Posted on June 24, 2015 under News & Updates with one comment

The track at Columbus Field

AN INVITATION

I am planning on doing a story on the late Frank McGibbon. On Thursday ( June 25th. – tomorrow ), I am planning on having coffee with some people who knew Frank well , whether it was a connection to hockey, track and field or baseball. We are meeting at the Prissy Pig at 10:00 a.m. Come and join us and if you have any old pictures of Frank, please bring them along.

Posted on June 22, 2015 under Monday Morning Musings with 3 comments

“Fishing Fleet” by Ben Ploughman

( our new prized possession )

 

 

“Banish thoughts of leaving, home I’ll be”

Home I’ll Be . Rita MacNeil

The response I received from the story that I published last week was really quite amazing. I am not surprised, as Sally is a remarkable woman. There was a common thread in the comments I received: a near reverence for Sally and the longing of Cape Bretoners to be on their home soil. My good friend Claudia White ( and editor of the Cape Breton Star ) said it best in the Homes section of last Saturday’s Herald. “ I can’t find the words to adequately describe the feeling that comes over me when I cross the Causeway and drive onto Cape Breton soil. Honestly, I can feel the stress leaving my body and a sense of calmness settle in.” Almost every comment that I received seemed to echo this sentiment.

And Newfoundlanders are very much the same. It might be an “island” phenomenon but when you spend time in Cape Breton or Newfoundland, you can feel the love of being home. It’s not hard to love either of these places with the natural beauty and the warmth of the people.

So Betty left me for the weekend to do some grandmothering in Halifax. What is a guy supposed to do when he is all alone with a good book, the weekend paper and 8 hours a day of non- stop coverage of the U.S. Open golf tournament?!

I have a whole bunch of new story ideas. I walk The Landing every day as you probably know by now, from the never ending pictures I post on FB. And just about every day, I bump into Doug MacNeil who religiously walks The Landing with his dog. We often stop to chat and I think he is a bit of a historian when it comes to this amazing piece of real estate. Do you remember ( you’d have to be older ) when a helicopter went down in The Landing? He was telling me about this the other day. I am planning on cornering him one of these days for more stories.

Yeah yeah, I know you think that all I ever talk about is the good old days. Some truth to that. To understand the present you need to respect the past. When I look at all of the runners who have completed the Boston Marathon in recent years, I often think back to a man who gave many athletes their start in sports. Track and field, baseball and hockey are just a few of the sports that Frank MacGibbon coached. The old cinder track at the Columbus field was his pride and joy and there was a time that all of the elite track and field athletes came from far and wide to compete in the Highland Games. “ A Frank Discussion” will be eagerly anticipated by those who benefited from his tutelage. There will be no shortage of material to draw on for this story.

I’m also hoping to profile a couple of businesses in Antigonish and continue to tell the stories of some amazing people who live here and beyond.

Have a great week.

 

Posted on June 20, 2015 under Storytelling with no comments yet

Just me… and a few birdies at the golf course last evening

 

 

Where can you experience frustration of the highest order and moments later, feel a sense of elation that is hard to describe?  How can you be so on top of your game one day and feel completely inept twenty four hours later?  How can you be at peace, feeling that you have things all sorted out and then feel completely inadequate.  Welcome to the mysterious world of golf.  It seems appropriate that golf spelled backwards is flog.

Back when I was ten years old, every day was Christmas.  I got up at 5:30 a.m., made myself two egg salad sandwiches (every day), grabbed my three golf clubs and trudged 3 kilometers to the golf course.  I played all day only stopping to eat.   My wife hopes that I kept the sandwiches in the fridge and not in my golf bag.  I practiced, caddied and hunted for golf balls.  And in the waning light of the day, several of us gathered on the putting green for our daily contest.  The trip home around 9:30 p.m. seemed a little longer than the morning expedition, but there were no complaints.

Those of you who have played golf understand this clearly: it is the most beguiling game imaginable.  In most sports, one can attain a certain level of competence and consistency with enough time, patience and practice.  Golf humbles you, plain and simple.  If you think you have it figured out, it will slap you silly and bring you back to your senses.

Non golfers must be shaking their heads wondering, what is the appeal to a sport that can drive sane people over the edge?  To wit: during a particularly frustrating round of golf, an exasperated golfer whacked two balls into a nearby pond.  His partners, sensing an eruption in proportion to Mt. Vesuvius, gave the player a wide berth.  He walked calmly to the edge of the pond and with a herculean toss, threw the clubs and bag into the water.  He began his walk back to the clubhouse when he suddenly spun on his heels and returned to the pond.  Wading in water up to his knees, he retrieved the bag and brought it to shore.  He unzipped the side pocket, removed his car keys, heaved the clubs back into the water and stormed off the course.

Some golfers strive for perfection.  They take lessons, practice for hours on end and read every golf magazine imaginable.  Eventually the golf gods impart wisdom, and perfection is replaced by striving for excellence.  This leads to accepting mediocrity.

The best round I ever had was following my son while he played my favorite course on the planet – Cape Breton Highlands Links.  I never hit a bad shot but I took several excellent ones … with my camera.

I haven’t played much in the past eight years but when I do, it is for fun, pure and simple.  I have figured golf out.  It is about the walk and the camaraderie.  It is about smelling freshly mown fairways and watching eagles soar and foxes cross the greens.  I don’t keep score any more because, let’s face it, nobody cares about my score or yours.

Golfers are eternally optimistic.  Most carry a bag of dreams with them until they hole the final putt.