Posted on December 11, 2024 under Wednesday’s Words of Wisdom with 3 comments

My hometown

 

“Son, take a look around,

This is your hometown.”

My Hometown – Bruce Springsteen

When you walk every day of your life, you notice things. Rarely do you see things that are startling. If you’re a hiker, you might see a rare bird, some flowers or a vista that leaves you gob smacked. Driving to and from work is so routine that your car automatically takes you to the drive-through at Tim Horton’s. It’s all rather mundane.

My daily walks follow the same route. One day, it’s clockwise and the next it’s clockwise. The circuit is the same, but the point of view is different.

Speaking of mundane, let me take you on the walk I take on the days when I am called to substitute teach. If you’re having trouble sleeping, read on!

When I step outside my door, I am facing east. With the exception of a few weeks in December, I get to witness the sunrise… when it’s not raining for three consecutive weeks. There’s something special about a sunrise. It bespeaks of hope for a new day. Some days, it positively reeks of optimism. I am glad that I’m an inveterate early bird. And speaking of birds, there are a handful of places along the way to school where murders of crows congregate to provide a wakeup call to neighbours.

Before making the turn onto Main Street, I invariably meet the guys from Sullivan’s Auto Service who are clutching a Timmie’s on their way to work. These are good guys. Hard working with a good sense of humour.

I head west towards the school, a few kilometers away. I love the stillness of the early morning. There are very few vehicles on the road at this hour of the day with the exception of hospital workers who always give me a friendly wave. With Christmas just around the corner, the light standards are bedecked with flashing Christmas lights, a candy cane delight.

The stores in the downtown core go all out at Christmas and I often stop to admire the creativity of those who put together these amazing festive window displays. One doesn’t get to appreciate the details if they’re driving.

I walk along the south side of the Main and marvel at how much things have changed over the decades. Across the street, where the venerable Wong’s Restaurant dished out some of the best Chinese food for many years, is now the home to a mosque. Who would have thought that this was possible in The Little Vatican?

Almost without fail, there is a car parked on The Main with two old fellas (probably my age!) smoking with the windows up. They’re probably talking about sports or politics, but there’s a good chance that they’re chatting about the good old days. We always exchange a friendly wave and a smile.

I pass the Credit Union. I have been a member for 72 years according to their records. My dad was the manager there for a long time. It has grown exponentially since its early days in the League building which now houses Farmer’s Mutual. Directly across the street is Happenstance. This was once the home of Sears and Macintosh Hardware Store. When we were young hockey players, this is where we purchased our hockey sticks. They were kept in the back recesses of the building. A top-of-the-line CCM wooden stick would set you back $3.49.

As I wait for the light to change, I stare across the road at Town Hall where I spent 9 years of my life as a counsellor. Just in time for Christmas, there are new exterior lights on the clock tower that turn a different color every 8 seconds. It’s quite stunning.

Oak Manor Men’s Wear is now a watering hole. For the longest time, this iconic store with its unique interior, was a hot bed of political gossip. Long before politics became a nasty blood sport, a person could go inside and come back out in sartorial splendor, along with the latest polling information.

The Capitol Theatre is no more. When we were kids, fifty cents would gain you admittance to a Saturday matinee and enough change (.13 cents) to get a bag full of candy at Dot’s Confectionery across the street. The building will be the new home of a barbeque restaurant.

Further along the way, I pass Grape Leaves Restaurant, one of many new Syrian businesses in our town. This used to be the Celtic Music Store. I wonder what Bernie MacIsaac would make of this. And right across the street, next to the Tall and Small (best muffins on the planet), is the Peace by Chocolate store, another Syrian enterprise that had made national and international headlines.

At the corner of Main and Hawthorns, I pause and wait for the lights to change. Back in the 1960s, on the land currently occupied by Chisholm Park, there was an excellent outdoor skating rink. The Wheel Pizza and Sub Shop might be the most iconic business on the Main. It has been there for decades, and its legendary pizzas have made it to every corner of the world and even into space!

As I make the slow turn onto West Street, I look across the way to St.F.X. University. I’m quite certain that I could write a book about this institution, having grown up in its shadow.

There are some regular, early morning walkers along this part of my route. We always say good morning and exchange pleasantries. One of these days, I must stop them and ask them their names.

I am one of the first teachers to arrive at the school, an old habit from my teaching days. I like to ease into the day. I greet the secretary and the school’s maintenance supervisor and then head off to my classroom to see what the day ahead looks like.

I have become a bit of a fixture at St. Andrew’s Junior School. I don’t know all the students by name, but they all seem to know mine. All day long, I receive cheery greetings of “Hi, Mr. MacDonald.”

The school day ends and it’s time to head back home. I stand at the cross walk with dozens of students, waiting for Ray, the crosswalk guard, to grant us safe passage. There’s another crosswalk just down the hill but this is not where I cross. I don’t know this crosswalk guard but we always wave and say hello. I often wonder how he spends the rest of his day.

Even though I’m generally a bit fatigued after a day on my feet, I love the walk home. Invariably, I meet up with a few students and I find out about their day. Keeps me young being around young people.

On many occasions, I will stop at the People’s Place Library on my way home to drop off a book and pick up another. Lately, I have been reading some of the old classics like Pride and Prejudice, Tess of the d’Urbervilles and The Great Gatsby.

“To market, to market to buy a fat pig,

Home again, home again, jiggety-jig.”

To Market. To Market. Nursery Rhyme

A day in the life of a not so retired retiree.

My hometown.

Have a great weekend.

P.S. I’m doing a one man music and story telling Christmas concert at the Heritage Museum this Sunday, December 15th from 1-3 p.m.

 

Posted on December 4, 2024 under Wednesday’s Words of Wisdom with no comments yet

 

 

“Oh, the good ol’ hockey game,

Is the best game you can name,

And the best game you can name,

Is the good ol’ hockey game.”

The Hockey Song – Stompin’ Tom Connors

Who is your superhero?

When we were younger, most of us had a superhero. Someone we admired and looked up to. Typically, these characters came leaping off the pages of a comic book which many of us collected and ravenously digested in our youth. Batwoman. Superman. Wonder Woman. These heroes were larger than life, accomplishing superhuman feats like leaping out of tall buildings to rescue someone in distress. We were awe struck, plain and simple.

I would like to add one more to an updated list: hockey moms.

When I was growing up, hockey was not the 24/7 obsession that it appears to be today. Back then, minor hockey mostly happened just on the weekend. The youngest boys (yes it was all a male domain back in the dark ages!) played the earliest on any given Saturday morning. Most of us put our gear on at home and those of us who lived in town walked to the old Memorial rink in our skates! You see, no one could tie skates like mom so just as well to get it done right in the comfort of your own home. With 8 children in the house, mom’s didn’t attend a lot of games. My mother never saw me play. She didn’t miss much!

The legendary Frank McGibbon single handedly ran the minor hockey program and he had the keys to the rink. On bitterly cold mornings, if you arrived before Frank did, you simply walked next door to the university’s boiler room to keep warm. Back then, the university burned coal. The evidence could be found on the white sheets hanging on the clothesline.

Most people use two-by-fours to build things. Frank used them as ice dividers. It was a stroke of genius on Frank’s part. How could he possibly teach 100 kids at the same time? He divided the ice into sections using lumber. At any point in time, four games could be happening simultaneously with Frank masterminding the entire process. Later in the morning as the older boys arrived, boards were removed progressively and only the oldest got to use the entire surface. If you wonder why so many of the old timers can stick handle so well, it probably came from learning how to handle the puck in tight quarters.

Frank was also building other things with those two-by-fours: character.

Hockey mom 2024. Definition: n. Superwoman (Webster’s Dictionary*)

Job description:

Professional fundraiser

Chauffeur

Laundress

Consoler

Medic

Sports psychologist

Physiotherapist

Nutritionist

Lace tying expert

Professional worrier

Professional warrior

Totally committed

Totally dedicated

I spoke with some hockey moms who gave me some deeper insights. These days it is not uncommon for a 12-year-old to be on the ice two mornings a week (school days) at 6:00 a.m. That would suggest a 5:15 wake up call. Then there are games every day of the week except Friday. I am exhausted just trying to imagine this routine… for mother and child.

Then there is travel. One mom talked about the willingness to spend countless hours in a car driving all around the Maritime provinces in all kinds of weather. It’s one thinks that a hockey game is nerve wracking, just getting to the game can be even more stressful. There are benefits to spending all this time on the road. One mom said, “These hours gave me the precious time to spend listening and learning what is important to my daughter and her take on the world. Making memories.”

Time well spent.

Perhaps a hockey mom’s worst nightmare (besides selling a bazillion raffle tickets and having to fill them out), is having her child play in the nets. Everyone wants their children to do well in whatever endeavor they pursue. Your worst fear (and theirs) is that they will fail at a crucial time whether it’s missing a step in the middle of dancing the Seann Triubhas, tripping before the finish line of a race, or forgetting the words to a song at the Christmas concert. Sorry, but all of these pale in comparison to being a goalie in hockey. The potential to be the hero or the goat looms with every shot directed at the net, especially in a playoff game… especially in a shootout. Hockey moms and moms in general can easily explain the appearance of gray hair but nothing will make a mother go gray faster than realizing her child wants to be a goaltender. Not to mention the cost.

Honestly, I don’t know how hockey families afford this passion.

And if you think it’s tough being a hockey mom, try doing it as a single mom. Take everything I’ve written and add a factor of x5.

Make no mistake. Hockey is a fraternity. It takes a village to raise a hockey player.

Hockey moms. Superheroes.

Look it up or better still, stop by a freezing cold arena at 6:00 a.m.

“We are family,

I got all my sisters and me.”

We Are Family – Sister Sledge.

Have a great weekend.

*Not in the Webster’s Dictionary… but it should be.