The Squamidian Report – Aug. 11 / 18
Issue #846
Including:
From Russ
From Lorne
The Ontarion
Hi All,
My blueberry season seems to be pretty well over with. The berries were
quite sparse this year, due mostly to the fact that our spring was very
cold and wet to the point were there was almost no pollinating insects
around to do their jobs. It was great while it lasted, especially for
the little girls. They were able to pick and eat berries as they liked
while playing in the back yard. Not many kids these days have that
privilege and modern parents wouldn't let them if they had the chance.
Oh well.
By the way, this weekend is the Perseid meteor shower. Best viewing is
in the wee hours of the morning before it starts to get light. If
you're able to be up at that time, enjoy.
*
As
promised or threatened, depending on point of view, here's that next
and probably last installed of being up on the old farm, at least for
now.
So here we go... Near the end of the summer was what they called
'harvest'. The grain had to be harvested. If it were a wet year that
would slow the ripening of the grain to the point where we'd be back in
school and therefor miss out on that activity but if the grain was ripe
and we were still available we'd be right in there doing our best to
help. It meant more tractor driving of course as well as the other very
physical tasks. Keep in mind, this was basically before the early
combines were very prevalent and before the advent of the big self
propelled combines (non of which anyone farming that poverty stricken
area could afford). So, the grain (usually oats in that part of the
country because nothin else would grow) had to be cut, but not with the
hay mower. Instead, a binder was used (as in 'binder twine', the cord
used to tie or 'bind' the sheaves). It had a cutting bar to mow the
stocks and a big turning batter board type thing that gently pushed the
falling stocks so they'd land with the heads at the upper end of the
conveyor that took them into the machine where the gain was bunched
into sheaves that fell out onto a rack that was dumped each time it had
accumulated the right number of sheaves. This was done manually by
someone riding on the old metal seat, pulling the various levers to
lift and lower the cutting bar, trip the sheave carrier and so on. Then
we'd have to walk the field, standing up (stooking) the piles of
sheaves so the grain heads would be up and the sun could fully dry the
plants. Once dried, we'd again walk the field, gently hand loading each
sheave onto the wagon, to be pulled to the barn where the thrashing
machine was set up. This big old contraption would be powered by a
tractor that had a pulley side mounted that drove a very long belt that
in turn drove the thrasher. The sheaves were hand fed into the front
end of the trasher, the gain was separated and blown into the granary
and the straw was blown into the straw mow. This was all very dirty
work, and very itchy. I hated being assigned to the granary, the itchy,
sharp grain dust got into your eyes, nose, ears, under your cloths,
everywhere. The straw mow was if anything dustier. Now, in our modern
times none of this happens. Its all done by big combines that are
computer controlled, the grain blown directly into trucks and the straw
either bailed right there in the field or plowed back into the soil.
Times sure have changed.
There were other tractor driving opportunities such as moving the
haying operation to the next farm which was done because it was normal
for farmers to help each other out. They would deal with one farm's
fields, then move on to the next and so on. So, we'd be given the
really cool job of driving the tractors to the next farm, pulling the
wagons etc along as we went. We were way too young to hold driving
licenses but the chances of ever meeting up with a vehicle was pretty
low and if we did, they knew exactly what was going on. Another driving
opportunity was spreading manure on the fields that were sitting
fallow. This is where we learned to back up a trailer. This was also a
'rainy day' activity. The manure spreader was to all extent a single
axil trailer with a rather large holding capacity. We'd have to hitch
up, back the trailer in under the overshot to the stable doors and then
using hand forks shovel and pitch the stuff into the spreader box as we
cleaned the stables. Or, back up against the manure pile and load from
there. Again, hard work for kids but we didn't seem to mind.
Then, we'd pull the spreader out to the field, engage the drive that
spun the spreaders and moved the conveyor chain, happily shooting the
poo over the field. Then back to the barn to do it all over again. Ah,
the wonderful memories. They really don't get much better.
Some observations from back then....
The night sky would have been incredible but I was not sufficiently aware to appreciate it.
There were zillions of fireflies along the swampy edge of the fields on warm summer evenings.
'Town' was open on Wednesday evenings for the farmers to come in and deal with business, stock up on groceries, and so on.
The muddy old creek presented one option for washing off some of that
grain dust but you had to be fast because the leaches were always
hungry.
I preferred using the swamp rather than the outhouse during the hot summer weather.
By the way, several years ago I had written a song about 'The Old Farm' Its at this link if you want to jog your memory.
http://www.thedougsite.net/Songs/Lyrics/The%20Old%20Farm.mp3
doug
****
From Russ
Hi folks. Before I continue with telling stories about stories, I must
tell you about some “treats” that came my way last week. My brother
Lorne, and friend Cindy, dropped in to see me on Tuesday afternoon. We
went out for dinner then had a visit during which Lorne entertained us
with his very special, dry sense of humour. We ‘exhumed’ old memories,
told some lies, and had lots of laughs. Next morning we went out for
breakfast at our one-and-only restaurant here in Point Clark. The place
is famous for it’s “trucker-portion” meals, and we pigged-out, then
lingered-long for a most pleasurable, extended visit. Thanks for coming
and treating this lonely old bachelor to a good time. Please come again
soon.
The second treat I had was attending a live musical called “Opry Gold”
at the Bluewater Playhouse Theatre in Kincardine on Wednesday matinee.
My daughter-in-law, Bettie (Greg’s lovely wife)was my “wheels”, and my
long-time friend, Theresa from our church, was my guest.
So, “What’s so special about that?” I’ll tell you: I’ve had a cottage
near Kincardine since 1953, and lived here year-round for 8
additional years, and I’ve NEVER set foot in their theatre! But this
program was one “I couldn’t resist!”; they were playing all my
favourite stuff from the 50’s and 60’s, “that ever made it into The
Grand Old Opry in Nashville, Tenn.”
We sang-along with the musical ‘artists’ as they impersonated (in costume):
Johnny Cash, Patsy Cline, Kenny Rogers, Dolly Parton, Willie Nelson,
Tammy Wynette, Garth Brooks, Tim McGraw, Faith Hill, Hank Williams,
Glen Campbell and many more! It was a toe-tappin’, roof-rasin’ salute
to the greatest music in the history of Country Music!
I sang so much I was hoarse for 36 hours! But, now let’s get back to
business: It has been said, “A good cop never gets ‘caught short’”.
Caught short was a term new to me when I first heard it from other
cops. It means, of course when you gotta go...you gotta go! So you’d
better find out where the toilets are on your patrol area as soon as
possible! There was a Public Restroom in the basement of the “Comfort
Station” on King Street in front of the City Hall. I wouldn’t be caught
dead in there much less caught short in there! It was the filthiest
toilet in all of downtown Kitchener! By the way, there was a bunch of
“dirty things” going on in the Men’s toilets that required “police
attention”, and if you are not too squeamish I may talk about that
sometime. Maybe.
Uniformed police were always welcome in pool halls, taxi stands,
bowling alleys, etc., as the mere presence of a cop posed a deterrent
to loitering, theft, and other unwanted behaviour. Believe it or not,
there was a gas station on King Street, West at Francis Street....a
Supertest Station owned and operated by Mr. Lloyd Grosse. He was a
personal friend of my Chief, John Patrick, and was kind and
accommodating to beat-cops who always needed to “park their arsses and
rest their feet”. His toilet, being a public washroom was just as dirty
as any other (save the Comfort Station); the cement floor was always
wet with splashes from the hand-basin, and from men who ‘stood to pee’,
but had poor aim. The following is an excerpt from my book, Memoirs of
a 50’s Cop:
Shivers still
run down my spine when I recall going into the john (Lloyd Grosse’s
service station); taking my loaded revolver from it’s holster, and
carefully laying it on the closet tank lid. Why? Because, when I undo
my belt and slip the Sam Brown strap off my shoulder, the weight of the
loaded gun pulls my pants down to the floor. Please remember, this is a
‘Public washroom’ . The floor is NOT pretty!
I’ve
returned to my beat (maybe a half hour later), Lloyd comes running up
behind me (all out of breath, and very upset), and in a whispering sort
of panting, asks, “Did you leave something in the toilet?”
Oh my God!! I
gasp. We run back, and opening a drawer, he shows me my revolver.
“I found it in
the toilet after you’d left...carefully placed it...out of sight in
here”.
Lloyd was
a friend, and wouldn’t tell anybody. He was even a BETTER friend after
that! I’m ashamed for being so negligent. If the loaded revolver had
been found by the “wrong person”....well, you can imagine the shit I’d
be in! Charges, more charges, even jail time!!
Next week, we may discuss my “Police Training”(or ‘lack thereof’)
Your old Uncle Russ.
****
From Lorne
I had been absent from home for nearly a week. Waiting in
cyberspace were hundreds of emails ready to pounce on me and my aging
computer. Slowly but surly I will send them back to wherever they
go to their hereafter. While away, we spent several days at Al and
Carol's second home in Wiarton, then over to brother Russel's at Point
Clark. Good weather and good times. While with my brother, many topics
of conversation evolved. Like he mentioned the cleaning lady was coming
soon. Well, I soon straitened him out! When the word 'the' is used,
that can only refer to something singular. Right? Like
'the' Easter Bunny, 'the' other day, 'the' man in the moon, and so on.
Well 'the' cleaning lady comes to my house. Therefore whatever he has
coming to his house, must be an imposter. He skillfully avoided being
shown the truth by taking us out to breakfast . Who knows what other
fake and folly befalls his lonely existence?
Lorne
****
THE ONTARION REPORT
Hello everyone!
I just read a very heart warming story of a man and his dog, sent to me
by Russ. It reminded me of a dog I had when I was a young boy. I used
to make a habit of walking out to the Stock Yards when it was on
Victoria St N. My cousin Patrick Hoy and I would go out there almost
every Saturday and enjoy the day watching the animals. We even spent
many a Saturday helping to herd the cattle one at a time into the ring
for sale. It was a lot of fun and the farmers were quite willing to
have us helping with the task. One Saturday when we were finished with
the ring duties, we walked around the pens and met up with the farmer
that we had just helped with the cattle sale. He asked if we wanted to
see some new puppies and of course we said yes! He showed us to a pen
that had 5 black and gray part Springer Spaniels in it. He said that
nobody had shown any interest in buying the puppies and if we wanted
one we could have one each for helping him out that day. Patrick said
his dad would kill him if he brought home a dog so his answer was a
definite no! I looked at the smallest puppy and he was pawing at the
pen in front of me. I could not resist picking him up and holding him.
I decided to take a chance that my parents would be ok with a new pet
and said I’d take that one home. I carried him all the way back to our
home on Floyd St and surprised my mother with my new pet. Of course her
first reaction was “Take it back!!!” I was only 10 years old and of
course the tears started to flow at the though of having to return the
puppy. I said that the farmer that gave him to me would not be there to
take the dog back if I went back to the stockyards after they were
closed. My dad came home at that time and I had taken the puppy down
into the basement and was lying on my dad’s toolbox holding my new
friend. I heard mum and dad discussing the fact that I’d brought home a
dog without permission. Mum was adamant that the dog would either go
back to the farmer or to the dog pound! My dad however was more of a
softy when it came to puppies and managed to talk my mother into
letting me keep the dog. I of course promised to look after my new pet
if they’d just allow me to keep him. Back then Disney had new movie out
called “Lady and The Tramp” and this new puppy looked a lot like Tramp
the male dog in the movie! So, I decided to name him Tramp as well. He
was a cuddly but hairy little guy and my mother insisted that we build
him a kennel and have him stay in that kennel all year round. I guess
she didn’t want the dog hair all over the house. Consequently Tramp had
a new home out beside the garage. Dad and I built the kennel and
insulated it so Tramp would be warm in the winter. He was an amazing
little dog and followed me everywhere for the next 5 years or so. That
all changed when I turned 16 and became more independent. I of course
developed other interests and that meant Tramp would no longer be my
constant companion. He spent the rest of his life chained to the kennel
and was only free when either my dad or me would take him for walks
around the block. Tramp wasn’t mistreated but he was somewhat neglected
during my teen and early 20’s. Of course he ate well and was well
looked after but just had to spend most of his time alone in his
kennel. Tramp was still around when I got married but mum and dad kept
him as always once I had moved out to start my own life with Carole!
One day when I went over for a visit, I asked where Tramp was and mum
told me that he had become very sick and my dad had taken him to the
Vet for a checkup. When Dad returned home, he had tears in his eyes and
said that Tramp was beyond help and had to be “Put to Sleep” as they
say. It was a real shocker indeed and I felt very sad that I hadn’t
seen Tramp for a few weeks before this date. There have been many times
when Tramp was on my mind over the years and to this day I still feel a
smidgen of guilt over not being there for my dog when he needed me
most! He had lived 15 years and for most of that time was loved and
cared for well. It was indeed a very sad day when he was finally gone
from our lives. I swore that I’d never have another dog but of course
over the years I’ve missed the companionship and having a family of our
own, we relented and have had three dogs since our marriage. Each one
was a pleasure to raise and keep but after the last one “Bailey” our
miniature Poodle took sick and had to be put to rest a few years ago we
have definitely decided not to bring another puppy into our lives. We
all love dogs but it has come to our minds that we just don’t have the
patience for another dog. In reality, dogs take a lot of time and
attention to look after and we’ve become used to no pets around the
house. Besides, we don’t wish to experience the heartbreak of losing
another family member like Bailey again should the time arise while
we’re still around! Our pet days are over!
We’ll always have the memories of our dogs to make us smile and we’ll cherish those memories in the years to come!
I dedicate this Ontarion to the memory of our first dog Sam (German
Sheppard) our second dog Fluffy(miniature poodle) and of course our
third dog (miniature poodle) Bailey. I of course include the memory of
Tramp in this lineup as well!
That’s all for this week folks!
Thanks for tuning in and I’ll look forward to talking to you all again next week in The Ontarion Report.
Bye for now … Greg
PS: Something To Think About>
If you don’t make a decision, someone else will make it for you!
****
Have a good one..
the doug
The Fine Print!
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