Tyler
Avenue, Acton, (Ontario) was a happy place for me. We
arrived in winter, (February 1978) and the snow was deep.
It was due to this situation that I
was obliged to introduce myself to one of my new neighbours a trifle
earlier than anticipated; indeed it was to happen at the very moment of
arrival. My driveway was buried in snow and I urgently needed the
immediate use of a snow shovel. I was at the point of going to a hardware
store to purchase this item when I noticed a man holding just that very
article; he was standing at the other side of the street from me. Seizing
the opportunity I quickly introduced myself and explained my predicament.
We exchanged pleasantries and, whilst I dug my way into my driveway with
his shovel.
Val and the children were introduced to his wife and they were taken
indoors to have a coffee and get to meet our new neighbours. It was the
start of a close friendship that has lasted to this very day.
We had not settled down very long
before Paul came home from school and announced that I would have take up
an outdoor recreational activity during the winter months - or face the
consequences of early senility. We discussed alternatives and skiing was
decided as being the obvious choice, (cost and availability). I was a
little unsure how I would adapt to this as I had memories of downhill
skiing in Germany in the fifties, and those were the days when I was much
younger, fitter, better looking and, moreover, when taking my state of
bachelorhood and the type of the ‘aprés ski’ activities into
consideration, I could not see me enjoying a similar style fun in quite
the same degree.
It so happened that there was an
extra curricular activity class at the local school that taught Nordic,
(or cross-country) skiing and I suggested that if he, (Paul) were to join
this, learn the skills, and then pass them on to me, I would be happy to
be his pupil. The girls decided they would like to join in, so we equipped
ourselves with all the gear and got started. There was a huge area, ideal
for skiing, just west of the town, and we were perfectly situated to be
able to ski directly from our doorway, go along a few front lawns, cross
the, ( frozen) Lake and gain access to some excellent recreational trails.
...as I
somersaulted and spun around like a cartoon character, I remember thinking
that if I lived through this, I would murder him.
I recall one afternoon whilst
traversing along the top of a small rise, with Paul staying parallel in
the valley below, when he shouted for me to join him; he pointed to what
looked like a good access route, it was blinding sunshine and the snow was
deep. He was the instructor and I the pupil, so I turned down towards him
and found myself in the middle of a most unexpected manoeuvre; he had
directed me onto a snow shelf that I was unable to recognise due to the
glare of the sun. The shelf of snow he guided me onto collapsed, and as I
somersaulted and spun around like a cartoon character, I remember thinking
that if I lived through this, I would murder him. I couldn’t catch him
however, so he lived another day.
I had, (arbitrarily) decided that
Television was impinging on time that should be used for school homework
and so did not purchase a TV set, thinking it would be helpful not to have
one at all rather than have to impose and monitor rules as to its use.
This went well, (from my angle) until one Sunday morning our neighbour,
(John) asked Paul if he had watched “The game” last evening, and Paul
replied that he had been unable to watch the big event, (a Hockey match)
because we did not have a TV set.
John was a bit startled at this, and the very next evening, upon answering
the chimes of the door bell, I was greeted by two of our new friends
carrying a TV set between them and saying; “We hear you don’t have a
TV set Brian”
To say I was enveloped in conflicting
emotions would be an understatement. How does one explain the reasons for
depriving ones children of the anodyne of the 20th century?
The set was duly placed in Paul’s
room, and I was obliged to purchase a family set to keep Angela happy.
Early that first summer I built a
picnic bench, bought a barbeque and set about giving myself a ‘Barbie’
on the back lawn. No sooner had I got the fire going than John, together
with another couple of guys came over, accompanied by their wives. They
had got everything organised, complete with an extra picnic bench, coolers
of beer and steaks; they just put some steaks on my barbeque, and settled
down to have themselves a little ‘welcome to Canada’ party. I was a
tad surprised at this apparent intrusion of my privacy, but I quickly
adapted and it turned out to be a perfect day. We were able to get to know
each other far quicker than otherwise would have been the case.
They were, and are, a zany bunch, I
was told of one occasion when one family went off on vacation and found a
‘HOUSE FOR SALE’ sign on their lawn upon their return!
It became customary to just ‘drop
in’ upon whoever happened to be ‘firing up’ during the summer.
During the winter months, hunting, skiing and ice fishing
appeared to be the most popular pastimes of the men who lived around my
neighbourhood, and although I was invited to all their activities I rarely
accepted. For one thing I seldom had time available, and in any event my
personal philosophy had grown to a point where the thought of killing any
creature was abhorrent.
I renewed my skills at winemaking
and brewing cask beer. Needless to say this became very popular, although
my Canadian born friends did require education on the finer points of real
ale...
We all had our own wet bars in the
basements of our homes and on cold nights it was a pleasant moment to be
able to either entertain the odd friend who had dropped by, or ‘pop’
over the road to cadge off someone else. I renewed my skills at winemaking
and brewing cask beer. Needless to say this became very popular, although
my Canadian born friends did require education on the finer points of real
ale and had to be weaned away from their Canadian tastes, I was very happy
to assist them in this and to introduce them to the British ‘Pint’!
When we emigrated we had a family
discussion and we had all agreed that it would be permanent without any
reservations or ideas that this might be a temporary move. We thought that
doing it this way we would not be forever whining about how much better
things are at the place we had just left, it always is! In 1979 therefore
we all became Canadian citizens and thus cemented our destinations for as
long as we live.
About this same time my job security
became precarious, there were plans to move the company to Alabama where
the tax breaks were encouraging to all types of business ventures; the
result was that, later that same year, I started a new job with another
import/export company which, although based in Quebec, ran an Ontario
office based in Markham. My old company was closed down, and became
consolidated within the headquarters group in Alabama USA.
Things were progressing smoothly once
more when, about 1980, we made contact with the ex wife of one of my old
army pals and a neighbour from Hong Kong days, she had re-married and was
living in California. Arrangements were made to visit her, but
unfortunately I could not meet the date and John’s wife, Anna, our
neighbour and Val’s best friend agreed to accompany Val in my stead.
I tried to point out
that, as I had neither requirement nor desire to lose weight, I was unable
to understand the point of me going on a diet... Of course it was wasted breath.
Val decided to lose weight in order
to be able to look good in a swim suit, and, of course compete with the
California girls; she started a diet and informed me that ‘we’ were
now going to do a ‘pep step’, on a daily basis. I tried to point out
that as I had neither requirement nor desire to lose weight; I was unable
to understand the point of me going on a diet, nor indeed, why I should be
required to do a ‘pep step’. Of course it was wasted breath. To our
mutual astonishment the first time we walked around the area in a brisk
walk we were both exhausted. I just could not believe I was so out of
shape, after all I was only fifty years old and I had been doing just fine
on the ski trails. We decided to do something about it. We rose a tad
earlier every morning and very soon progressed to a fast walk which, as we
became more proficient, gradually increased in distance. Eventually we
settled to a daily six Kilometre circular walk which took us about fifty
minutes.
1983 saw Angela married to a local
lad, (Dennis Emond) they took an apartment in the town and our wonderful
granddaughter, Melissa, made her appearance in 1985. About
two or three years after this they moved to Belleville.
I
got a bit bored with walking around and around in circles and decided to
walk some of the southern section of the Bruce Trail. This is a long
distance, (over seven hundred and fifty km) continuous Hiking path, broken
down into nine sections, each of which are organised and separately
maintained by different clubs under the umbrella of the Bruce Trail
Association. This wonderful footpath follows the escarpment of the ancient
shoreline of Lake Ontario from its Northern tip at Tobermory to Queenstown
in the South.
For me, it also had an advantage in that it passed close to my home in
Acton. After walking a couple of different sections, I decided to complete
the whole southern half. Of course I was only able to get out on weekends
and therefore concentrated on the parts within easy reach. After a couple
of years of this I decided it was time to complete the whole trail, and,
with joining club organised hikes and a lot of help from family and
friends,
I accomplished this ambition in 1988.
During this period I had a nasty
accident on the ski trails and compressed some discs in my spine, my
family physician recommended a fusion to take the pressure off the nerves.
Angela suggested seeing a Chiropractor, which I did and he was able to
make adjustments to enable me to function without too much pain, I still
need to attend monthly treatments however and it is still quite a
nuisance.
About nineteen eighty four, the owner
of the house we were living in required us to move, he and his family were
moving out West and he had to settle his affairs, I could not afford the
price he was asking so we moved to a bungalow on the next street which was
even closer to the Lake and the ski trails. Thus we were able, not only to
keep our good friends, but to make new ones too.
My means of
transportation to this exotic establishment depended upon the weather; in
summer it was walking or by canoe, and in the winter it was by car or
skis.
Our new home, (on Elizabeth Drive)
was directly on the lake shore just opposite the Royal Canadian Legion
building. This is the equivalent of the British Legion in England and I
had joined it in order to socialise with my friends. My means of
transportation to this exotic establishment depended upon the weather; in
summer it was walking or by canoe, and in the winter it was by car or
skis.
I have a wonderful memory of standing
in the bar after a Remembrance Day parade, trying to be inconspicuous in
the company of so many heroes of hand to hand combat and Fighter plane
pilots who always seem to infest these establishments at such times,
wondering whatever happened to the guys who got through their service
scared to death and carrying ammunition etc. when a guy sidled up, and,
noticing my Blazer Motto, he spoke to me in a thick Germanic accent
saying; “I used to wear a badge like that, but it didn’t have ‘Or
Glory’ underneath the skull” I hastily looked around and suggested
that this was perhaps not the best time to mention such things. We enjoyed
each others company for the remainder of the afternoon, but unfortunately,
I never met him again.
During our stay in Acton, Paul had
joined the local militia regiment which is in many ways similar to the
British Territorial Army, then after leaving High School for University he
took a position with a recreation regiment during the summer recess. This
proved to be a very interesting situation; apparently, in 1964 during the
preparations for the World ‘Exposition’ in Montreal a man named
Colonel Harper was responsible for raising and recreating a company of the
78th Fraser Highlanders, they dressed in the uniform of, and
were armed with the weapons of the mid 1700’s This was a regiment which
was originally formed by Simon Fraser in 1757, they were, (amongst other
regiments) present with Wolfe in the battle of Quebec in 1759. They were
disbanded after hostilities ceased a couple of years later.
The, (1964) head of the Fraser clan, (Lord Lovat) was persuaded to give
his support and the venture was inaugurated as a charity with the object
of giving summer time employment to students. I was intrigued by this and
upon discovering that commissions were made and sold in the same manner as
they had been three hundred years ago, I duly purchased an Ensigns
commission beautifully signed and sealed by Lord Lovat himself, this gave
me access to all the Regimental functions which were held in many
different venues around Toronto City.
The officer...was doing just fine until it came time to stab his dirk into
the evil mess on the platter; it shot off the plate like a cannonball...
I mention this because it brings to
mind an unforgettable story of how things can go terribly wrong when one
is trying to partake in solemn ritual and ‘Murphy’s Law’ prevails.
The main Dinner night of the year’s calendar was always a ‘Burn’s
Night’ celebration, and we always took part in a little ceremony,
whereby a Haggis was borne into the dining room, carried on a
‘stretcher’ supported on the shoulders of a couple of designated
officers, it was paraded around the dining room accompanied by a bagpiper
wailing away in true Highland fashion, and duly laid to rest on the top
table The ceremony would then continue with a blessing from the Regimental
Padre and a recitation of Burn’s poem in praise of the Haggis. This
being Canada of the 1980’s there was bound to be something go haywire.
The Haggis was imported, (and of course) frozen. This particular year
someone neglected to defrost it, and worse, no one noticed the oversight.
The officer performing the procedure of reciting the poem and cutting into
the Haggis was doing just fine until it came time to stab his dirk into
the evil mess on the platter; it shot off the plate like a cannonball and
rattled out between the tables and completely ruined the atmosphere of the
ritual! What fun!
In the closing days of 1988 our new
landlord died and his widow decided she would like to live on Lakeside.
We got our notice to quit on New
Years Eve. I could imagine my Dad’s foreboding at our receiving bad news
at such an inauspicious moment. He was right. There was nothing suitable
that was immediately available in Acton and after examining our changed
circumstances of an ‘Empty nest’ with Angie already married and Paul
in residence at University, with little likelihood of his returning to
live with us permanently, we settled into a rented apartment in Guelph,
which is about a twenty minute drive from Acton, and, praise be, within
the free phone call area!
For the following few months’ things ran fairly smoothly, but that was
due to change. I once again had occasion to recall my Dad always being
very superstitious of anything going out of kilter on New Years Day, and
how he always wanted his debts paid off and affairs brought up to date by
years end and how we would carry out a ‘First footing’ ritual where a
dark haired individual would be delegated to be the first person over the
threshold, carrying bread, water and coal. Maybe I should have paid
attention.
Read
the next installment: Guelph
To this day, he still ‘pulls my leg’ by saying he thinks that
it was a mistake to loan me his snow shovel and he should have ignored
me!
A hole is cut through the ice, sometimes, (but not always) a hut is
placed over it and the fisherman, (women are too intelligent for this
display of masochism) attempt to catch the fish through the hole.
Sometimes my daughter or son, sometimes a friend, would follow me in
their car to a ‘drop off’ point where I would park my car. They
would then take me to a point fifteen to twenty kilometres away and I
would walk back along the trail to where my car was waiting.
Sometimes, if, (for example) Paul accompanied me, we would drop off
one car then park the second car at the second point, then together,
would return along the path for the first car.
I found it interesting that a Colonel John Hale was also at Quebec
with Wolfe and it was he who formed the 17th Lancers, (my
regiment) a couple of years later. I
served with a descendant of his who was also in the Regiment in
Germany.
In Canada we pay a fixed amount to the telephone company and all local
calls are covered in this basic fee, it is quite customary for a phone
call to last an hour or more when the ladies have something to talk
about. When do they ever not?