Posted on June 18, 2015 under Thursday Tidbits with one comment

Slow and steady wins the race

 

 

“Slow down, you move too fast; you got to make the morning last”

The 59^th. Street Bridge Song : Paul Simon

We caught up with this gal the other morning while walking The Landing. People who know these things tell us that momma turtle is laying her eggs in the gravel along the roadway. Now that we live a stone’s throw away, our trips around The Landing are just about everyday. We never tire of the scenery and you meet such nice people who stop and chat.

We walked there yesterday. Is it possible to taste a morning? It had rained heavily the night before and it was a warm, sunny morning. Everything was so fresh and wonderful. And speaking of meeting people, we were delighted to bump into Charlie and Patty “D.D.”.  Now, just so you know, the D.D.’s lived right next door to the P.D.’s on Hillcrest Street. This was at a time when the neighborhood teemed with children and we lived outdoors. The memories came flooding back. The D.D.’s had one of the first outdoor rinks that I can remember, complete with boards. After all those years skating on the Salt Ponds, we felt like we were one step removed from the N.H.L.  Sorry, but nostalgia still rates as one of my worst afflictions. I love the present but those childhood days were so special.

My first few weeks of retirement were anything but dull. ( Some of you know what I’m talking about! ). But now, after five days in Newfoundland, I am ready and rarin’ to go.  My road warrior son Peter , and I , are planning a trip to Newfoundland later this summer or fall. We’ll pack our guitars and some copies of my books and head over to do some gigs. I have been talking with some of the folks that I met last week and they are going to try and arrange some venues for us to do a combo of music and storytelling. We might add a third feature: art. At least one artist we met, might join us. It could be a great deal of fun. We’ll “sing for our supper.”

I am looking forward to doing a full length story about the roadside gardens we saw all along the west coast of Newfoundland. They can’t grow anything close to their seaside towns because of the salt water blowing in off of the Strait. It is fascinating to see these carefully tended plots of land on the side of the road and often, many kilometers from their homes.

It was very heartwarming to get the feedback on yesterday’s story about Sally “Central.” The best thing about writing is the rock star treatment I get. ( Only joking! We live in a two bedroom apartment and drive a 6 year old Yaris… hardly the stuff of fame and fortune ). Stories beget stories and several people got back to me with some amazing accounts of their own. Folks in Mabou would certainly remember the time that Sylvia Tyson came to Mabou to tape a ceilidh at the home of Angus and Sally Beaton. A young John Morris Rankin played piano as did Joey Beaton. Dan R. MacDonald played the fiddle, others sang Gaelic and Jim St. Clair ( who graciously shared this story with me ), did some story telling. In the wee hours of the morning, Sylvia Tyson sang hauntingly… a capella. I know it’s an oft over used expression but, my, if those walls could talk.

I am hoping to get back to my regular publishing schedule. I don’t have any excuses for not being able to churn out “Musings,” “Tidbits” and stories.

Thanks for continuing to read my material. As long as you keep reading, I’ll keep writing.

Have a great weekend.

 

Posted on June 17, 2015 under Storytelling with 9 comments

Sally “Central”

 

 

Where the Mabou River trundles towards Mabou Harbour and eventually out into the Northumberland Strait, there is a house perched atop a hill.  Over 70 years ago, it was inhabited by Dr. Alexander E. Kennedy.  When he died, leaving no heirs, Angus D. Beaton bid on the property and won.  Eventually he brought his new bride there.

And Sally “Central” has lived there ever since, enriching the lives of her family and community …. for 99 years and counting.

I took scenic drive to Mabou with Sally’s daughter, Miriam, on a sun dappled spring day.  Route 19 had never looked better.  It is small wonder that people travel from the four corners of the earth to spend time in Cape Breton.  The scenery is stunning, especially at this time of the year, and the people are grounded; knowing who they are and so proud of their heritage.

We entered Mabou and drove down a secluded lane.  I soon discovered that this may, indeed, be paradise.

Within minutes, I was engaged in a spirited conversation with Sally and three of her adult children.  We were in the kitchen (of course!) and Sally was comfortable in the seat of honor … the rocking chair.  After some casual banter about the weather and the like, we dove into a discussion about her life.

Sally was brought up on a farm in Glencoe Station, one of the “Dancer MacMillans”.  All of the families at that time were large; and hard work was a given.  She had a special passion for horses and was often charged with the responsibility of hooking them up to the sleigh or wagon to do chores or carry a crowd to the dances.   When her brothers had to travel afar for work, she had three horses and a colt under her care.

When Angus D. Beaton’s father died, he left the family to the wit and resources of his wife and Angus’s mother, one Mary Ann Beaton (nee MacDonell).  Mary Ann needed to provide for her family so she took a job as the local telephone operator.  It is not surprising that her home, being the hub of all conversations, became known as “Central” and forever after, she was simply referred to as “Mary Ann Central”.  It only stands to reason that her offspring would always carry this easily identifiable handle.  To this very day, it is not uncommon to hear the following: “Which one of the Centrals are you?”

So, Angus (Central) married Sally (the Dancer MacMillans) and they took up residence in Dr. Kennedy’s house.  One of her most prized (and useful) wedding gifts was the cow she received from her father … a modern day “food processor”!  They raised other animals on their six acres of land and had an enormous garden.  While we were talking, one of her sons was out tilling the soil for this year’s crop.  In other words, the family has always been self-sufficient.  Back then it wasn’t a luxury or a fad.

Like most women of her generation she managed the home front and worked unbelievably hard.  But as she was quick to point out, so did everybody else.  That was the norm.  Angus’ and Sally’s home was always filled with people and laughter and music.

Once her children were launched, she decided to take her talents and energy to Mary’s Hill, a residential facility for the mentally challenged.  She took a course in New Glasgow to get her credentials and worked as a nurse’s aide at the home for 10 years.

At the age of 68 she decided that it was high time to get her driver’s license.  While she wasn’t expecting Angus’s untimely demise any time soon, she was simply being prudent and suspected that there might come a day when she would need it.  She kept her license for many years and decided of her own volition to pass it in when she was 95.

Of course, no discussion in Cape Breton would be complete without the topic of sports.  I couldn’t get much out of her other than to say that she likes Sidney Crosby.  I teased her and wondered if it was because of his skill or his good looks!

We were well into our discussion when it was decided to pause for lunch.  I looked at Sally and suggested that she would need a full stomach to talk about the last remaining topics: religion and politics.

Long before the “Decree on Ecumenism” in 1964, the Beaton house was a living, breathing example of this concept.  Several of their closest neighbors belonged to other religions but that didn’t stop them from getting together on a regular basis.  One of the people from another denomination insisted that one of their prayers be uttered when entering a home.  That wasn’t a big deal for Sally and Angus.

And when it came to politics, Sally noted that many a seasoned politician made a point to stop in their kitchen on the way through Mabou.  Probably to get some good, practical advice.

As we were winding up, I asked her if she had any regrets in life.  “None” was the succinct reply.  She would have like to have studied to become a nurse but life got in the way.

And finally, the question that most almost centenarians are asked: “What is the secret to your longevity?”  She paused thoughtfully.  Besides having never smoked and enjoying the odd dram of single malt Scotch, she said that she always had a lot of friends.  Visits from people passing through or stopping for tea or story-telling and music has sustained her.  Friends, new and old, keep her on top of her game.

Sally loves her front veranda, where she can survey her garden and the large pond, and see who’s coming down the lane.

And ponder an amazing, full and happy life.

Posted on June 15, 2015 under Monday Morning Musings with no comments yet

Ben’s amazing art studio

 

 

It had been a full fifty years since I last visited the West Coast of Newfoundland until this past week when Betty and I took a four day mini vacation to visit friends ( our daughter’s in laws ). I know most of you will either fall asleep after reading 750 words or will have to rush off to work so I’m going to try and summarize the high points.

The scenery is breath taking, not at all what I expected , other than the standard pictures one sees of Gros Morne National Park. But like most places on the planet, after all the oohs and ahs, it always comes down to the people and you won’t find any finer than in Newfoundland. They are incredibly hospitable and friendly and I think they were all born with charm and a wicked sense of humour. In particular, I would like to thank our hosts and tour guides, Danny and Shirley for taking the time to show us around.

Traveller alert: if you ever go to Port Aux Basques as a foot passenger and plan to leave your car in North Sydney, ask me about the parking situation and the bizarre way you get from this private parking lot to the terminal. There’s an entire story that I might write about the two hours leading up to departure. I am tempted to call it “Terminal Illness.”  We, and two other very weary travellers,  were waiting for a shuttle to take us on to the boat. We feared that we might have been forgotten when a Marine Atlantic employee walked by. He said ( I’m not kidding ), “ If you see the ferry leaving the harbor, you’ll know you missed the boat.” More later on this heart warming experience.

Our home base was St. Georges, just across the bay from Stephenville. Less than 100 yards from the Conway’s back door, runs a stretch of the Trans Canada Trail. You can literally walk from Port Aux Basques to St. John’s ( approx.. 1000 kms. ). Now that would be quite the experience stopping every night in one of the small towns dotting the province.

If you ever go to Gros Morne you must go to Rocky Harbor. It is a quaint town and a local hotel hosts an evening of music and story telling called “Anchors Aweigh.” Once again, I could write an entire story about this. It is three hours of non stop rollicking music and fun. Four of the five musicians are old farts like me ( the accordion player is 74 and a whirling dervish ,at that ). The drummer is much younger. Mike MacDonald once played with the Fables. He is a fantastic drummer and singer. This is one of the best live shows you will ever see. They’ve been doing the show three nights a week for 19 years. And we didn’t get “dunched.” Anyone want to take a stab at what this means? It involves the overuse of a certain body part.

Gros Morne is, as advertised. Stunning. We didn’t get to Woody Point or Trout River but the locals tell us that these places are truly special. Almost forgot. We were out to dinner in Rocky Harbor and I asked for a non alcoholic beer. The waitress looked at me as if I had come from a far off planet. They didn’t have any but a few minutes later, she plunked an O’Doulls on the table. She had walked next door to the liquor store and bought a case. These are the kind of things that bring tourists back to Newfoundland. Hospitality is in the people’s DNA.

We traveled up to St. Anthony’s to get a glimpse of the icebergs. It is a very long drive especially when it is rainy and foggy the entire way. We stopped in Port Aux Choix for a bite to eat and to see the art studio owned by one Ben Ploughman ( www.bensstudio.ca ). Ben is an incredibly talented artist and an amazing story teller. Every one of his works has a story behind it and he is not shy to tell you all about his works. We bought a piece and it will soon adorn our living room wall. I am not an art collector but this is a place you really should visit if you get the chance. We spent a full hour at his studio.

If you’re from Newfoundland , I’m sure this is not news to you. Because the landscape is rugged and rocky, growing a vegetable garden can be a challenge. So, with typical ingenuity, Newfoundlanders plant their gardens along the side of the road, sometimes in the middle of nowhere. The expression “any port in a storm” comes to mind. Just outside of St.Anthony’s, we saw Ephram tending to his garden. I jumped out, took his picture and chatted for 15 minutes .I  plan to do a full length story of this phenomenon  at a later date.

So there you have it. What a wonderful four days.

“Long may your big jib draw.”

Have a great week.

 

Len and Ephram at his roadside garden