The high point of my summer vacation in the summer of 69' was a two week stay at my gramp's farm in the Muskokas. My parents had been fighting more than normal which was quite a bit regularly and it was decided to get the kids out of the house so the adults could sort things out. Gramp had lost his wife to cancer 2 years earlier and wanted some company around the old farm house he and Nanny had retired to 5 years earlier. My older brother Gordon and myself got to spend a couple of glorious weeks with Gramp at his farm
and my sister went to a friends cottage.
William Knox was a wonderful man, soft spoken but solid, wise but always prepared to tell a tall tale to entertain his grandkids and hardworking to a fault because he didn't know any other way to live; a gentle man who had been a builder all of his life and even in his seventies he was up everyday before dawn and was always busy putting his big hands to some task until dusk. William had played catcher in the semi-pro fastball league when he was younger (no gloves back then) and his hands were like the limbs of a knarled old oak, massive and twisted but strong from having survived so many blows. Gramp was a small man but solid, with big bushy eyebrows like a great horned owl and piercing blue eyes in an intelligent face. I revered that man and a lot of what is good in me today comes from the lessons he taught me.
[attachment 56600 oldbarn.jpg]
Gramp's 100 acres wasn't a regular sort of farm but mostly scoured granite like a table top with a few pockets of good soil in between, a barn, chicken coop and tall pine trees surrounding everthing. My folks brought us up to Gramp's farm in the Muskokas one Saturday in June and spent the weekend, there was a pig roast that night and all of my aunts, uncles and cousins were there. The party took place on the scoured granite that made up the central farmyard with only the farmlight, the stars and a bonfire for the musicians to play their instuments and the dancers to dance by. It was a magical time, the harvest table was groaning under a mountain of food, the wine and beer was flowing, the musicians were picking country music and the kids were doing what kids do best - getting into mischief. All my relatives were there and a bunch of family friends who had cottages on our private lake. You see, Gramp's farm was at the end of a concession road and there was a lake about a mile beyond the end of that road which my Uncle Duke had bulldozed a dirtroad into with his D-5. Duke had bought 20 acres of waterfront on the lake from the government for a song because it had no access, once the deal went through Duke dropped the blade on his bulldozer and made access, then divided it up amongst family and friends.
[attachment 56601 lakeMUSKOKA.jpg]
There had to have been 100 people at the party that night, everyone laughing and talking, dancing and drinking; all of us happy to be together again after the long winter. I grew up in the city, far from my country cousins so I was in seventh heaven being surrounded by family again. Duke's buddy Tex showed up late with a couple of 2 gallon cider bottles full of white lightning, the party was already going strong but it really took off after that. All I remember from the tender age of 8 was the music, the laughter and the dancers under the stars, around midnight my eyelids got very heavy and my mother put me to bed.
Come Sunday morning it was quiet as a churchyard at Gramp's farm. I got out of the cot I had been sleeping on in the back bedroom, with a cousin or two and stumbled out into the main room of Gramp's farmhouse, Gramp was was having his morning coffee out of the blue galvanized coffee percolator on the big wood stove and there were snoring bodies draped over every flat surface in that little farmhouse.
"Ericski" Gramp said "would you like a coffee?" while smoking his roll-your-own Export A cigarette. "Yes please" I said tenatively, my folks wouldn't let me drink coffee at home but if Gramp said it was okay then it must be so. I hopped up on a chair at the kitchen table beside Gramp, I was careful to avoid 'Mugsy' my grandfather's scruffy Pekingese because he had a habit of biting without provocation.
Gramp poured me a cup of coffee in a blue galvanized mug, thick and dark and rich it was (I can still smell it) then in went the cream and three sugars, it was the best coffee I ever tasted. I was just taking my second sip when the air exploded 'KAPOW!' then again'KAPOW!'. Gramp exploded out of his ladderback chair and was out the door in an instant, his Pekingese dog, 'Mugsy' hot on his heels; I followed after the two of them.
Uncle Duke's pal 'TEX' was standing in the middle of the farmyard with a nickelplated revolver in his hands and was squeezing off shots at a couple of empty whisky bottles set up on the cedar fenceposts that contain the main yard. I doubt that Tex had gone to sleep yet and he had a pretty little thing sitting on the hood of his truck who was loudly applauding his marksmanship. Tex squeezed off another shot KAPOW! and actually hit the bottle, sending it into a thousand pieces; the sound was deafening. I watched as Gramp (5'4") marched up to Tex (6' 1" plus cowboy boots and stetson hat) and put his hand on the gun before he could get off another shot, he gave Tex a hard look and said something low and calm to him that I couldn't hear from the stoop of the farmhouse (it didn't help that my ears were ringing) and Tex looked back through bloodshot eyes then lowered the gun and gave it to Gramp. Tex got in his truck with the pretty little thing and quietly drove his truck down the drive and headed back to his cottage at the lake. Gramp waited in the middle of the yard with that big, shiny pistol in his hand until Tex was out of sight, then turned and came back to the farmhouse with Mugsy following close behind. "Damned Fool" Gramp said to himself as he went back to his coffee and cigarette at the kitchen table.
People were stirring in the farmhouse now, rubbing sleep from their eyes and wanting to know what the heck was going on. Those with hangovers (I thought they were just tired)
were particularly adamant in their questions but Gramp just told them "Go back to sleep the excitement is all over" and back to bed they went. The kids were up though and Gramp put us to work getting eggs from the chickens and firewood for the stove (Gramp had plenty by the stove but he did it to keep us busy), then he made us all breakfast of cream of wheat, peameal bacon, eggs and thick toast; God it was Good.
By this time the adults were stirring again so Gramp shooed all us youngsters out of the house and we got down to business, catching snakes, jumping in the hayloft, chasing the chickens and just being kids. Later on, when the sun started to warm the air, Gramp wrestled the big aluminium milk jugs into the back of the old blue Ford pickup with William Knox stencilled on the side, for a trip to the lake and all the kids piled in the back. The road was rough and overhung with branches from the Maple saplings that line the two ruts that made up the road to Rose Lake so you had to be careful that you didn't get knocked out of the truck bed by a branch or bounced out when the truck shot over the granite outcroppings that made up part of the road where Uncle Duke had cut too deep with the D-5. We were almost to the top of the big hill that lead down to the lake when my cousin Cathy caught a branch square in the face just as we shot over a big rock and in an instant she was out of the truck and lying in the middle of the road. We all pounded on the roof of the cab to get Gramp to stop but we did this all the time just for fun so it took a hundred yards before Gramp got the idea and stopped, then backed up to retrieve Cathy who was a real tomboy and not crying at all when we got back.(but pretty scuffed up after shooting out of the back of the truck)
After checking to make sure that his grandaughter was allright and putting her in the cab with him and Mugsy for safe keeping we were off to the lake again.
[attachment 56602 lake20st20nora.jpg]
We pulled up next to the community spring and we all helped get the milk cans out of the truck to fill them with drinkingwater from the spring, there was no water sweeter or colder (enough to make your teeth ache if you drank too fast). Tex was on the porch of his cottage beside the spring when we pulled up but he went inside with the pretty little thing as soon as we stopped to fill the milk cans. Our chores complete, Gramp let us loose to go swimming at the lake, catch frogs or do a little fishing off of the dock. What a Perfect Day!
and my sister went to a friends cottage.William Knox was a wonderful man, soft spoken but solid, wise but always prepared to tell a tall tale to entertain his grandkids and hardworking to a fault because he didn't know any other way to live; a gentle man who had been a builder all of his life and even in his seventies he was up everyday before dawn and was always busy putting his big hands to some task until dusk. William had played catcher in the semi-pro fastball league when he was younger (no gloves back then) and his hands were like the limbs of a knarled old oak, massive and twisted but strong from having survived so many blows. Gramp was a small man but solid, with big bushy eyebrows like a great horned owl and piercing blue eyes in an intelligent face. I revered that man and a lot of what is good in me today comes from the lessons he taught me.
[attachment 56600 oldbarn.jpg]
Gramp's 100 acres wasn't a regular sort of farm but mostly scoured granite like a table top with a few pockets of good soil in between, a barn, chicken coop and tall pine trees surrounding everthing. My folks brought us up to Gramp's farm in the Muskokas one Saturday in June and spent the weekend, there was a pig roast that night and all of my aunts, uncles and cousins were there. The party took place on the scoured granite that made up the central farmyard with only the farmlight, the stars and a bonfire for the musicians to play their instuments and the dancers to dance by. It was a magical time, the harvest table was groaning under a mountain of food, the wine and beer was flowing, the musicians were picking country music and the kids were doing what kids do best - getting into mischief. All my relatives were there and a bunch of family friends who had cottages on our private lake. You see, Gramp's farm was at the end of a concession road and there was a lake about a mile beyond the end of that road which my Uncle Duke had bulldozed a dirtroad into with his D-5. Duke had bought 20 acres of waterfront on the lake from the government for a song because it had no access, once the deal went through Duke dropped the blade on his bulldozer and made access, then divided it up amongst family and friends.
[attachment 56601 lakeMUSKOKA.jpg]
There had to have been 100 people at the party that night, everyone laughing and talking, dancing and drinking; all of us happy to be together again after the long winter. I grew up in the city, far from my country cousins so I was in seventh heaven being surrounded by family again. Duke's buddy Tex showed up late with a couple of 2 gallon cider bottles full of white lightning, the party was already going strong but it really took off after that. All I remember from the tender age of 8 was the music, the laughter and the dancers under the stars, around midnight my eyelids got very heavy and my mother put me to bed.
Come Sunday morning it was quiet as a churchyard at Gramp's farm. I got out of the cot I had been sleeping on in the back bedroom, with a cousin or two and stumbled out into the main room of Gramp's farmhouse, Gramp was was having his morning coffee out of the blue galvanized coffee percolator on the big wood stove and there were snoring bodies draped over every flat surface in that little farmhouse.
"Ericski" Gramp said "would you like a coffee?" while smoking his roll-your-own Export A cigarette. "Yes please" I said tenatively, my folks wouldn't let me drink coffee at home but if Gramp said it was okay then it must be so. I hopped up on a chair at the kitchen table beside Gramp, I was careful to avoid 'Mugsy' my grandfather's scruffy Pekingese because he had a habit of biting without provocation.
Gramp poured me a cup of coffee in a blue galvanized mug, thick and dark and rich it was (I can still smell it) then in went the cream and three sugars, it was the best coffee I ever tasted. I was just taking my second sip when the air exploded 'KAPOW!' then again'KAPOW!'. Gramp exploded out of his ladderback chair and was out the door in an instant, his Pekingese dog, 'Mugsy' hot on his heels; I followed after the two of them. Uncle Duke's pal 'TEX' was standing in the middle of the farmyard with a nickelplated revolver in his hands and was squeezing off shots at a couple of empty whisky bottles set up on the cedar fenceposts that contain the main yard. I doubt that Tex had gone to sleep yet and he had a pretty little thing sitting on the hood of his truck who was loudly applauding his marksmanship. Tex squeezed off another shot KAPOW! and actually hit the bottle, sending it into a thousand pieces; the sound was deafening. I watched as Gramp (5'4") marched up to Tex (6' 1" plus cowboy boots and stetson hat) and put his hand on the gun before he could get off another shot, he gave Tex a hard look and said something low and calm to him that I couldn't hear from the stoop of the farmhouse (it didn't help that my ears were ringing) and Tex looked back through bloodshot eyes then lowered the gun and gave it to Gramp. Tex got in his truck with the pretty little thing and quietly drove his truck down the drive and headed back to his cottage at the lake. Gramp waited in the middle of the yard with that big, shiny pistol in his hand until Tex was out of sight, then turned and came back to the farmhouse with Mugsy following close behind. "Damned Fool" Gramp said to himself as he went back to his coffee and cigarette at the kitchen table.
People were stirring in the farmhouse now, rubbing sleep from their eyes and wanting to know what the heck was going on. Those with hangovers (I thought they were just tired)
were particularly adamant in their questions but Gramp just told them "Go back to sleep the excitement is all over" and back to bed they went. The kids were up though and Gramp put us to work getting eggs from the chickens and firewood for the stove (Gramp had plenty by the stove but he did it to keep us busy), then he made us all breakfast of cream of wheat, peameal bacon, eggs and thick toast; God it was Good. By this time the adults were stirring again so Gramp shooed all us youngsters out of the house and we got down to business, catching snakes, jumping in the hayloft, chasing the chickens and just being kids. Later on, when the sun started to warm the air, Gramp wrestled the big aluminium milk jugs into the back of the old blue Ford pickup with William Knox stencilled on the side, for a trip to the lake and all the kids piled in the back. The road was rough and overhung with branches from the Maple saplings that line the two ruts that made up the road to Rose Lake so you had to be careful that you didn't get knocked out of the truck bed by a branch or bounced out when the truck shot over the granite outcroppings that made up part of the road where Uncle Duke had cut too deep with the D-5. We were almost to the top of the big hill that lead down to the lake when my cousin Cathy caught a branch square in the face just as we shot over a big rock and in an instant she was out of the truck and lying in the middle of the road. We all pounded on the roof of the cab to get Gramp to stop but we did this all the time just for fun so it took a hundred yards before Gramp got the idea and stopped, then backed up to retrieve Cathy who was a real tomboy and not crying at all when we got back.(but pretty scuffed up after shooting out of the back of the truck)
After checking to make sure that his grandaughter was allright and putting her in the cab with him and Mugsy for safe keeping we were off to the lake again.[attachment 56602 lake20st20nora.jpg]
We pulled up next to the community spring and we all helped get the milk cans out of the truck to fill them with drinkingwater from the spring, there was no water sweeter or colder (enough to make your teeth ache if you drank too fast). Tex was on the porch of his cottage beside the spring when we pulled up but he went inside with the pretty little thing as soon as we stopped to fill the milk cans. Our chores complete, Gramp let us loose to go swimming at the lake, catch frogs or do a little fishing off of the dock. What a Perfect Day!
and the dog population is far more than 800.