW.

     THEY HAVE LAID HIM THERE WITH LOVING CARE, AND THEIR TEAR DROPS, DAMPENED THE SOD, AS THE GOOD MANY COMMENDED HIS BODY TO EARTH, BUT HIS SOUL, IS AT REST WITH HIS GOD."

A FASCINATING STORY YET

     THERE IS A PASSAGE, IN BERT'S SECOND BOOK, "THE PATHS OF ADVENTURE," THAT PROFOUNDLY INFLUENCED ME, WHEN I FIRST READ IT…..WHILE RESEARCHING THREE MILE LAKE / UFFORD HISTORY, FOR A FEATURE ARTICLE PLANNED FOR THE MUSKOKA SUN. THIS WOULD HAVE BEEN BACK IN THE LATE 1980'S, WHILE I WAS WORKING AT MY HOME OFFICE, AT OUR COTTAGE ON BRACEBRIDGE'S GOLDEN BEACH ROAD. IT HAD THE PERFECT WOODLAND SETTING FOR WHAT I WAS WORKING ON, IN THOSE DAYS. SUZANNE REMIND ME OF THIS WINTER LOG RESEARCH JAG, AND THEN SPUN A LITTLE TALE OF HER OWN, ABOUT A NEIGHBOR IN WINDERMERE, WARNING HER TO GET TO BED EARLY ON AUTUMN NIGHTS, BEFORE THE LIT LANTERNS WOULD COME DOWN THE LANE WITHOUT ANYONE CARRYING THEM…..REMINDING ALL THE YOUNGSTERS THAT THEY SHOULD BE HOME, AND COZY UNDER THEIR COMFORTERS.

     I HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT THIS FREQUENTLY, AND IT WAS ONLY LAST NIGHT, WHILE READING BERT'S BOOK, THAT IT SEEMED LIKELY, THE OLDTIMER SPREADING THESE TALES, HAD BEEN THINKING ABOUT A CIRCUMSTANCE OF A MUCH MORE MACABRE NATURE, FROM THE PAGES OF HISTORY. INSTEAD OF FLOATING ILLUMINATED LAMPS, IT MAY BE EXPLAINED BY THE PASSAGE IN BERT'S BOOK, REFERRING TO MIDNIGHT FUNERALS. HERE'S A PORTION OF THE DESCRIPTION WROTE BY SUZANNE'S UNCLE, BERT SHEA.

     "(THE LOG DRIVE, THREE MILE LAKE) FOR YEARS THE WORK WENT ON BUT THE PARTICULAR SPRING I WILL REFER TO, WAS IN 1900. THE WORK WAS GOING FINE TILL THE OLD MAN GOT SICK. A SORE THROAT….ERE LONG FEAR, GRIPPED THE COMMUNITY AND DR. WILLIAMS (FROM BRACEBRIDGE) WAS CALLED TO THE HOME OF MR. AND MRS. WILLIAM WOODS AT DEE BANK, WHO WAS BOARDING A GOOD NUMBER OF (LOG) DRIVERS WHO WERE SICK. HE AT ONCE PRONOUNCED THE AILMENT, DIPHTHERIA. THIS WAS A CALAMITY. DIPHTHERIA AMONG THE DRIVERS WOULD END IT. WHAT WOULD BE THE CONSEQUENCES? SOME WERE BOARDING WITH MR. AND MRS. BRIESE AND THEIR CHILDREN WERE GOING TO SCHOOL, OTHER LOCALS WERE BOARDING AT EITHER PLACE, AND GOING HOME TO SLEEP.

     "DIPHTHERIA, IN THE OLD DAYS, TOOK ITS COURSE - WHOLE FAMILIES WERE WIPED OUT. BURIALS AFTER MIDNIGHT BY LAW. THE GHASTLY SOUND OF WAGON WHEELS AND HORSE'S HOOVES, OR THE THUMP OF THE JUMPER AND THE RATTLE OF THE BULLCHAINS, AS SLOWLY THE OXEN DREW THE CASKETS IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT TO THE PLACE OF BURIAL. I WILL NOT WRITE MORE OF THE TERRIBLE PROCEDURE SAVE TO SAY THAT THERE ARE CEMETERIES IN WATT (TOWNSHIP) WHERE THERE WERE NONE PRESENT AT MIDNIGHT BURIAL, SAVE THE DIM OIL LANTERN….TWO FIGURES, ONE AT EACH SIDE OF THE GRAVE, SHOVELS IN HAND AND THE GOOD MAN AT THE HEAD, CONSCIOUS OF THE RISK HE WAS TAKING WITH HIS OWN FAMILY, BUT WHO, IN FAITH, STOOD WITH HIS PARISHIONERS TO DECLARE THE WORDS OF THE MASTER, 'I AM THE RESURRECTION AND THE LIFE."

     IT'S POSSIBLE, THE OLD CHAP WHO HAD WARNED SUZANNE OF THE FLOATING LANTERNS, MAY HAVE BEEN WITNESS TO THE SIGHTS AND SOUNDS OF THE BURIAL CORTEGE PASSING BY HIS HOMESTEAD AS A CHILD……AND FOR ALL INTENTS AND PURPOSES, IT MAY HAVE LOOKED LIKE THE LIGHTS WERE FLOATING ALONG THE ROAD, ALL BY THEMSELVES.

Chirstmas in Muskoka 2016 Logging Industry and Folk History

THE LOGGING INDUSTRY AND ITS PERILS, BECAME PRECIOUS FOLK HISTORY OF MUSKOKA

LEGENDS TOLD AND RE-TOLD, BUT THEY HAVE NOW BEEN FORGOTTEN

     MY WIFE SUZANNE, IS THE NEICE OF FAMILY HISTORIAN, BERT SHEA, AND THE GRAND-DAUGHTER OF JOHN SHEA, A FORMER WARD CLERK, AND FARMER, IN THE PRESENT TOWNSHIP OF MUSKOKA LAKES. OUR BOYS, ROBERT AND ANDREW, ARE PROUD OF THEIR FAMILY'S PIONEER HISTORY, HERE IN MUSKOKA, AND ARE EAGER TO TELL FRIENDS ABOUT THEIR GREAT-GREAT GRANDFATHER'S DUG-OUT CANOE, ON DISPLAY AT THE MUSKOKA LAKES PIONEER MUSEUM. THEY HAVE HEARD, MANY TIMES, GROWING UP, ABOUT THEIR KIN BEING KNOWN, IN ANOTHER CENTURY, AS "THE THREE MILE LAKE WOLVES." THEY WERE A RATHER RAMBUNCTIOUS GANG WHO LIKED TO LINK ARMS, WHEN IN BRACEBRIDGE FOR THE DAY, AND WALK DOWN THE CENTER OF MANITOBA STREET, TO CHALLENGE ANY TAKERS, FOR A DONNYBROOK,  TO GET IN THEIR WAY. THEY'RE NOT TOO SURE ABOUT THE FAMILY'S INVOLVEMENT IN THE THREE MILE LAKE ORANGE LODGE, BUT ONE DAY WE'LL TRY TO SORT THAT OUT FOR THEM. ANDREW DOES OWN A BEAUTIFUL ORANGE LODGE DRUM, BUT HE HASN'T DELVED TO FAR INTO ITS HISTORY…….AND THE ROLE OF KING BILLY. JUST THAT IT WASN'T A CATHOLIC THING.

     ONE OF BERT SHEA'S MOST STRIKING INCLUSIONS, IN HIS BOOK, "HISTORY OF THE SHEAS AND BIRTH OF A TOWNSHIP," INVOLVES THE LOGGING INDUSTRY, AND THE TERRIBLE PERILS OF THE WINTER CUT. THE STORY IN THE FORM OF A POEM, IS ENTITLED "OUR TRIP DOWN THE GEORGIAN BAY," AND IS AN EXCEPTIONAL EXAMPLE OF WHAT I HAVE MEANT, PREVIOUSLY, ABOUT THE MAKING OF LEGEND AND LORE. THE UNFORTUNATE REALITY IS, THIS STORY, AND MANY OTHERS, HAVE CEASED BEING TOLD….AND READ, AS THE BOOK IS RARE AND ONLY PUBLICLY AVAILABLE AT PUBLIC LIBRARIES. YET IT IS A FINE EXAMPLE OF WHAT THIS REGION WAS BUILT FROM, OF PIONEER COURAGE, AND DETERMINATION TO SURVIVE, NO MATTER WHAT THE ODDS. HERE NOW IS A RE-TELLING OF AN IMPORTANT CHAPTER OF MUSKOKA FOLKLORE…..WE SHOULD ALL KNOW ABOUT IF WE WANT TO FULLY APPRECIATE THE BEGINNINGS OF OUR COMMUNITIES IN THIS ONTARIO HINTERLAND.

     OUR TRIP DOWN THE GEORGIAN BAY

     "ABOUT THE YEAR OF SIXTY-EIGHT (1868) WAS COLD AND DEEP THE SNOW; GRUB WAS SCARCE AND MONEY SHORT AND WORK WAS VERY SLOW; TO FELL THE PINE AND SQUARE THE LOG WITH SKILL AND GOOD THE PAY; WE HEARD A JOBBER WANTED MEN UP THE GEORGIAN BAY.

     "JOHN LILY SHEA WAS A HEWER, SCORE HACKERS WILLIAM AND WILLIAM R.; WITH GILES TO FELL THE STATELY PINE THE TIMBER NOT TO MAR; THE CAMP WAS GOOD AND BOARD WAS FINE, THE FOREMAN JUST AND FAIR. THE SNOW PILED HIGH IN GEORGIAN WOODS AND FROSTY WAS THE AIR.

     "FROM EARLY MORN TILL CLOSE OF DAY, OUR AXES SWINGING HIGH,

THE FOREST RANG FROM MORN TILL NIGHT, THE CHIPS FLEW WILD AND FAR; THE FOREMAN SMILED AND TIPPED HIS CAP TO SEE OUR STEADY GAIT.

     "TILL ON THAT FATEFUL DAY, SNOW THICKENING IN THE AIR; AS GILES TO AIM THAT STATELY PINE, AND LAY HIM DOWN WITH CARE; HIS FREE SWING AXE ON A FROSTY CHIP CAUSED GLANCING OF THE BLOW; AND TO HIS FOOT, THE KEEN GROUND BLADE BURIED IN THE SNOW.

     "IT CUT THE LIVING FOUNTAIN AND CRIMSON WAS THE FLOW; AS LIFE BLOOD SPURTED FROM THE WOUND TO MELT THE FROSTY SNOW; WE BORE HIME FROM THAT FATEFUL TREE, AND LAID HIM ON OUR COATS; OH, TO KNOW HOW TO STOP THE BLOOD, IF NOT THERE WAS NO HOPE.

     "SAYS JOHN LILY, 'BRING THE CHALK LINE,' AND HE TWISTED UP A ROPE; AND PLAC3D A CHIP UPON THE VEIN AND TWISTED TIGHT THE ROPE; THE PRESSURE EASED THE CRIMSON STREAM, BUT HE WAS DEATHLY PALE; WE MOVED HIM FROM THE WINTRY WOOD, AT ONCE, AND WITHOUT FAIL.

     "WITHIN THE CAMP WITH BLANKETS WARM, A STEADY HAND AND SLOW, THE ARTERY TIED WITH CLEAN WHITE THREAD AND STOPPED THE CRIMSON FLOW; AND THROUGH THE NIGHT A WATCH WAS KEPT, EACH MAN IN HIS TURN; TO KEEP THE FIRE BURNING BRIGHT AND O'ER HIS COMRADE YEARN.

     "ALL THROUGH THE NIGHT THE STORM RAGED ON, THE HEAVY GEORGIAN SKIES; HAD LAID A MANTLE DOWN OF WHITE, BUT BRIGHTER NOW THE SKIES; THE FOREST LAY A SEA OF WHITE, THE COLD, THE SNOW, THE SKY; THE FROSTY NITE, THE BRILLIANT LIGHT, 'NEATH GEORGIAN'S WINTER SKIES.

     "IF NOT THEY KNEW THAT THEY MUST GO THROUGH FOREST O'ER HILLS AND LAKES; THE TRAIL TO BREAK AND A COMRADE TO TAKE FOR DAYS AND DAYS AND SLOW; THE SLEIGH WAS MADE, THEIR BURDEN LAID IN BLANKETS WARM AND TIGHT; BY LIGHT OF DAY THEY WENT THEIR WAY TO CAMP BY FIRE LIGHT.

     "WHEN SCARCE THE TRAIL WE HAD STARTED, A TALL AND LANKY MAN; WITH SNOWSHOES ON HIS FEET AND SHOD WITH INDIAN TAN; A MAN BORN IN THE FOREST, BRED OF A NOBLE RACE; WITH HAND UPON A SHOULDER, BID US OUR STEPS RETRACE.

     "SAYS HE 'TOO FAR, TOO HEAVY, WHITE MAN MAY NOT GET THROUGH,' AND HE TORE FROM OFF A WHITE BIRCH TREE, AND ON THE BARK HE DREW; DOWN TO THE GEORGIAN BAY, TO FOLLOW BY THE SHORE; THE ISLES HE MARKED AND INLET STREAMS, WE HAD NEVER SEEN BEFORE.

     "AND THEN HE MARKED THE CHANNEL, 'WIDE TO CROSS WHEN DAY IS CLEAR,' TO CAMP AT NIGHT IN SHELTERED SIGHT, 'DRYWOOD IS PLENTY HERE;' UNTIL THE SLIM AND CROOKED LINE CAME TO AN INLET STREAM; SAYS HE, ' YOU TAKE HIM HERE,' WE LISTENED CLOSE TO HIM.

     "HE LEAD YOU TO ANOTHER LAKE, THIS LAKE IS SHORT TO GO; AND BY SHORT STREAM TO ANOTHER LAKE TOO BIG, MAY NOT SEEM SO; THEN YOU PORTAGE TO BIGGER LAKE, HEAVY PORTAGE, SLOW; CROSS HIM AND PORTAGE TO LITTLE LAKE AND SHORT PORTAGE TO LAKE JOE.

     "AND THERE WE STOOD IN DEEP DISMAY, AS GUIDED BY HIM AFAR, THOUGH OF DIFFERENT RACE, AND COLOUR OR FACE, WE HIS HELPLESS CHILDREN ARE.

     "AND AS HE TURNED AWAY THAT WINTER DAY, TO HIS HOME IN THE ANCIENT WOOD, AND HE LEFT THE BARK WITH THE LINE OF DARK, WE KNEW HE DONE US GOOD.

     "AND OUR SPIRITS RAISED AND OUR GOD WE PRAISED, AS WE SNOWSHOED DOWN THE TRAIL, THO THE TRAIL UNKNOWN THE WAY WAS SHOWN, AS MARKED BY OUR FRIEND ON THE WOOD.

     "TWAS BUT A SHORT WAY TO THE GEORGIAN BAY, AND WE TURNED SOUTH ALONG THE RUGGED SHORE; THE SNOWSHOEING GOOD AND WE UNDERSTOOD, BY THE WINDS FROM THE NIGHT BEFORE.

     "THE WINDS HAD PACKED THE SNOW SO TIGHT, AND AGAIN HE BEGAN TO ROAR, THE TALL PINES WAVED AS HIS HORSE VOICE RAISED, IN THE CAVES OF THE WATER WASHED SHORE.

     "AND WE SPED ALONG OUR STEP WAS STRONG, AS THE WINDS AST OUR COAT TAILS TORE, FOR THE FROSTY BITE OUR CAPS PULLED TIGHT, AS WE LOOKED DOWN THE DISTANT SHORE.

     "IN A SHELTERED COVE ON AN ISLAND SHORE, WHERE DRY PINE STOOD AROUND, A FIRE BRIGHT WE KINDLED RIGHT, AND DREW FROM OUR SIMPLE STORE.

     "THE TEA SMELLED GOOD MID THE SMOKE OF THE WOOD; WITH THE ODOR OF BACON AND PINE, A HARDY REPAST WE FINISHED AT LAST, AND OUR PATIENT WAS DOING FINE.

     "SO WE BROKE UP CAMP FOR ANOTHER TRAMP, DOWN THE LAKE WITH THE UNKNOW SHORE, TO SEE A PLACE IN A SHELTERED SPACE, THERE TO REST THE COLD NIGHT O'ER.

     "AS THE SUN SANK LOW AND THE AFTER GLOW, SPREAD ACROSS THE MILES OF THE LAKE; AND THE HILLS ALONE IN RADIANCE SHONE, BUT OH IT WAS SO COLD AND BLEAK.

     "AND WE FOLLOWED THE LAND OF ROCK AND SAND, AS THE WINDS AT THE WILD CLIFTS TORE, TWAS A DISMAL SIGHT AT APPROACH OF NIGHT, BUT A DRAW WE SAW IN THE SHORE.

     "SO WE ENTERED IN, THE STREAM WAS THIN, BUT IT LEAD TO A BETTER SIGHT; IN A SHELTERED FILL AMONG THE RUGGED HILLS, WE SETTLED DOWN FOR THE NIGHT.

     "FROM THE BALSAM TALL WE BUILT A WALL, AROUND OUR CAMP TO THROW BACK THE HEAT, WITH THE SNOWSHOE TOE WE THREW OUT THE SNOW, AND LAID GREEN BOUGHS DOWN FOR OUR FEET.

     "BY THE CHEERY FLAME WE FORGOT OUR PAIN OF THE FROST AND THE WIND ON THE CHEEK; IN THE DEEP BLUE SKY THE STARS STOOD HIGH AND THE MOOD THROUGH THE PINE TOOK A PEEK; BY THE SETTLE OF NIGHT THE WIND TOOK FLIGHT, WE WERE GLAD FOR A REST FROM HIS HOWL; AND THE BRILLIANT LIGHT OF OUR CAMPFIRE BRIGHT, BROUGHT A GUEST OF THE OLD GREY OWL.

     "AND WE FILLED OURSELVES ON THE BEST WE HAD, WE ALL FELT COZY AND WARM; SAYS ROXBOROUGH BILL, 'I'LL SING YOU A SONG NO DOUBT IT WILL HELP US ALONG.' SAYS WILLIAM, 'I FEEL YOU HAD BETTER TAKE CARE, IT MAY ONLY STIR UP A STORM.

     "SO HE SAT BY THE FIRE, AND HIS WHISKERS OF RED, SHONE IN THE CAMPFIRE LIGHT, AND HE SANG OF HIS HOME OF THE PLACES HE LOVED, OF THE LAST PARTING WORDS THAT WERE SAID; OF IVORY SHORE, OF ERIN OF YORE, AND A HYMN ERE HE LAID DOWN HIS HEAD.

     "THE WINGS OF THE NIGHT, BORE OUR MINDS IN A FLIGHT; THAT OUR BODIES COULD REST FROM THE DAY; AND THE FIRE BURNED LOW IN THE LAND OF THE SNOW; ERE WE KNEW TWAS THE BREAK OF DAY; AND WE BROKE UP CAMP FOR ANOTHER DAY'S TRAMP, O'ER THE WHITE OF THE COLD GEORGIAN BAY.

     "AND WE KNEW WE WOUJLD NEAR THE CHANNEL WITH FEAR, THAT OUR FRIEND SAID WAS SO DEEP AND SO WIDE, WE HOPED WITH FEAR FOR DAYS THAT WERE CLEAR; WHILE WE CROSSED TO THE FAR DISTANT SIDE.

     "AT THE MIDST OF THE DAY WE PULLED UP THE SLEIGH, BY THE ISLE WITH A SHELTERING SHORE; AND OUR SPIRITS FELL FINE AS WE FOUND THERE A SIGN, THAT SOMEONE HAD CAMPED THERE BEFORE; AND WE KNEW WITHOUT FAIL WE WERE SAFE ON THE TRAIL, OUR FRIEND HAD OFT TRAVELLED BEFORE.

"AT NOON THAT DAY, JOHN LILY SAID THE SLEIGH WAS RUNNING TOO HARD; ERE WE TOOK UP OUR WAY, HE TURNED OVER THE SLEIGH AND GREASED ITS RUNNERS WITH LARD; SAYS WILLIAM, 'I FEAR THE WOLVES WILL APPEAR AND WE WILL BE EATEN ALIVE IN THE WOODS;' NONSENSE,' SAYS GILES, 'THESE HOUNDS OF THE WILDS THEY KNOW OUR MEAT ISN'T GOOD.

     "BUT ERE THE CAMPFIRE LIGHT HAD LULLED FOR THE NIGHT, THE HOWLS OF THE BEASTS FILLED THE WOODS; 'ROXBOROUGH,' SAYS HE, 'IT'S PLAIN DO YOU SEE, THEY ARE OUT TO WARM UP WITH HOT BLOOD.

     "BUT THEY DIDN'T LONG STAY FOR THE CHASE LED AWAY; AND WE HOPED THEY HAD LEFT US FOR GOOD; SO WE SETTLED DOWN TIGHT BY THE CAMPFIRE LIGHT, NEATH THE MOOD AND THE FROST IN THE WOOD.

     "ERE THE STARS OF THE MORNING HAD SPENT THEIR LAST GLOW; OUR PASSENGER WAS LOADED AND READY TO GO; THE STEAM SPLIT FROM OUR NOSTRILS, WE COULD SCARCELY SEE THE WAY; BUT THE DEEP BLUE OF THE SKY BESPOKE A GRAND WINTER DAY.

     "WE WERE HEADING ON THE ROUTE OUR INDIAN FRIEND DREW; SCARCELY BY THE MID OF MORNING, WE COULD SEE BEYOND THE BLUE; WE AT EACH OTHER TOOK A GLANCE AND QUICKENED OUR PACE; FOR WE KNEW WE WERE ENTERING A GRIM AND DESPERATE RACE.

     "THE SUN BEFORE US SHINING WHICH MADE A SPLENDID GUIDE; WE HOPED THAT IN HIS REIGN OF LIGHT, TO REACH THE OTHER SIDE; THE SHORE BEHIND WAS LOWERING, THERE WAS NOTHING ELSE TO DO, OUR STEP WAS STRONG WE PUSHED ALONG TO THE FURTHER RING OF BLUE.

     "WE HAD BEGUN THIS RACE IN ERROR, OR FAILING TO PREPARE; SOME MEAT WE SHOULD HAVE COOKED, WE COULD HAVE EAT OF COLDEN FARE; WHEN THE SUN OF NOON WAS SHINING ON THE COLD AND FROZEN LAKE, WE COULD AT LEAST EAT UP A MORSEL FOR OUR STOMACH'S EMPTHY SAKE.

     "BUT SUCH THINGS WILL HAPPEN AMONG THE BEST OF PLANNING MEN; AND AT NOON WE WERE SWINGING BRISKLY JUST AS WE HAD BEGAN; THE BLUE BEHIND AND BEFORE US WAS JUST ABOUT THE SAME, SO WE FELT THAT WE WOULD MAKE IT, BUT WE WOULD BE HUNGRY MEN.

     "THE AFTERNOON WAS FROSTY, THE PERSPIRATION CAME; THE SKY WAS SHOWING CLOUDY SAYS WILLIAM, 'IT MAY RAIN;' BUT WE KNEW HE WAS JOKING FOR THE TEMPERATURE WAS LOW; FROM THE SQUEAKING OF THE RUNNERS PASSING O'ER THE FROSTY SNOW."

NOTE: THIS IS A LENGTHY POEM, SO I WILL BREAK IT UP INTO TWO PARTS, CONCLUDING TOMORROW. WHILE IT IS ROUGH HEWN, AND NOT THE WORK OF WORDSWORTH OR LONGFELLOW, IT HAS WITHIN IT, A BLUNT HONESTY, AND TRUTHFULNESS; A SENSE OF COMMUNITY HISTORY, DESPITE THE WRITER'S ATTEMPT TO BE POETIC. THERE ARE MANY ANALOGIES WITHIN, AND IT CAN BE SAID, WITH SOME ACCURACY, THAT MANY TIMES ON THIS CROSS COUNTRY, OVER-FROZEN-LAKE AND RIVER JOURNEY, THE RESCUERS WERE IN JUST AS MUCH PERIL AS THE INJURED LOGGER, IN THE SLEIGH BEHIND. IF THEY HAD NOT RECEIVED THE MAP FROM THE ABORIGINAL TRAVELLER, THEY ENCOUNTERED, EARLY IN THE TREK ACROSS THE SNOWY BARRENS, THEY WOULD CERTAINLY HAVE ENCOUNTERED DANGEROUS ICE, OR POSSIBLY BEEN LOST IN THE SEEMINGLY ENDLESS WILDS OF WEST MUSKOKA. AS FOR BEING EATEN BY WOLVES, THAT WAS OF COURSE A DISTINCT POSSIBILITY. ADDING LARD TO THE RUNNERS, WAS AN OPEN INVITATION TO DINE ON VULNERABLE MORTALS, ONE OF THEM SERIOUSLY INJURED.

     I HOPE YOU WILL JOIN ME TOMORROW, FOR THE CONCLUSION OF THIS INTERESTING FOLK STORY, WHICH WILL ALSO INCLUDE ANOTHER, DETAILING THE BURIAL OF A MUSKOKA PIONEER; ALL THANKS TO THE STORY REKINDLING OF BERT SHEA, IN HIS BOOK, "HISTORY OF THE SHEAS AND BIRTH OF A TOWNSHIP."

Christmas in Muskoka 2016 The Town We Have Known

The Town Behind The Scenes We Have Known For All These Years - At Christmas We Appreciate It The Most

     When we moved to Gravenhurst back in the late 1980's, we did so for one distinct reason. Suzanne and I wanted to purchase a newer home in a good neighborhood, with a suitable green-belt close by, in order to give our young lads a safe and inspiring place in which to grow up and thrive. Like many young working-parent families, we didn't have a lot of money to invest, but enough to newer purchase a home, ten miles south from our former abode in the Town of Bracebridge, my old hometown. Prices were substantially less to buy a three bedroom house here, and we couldn't find a nicer house in our price range anywhere else in South Muskoka, where we were both working, and running an antique business at the time.

     We had many friends who were highly critical of our move, believing that Gravenhurst wasn't a progressive community, and believe me, we heard a lot of horror stories about social problems, crime, and drug and alcohol abuse, we were going to discover in our new home town. Of course, all the folks who were making these claims were residents of Bracebridge, or for whatever reason, felt they owed Gravenhurst a kick in the shins, possibly for a long ago sports indignity, or a job lost from a local business that set tongues wagging. As a long time reporter for the local press, I had a large number of contacts in the police department, and I could find out the stats I needed to satisfy myself we weren't moving to "Pottersville," as depicted as a place of debauchery, in the classic Christmas movie, "It's a Wonderful Life." I knew the critics were way out of line with their critiques and warnings about our new place of residence. I knew Bracebridge inside and out, and its history, and honestly, the overviews were more a matter of throwing stones for the sake of breaking glass. Both towns have their challenges, and as to which one was the better place to live, at the time, we have never once felt we made a mistake in our choice. We're still here nearly thirty years later, and we also have a main street family business to show our considerable support for what is good and progressive about this town.

     Our residency in this fine little community in South Muskoka, and our business success in both vintage music and antiques, is the result of avoiding a goodly amount of political interaction, and staying true to our family values, as far as running a local business. When we experienced, early on, problems within the business community, we immediately withdrew from active participation in all related groups, letting them go about their business without our nagging objections. And it has allowed us to focus without detraction, on growing our shop and increasing our client base, both in person via the shop, and online via numerous outlets to reach a broader audience. Some folks still refer to us as the Muskoka "Waltons" a reference from the 1970's television show, and that doesn't offend us a bit. There are a lot worse references than being called "The Waltons," and our shop, "Walton's Mountain."

     At this rolling time of the year, our family very much celebrates the truly good things that have happened to us, living and working here in Gravenhurst. We have enjoyed our lives by connecting to the magnificence of the landscape, the forests and lakes, snow-adorned hills and valleys, and the fine folks who work hard behind the scenes, the unsung heroes, the store clerks, plumbers, service technicians, bakers, cooks, carpenters, butchers, janitors, salesmen and women, sewers and painters, who seldom if ever get any recognition for what they contribute daily, to the positive vibes of a population proud of its heritage; and certain it will survive against daunting odds, and increasing competition from neighbor communities, getting a greater share of investment. We must admit, however it may resonate with the progressives amongst us, that we enjoy what it doesn't have, realities of other urban centers. It's hard to explain, but true none the less, and many know exactly what I'm referring to in terms of ugly urban sprawl.

     We are thankful and appreciative of Gravenhurst for being a wonderful home community for all these years. For those who harshly critique Gravenhurst, I welcome the opportunity to offer a counter point, and share some family experiences that prove even the hardest-to-please citizen, and that would be me, can find peace, solitude and inspiration, in such vast quantity, that I have no reason to ever consider a move unless entirely necessary. I was a grumpy frustrated writer when we moved here, and after my first year, well, I was a proud homeowner.

     Of all the places I have lived and worked in my life, I have never found a place that provided such an invigorating environs from which to write, and as I am fussy to a sharp point, this must then be taken as my highest compliment. The Gravenhurst our family knows, and loves, is the one that exists beyond the propaganda and pomposity others impose upon it, rather unfairly, for their vested interests only. We pay attention to what we see as the town's strengths, and I will never tire of reading and promoting its heritage, and there is no chance that I could one day wake up, and feel the forest across our lane, is an eyesore, and beg that it be leveled and built upon.   Merry Christmas from our homestead, Birch Hollow, to yours this festive season.

From the Archives at Birch Hollow, Gravenhurst

CHRISTMAS IN MUSKOKA - A NICE PLACE TO VIST, A GREAT PLACE TO LIVE, A BEAUTIFUL PLACE TO WAKE UP TO EACH MORNING

RAIN OR SNOW, WIND OR CALM, SUN OR CLOUD THERE'S SOMETHING SPECIAL BEING MUSKOKAN - ESPECIALLY SWELL ON CHRISTMAS DAY

     It is a scene this morning, here at Birch Hollow, that you won't see featured in the traditional Christmas pictorials, showing the festive season in Canada. It is more likely, a vista from a coastal area of Canada, or of the British countryside, after receiving a small quantity of snow, followed by days of rain and fog. In Southern Ontario, where I spent the first years of my life, I would have heard the fog horns of passing lake freighters. I grew up with many Christmases just like this, when our family lived in Burlington, where winters were cold, with a sharply bitter wind coming off Lake Ontario, but seldom had much in the way of snow. I used to play down along the banks of Ramble Creek, and it was great fun when we could put on our bobb skates, to criss-cross the frozen shallows of the sandy bottom water course. You might remember, from a previous blog, that I fell through the ice on this same snaking little creek, and nearly drowned. There were a few deep pools with swirling water that never froze over solid. My mother issued orders to stay away from these pockets of open water, or I'd be in "so much trouble." That's something I knew a lot about. My chum Ray Green and I, were a sort of Dennis the Menaces back in those days, when we both resided up on Harris Crescent. I can still see that day before Christmas, when so many of the brightly clothed and tocqued youngsters, were skating on the silver ice in the ravine, surrounded by the vintage architecture, of the three multi-story apartment buildings in the neighborhood, and the decorated houses around us, and along the embankment on the other side of the creek. It was the first time I had ever used bobb skates, fastened to my snow boots, and well, it was a disaster. I couldn't do anything more athletic than stand on the two bladed skates, but that was okay, because there was a lot to see, and kids my age to laugh with, through the afternoon snow flurries; generated from the earlier rain that day. The ice got better through the rest of that day, and was perfect throughout the holiday as I recall. I liked Burlington back then because it was either a big town or a small city, but our neighborhood had a perfect post war patina, and rural character, partly because it was bordered by a large farm field owned by the Ratkowskis I believe, and the ravine and woodland of the Ramble Creek basin. When we moved to Muskoka, I got a lot more hinterland to enjoy that's for sure.

     The rain was much heavier when I got up this morning, and looked out over The Bog, as I do every morning, even before brushing my teeth; and having the first of many coffees to get myself in gear. I have seen a few Christmases like this before, and as I am very fond of traditional English holiday celebrations, and the dining fare of our ancestors, this scene in the hollow, is just as remarkable, as if it was a recollected vision of my past; playing down in the ravine of Ramble Creek, or wandering through the haunted woods of Nottingham Forest, in England, where Robin Hood is said to have robbed from the rich to give to the poor. I have enjoyed many Christmases, where the weather could be described as inclement, according to what we generally hope will amount to a white Christmas; to go with the song of the same title. But it is no less a charming, and picturesque scene, because there is green ground cover showing up in The Bog, the result of previous days of sun, and rain, washing the snow away into the myriad little creeks, that eventually drain into Muskoka Bay, of the greater Lake Muskoka. I can remember Christmas Days in the past, here at Birch Hollow, when our family could walk across the snow crust, deep into the woodlands, across the basin; and others, where I used snowshoes to access the same region, of the tiny acreage of urban wetland. And there have been Christmas Eves just like this, and although not quite a parallel to poet Robert Frost's "Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening," is just as enchanting and invigorating for the hiker passing along the barely visible pathways. Looking out upon the woods, has been my passion here, since we arrived in the fall of 1989, and I can't imagine what it would be like now, to not awake and see it sprawling so beautifully to the horizon; its inhabitant foxes, deer, squirrels, rabbits, moles and mice, keeping the birds company; that thrive in the tall pines, and venerable old oaks, which have yet to shed their leaves. I really don't care whether it is raining or snowing, on Christmas Eve, because the wilds of Muskoka are special places no matter what time of year, or what the prevailing weather. The Hawks and Owls, and noisy Crows, mix with the huge Blue Jays in the mix of thick evergreens and hardwoods that provide roosts and safe haven through the rolling year. To some citizens, who pay it little, if any attention, it is just a wasteland, that would be put to better use, affording more urban residences and apartments. It is the danger of the modern era, that we truly don't appreciate what we have, until it no longer exists in its natural splendour.

     I have re-located just now, to work for the afternoon, in the studio of our Uptown Gravenhurst shop, where the door has been opening and closing like mad, with last minute shoppers buzzing through the building, looking for last minute gift ideas. In only a few minutes, I've already had my quota of chocolates for the day, and Robert came into the studio, to drop off yet another box just given to us, by a parent of one of his guitar students. Talk about perks of the job. The nicest part, is hearing all the Christmas greetings being extended to us, by our regular customers, and half listening to the conversations breaking out between those folks meeting up with friends, in our cozy digs; and honestly, it would be quite impossible to remain unmoved by the seasonal goodwill, up and down the street. Despite the fact it has again begun raining heavily, with a pronounced mist moving across the region. It's always so remarkable to me, to find so many citizens who still honor those old and tired traditions, at this time of the year, of going shop to shop, wishing the proprietors the best of the holiday season. I know of one kindly chap, who wears a full Santa outfit, and wanders about the town, wishing "Merry Christmas," with a hale and hardy laugh, just because he insists on keeping tradition alive, as he has celebrated it, for long and long; as his own initiative to bring the neighborhoods and citizens together in the light-heartedness of Christmas and New Years. He may never be rewarded with a "Citizen of the Year," citation, but in our eyes, people like this are our greatest human resources.

     I have enjoyed many wonderful Christmas seasons in Muskoka, from a young age, and whether it was playing road hockey, in the light snow flurries, on a small patch of illuminated roadway, on Bracebridge's Alice Street, or sitting in the attic of Dr. Peter McGibbon's former home, on upper Manitoba Street, looking down from the attic window, watching the kids running along the path, or even in the wet conditions, making snow angels in Memorial Park; or in the modest early 1900's Ontario Street house, where Suzanne and I moved shortly after we were married, and where Andrew arrived home as a newborn; all of the special occasions, were celebrated equally with anticipation, yet peaceful acceptance, that the place where we were celebrating the holiday, was a darn fine homestead in which to host Christmas revelry; as high or low key as the mood dictated.

     Suzanne is always very low key, about her own family celebrations, recalled from when she was growing up in the Village of Windermere, on Lake Rosseau, but fondly recalling activities at the Windermere United Church, where her mother Harriet was a frequent organist, and general community activities, that were about as Muskokan in tradition as you could get. For quite a few years, every Christmas Eve, Suzanne and I would take Andrew and Robert, to her aunt Ada and Jack's (Gillis family) house in Ufford, which was actually her grandfather's John Shea's original farmstead, in Watt Township, where Ada would fuss for no less than three hours, to make up a dinner spread for us, that was a most incredible country dinner, with the most amazing pickles and preserves, a rich treat for the senses. Ada and Jack never had children of their own, but enjoyed their nieces and nephews when they came for visits. Jack insisted on lemon pie for his special dinner treat. Me too. I'm glad our boys had this opportunity to visit with these two fine members of the family, who gave us some spectacular Christmas Eve dinners, and an old fashioned country social, in keeping with the way the Shea kin had been celebrating the holidays for generations.

     Maybe it's true that the historian-me, has more interest in the details of Christmas past, than most others, and to some readers this may seem more of an impediment than a blessing of recollection. There are of course sad memories, that take their toll on us especially at this time of the year; yet I find them now to be of the bitter-sweet variety, and tolerable, full of kinder nostalgia, despite the reality there is much of Christmas past that can, no matter what traditions are employed, never be relived as one might like.

     A few minutes at the studio, and I had already experienced one of those wild and crazy impulses, in the most conservative sense, of course, to let the boys run the shop for the afternoon, so I could take Suzanne on a trip up to the very hamlet I was writing about earlier in this blog; to Lake Rosseau and Windermere, through her ancestral grounds of Ufford, with a stop by the Ufford Cemetery, for seasonal visit to Jack and Ada Gillis, and Norm and Harriet Stripp, and all the Sheas (including John Lily Shea) and the Veitches, of which my dear wife is related. We armed ourselves with a couple of mugs, some nicely chilled egg nog, and a couple of seasonal treats, and hit the misty road. It was a great outing, and as I noted above, Muskoka looks amazing no matter what the weather, and today it was veiled by the rolling fog over the hills of Ufford; and out over Lake Rosseau at the Windermere waterfront. There was very little traffic on the road, and it was a charming motor-trip through a lovely hinterland solitude. But it was nice to see the lights of a Christmas tree, through the farmstead front windows, and watched some neighborhood kids sledding down the hillsides, despite the drizzle. I was thinking back, to what it looked like, driving through Connecticut, Pennsylvania, and Vermont where I once used to travel frequently, in the winter months, on the way to, and from Florida. I think we under-rate Muskoka, for its countryside qualities, and rural living generally. This trip today, was as romantic, nostalgic as it was contemporary to the Christmas of 2014, while we listened to Christmas Carols all the while.

     Suzanne visited her own family home in Windermere, that has been nicely restored to its former Victorian era elegance, and it was the first time back, since it was sold as part of her father's estate. I thought she would begin to cry, but I knew she had to make this visitation regardless; and she seemed quite pleased that it was looking much as it had been during her childhood. So it brought back good memories instead of adverse. We had discussed buying the house from the estate, but we knew it would take fifty thousand dollars more, on top of the purchase price, to make the necessary upgrades. It got a little tearful on the day we drove away for the last time, but I was delighted she had a good feeling about what she saw this afternoon. We have long considered buying a small house in Windermere, but Suzanne has preferred to spend more money instead, to upgrade Birch Hollow. We still have a few years left to decide on stuff like that, although we're both pretty happy with how Gravenhurst turned out as a hometown; something we weren't sure about in 1989, when we had our first Christmas at Birch Hollow.

     When we arrived back at the store, to help the boys close up, Andrew was pleased to report that his brother Robert, had sold quite a few pieces from our part of the business, and well, it paid for gas and lunch, for our pleasant little journey through Muskoka. We also visited some of our old residences, from Ontario Street, Quebec Street, Manitoba Street, and Alice Street in Bracebridge, and had a momentary stop at the former Black's Variety and Bamford's Store on Toronto Street, where I would have been browsing for last minute gifts, in the era of the late 1960's, on a Christmas Eve just like this. I even enjoyed being part of the hustle and bustle today, in a number of local shops, and we had a nice time meeting up with some old friends, also scrambling for last minute gifts.

     I hope all readers of this humble, overly nostalgic blog, will enjoy the best of the season, a Merry Christmas, and have a safe and pleasing holiday with kith and kin; a good book, favorite pets, and those old songs and carols we remember from childhood. It is okay to wax poetic at Christmas, and think fondly back to the places in your former hometowns, where you invested so much heart and soul, waiting for Santa Claus to come down the chimney. I used to live in apartments, so this part of Christmas used to freak me out a bit. We didn't have chimneys. My mother told me he could basically vaporize to get under the door, and then re-materialize with his sack full of toys, by our Christmas tree. I was good with that explanation. It is part of the tradition that I harp about, which probably adds to my irrelevance, but rest assured, it is my sincere belief, that we all need the strong roots of times past, our past, to secure ourselves for the future.

     I shall once again, expect the ghosts of Christmas past, present and future, to visit me, to undoubtedly point out, that I have not been the kind of human being I am supposed to be; and once again, I shall make every effort to repent, and restore myself, to a more faithful, moral existence for the coming year. Now, as Santa nears, I would like to wish you all, a sincere Merry Christmas from all of the Curries of Birch Hollow, whether you're living in Muskoka, or anywhere else in the world, and have found this blog somewhat seasonally and geographically entertaining.

     The last portion of today's blog has been written with the background glow from two Victorian era oil lamps, that are as bright as they are warming, and it reminds me so much, of the way I used to compose my stories, when I composed on a manual Underwood typewriter, that I had used at the Bracebridge Herald-Gazette back in the early 1980's. Now I'm just basking here, catching the wonderful scent of Suzanne preparing our Christmas breakfast in advance; a homestead menu that might have been served up by Granny Shea in her log cabin on the hillside of the family's Ufford farm.

Christmas in Muskoka 2016 The Thomas Block Fire

CHRISTMAS IN BRACEBRIDGE -

THOMAS BLOCK FIRE WAS THE BIGGEST, MOST FRIGHTENING - CALAMITOUS TOWN EVENT I HAD EVER COVERED - NO ONE PERISHED - THANKFULLY

BY THE TIME I SQUISHED MY BEHIND DOWN INTO THAT EDITOR'S CHAIR, OF THE HERALD-GAZETTE, (BACK IN THE EARLY 1980'S), IT WOULD HAVE TAKEN THE JAWS OF LIFE TO SPARE THE CHAIR. FROM MY FIRST YEARS OF UNIVERSITY, I SET MY SIGHTS ON BEING A FUTURE EDITOR. IT TOOK A WHILE, AND SOME HUSTLING TO PROVE MY WORTH, BUT I FINALLY ACHIEVED MY GOAL. I WAS THE BOSS. I HAD THE CHAIR AND DESK TO PROVE IT. DID ANYBODY GIVE A RAT'S ARSE? JUST THE PUBLISHER. HE WANTED ME TO EARN MY KEEP, MOTIVATE THE STAFF, AND CO-OPERATE WITH THE TOUGH COOKIES IN THE PRODUCTION DEPARTMENT. MOST OF ALL, HE DIDN'T WANT TO GET A/ SUED, B/ VOID OF ADVERTISING.

WHEN I DID MAKE MY WAY TO THIS STATION IN LIFE, I HAD EXPERIENCED A PRETTY GOOD WORK-OUT ON THE LOCAL NEWS SCENE, STRETCHING FROM THE TOWNSHIP OF GEORGIAN BAY, MUSKOKA LAKES, AND BRACEBRIDGE. GRAVENHURST WAS STILL IN RANGE, BUT IT WOULD BE YEARS, AND A CHANGE OF EDITOR'S CHAIR BEFORE I BEGAN COVERING ITS MUNICIPAL COUNCIL, AND THE LOCAL BEAT. AS FOR HAVING COVERED ACCIDENT AND FIRE SCENES, I'D CUT MY TEETH ON SOME REAL DANDIES, AND DESPITE THE PROMOTION, I WOULD FOB-OFF AN ACCIDENT OR FIRE CALL ON ANYONE ELSE IN THAT NEWSROOM. MY CONSTITUTION WAS NOT SUITED TO THE KIND OF SCENES FIRST RESPONDERS HAD TO DEAL WITH. IF THERE WAS NO CHOICE, NO ONE TO HAND THE CAMERA TO, I DID WHAT WAS REQUIRED TO JUSTIFY THE PURPOSE OF OUR "NEWS" PAPER. I GOT MY WOBBLY KNEES JUST HEARING THE COMMUNITY FIRE SIREN, OR THE SCANNER WE KEPT IN THE OFFICE FOR EMERGENCY CALLS.

ON THIS BITTERLY COLD WINTER MORNING, SHORTLY AFTER CHRISTMAS-FESTIVITIES, THE CALL CAME OVER THE SCANNER ABOUT A FIRE AT A BUILDING ON MANITOBA STREET, AT CHANCERY LANE. I KNEW IT AS THE THOMAS COMPANY BUILDING, WITH LEGAL OFFICE UPSTAIRS, JUST BEHIND THE HERALD-GAZETTE BUILDING ON DOMINION STREET. I WOULD LATER THAT DAY, BE ABLE TO STAND OUT ON THE ROOF OF THE HERALD BUILDING, TO WATCH THE PROGRESS OF THE FIRE.

EVERY REPORTER WE HAD WAS CALLED OUT TO COVER THIS BREAKING NEWS EVENT. WHILE TWO PHOTOGRAPHERS HEADED DOWN CHANCERY LANE, TO GET SOME FRONT SHOTS OF THE BUILDING, I STOOD AT THE TOP OF THE LANE, JUST BEHIND THE FORMER BRACEBRIDGE TOWN HALL, BECAUSE I NOTICED A LOT OF SMOKE COMING FROM VENTS AT THE SIDE. I TOOK SOME SHOTS DOWN THE SLOPE OF THE LANE, CONNECTING TO THE MAIN STREET, AND SAW A FIRE CAPTAIN I KNEW AT THE BASE. WHEN STAFF FROM THE LEGAL OFFICE OPENED THE SIDE DOOR TO ESCAPE THE BUILDING, THE GLASS IN THE STOREFRONT BELOW, BLEW OUT, THE BURST OF AIR, TOSSING THE FIREMAN ARSE OVER TEA KETTLE, INTO THE ROADWAY. I GOT A SHOT BUT THE SMOKE GOT IN THE WAY OF A CLEAR IMAGE. THE SAME HAPPENED FOR THE PHOTOGRAPHERS BELOW, WHO, AT THAT POINT, DIDN'T KNOW HOW SERIOUS THE FIRE HAD BECOME IN MY ZONE. THE CUSTOMERS AND STAFF HAD JUST GOT OUT OF THE WAY IN THE KNICK OF TIME, BEFORE THE WINDOW EXPLODED.

FROM THIS POINT, INDEED, ALL HELL BROKE LOOSE.

The fire had been manifesting for some time before, inching through the openings above the numerous false ceilings in the store. Somehow, as I had been witnessing, the smoke was venting to the side, not the front, and it had not reached a serious degree of burn, until that morning's store opening. When the front and side doors were opened for customers and clients,I suppose it was acting as a sort bellows on the flames. Customers reported feeling very hot in the store, but the smoke wasn't an issue. It was exciting the building, in a less than obvious place.

After the window blew…..and we saw the fireman had escaped serious injury, I tried to talk to the business owner who was in shock at the time. I chased him up the lane, away from the fire, to get one or two sentences to use……as with events like this, print reporters were often asked to do "voicers" for regional radio and television stations. That's when I noticed the shards of glass that had injured his rear end…..obviously from the explosion at the front of the building. I left the rest to his son…..but it looked painful.

I'd never seen a fire accelerate like this one. It was obvious the fire had gotten into the nooks and crannies, enough to make it twice as difficult for firemen to douse. Within minutes of that window being blown out, the mood changed big-time. Spectators were fleeing and there were sirens everywhere. As we all know about these downtown fires, along the traditional, historic main streets in Bracebridge and Gravenhurst, it couldn't possibly be a simple, one building fire. It was the test to see if there were any firewalls between the old structures. I'm not sure now just how many of the buildings were gutted, but that it stopped before it hit Thatcher Studio. I'm pretty confident it affected three businesses, a medical office, and a law office upstairs. Fortunately no one was seriously injured. Emotional trauma. There was lots of that…..especially when, as historical record in Muskoka towns has documented, you could literally lose the downtown during one out-of-control fire event. There were a lot of gut-wrenching, nervous moments for all stake holders that day.

What was the saving grace, if memory serves, was that a "Tele-squirt" aerial firetruck was loaned by the Fire College, in Gravenhurst, which effectively stopped the progression from consuming other vulnerable buildings. It knocked the flames down, and gave firemen on the ground a better chance of stopping the carnage from heading north, or south, or even leaping west across Manitoba Street. The deep freeze made it a most unfortunate situation for firemen, who were quickly exhausted, carrying around ice on their backs and arms. The cold air and smoke made it hard for everyone to breathe, working on the ground level of the multi-building fire. I can remember spectators who had crept closer and closer over the long day, finding jewelry washing down the road from the shop. Rings were being found frozen in the ice for days after the event.

What had begun at about mid-morning, had carried on through the night….and I remember looking down on the fire scene, from the roof of The Herald-Gazette, and it appearing the mouth of a volcano. There was no roof structure left. Just an expansive, threatening, wavering glow in the sub-zero night air. As we said over and over again that day and night….and for the next week, "at least no one was injured." And you know, the owners of the property, rebuilt the structures that seemed beyond repair….and you can visit them today…..and see no evidence of that great winter fire, of once.

Over the past years, we've had several major fires in downtown Gravenhurst, and although I'm not employed as a reporter any longer, I still got those wobbly knees, and churning stomach, that always went along with the territory. I watched those fire fighters tackle that blaze, with the prowess I recall seeing so many times in the past. On both fires, I saw the terrible odds they were facing….old buildings, many renovations in the past, all kinds of nooks and crannies for a fire to hide, and the looks of sincere regret……on their faces…..that they couldn't do more to stop the disaster in its tracks. No one can tell me, after my own years of experience covering accidents and fires, that first responders are void of emotion at times of crisis……just because they're used to difficult circumstances. No, they're mortal, and they wish for a better outcome from their efforts. Some times it just isn't possible.  

I heard a smart ass, at the first downtown fire, back in the spring, say "Yup, they haven't lost a foundation yet!" Insensitive bastard.

As a wee footnote, I remember reporting on a side-bar story, of the fire that claimed Windermere House, quite a few years back. It was about the emotional state of a few of the firefighters, one who had been in tears, because, in some way, he felt that losing the building was the brigade's fault……that a landmark was lost because they couldn't beat the flames back. Do you think I'm blowing smoke. Tell me then, the last time you heard of a memorial service being held for a building……and for all those who fought the blaze. It was held at the Windermere United Church shortly after the fire, which was begun by the way, during the filming of a Hollywood movie. I was at that service, as my wife is from Windermere. We felt bad for the firemen, that they shouldered responsibility this way….when they had done everything possible to extinguish flames in that very old, very dry resort building. It was clear evidence for me, even though I had seen it in my photographs, showing firemen in action….for years, first responders take it on the chin every time…..and wish there was a positive outcome to each event.

Windermere House was rebuilt, as it was on that promontory, overlooking Lake Rosseau, and it is every bit the historic landmark it once was……but thoroughly modernized. No one had been killed or seriously injured in what could have been much more serious.

As a reporter who shadowed the firefighters of South Muskoka for more than a decade, I have the utmost respect for them, and confidence they will do everything humanly possible to maintain our health and welfare in the event of crisis. But don't think for a minute, they have any choice, about taking their work home with them……and that's something we need to know about their dedication….before we make insensitive comments…….about saving foundations, and such.

Thank you firefighters of Muskoka. Thank you all first responders.

Christmas in Muskoka The Small Town Experience

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

THE SMALL TOWN EXPERIENCE WASN'T LOST ON ME

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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