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READER’S DIGEST

OUR COUNTRY, OUR STORIES MOR THAN E

MILL ONE ION REA DERS !

Rolling on the River Canoe Camping for A Good Cause Touring Coastal Nova Scotia Lights, Camera, Cobourg!

JUNE /JULY 2021

ourcanada.ca

Peter Turk of Toronto captured this pic of Ted Hamill of Massie, Ont., echoing American Gothic. Turn to page 8 for more great shots in Peter’s photo essay, “Portrait of a Community.”

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IN THIS ISSUE 8 PORTRAIT OF A COMMUNITY

Peter Turk of Toronto captures life during a pandemic in and around the farming community of Massie, Ont.

16 COVID-19 STAY SAFE

When critters began invading this couple’s sanctuary—the battle for the backyard was on! 20 OUR TRAVELS: NOVA SCOTIA

Soaking in the province’s stunning coastal vistas with an old friend. 24 CALL HIM ‘MR. T’

Meeting this giant of the sea was a whale of a tale for one young girl. 40 COME BLOW YOUR HORN

For this father of four, changing a tire in the heat was made worse by some “vocal” truckers! 44 SHARE YOUR CANADA PHOTO CONTEST

Check out the top three winners and a series of worthy runners-up! 60 AN UNFORGETTABLE CHARACTER

A contributor shares memories of an unusual and brief friendship one long-ago summer.

ABOUT THE COVER Carol VandenEngel of Kingston, Ont., snapped this pic on the North Channel of Lake Huron as she and her husband Glenn Green paddled across Canada for a good cause. Turn to page 37 to read their story.

DEPARTMENTS 4 6 7 14 18 26 28

Letters / Theme Pic Contributor Spotlight Editor’s Letter Veteran Profile Bulletin Board Showcase The Way It Was My Hometown

30 32 37 42 50 52 54 55

Coming to Canada A Taste of Canada Cause for Applause Wheels Writer’s Block Birds and Blooms Critters Collectors

58 62 63 64 65 66 68

Destinations Funny Stuff We Need You Spot the Loonie Pet Corner Storytime Till Next Time

LETTERS

Spanning Time Kudos to Darren Metcalfe for his picture of the twin spans of the Bluewater Bridge, titled “A Sight to Behold” (FebruaryMarch 2021) I grew up in Sarnia, Ont., when the bridge was a singleton. I was fortunate to spend many hours at this site, watching the pleasure crafts, and the lakers and the ocean-going vessels cruising the St. Clair River or Lake Huron; climbing the rocks, walking the boardwalk, eating French fries from the chip truck and playing softball on the different ball diamonds. Also

watching my dad, Johnny Koval, give golf lessons at the miniature golf course! I enjoyed all these activities under the single and then the twin spans. I now live in central Alberta and thrill to the sight of any picture or activity involving the Bluewater Bridge! It brings back great memories. Thank you, Darren, and Our Canada!

Budding Author Thanks to Peter Wise for his super Writer’s Block story, “When Time Stood Still” (February-March 2021). What a wonderful imagination; I hope he continues in his pursuit of writing, he will bring pleasure to many with his gift. Marion Price, Richmond, B.C.

Fast Friends

Thanks for choosing My Hometown story, “Greetings, All” (February-March 2021). I have enjoyed my little moment of fame, and with the copies I’ve ordered for friends, there may be other future subscribers! Keep up the good work.

I was pleased to read the story, “Classic Cold Play” by Carly Stewart of Lethbridge, Alta. I live in Holland, Man., and remember him and the family when they also lived here. I’ve been able to contact him through relatives of his and we visited on the phone. What a great world to be able to accomplish this. I was so pleased to be in contact with Carly after all these years. Just goes to show what Our Canada does. I enjoy the nice short stories published in the magazine, as well.

Cheryl Vousden, Toronto

Gerry McMannis, Holland, Man.

Chris Carey, Red Deer, Alta.

Thank You Note

CONTRIBUTOR SPOTLIGHT PETER TURK Peter’s career as a serial entrepreneur, starting and building software companies, is not an obvious path to photography. But modern cameras are computers with lenses, image postprocessing is done with software, and ﬂexibility and creativity are essential to both. He has become expert at large panoramic photography, since he got hooked in 2007, stitching together images taken while climbing Gros Morne Mountain in Newfoundland. Peter does event photography, and travel photography whenever he can indulge his wanderlust. Pandemic isolation gave him a chance to build his skills in portrait photography as seen in his photo essay Portrait of a Community on page 8.

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REBECCA MADRO A Calgary girl born in 1994, Rebecca holds a degree in communications with a minor in history from the University of Calgary, and a diploma in teaching English as a foreign language. Writing and singing music has seen her through many dark, troubled nights and contributed to her earning a Kiwanis Scholarship for outstanding community engagement in advocating for mental health. Based in her home studio, Rebecca is signed to two music labels, amassing over 200,000 streams online. She also does audio work for music producers, and records her own music. Read her story in Showcase on page 18. She’d love to hear from fellow music-lovers via Instagram: @avelynmusic

Brownie Woes My recipe for microwave brownies appeared in the February-March 2021 issue. I have been spending time this week trying to update that recipe. That recipe was originally published in 2002, but I ﬁrst discovered it in a cookbook that came with my original microwave, probably ten years before that! It worked like a charm in that microwave oven. Once I had to replace it, however, I’ve never had the same success. The wattage is obviously a lot different now, 30-plus years later! I would not feel comfortable recommending that recipe today. I have tried it numerous times, each time was better, but I still end up with the centre not cooked through and the outer edges overdone. Marie Peart, Hagersville, Ont.

EDITOR’S NOTE: Our Canada recipes are chosen from a shared Reader’s Digest database; Marie’s earlier appearance wasn’t noted, but her brownies were! Thanks for the update, Marie.

THEME PIC

FACEBOOK CHALLENGE / HAPPY PLACE Sean Donnelly of Sarnia, Ont., sent along this awesome photo to our “Happy Place” Theme Pics Challenge. Sean snapped the pic on Lake Huron, writing: “Sunsets are proof that no matter what happens, every day can end beautifully.” To see more great Theme Pic photos and learn what the next “theme” is, head to our Facebook page!

HAVE YOUR SAY. Is there a story or feature you’d like to comment on? Anything you’d like to see more or less of in each issue? Your opinion is important to us, so drop us a line at ourcanada.ca or see page 64 for our address.

JONATHAN VANDERPOL Jonathan is a second lieutenant in the Royal Canadian Air Force and is currently posted to CFB Kingston for training to become a communications and electronics engineering officer. He is continuing his family’s long tradition of military service, following in the footsteps of his grandfather, Earl, a former logistics warrant officer, and his father, Rick, a retired radar technician. In Wheels on page 42, Jonathan tells the moving story of how his father and a long-time friend of his, Ken Turnbull, both vintage cars aﬁcionados, joined forces to work on one ﬁnal project together—building a drivable replica of a 1915 Model T military ambulance, from little more than scrap parts, salvaged wood and ingenuity!

VERN GIESBRECHT Vern is a retired journalist and college instructor who has published articles in numerous newspapers and magazines, including the Vancouver Sun, Vancouver Province, BC History, Canadian Author & Bookman, Westworld and Roots & Branches. He and his wife, Marilyn, have lived on a rural property near Gibsons, B.C., for 40 years. When it comes to favourite pastimes, they both enjoy gardening, playing games of Scrabble and engaging in various volunteer activities. You can read Vern’s touching feature story “An Unforgettable Character” about a brief and unlikely friendship one summer in his youth, on page 60.

EDITOR’S LETTER

PUBLISHED BIMONTHLY BY THE READER’S DIGEST MAGAZINES CANADA LIMITED, MONTREAL, QC.

PHOTO: RYAN GEORGE

BRIGHTER DAYS! Welcome to Summer 2021—the season we’ve been dreaming about throughout this pandemic winter of ours, thankfully now in our rear-view mirror. Even though the virus and its variants are still circulating among us, and the need to be cautious is more important than ever, the thought of returning to “normal living” is like the ﬁrst ray of sunshine on a summer day. And, more importantly, transforming that happy thought into reality is within our collective grasp, if we play are cards right during the summer months ahead. Many of you have been making good use of your time in isolation by honing your skills and talents, and trying out new pursuits. Peter Turk of Toronto decided to learn about portrait photography and, judging by his photo essay on page 8, I’d say he is a natural at it! Check out “Portrait of a Community” for a visual breath of fresh air and a look at normal life in transition in and around the farming community of Massie, Ont. Enjoying the outdoors and helping others have always been important parts of life for many people. And Glenn Green and Carol VandenEnge of Kingston, Ont., would deﬁnitely be counted among that energetic, caring group of Canadians. You’ll see why when you read “Paddling with Purpose,” beginning on page 37, where Glenn and Carol share the amazing story of their 8,515-kilometre fundraising journey across Canada. The photo gracing our cover is one of many great shots taken along the way. On the subject of wonderful photography, the winners of our annual Share Your Canada photo contest, and a selection of exceedingly honourable mentions, are on display beginning on page 44. A big thank you goes out to all who participated! Happy summertime, everyone!

Gary George gary_george@rd.com

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Chairman of the Board Christopher Dornan Publisher and National Sales Director James Anderson Vice President and Legal Counsel Barbara Robins Editor-in-Chief Gary George Executive Editor Maryanne Gallagher Executive Editor, Digital Brett Walther Contributing Editor Frank Pavan Art Director Robert Bigras Graphic Designers Michel Pelletier, Pierre Loranger Assistant Web Editor Erica Ngao Content Operations Manager Lisa Pigeon Circulation Director Edward Birkett

THE READER’S DIGEST ASSOCIATION (CANADA) ULC Financial Director Corinne Hazan Product Manager, Magazine Marketing Mirella Liberatore National Account Executives Melissa Silverberg; Steven DeMelo Marketing and Research Director Kelly Hobson Head of Marketing Solutions and New Product Development Melissa Williams Production Manager Lisa Snow TORONTO OFFICE PO Box 970, Station Main Markham, ON L3P 0A1

TRUSTED MEDIA BRANDS President and Chief Executive Officer Bonnie Kintzer Chief Content Officer, Reader’s Digest Bruce Kelley Editor-in-Chief, Reader’s Digest International Bonnie Munday VOL. 18, NO. 3 Copyright © 2021 by Reader’s Digest Magazines Canada Limited. Reproduction in any manner in whole or in part in English or other languages prohibited. All rights reserved throughout the world. Publications Mail Agreement Number 40070677. Postage paid at Montreal. Return undeliverable Canadian addresses to 5101 Rue Buchan, Suite 301, Montreal, QC H4P 1S4.

SUBSCRIPTIONS $24.97 a year, plus $7.99 postage and handling. Please add applicable taxes. Outside Canada: $45.96 yearly, including postage and handling. (Prices and postage subject to change without notice.) ISSN 2291-014X. SINGLE COPY PRICE $4.99. Our Canada publishes 6 issues per year and may occasionally publish special issues (special issues count as two), subject to change without notice.

HOW TO REACH US EDITORIAL OFFICE 5101 Rue Buchan, Suite 300, Montreal, QC, H4P 1S4 ourcanada.ca FOR SERVICE TO SUBSCRIBERS Our Canada Customer Care Centre, P.O. Box 970, Stn. Main, Markham, ON, L3P 0K2 service@ourcanada.ca ONLINE To pay a bill, view your account, change your address, or browse our FAQs, go to www.ourcanada.ca/contact us. MAIL PREFERENCE Our Canada maintains a record of your purchase and sweepstakes participation history for Customer Service and Marketing departments, which enables us to offer the best service possible along with quality products we believe will interest you. Occasionally, to allow our customers to be aware of other products and services that may be of interest to them, we provide this information to other companies. Should you wish, for any reason, not to receive such offers from other companies, please write to: Privacy Office, Reader’s Digest, 5101 Rue Buchan, Suite 300, Montreal, QC H4P 1S4. You may also write to this address if you no longer wish to receive offers from Reader’s Digest or should you have any questions regarding your record or wish to examine or correct it. We acknowledge with gratitude the financial support of the Government of Canada. / Nous remercions le Gouvernement du Canada pour son appui financier.

VETERAN PROFILE

Vernon Gorrill RCAF/RAF FLYING OFFICER submitted by niece Elaine Kaiser of Sundre, Alta. Born in 1920, Vernon joined the RCAF in 1941. He trained as a pilot in Montreal, and became a photo-reconnaissance ﬂying officer on Super Marine Spitﬁres with the RAF Squadron 541 in England. His primary task was to photograph areas where the Allied Forces were to drop bombs in enemy territory.

“Vernon’s skill as a navigator and a photographer made him a most valuable member of his squadron.” With a camera and speed, Vernon ﬂew many sorties during two tours, mostly over heavily defended targets such as Berlin, Stuttgart, Ruhr Valley, Mannheim, Brest and Bordeaux. He survived an emergency landing under enemy ﬁre, and later was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross from the RCAF and RAF for his courage. In Spring 1945, he was posted to the RCAF base at Patricia Bay on Vancouver Island, and was discharged later that year. Vernon passed away on December 22, 1999, in Nanaimo, B.C. To view video interviews with Canadian war vets, visit https://vetvoicecan.org.

Share your veteran proﬁles at ourcanada.ca.

Portrait of a Community Peter Turk of Toronto captures life during a pandemic in and around the farming community of Massie, Ont.

eginning in November 2019, my wife, Lois, and I spent two months travelling eastwards around the world. From Canada to Dubai, India, Sri Lanka, Singapore, Australia, New Zealand, Chile and home again. While travelling, each day I’d email a photo-documentary to about 60 friends and family. Some of these emails related to my particular photographic passion: very large panoramic landscapes and cityscapes. From a travel perspective, 2020 was going to be our year of Canada: a two-month driving trip across the Trans-Labrador Highway, followed by a visit with friends and family in Newfoundland, and a couple

of days in Saint Pierre and Miquelon. A separate trip to British Columbia to visit family and friends was also likely. Then a virus cancelled those plans and left me looking for a photographic project that didn’t require travel. I decided to learn and apply a type of photography completely new to me: portraits. I started with a couple of courses—online naturally—and some monographs about portraits, particularly learning the things a photographer needs to keep in mind for interesting outdoor portraits. It turns out that outdoor portraits sometimes need a ﬂash so I purchased one, then launched the project. I was sheltering from the pandemic at my country house, which is within walk-

Clockwise from top left: Bonnie Gardiner dons a tutu to entertain her grandchildren in her glass gazebo; Holly Torrie treats her sheep to a bucket of grain; Jen Cliff, Tate and Kevin Connell in their barn; Andrew and Corrie Baines relax in the solarium after dinner.

Clockwise from above: Madeline Torrie on her horse; Gilbert Howey outside his long-term care home; Ted Hamill echoes American Gothic; Ryan, Winston, Bryer and Mackenzie Ormsby at their house construction site; Jo Ann and Toomas Sauks read classics on their deck.

10 Our Canada

ing distance of Massie, a hamlet about 20 kilometres from Owen Sound in southern Ontario. Massie is a farming community, family farms producing mostly dairy and beef, with some market gardening, pigs and sheep. The project as envisioned involved taking pictures of families during a pandemic lockdown. What are people doing? The idea expanded to include not just people who live in and around Massie, but also people who have a strong connection to the hamlet. When this project was initially conceived, there was snow on the ground. The plan was to take pictures through windows and doors, so people could stay inside. But by the time I was ready to start shooting, the weather was hot. In 2020, Massie went from snow to 30°C in just a couple of weeks. The theme of windows and doors quickly disappeared along with the snow. The photos I captured are mostly outdoors, mostly set around the subjects’ houses and farms. JUNE / JULY 2021

I snapped the pictures between May 20 to July 7, 2020. I was expecting 20 or 25 families to participate, but hoping for 50. As word spread, the project caught the imagination of the community and, in the end, more than 70 families participated with more than 2,000 photos taken. Of course, even a pandemic lockdown doesn’t stop life from being lived. Babies are born and grow up. Kids still have birthday parties. They may be constrained to porches or the family home and backyard, but cake and presents don’t change. One young family was building their new house. It was supposed to be completed six months earlier, but as with so many construction projects, it was late—something else a pandemic didn’t change. The parents posed with their kids sitting on pallets of bricks. Since people could not go to visit friends, and their lectures and continuing education classes were shut down, they had more time for home activities. They worked on their

gardens, which thrived as a result. They spent more time with their pets, which in a farming community can include horses and sheep as well as cats and dogs. Some of this extra time was spent hanging out on porches and patios, with a book and a glass of wine, or conversation with family. Some people wanted to dress up or pose. One artistic woman put on a tutu that she said would appeal to her grandchildren. One man dressed up to echo Grant Wood’s American Gothic painting. The school teacher who taught in Massie’s one-room school from 1953 to 1955 posed with a school bell and class picture from his time there. The pastor stood at the door of the empty Massie church. By early July, people in long-term care homes were able to get out a bit, so they could be added to the photos. One of these required a long lens because it had to be taken from across a road. One discovery for me is that isolation makes almost no difference to farmers. In a

sense, the farmers on whom we all depend are isolated all the time. In a city, you encounter people all the time, even if just to nod hello on the street. In the country, the nearest neighbour often lives too far away to see, except perhaps with binoculars. But the farm must keep running all the same. Farm animals and crops always need care. What started as a pastime for me, and a chance to learn a new photographic technique, has produced a photographic record—a snapshot of a rural community at one signiﬁcant moment in time. Selected pictures have been put into a privately published book so each person in the book has a record of what they and their neighbours looked like and what they were doing during the 2020 pandemic. It will be fun to compare this record with the next, though one hopes it will not be created during another pandemic. ■

Clockwise from top left: Desirée van Dijk in her garden; Hayden Torrie holding sixmonth-old Lee; Peter Turk takes a picture of his baker wife, Lois, with a plate of fresh cookies; a calf rejected by its mother is bottle-fed by Lisa and Jerry Downey. Left: Doug Smith taught at the Massie one-room school in the 1950s.

See more of Peter’s work at tundraswan.com

BULLETIN BOARD

MY FAVOURITE THINGS The older I get, the more I find I have a few of the strangest things as my favourites. For example, a certain frying pan always get pulled out of the cupboard first, or a specific element on the stove gets used before any of the others…the list is really quite odd. There is one item that is near and dear to my heart though, and I’ll explain its history. When my mom and dad retired from farming, they swapped houses with my brother and his family. Our parents went from a huge farmhouse to a bungalow that had been severed and built by my brother on a corner of the family farm. Life was good in Corkery, Ont., and they could now take it easy at last. They travelled and celebrated many special occasions with family and friends. On one of their many anniver-

This mug holds a special place in Mary Anne’s heart and home.

saries, Mom bought Dad a new mug from our local hardware store. It had the loveliest saying on it: “If I could sit across the porch from God, I’d thank him for lending me you.” The mug was put to good use by Dad. Many great deeds and misdemeanours were discussed around the kitchen table with a cup of tea—or sometimes something a

wee bit stronger. Years later, Dad passed away and Mom eventually found it too hard to remain out in the country, so she moved to an apartment in Almonte, Ont., close to where we lived. The mug was one of the ﬁrst things we packed. As the years went on, even the apartment became too much for Mom and she eventually moved to a nursing home. Needless to say, the mug went with her. It was always by her bedside with a small silk plant tucked inside. Mom passed away several years ago, and I inherited the mug. That mug has been through a lot. It’s cracked and patched but still carries on—it sounds a lot like our family to be honest. Every year, the mug is brought out on the anniversaries of my mom, dad and brother’s passings. And, of course, I thank God for lending me them. Mary Anne (O’Keefe) Harrison, Arnprior, Ont.

HAVE YOU HEARD THE ONE ABOUT One day at a local café, a woman suddenly called out, “My daughter’s choking! She swallowed a nickel! Please, anyone, help!” Immediately a man at a nearby table rushed up to her and said he was experienced in these situations. He calmly stepped over to the girl, then with no look of concern, wrapped his arms around her and squeezed. Out popped the nickel.

MAGNIFICENT SIGHT

Karen Cook of Kingston, N.S., writes: “Canada’s sailing ambassador the Bluenose II sails out of her home port of Lunenburg, N.S., as she heads to the Great Lakes and the Tall Ships regatta a couple of summers ago.” This year marks the 100th anniversary of the legendary original Bluenose racing schooner.

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The man returned to his table as if nothing had happened. “Thank you!” the mother cried. “Tell me, are you a doctor?” “No,” the man replied. “I work for the Canada Revenue Agency.”

FAMILY FISHING We grew up fishing in our family, my dad, Ben, loading us all up for day trips to Whiteshell Provincial Park. The trip meant picnics, tangled lines, black flies, lakeside fish-fries and bathroom visits into the bush, not to mention a memorable overnight stay in a Volkswagen Bug with Dad for one of us, and many, many memories.

CAPTION CORNER “Coming out of your shell is not all it’s cracked up to be!” Thanks to Colleen Piggott of Lindsay, Ont., for sharing this hilarious pic! Can you come up with a better caption for it than we did? Join the fun on our Facebook page and share your witty one-liners there. And remember to send your Caption Corner pics to us at ourcanada.ca !

CANADA’S CLAIMS TO FAME OUR GREAT COUNTRY IS HOME TO LOTS OF INTERESTING PEOPLE AND PLACES, SOME FAMOUS, OTHERS WELL-KEPT SECRETS. Berna’s dad, Ben, enjoying a bit of ﬁshing for old time’s sake.

Berna Klassen, Steinbach, Man.

PHOTO: PUBLIC DOMAIN, VIA WIKIMEDIA COMMONS

Last June, Dad said he needed to take one last trip to visit his old haunts at the park; he wanted to say hello and goodbye in case this was his last trip. Dad wanted to cast his line out into the water and watch the sun on the lake. My brother, Keric, and I packed many more supplies than we needed, picked up Dad, and headed out. We relived those wonderful memories during the drive, and stopped at an accessible spot for Dad to enjoy a bit of ﬁshing. A few hours and one ﬁsh later we headed home, spent and happy.

STANLEY PARK’S TOTEM POLE DISPLAY It’s easy to see why this amazing attraction, located in Vancouver’s Stanley Park, is said to be the most visited attraction in all of British Columbia. There are nine totem poles that stand among the trees in the park’s Brockton Point area, each one an impressive work of art. The park began collecting totem poles in 1920, but many of the original pieces were damaged by the elements and sent to museums for preservation. The most recent addition to the collection was carved by renowned carver and artist Robert Yelton of the Squamish Nation, as a tribute to his mother, one of the last native residents of the park. Source: Reader’s Digest website

STAY SAFE / COVID-19

LIFE IN THE TIME OF CORONAVIRUS The following pages continue to be devoted to bringing you stories of hope and inspiration from everyday Canadians, in an effort to help one another cope in these trying times

THE BATTLE FOR THE BACKYARD Discouraging uninvited guests from making themselves at home! by Diana Murrell, Burlington, Ont.

hanks to COVID-19, last summer was one of socializing outdoors. My husband, Mike, was no exception. He rebuilt our deck, put up a gazebo and created a comfortable outdoor living space. It was perfect! He claimed the backyard as his own. Except for one fatal mistake. He put up a bird feeder— hours of enjoyment watching the birds, better than TV!

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But birds aren’t the only ones that like eating birdseed. Other animals started to join Mike in his carefully created space. It started with the squirrels. They like birdseed as well. As they tiptoed across the bracket that held the bird feeder, he laughed. It was entertaining. Until they tipped the bird feeder and birdseed landed in the grass below. Now they were being a nuisance. So he put up

some chicken wire at the base of the bracket so the squirrels couldn’t get to the seed. But the raccoons could. They only took a few moments to figure out that their There was a time we feared six feet under. body weight was the perfect Now we stand six feet apart. tool to fold the chicken wire in So close, so far, we do not touch. half. Over they went, reaching We reach each other with our hearts. for a snack. They were a bit too big to tiptoe though. They endTired we are of misinformation. ed up knocking the bird feeder Of opinions, right and wrong. to the ground, spilling all the Of social status and impending doom. seed into the grass. Tired of the same old song. There was no barrier big enough to deter raccoons, so Lest we forget friendships and family. the bird feeders went into the The desire to live and love. shed at night. That would cerThe need to reach out to one another. tainly stop the raccoons from The reason we look up above. visiting. But the seed on the ground Together in spirit, we stand strong. enticed another animal into And separate in thoughts we fall apart. the backyard. Under the fence The day will come when we can walk together. it dug, poking its nose and When the old and young, the rich and the poor, finally its whole black-andWill have the chance to restart. white body through a surprisFor now my friends, hold on strong. ingly small hole. A skunk. It The sun is still rising and birds are chirping. was certainly not a welcome The songs of hope ride gently on the wind. visitor. It snacked on the seeds And the words that move us are angels singing. before continuing its tour of our neighbourhood. Gennaro Palmieri, Niagara Falls, Ont. Skunks can’t climb but they do dig. So Mike lined the bottom of the fence all around the yard with chicken wire. He lined the bottom There was no chicken wire around the of the deck, too, digging a trench so that the shed. So, the crafty skunk dug a tunnel unskunks couldn’t burrow underneath. It took derneath, arriving one night at dusk for hours of very hard work. But finally, it was another snack. Mike watched in horror as done. He had fenced in the entire yard with the skunk emerged from under the shed. an impenetrable security perimeter. Or so But that wasn’t the worst part. Behind the he thought. skunk, another little nose poked up, followed by another and another until there were five skunks in the backyard. After more trench digging and a small fortune in chicken wire, the backyard is now entirely secure. But the bird feeder is still in the shed. Just in case. ■

ILLUSTRATIONS: ISTOCKPHOTO

Angels Singing

SHOWCASE

HOW WRITING MUSIC BECAME A FORM OF THERAPY Casting light on dark thoughts in the night by Rebecca Madro, Calgary

ne of the ﬁrst lessons I was taught as a musician was to keep my songs accessible. This is a good rule of thumb for pop music. You need a hook (a catchy musical phrase) and lyrics that most people can relate to. As a teenager, this made sense in my 16-year-old brain. Music was about the beat rather than the meaning. I can think of countless songs I used to belt out in the car without really processing what their lyrics meant. And then my world shifted. I was thrown into chaos before I even had my driver’s license. My mother was diagnosed with cancer (she’s 11 years cancer free now), her new business almost failed, and my parents went through a divorce. These were just the external factors I was dealing with at the time. The previous year I had been diagnosed with OCD (Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder), generalized anxiety and panic attacks. I simply didn’t know how to function. I stopped sleeping at night and lived my days in a haze of anxiety and depression. I was put into therapy at the behest of my doctor, though to this day, I think the therapist I was matched with did not meet my

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needs. At the time, I didn’t know how to say this. I didn’t understand that not every therapist was best for every patient and that it was okay to ﬁnd a new one. Instead of learning the skills to manage my anxiety, I succumbed to it. No longer did the pop songs that highlighted teenage drama resonant with me. I was dealing with dark thoughts and didn’t know how to say them out loud. But I was a musician. I could sing them. Music is not a give and take like speaking is. There is simply the listener and me, and I am given the time to present my thoughts uninterrupted. Music gives me the space to carefully think out what I want to say. I can process my emotions and funnel them into an orderly fashion of measured beats and time signatures. There is a beginning, a middle and an end.

OUT OF THE CHAOS Perhaps it is the orderliness of music that my chaos of emotions craves. I often fuse a narrative into my writing, where the character of the song moves through stages much as a story does. This provides closure after the climax, something I never got as a teen. My world was in turmoil, but music and the stories I could write with it were completely under my control. Control was a big one for me. I constantly battled against my need to control my environment, especially when my OCD reared its ugly head. This was on a nighttime basis, for my OCD coincided with insomnia. Even to this day, my writing continually refers to the night. It was one of my villains for so long. The years after my mom’s illness and my parent’s divorce were rocky at best, and I did a good job of pushing people away. I missed out on crucial life lessons, and to this day, I feel I skipped the mindlessness of teenage life. But music never left me. It was constant. I can still remember the songs I listened to in the throes of my panic attacks. These songs are triggers, but I test myself on bad days as an adult. If I can make it through the whole song without tears, I know I’ve avoided another spiral.

These songs inspire me now, and I’ve written my own that reflect these intense feelings. Sometimes I even use my own songs as a litmus test. I know these feelings are universal, and I hope to connect with an audience through them. Do they make my music dark and challenging? Absolutely, but I believe art is meant to reflect and inspire. Like many things during the pandemic, the music scene has largely changed. There are no more live performances, and collaborating is done entirely online. I’ve taken this time to reflect heavily on my emotions and funnelled them into a different medium of art, one I can do in isolation. I’ve spent the last five months writing a dark fantasy novel while still recording new music at home. These two projects have allowed me to exercise my feelings in a healthy way. I hope to have my book published in 2022 as I venture into finding a literary agent. Along with my book, I have a new single and EP coming out in 2021 under my solo act “Avelyn” and my band Atlantica respectively. While the world may have stopped in 2020, my art certainly never did. To this day, I challenge the notion that song writing should be simplified. While I appreciate songs that I can blast in my car and jam to, my world was narrowed a long time ago. I’m not ready to write about the things people want to dance to. I’m not ready to write music that is euphoric and taps into an elated sense of happiness. I’m not done with my dark emotions even though I’ve come so far. My OCD and fear of the night don’t rule me anymore, but I have new struggles. I never learned how to set boundaries as a teenager, and it’s affecting me now. I’m continuously trying to better myself, though. I guess struggles never really end but morph as you grow and adapt. Maybe I’ll write a song about that next. ■

Rebecca records and performs solo as “Avelyn” and with her own band, Atlantica. PHOTOS: EMMA MADRO

Find Rebecca on Instagram @avelynmusic

OUR OUR TRAVELS TRAVELS

NOVA SCOTIA Taking in the province’s beautiful coastal vistas with an old friend by Doug McBeth, Ottawa

uring the summer of 1967, just before I started Grade 9 in the neighbourhood of Rexdale, Toronto, a new kid moved in across the street. My friend, Bradley, the bad boy up the street was looking him over. I said, “His name is Paul from down the city.” Bradley, brandishing his ﬁst, whispered, “Want me to welcome him to Rexdale?” I chuckled and said, “No, he’s okay, he only looks tough.” So, I had just saved Paul from a smart smack on the jaw. Now, fast forward to the summer of 2019, Paul and I have kept in touch throughout the years and have maintained a friendship. So much so, that he and his lovely wife, Kathy, who both live in Dartmouth, N.S., had invited me to ﬂy east to see the province. The

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ﬁrst morning there, Paul suggested we take a walk along the Halifax Waterfront. “It’s only a 15-minute drive across the McDonald Bridge or a ten-minute ferry ride,” he said. We took the ferry across the harbour and found ourselves in a quaint street mall lined with shops, restaurants and museums. Sailing boats of all sorts were tied to the wooden docks and the wide boardwalk lined the ocean, inviting you to stroll leisurely along for miles. It was further up in the Narrows in 1917 that the city was devastated by the Halifax Explosion caused by the collision of the Norwegian ship SS IMO and the French ship SS Mont-Blanc, laden with ammunition. The next morning, we found ourselves driving out of Dartmouth on the No. 111

highway to the No. 333, towards Peggy’s Cove, which still remains an active lobster ﬁshery to this day. Upon arrival, we parked the car and walked down the hill towards the ocean, where the famous lighthouse was built in 1915. After spending some time shopping and taking pictures, we followed the road up to the No. 103, the Fisherman’s Memorial Highway. It skirts along the eastern shore, taking travellers through forested countryside and small villages. An hour later, we pulled into Mahone Bay, which is a small town at the end of the inlet that is lined with colourful, wooden-clad buildings. Driving south for ﬁve minutes more, we approached the storybook town of Lunenburg. Tourists are greeted by rows of multi-coloured wooden buildings that

Above: A snapshot of the docks at Peggy’s Cove. Left: A beach along the Cabot Trail on Cape Breton Island.

Clockwise from above: Paul enjoying the view at a Cabot Trail lookout; colourful houses in Mahone Bay; the Bluenose II; the rocky shore at Peggy’s Cove.

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line the neat little streets. There are houses, various restaurants, B&Bs, small businesses and shops to browse through. The streets slope down to the water and the wharves. Luckily, the star of Lunenburg, the Bluenose II, was majestically resting there, tied to the dock. Its gangplank was lowered and the entry was blocked by a rope tied across it. I dearly wanted to get on that deck, just to say I was on the Bluenose. So, I looked around. Hardly a soul about and only a few youths on the ship. I boldly boarded the gangplank, slid under the rope and stepped down to the famous deck. I took a few paces and then found myself face to face with a lady who said they were not taking on any guests right now. I made some excuse, turned around and decided to buy a Bluenose ll t-shirt in the Bluenose gift shop. Lunenburg was initially an important offshore fishery and ship building port. It was give its named in 1753 after Duke Lunenburg, who eventually became the King of Britain, King George ll. The Bluenose I was built here in 1921 and the Bluenose ll in 1963. In 1962, the ship Bounty was built here for the MGM movie, Mutiny on the Bounty. In addition to its storied history, the town also boasts Canada’s second-largest fish canning plant and is now a UNESCO World Heritage site because it is preserved as a period British town. A big tour was planned ahead of us the following day: the Cabot Trail. We took the No. 102 highway northeast out of Dartmouth, to the No. 104 to Cape Breton Island and the town of Sydney; a four-and-a-half hour drive. Sydney has a waterfront boardwalk as well. The hotel we first stayed at was our JUNE / JULY 2021

jumping off point and we ﬁgured we could drive the trail tour the next day and be back at the hotel for the night. We started on the Trans-Canada No. 105, then to the No. 30, which took us around the northern point of the island. It is a narrow winding highway that took us up and down the mountainside. Something to note, for future travellers, is that you must be careful, especially if the roads are wet. Following the coastline, we took in the sight of the rocky cliffs meeting the ocean—spectacular scenery! There are lookout areas beside the highway, where tourists can stop and take full advantage of the breathtaking views. Hilly vistas and wooded arms stretch for miles out to the sea and there are also marked trails for hikers to use. For those

spending more time, there are B&Bs, motels and parks for camping. Even with a few short hikes, we made the circuit in one day and returned to our hotel in Sydney. On my ﬂight back home to Ottawa, I had a bird’s-eye view of the entire province. What I once thought was ﬂat and more open, with an agricultural landscape, was much more hilly, covered with trees and dotted with numerous small lakes, similar to the Canadian Shield in Ontario. My week-long holiday there was well spent, as I have now seen a good chunk of Nova Scotia. I had previously visited P.E.I. and New Brunswick a few years ago, and completed a road trip in 1972 from Toronto to Vancouver and Victoria. So I can safely say I’ve visited Canada from sea to sea. ■

MORE INFO Peggy’s Cove Lighthouse, also known as Peggy’s Point •Lighthouse, is arguably one of Nova Scotia’s most wellknown lighthouses, built in 1915. The municipality is also famed for its picturesque, East Coast housing style. The Mi’kmaq are native to this peninsula. Their art, music and overall culture are entrenched in and around the province. The old town of Lunenburg is one of only two urban communities in North America speciﬁcally designated as a UNESCO World Heritage site. The Bluenose II is a replica of the original Bluenose schooner, which launched in 1921 and went undefeated in international racing competitions for 17 years.

• • •

Source: Nova Scotia Canada website

Call Him ‘Mr. T’

This long-awaited meeting was truly a whale of a tale! by Kelly Anthony, Portugal Cove-St. Philip’s, N.L.

am the daughter of an inshore ﬁsherman. He is from the southern shore of Newfoundland and Labrador. Although I grew up in St. John’s, I spent my childhood summers at the shore so my dad could return home and do what he loved—be on the ocean. During these early summers, it was discovered that I didn’t have sea legs. “It’s all in your head,” I was told. In hindsight, it was probably an inner ear imbalance, but whatever the reason, each time I was on the water, I would inevitably be overcome with the worst nausea.

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One particular summer, there were countless whales all along the Avalon Peninsula, many of which got tangled in cod traps set by the ﬁshermen. This is extremely sad for the whales and very expensive for the ﬁshers. My dad’s crew, thankfully, was one of the few whose trap remained whale-free. Even more surprising was that my dad and his crew had acquired a “‘pet” whale. Almost every day that summer, Dad’s whale would come over to his boat to be admired, petted and fed. I was desperate to meet my dad’s whale and convinced myself, and my dad, that for SURE I wouldn’t get seasick this time and eventually wore him down.

When the morning came, I was so excited that I didn’t even find it hard to get up at 4 a.m. My dad insisted I have breakfast and I had a super-sugary cereal. It was the early ’80s, and the A-Team was big on TV so we had “Mr. T” cereal. It was similar to Honeycombs, but the cereal was in the shape of the letter “T” representing the fictitious character, Mr. T. I was about 12 and felt very grown up motoring out to the traps with the crew. I sat at the back of the open boat, enjoying the clear morning skies, watching the birds swoop in unison behind the boat and feeling the wind on my face. Once the boat anchored, my dad and his crew started hauling up the trap and then emptied all the cod onto the boat floor. With the combination of the dying and dead fish at my feet, the toxic smell of the diesel engine and the rhythmic swell of the ocean, my morning went from glorious to the seventh circle of hell. Just as I hit the peak of nausea, Dad called

out, “Here comes our friend!” I lifted my head long enough to see a beautiful minke whale breach ever so gently next to our boat and then, against my will, I fed that whale some of my Mr. T cereal. I could see the shapes of that fateful letter floating in the ocean and then ever so gently, my dad’s whale surfaced and ate almost all of my unintentionally shared breakfast. Even in my state of agony, I was fascinated and slightly repulsed. The whale was gorgeous, maybe 20 feet long and he came so close to the boat that Dad and his crew could scratch his belly. The whale stayed and played around the boat for about 20 minutes, rolling on his side and as he made his final circle around the boat, he raised one of his flippers and slapped the water three times. As I was the only person hanging over the side of the boat, I saw a twinkle in his eye and I could swear that the whale was laughing at me. As he swam away, I told Dad the whale’s name should be Mr. T. Strong, beautiful and a little saucy! ■

BIG DIPPER Jane LeBlanc of Baines Corner, N.B., writes: “One species of whale that is common in the Bay of Fundy is the ﬁnback whale. We were lucky this day to see a pod of them very close to the boat.”

THE WAY IT WAS

My Mother Married an Astronaut While he may not have been to space, this new dad was truly out of this world by Robert Stanlick, London, Ont.

he one wedding, other than my own, that I remember well is my mother’s. Not many people can say the first wedding they ever attended was their mom’s, but I can. I was nine when my mother got married. It was December 1969. My mother worked for a local drugstore in Chatham, Ont., and the time was fast approaching for the annual Christmas party. This particular year, everyone had to bring a date. Mom had been divorced since January 1962. I don’t recall her going on any other dates, but she needed one for this occasion. Mom had met a man a few years earlier at a church camp. She decided he would be a great candidate as her escort to the Christmas party. When she finally got up the nerve, she called Ron in London and asked him if he would be her escort. Since he already knew she had three sons, why he ever said yes is beyond me. Anyway, he readily agreed and arrangements were made. Did I mention that his name was Ron? Ron Armstrong? Flashback five months earlier to July 1969. A man named Neil Armstrong had just walked on the moon. Now, a man named Ron Armstrong was taking my mother on a date. To me, the man that walked on the moon was going to date my mother. As a nine-year-

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old boy, no one could tell me any different. I didn’t hear the name “Ron,” I only heard “Armstrong” and that was enough for me. My mom was dating an astronaut! I was going to be the coolest kid in school. I told all my friends about it and couldn’t understand why no one believed me. Finally the day arrived when I was going to meet the astronaut. I don’t know who was more excited about this date, my mother or me. He arrived. He wasn’t the astronaut. He was just some guy from London that wanted to date my mother. I was devastated. How could my mother do that to me? How was I going to face all my friends at school on Monday?

A New Beginning It didn’t turn out all that badly, though. Apparently, Ron was taken with me and decided to ask my mother out for another date and I was invited along! Ron wanted to take Mom and me to a New Year’s Eve party at our church. My brothers Mike and Tim came along as well. Ron was obviously not scared off by Mom’s three sons, because he came back for more. Ron, who eventually became our dad, said that I didn’t inﬂuence his decision to marry my mom, but I doubt that very much. During that second date, I went up

Robert with his mom and new stepdad on the couple’s wedding day.

to him, tugged on his suit jacket and said “Gee, Mr. Armstrong, I sure would like to have you for a father.” Now, how could any man refuse an invitation like that? Since he didn’t run away, I can only conclude that he agreed with my idea. Six weeks later, he proposed to Mom. Five months later, they were married. I don’t know if it was my mom’s suggestion to get married so quickly (being afraid he may change his mind about her and her three sons), or if it was his idea (wanting to get it over with before he actually realized what he had gotten himself into). Ron proposed to Mom on Valentine’s Day, 1970. It was a Saturday night and I had my pajamas on. Mom was sitting on the couch with Ron right next to her, when she called me to her. When I got there, I sat on the arm of the couch. Normally that would have been a capital offense and I would have been punished, but for some reason that didn’t happen. Mom

said, “Mr. Armstrong just asked me to marry him. How would you like a new father?” I didn’t answer her. I guess my actions spoke louder than words. I literally ﬂew over her and landed on Ron’s lap facing him with my arms around his neck. I remember that moment as if it happened yesterday. I was getting a new father! I didn’t care anymore that he never went to the moon—I was there myself knowing I was getting a dad.

Lessons Learned June 13th 1970 arrived very quickly. As a nine year old, there wasn’t much I could do in the wedding but Mom and “Dad” were able to ﬁnd something: my job was to “give away” the bride. When the minister asked “Who gives this woman to this man?” I was to stand and say as loudly as possible, “My brothers and I.” How many nine-year-old boys can honestly say they gave away their Mom? Here was my opportunity to not just give her away, but to trade her in. I’d spent the ﬁrst nine years with only a mother. Now I was trading her in for a father. I was going to get a chance to see what it was like living and having only a Dad. Was I ever in for a surprise. Not only was I not trading her in, she was moving to London with Dad and I—oh yeah, my brothers came as well. I guess I didn’t really care—I was getting a new dad! My mom always said that living with and raising three boys by herself was very difficult. Not only was it lonely, but stressful as well. Now with Ron in the picture she felt things were going to get a little easier. I thought things were going to be great.

We moved from Chatham to London, from a small one-bedroom apartment to a three bedroom home with its own backyard. It wasn’t long after we moved that I learned a very valuable lesson, as well as one of the perks of having both a mother and a father. I believe it was the day we arrived in London. I wanted to ride my bike around the block and proceeded to ask Mom if I could. Her answer was “no.” I was so disappointed. I wanted to explore this new world. I then came up with a great idea. I asked Dad if I could go. His answer was “yes.” So around the block I went thinking this was great. Whenever Mom said “no” to anything, all I had to do was ask Dad and he’d say “yes.” This having a father was going to be a real good thing! And then I got home! Mom was not happy. I got punished for disobeying her. “But Dad said it was okay to go around the block” I argued. Not a good thing to say. Not only did I get in trouble with Mom, but so did Dad! He got off easy as he was new at being a father, but apparently I was to know better than to ask him after I had asked her. So I did learn a lesson. From then on, I asked Dad ﬁrst. I don’t know if Mom caught on that I was asking him ﬁrst or not, but eventually Dad started answering me by asking “What did your mother say?” Well, I was back to square one again.

Dream Dad My mom may not have married an astronaut, but she sure married a man who was out of this world. He was the best thing to happen to me in my short nine years. Dad passed away in 1992,

so I had only 22 years with him, and yet we shared so many wonderful times together. Dad loved sports and we were able to share a number of events together. When he and Mom ﬁrst got married, he was the business manager for the “Chester Pegg Diamonds,” which was an Ontario Intercounty baseball team. His involvement enabled me to be a ball boy at a number of the games. This helped fuel my love for the game. Together we also saw the Detroit Tigers, Toronto Blue Jays, Toronto Maple Leafs, Detroit Red Wings, and the Detroit Pistons. Dad also took me to Indianapolis, Indiana, for the “Indy 500.” Dad was not a handy fellow around the house. Whatever needed to be done, my mother either did it or a handyman was called in. I may not have learned how to do things around the house from him, but he taught me many other things. He taught me to be compassionate, but also passionate; how to love unconditionally; how to fall asleep anywhere, anytime; and how to treat my own children. I remember a couple of days before he died, I was sitting by his side in the hospital and he was telling me that he didn’t have very many friends. When I tried to dispute him, he wouldn’t listen to me. After his funeral, on the way to the cemetery, I looked behind me and saw the long processional and said to him, “See Dad, there are all the friends you thought you didn’t have.” Dad was 45 when he married my mom. It was his ﬁrst marriage. He never had any children of his own, but he accepted the three of us boys as his own. It takes a special kind of person to do that. He was that special person. ■

MY HOMETOWN

Lights, Camera, Cobourg! The cinematic charm of a quaint Canadian harbour town by Lynn C. Bilton, Cobourg, Ont.

efore the pandemic hit, people who visited the historic harbour town of Cobourg, Ont., may have occasionally found themselves doing a double-take. Seeing folks all dressed up in early 1900s attire made those passing by stop and stare. It was a busy year of filming in Cobourg and the downtown core seemed to change its wardrobe on a weekly basis. For example, just one week later, the scene changed to an American setting by replacing every Canadian flag with the Stars and Stripes for the filming of Ginny and Georgia. I can only imagine what the visitors must be thinking when they see such a dramat-

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ic change of setting, wondering if they’ve taken a wrong turn! Up until 2020, filming activities in this picturesque town made these sights quite common. Cobourg had become one of the province’s go-to locations for filming. In 2019, production companies who filmed there included Shaftesbury Murdoch Inc. (Murdoch Mysteries), Netflix (Ginny & Georgia), TF Content Ltd. (Hey Lady!) and Marblemedia (Landscape Artist of the Year Canada). Cobourg boasts many historic Victorian and Edwardian buildings, which makes the town a good setting for Murdoch Mysteries. Victoria Hall, which

was built in 1859, is a perfect “stunt-double” for Toronto’s old Union Station. In fact, fans have fun picking out local settings around town. The Ravensworth Manor, named and styled after the Ravensworth Plantation in Virginia, was a breathtaking location for the wedding of Constable Henry Higgins (played by Lachlan Murdoch) and Ruth Newsome (Siobhan Murphy). The boardwalk in Victoria Park is the scene for a fast-paced roller-skating episode in Season 10, where Murdoch investigates the murder of one of the champions in this ruthless sport, and Bagot Street also offered a perfect stage for a bicycle chase-scene. View-

ers have now witnessed Constable George Crabtree (portrayed by Canadian actor Jonny Harris) ask two different women on two separate occasions for their hand in marriage. Both proposals took place at the pergola in Victoria Park, with Lake Ontario in the background. Ginny and Georgia is a Netflix series set during the present day, in a fictional town called Wellsbury, in New England. Part of the first season was filmed in Cobourg throughout 2019. El Camino Restaurant became the “Blue Farm Cafe.” Scotiabank became “Beachway Trust, Massachusetts” and the versatile Victoria Hall starred once again as the backdrop for the local fall fair. Another show, called Hey Lady!, is a CBC GEM original comedy series, starring veteran Canadian actors Jayne Eastwood and Jackie Richardson. One Above, from left: Two photos of Murdoch Mysteries background actors in downtown Cobourg, and a lovely shot of Victoria Hall as a backdrop for a fall fair in Wellsbury, New England.

trailer features a scene in the historical “Old Bailey” courtroom inside Victoria Hall, while the series Landscape Artist of the Year Canada highlights the famous view from Cobourg harbour in one episode. Adam Bureau, coordinator of arts, culture and tourism for the Town of Cobourg, stated prior to the pandemic that audience “followings” are attracting more tourism: “In Cobourg, the arts are so popular and all of these events bring together the community spirit and add to the economy.” At the moment, due to COVID-19, the town has had to turn down requests to film in Victoria Hall, which is presently closed to the public. Murdoch Mysteries was in town briefly in November 2020, filming on private property at Cobourg’s eastern edge. Any future filming will include detailed COVID-19 policies and procedures. The pandemic and social distancing are also affecting background actors (extras). Miranda Lukaniuk-Lipovisek, who has 30

years of experience in the ﬁlm industry (and created Local BG Talent), has a new workshop called, “Getting Back Into Background Post-Pandemic,” that she says highlights “all you need to know about the ﬁlm industry protocols that have enabled our industry to continue to operate.” Miranda’s goal is to keep working to develop digital technology with a local company, Kleurvision, that will change the way background performers are cast for productions across Ontario, for the better. In September 2019, I stopped by the Murdoch Mysteries set at the Old Market building. When I joined the gaggle of women watching from across the street, several of them asked anxiously, “Have you seen him?” Everyone smiled. We all knew the “him” was Yannick Bisson, who portrays Detective William Murdoch. COVID-19 has created a mountain of challenges, but things are progressing to a new normal. There will be “Lights, Camera, Action” once again in Cobourg and we all look forward to spotting “him” in the near future. ■

COMING TO CANADA

Simpler Days A lifetime of memories sprang from those early years on the farm by Janine Elias Joukema, Brampton

uring the challenging summer of 2020, I found myself thinking a lot about the farm we had when I was a kid. My parents emigrated from Lebanon to Canada in the mid 1960s. My father came ﬁrst, settling in Leamington, Ont., and my mother followed shortly afterwards, sent to marry him and have a family, which is precisely what happened! I am the second eldest of their ﬁve children—three girls and two boys. After our growing family had been living in Leamington for about six years, my father realized his dream by purchasing a farm on the outskirts of a neighbouring town, Kingsville. It was a modest farm, less than 12 acres, with a small, two-storey house, a red barn and one plastic-covered greenhouse. My father had a full-time job at Heinz Co., which he kept while running the farm, growing tomatoes, corn, beans, peppers, zucchini, asparagus and the like. Although I have clear memories of serving people who stopped at our roadside vegeta-

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Top: Janine’s parents on their wedding day in 1967. Above: the family in 1973, before moving to the farm—Janine (bottom row, right), Michelene (centre), Fadia (left) and Billy (top row, left), ﬂanked by baby Eddy and Mom and Dad.

ble stand on Highway 18, and of working alongside my parents in the ﬁelds (always in my bare feet), what I remember most is the fun my siblings and I managed to squeeze in on those hot, summer days. We jumped ramps we made from old crates and scrap slabs of

plywood, taking turns riding the two ten-speed bikes that my dad had picked up for a bargain—what daredevils! Once, we built a monster-sized slip-and-slide out of leftover greenhouse plastic. We used two garden hoses, one at each end, to make sure we had plenty of water to slide on our bellies, backs or our butts the full length of the slide—with style. We even built a swimming pool one summer. All it took was wooden vegetable crates piled three layers high and covered in as many layers of greenhouse plastic. We filled that pool right to the top and played Marco Polo until the five of us looked like a bowl of olive-skinned prunes. We bragged to one another about how our pool was so much better than ones in the backyards of the fancy subdivision houses lined up so neatly on the other side of the highway. After the farm work was done on Saturdays, we often played baseball in our big front yard. All our base hits, slides, tagged outs and home runs etched the pattern of the makeshift baseball diamond and pitcher’s mound deep into the grass. We had plenty of fun, but there were also plenty of nose-to-nose arguments about whether someone was safe or out; sometimes bats and gloves were slammed hard if one of us didn’t get our way. At the end of the growing season, I remember the whole family being out in the field among the rows and rows of dying tomato plants, picking what was still salvageable. One time a tomato fight erupted. My father had instigated this chaotic brawl by throwing a rotten tomato at my mother and

Finding Love in Leamington MY FATHER, Melhim Youssef Elias, was usually referred to as William Joseph Elias here in Canada. He was born in Lebanon on July 1, 1942. He arrived in Canada sometime in or around 1964, sponsored by his older brother, Tony, and his sister, Sadie, who had already settled here, as did of all of his siblings except for one who remained in Lebanon. He became a Canadian citizen on November 3, 1967. Why Canada? He simply wanted to make a new life here, be among his siblings—and work, raise a family and run a farm of his own. All accomplished with much love and joy along the way! My father died on January 20, 1979. I was ten years old at the time.

MY MOTHER, Georgette Elias, née Masaad, came to Canada from Lebanon in 1966. She married my father in Leamington, Ont., on January 14, 1967, and became a Canadian citizen on April 10, 1968. When I was young, I remember asking her if she loved my dad before they married, intrigued I guess that their initial meeting here in Canada and subsequent marriage had been orchestrated by their respective families back in Lebanon. They met face to face for the ﬁrst time only upon her arrival in Canada. She replied, “No, but after about six months I loved him.” Two of my mother’s siblings settled in Canada as well; another went to Australia and the other stayed in Lebanon. My mother worked in tandem with my father to surround us with many wonderful memories. I was 13 years old when she was diagnosed with schizophrenia and gradually became lost to us, making me all the more thankful for those childhood memories.

Janine Elias Joukema

then took aim at each of us. You could hear the splats and squishes and screams of “Oh, gross!” and “Did you see that?” And sure, sometimes there were tears, especially if a green tomato hit hard, but the tears never lasted long. So messy, so smelly and so fun. So much joy with so little. Much has occurred and many things have changed on the

heels of those very early days on the farm: my father’s death, my mother’s mental illness, and of course, adulthood. But recalling those summer days during that very challenging summer of 2020 helped ease some of the angst that still surrounds us all, and reminded me of times when enjoying fun, love and family was simple. ■

A TASTE OF CANADA

Hot off the

Kabobs on the barbecue— the perfect summer meal!

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“With only ﬁve easy-to-double ingredients, these mouthwatering kabobs are one of our favourite recipes. We like them with rice and a tossed salad. To prevent wooden skewers from burning, soak them in water for 30 minutes before threading on the meat.” Carole Fraser, Toronto

WEIGHTS CONVERSION CHART

BALSAMIC-GLAZED BEEF SKEWERS

cup balsamic vinaigrette cup barbecue sauce tsp Dijon mustard lb beef top sirloin steak, cut into 1-in. cubes 2 cups cherry tomatoes

¼ ¼ 1 1

Total Time: 25 minutes Yield: 4 servings 1. In a large bowl, whisk vinaigrette, barbecue sauce and mustard until blended. Reserve 1/4 cup mixture for basting. Add beef to remaining mixture and toss to coat. 2. Alternately thread beef and tomatoes on four metal or soaked wooden skewers. Lightly grease grill rack.

NUTRITIONAL INFORMATION Amount Per Serving (1 skewer): 194 calories, 7 g fat, 46 mg cholesterol, 288 mg sodium, 7 g carbohydrate, 5 g sugars, 1 g ﬁbre, 25 g protein.

3. Grill skewers, covered, over medium heat or broil 4 in. from heat 6-9 minutes or until beef reaches desired doneness, turning occasionally and basting frequently with reserved vinaigrette mixture during the last 3 minutes.

IMPERIAL METRIC

1 oz 30 g

6 oz 185 g

1 tsp 5 ml

1 tbsp 15 ml

¼ cup 60 ml

½ cup 125 ml

¾ cup 180 ml

1 cup 250 ml

2 lbs 1 kg

“Make this a main dish salad, or put it in an appetizer buffet for extra-good grazing. No matter what, I serve it with little bowls of chili sauce for dipping.” Maruja Hughes, Toronto

GRILLED SHRIMP & TOMATO SALAD Prep Time: 25 minutes + marinating Cook Time: 10 minutes Yield: 12 servings 1. In a large resealable plastic bag, combine lemon and lime juices. Add shrimp, then seal bag and turn to coat. Refrigerate 30 minutes. 2. Drain shrimp, discarding marinade. On 12 metal or soaked wooden skewers, alternately thread shrimp and tomatoes. Moisten a paper towel with cooking oil, using long-handled tongs, rub on grill rack to coat lightly. Grill kabobs, covered, over medium heat 8-10 minutes or until shrimp turn pink, turning occasionally and basting frequently with chili sauce. 3. In a small bowl, combine oil and vinegar. Arrange avocados on a large platter and top with shrimp and tomatoes. If desired, sprinkle with parsley. Drizzle with oil mixture.

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½ cup lemon juice ½ cup lime juice 3 lbs uncooked jumbo shrimp, peeled and deveined 24 cherry tomatoes ½ cup chili sauce 2 tsp canola oil 1 tsp red wine vinegar 3 medium ripe avocados, peeled and sliced Minced fresh parsley, optional NUTRITIONAL INFORMATION Amount Per Serving (1 each): 177 calories, 8 g fat, 138 mg cholesterol, 293 mg sodium, 8 g carbohydrate, 3 g sugars, 3 g ﬁbre, 19 g protein.

“I love the sweet ﬂavour of red, yellow and orange peppers. I always go for these in the summer when they are inexpensive and plentiful, plus I think they taste a whole lot better than green peppers.” Liv Vors, Peterborough

CURRIED PORK & ORANGE KABOBS Total Time: 30 minutes Yield: 4 servings 1. In a small bowl, mix oil, minced onion, garlic and spices, reserve half of mixture for basting kabobs while cooking. Cut pork, peppers, onion and unpeeled orange into 1-in. pieces. On four metal or soaked wooden skewers, alternately thread pork, vegetables and orange, then brush with remaining curry mixture. 2. Grill kabobs, covered, over medium heat 10-15 minutes or until vegetables and pork are tender, turning occasionally. Baste frequently with reserved curry mixture during the last 4 minutes of cooking.

½ 2 1 1 ½ 1½ 1 1 1 1

cup canola oil tbsp dried minced onion garlic clove, minced to 2 tbsp curry powder tsp each ground cumin, coriander and cinnamon lbs pork tenderloin large sweet red pepper large sweet yellow or orange pepper small onion large unpeeled navel orange

NUTRITIONAL INFORMATION Amount Per Serving (1 kabob): 515 calories, 34 g fat, 95 mg cholesterol, 73 mg sodium, 16 g carbohydrate, 8 g sugars, 4 g ﬁbre, 36 g protein.

“The marinade for this steakand-vegetable kabob is the best one I’ve ever found. I use it on chicken and pork, too.” Norma Harder, Weyakwin, Sask.

VEGETABLE STEAK KABOBS Prep Time: 20 minutes + marinating Cook Time: 10 minutes Yield: 6 servings 1. In a small bowl, whisk oil, vinegar, ketchup, garlic, Worcestershire sauce and seasonings. Pour ½ cup marinade into a large resealable plastic bag. Add beef and seal bag, turn to coat. Pour remaining marinade into another large resealable plastic bag. Add mushrooms, onions, tomatoes and peppers, then seal bag and turn to coat. Refrigerate beef and vegetables 8 hours or overnight. 2. Drain beef, discarding marinade. Drain vegetables, reserving marinade for basting. On six metal or soaked wooden skewers, alternately thread beef and vegetables. 3. Grill kabobs, covered, over medium heat or broil 4-in. from heat 10-15 minutes or until beef reaches desired doneness and vegetables are crisp-tender, turning occasionally. Baste with reserved marinade during the last 5 minutes.

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½ ⅓ 2 2 1 ½ ½ 1 ½ 2 1½ 2

cup olive oil cup red wine vinegar tbsp ketchup to 3 garlic cloves, minced tsp Worcestershire sauce tsp each dried marjoram, basil and oregano tsp dried rosemary, crushed beef top sirloin steak (1½ lbs), cut into 1-in. cubes lb whole fresh mushrooms medium onions, cut into wedges cups cherry tomatoes small green peppers, cut into 1-in. pieces

NUTRITIONAL INFORMATION Amount Per Serving (1 kabob): 234 calories, 10 g fat, 69 mg cholesterol, 99 mg sodium, 10 g carbohydrate, 0 sugars, 2 g ﬁbre, 26 g protein.

CAUSE FOR APPLAUSE

Paddling with Purpose A charitable cause that fuelled one of the most unique coast-to-coast journeys in the world by Glenn Green and Carol VandenEngel, Kingston, Ont.

e completed a fiveday hike early in 2017. It was a trek in the southwestern United States through the Mojave Desert, in California. The arid conditions meant that water for us to consume and cook with had to be carried and sustained for two and a half days until we reached an oasis spring where we could refill our depleted containers. It was hot and harsh, and our tent blew down during a sandstorm. While experiencing Death Valley, California, we realized it would be far easier to paddle on water rather than hike across barren deserts while worrying about when, or if, we would find our next water source. This thought planted a seed and, shortly thereafter, we developed a dream. With its abundance of rivers, lakes and oceans, Canada—from

the Pacific Ocean to the Atlantic Ocean—would be our next challenge. With retirement just around the corner for us both, we put the wheels in motion and decided to make this our retirement cruise and paddle across Canada in a canoe. It was Canada’s 150th anniversary of Confederation, and it seemed fitting to start and finish at the Nation’s Capital, Ottawa. We also decided that others should benefit from our journey across Canada, so, with that said, we aligned ourselves with an organization that shares similar core values. If you eat well, you feel well and if you feel well, you do well. Every Canadian should have access to healthy, fresh and affordable food. Loving Spoonful possesses the vision to create a healthy, sustainable and foodsecure community for Kingston,

Ont. We felt that partnering with them aligned perfectly with our own vision, and so, we decided to paddle and raise awareness for this non-profit group, located in our hometown. We set about planning. The preparation to canoe across Canada was an adventure in itself. We upgraded our canoe to a more extended, lighter model and outfitted it with a spraydeck to repel large waves. We replaced our tent with one we were confident would withstand the elements. We acquired a global positioning system (GPS) and spent hours downloading a route that would take us from coast to coast. We also spent significant time dehydrating and vacuum-sealing Glenn and Carol travelled across the Rocky Mountains to reach the waters of the Oldman River in Alberta.

vegetables, fruits and various types of beans—the foundation of our meals. We approached a local software company that donated a website to our cause, and we acquired business cards. CBC’s radio morning news and local radio and television stations interviewed us to promote the fundraising goal. As we travelled across Canada, we uploaded photos, stories and items of interest to the website. We handed out business cards and never turned down an opportunity to talk about food security.

A Lot of Paddling! The 8,515-kilometre journey took us three years of paddling weather to complete. We decided to start in Ottawa and head east to Sydney, N.S. We completed that portion the first year, returned home, then travelled to Vancouver to initiate the two-year voyage back to the nation’s capital to finish. That’s three years filled with wonderful memories we will never forget! While portaging and paddling the country, we followed portions of the Great Trail of Canada. We travelled along converted railway lines

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Clockwise from right: Under the shelter of their tent ﬂy, coffee is savoured on a frosty morning on Cape Breton Island, N.S; Glenn and Carol traversing through Sydney, N.S., Lake of the Woods, Lake Winnipeg, Kootney Lake and other beautiful Canadian landscapes.

transformed into leisure trails and walked along roadways. We paddled historic water routes used by early explorers and Aboriginal Peoples as evidenced by red ochre-designed petroglyphs seen along the way. We pulled our canoe 400 kilometers over the Continental Divide, where the rivers get steered towards the Arctic, Atlantic or Paciﬁc. We struggled against tidal currents and portaged around waterfalls and hydroelectric dams. We even navigated large shipping lanes! We followed the current along the valley of the South Saskatchewan River, a spectacular gorge that few Canadians know exists, as it carves its way through the Prairies. We meandered through ecosystems rich with native plant species and home to an abundance of birds and wildlife. We battled wind and waves, at times ﬁerce enough to keep us off the

water for several days at a time. We even capsized, remaining isolated in the remoteness of Lake Winnipeg. Sometimes, we paddled during the darkness of night and took advantage of the still calmness of the water, void of wind and waves. Our reward was the Perseids meteor shower that ﬁlled the sky around us. At times we had our disagreements, but

wishes. Donations amounted to tens of thousands of dollars to help Loving Spoonful. We felt gratiﬁed by the accomplishment, both the journey and the assistance provided to Loving Spoonful. Canada’s vast landscape is spectacular and diverse. Seeing it at a slow, leisurely pace allows you to absorb the sights. The canoe feels like an extension of ourselves and enables us to explore and be up close and personal with nature. We regard ourselves as privileged to be healthy and robust enough to have enjoyed our three years of paddling. This journey, now completed, leaves us to ponder: what shall we do next, post-pandemic? Perhaps head to places not visited this time around... Newfoundland and Labrador comes to mind, mode of tranportation to be determined! ■ we worked as a team, knowing we must swim as partners or sink as individuals. We witnessed the calm beauty of tranquil sunsets and also experienced the fury of Mother Nature. We paddled through fog so thick, we did not know where the shore was. We stroked through smoke from burning forest ﬁres drifting in from neighbouring provinces,

smoke so dense it obscured the sun. When we ﬁnished and reached our starting point in the Nation’s Capital of Ottawa, we still had to journey home, and paddled the Rideau Canal south to Kingston. Remarkable fellow Canadians engaged us all along the way, reaching out and expressing encouragement and best

Carol and Glenn are authors of Canoe for Change: A Journey Across Canada, set to release on June 30, 2021. For more info, visit www.CanoeforChange.ca. and www.LovingSpoonful.org. Many thanks to Laurie K. Simon of Mindemoya, Ont., who suggested this story idea on our Facebook page!

COME BLOW YOUR HORN Changing a ﬂat tire in the heat was tough enough without truckers chiming in!

ILLUSTRATION: ISTOCKPHOTO

by Nat Reed, St. Thomas, Ont.

everal years ago, when the oldest of our four boys was ten and the youngest three, we took our first family vacation together. We left our home in Kirkland Lake, Ont., and planned on reaching New York State by the end of the day. Things went relatively smoothly until mid-afternoon when we met with our first setback—a flat tire on a busy stretch of the Trans-Canada highway. With our minivan pulled over onto the shoulder, my wife, Joyce, and four boys gamely retreated to a grassy knoll some 50 feet away. It was hot and we had been driving for more than eight hours, so my nerves had been rubbed fairly raw by this point. I was busy retrieving the jack when the driver of a passing transport truck chose that exact moment to lean on his air horn. I jumped straight up in the air, my head striking the rim of the vehicle with a terrific bang. Incensed, it was only the presence of my four sons watching from the grassy knoll that kept me from shaking my fist at the disappearing truck. I studied the shoulder of the highway on the far side of the van. Perhaps the driver was giving me a friendly suggestion to pull the van further onto the shoulder. Dutifully,

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I climbed back into the stricken vehicle and maneuvered it even further from the passing traffic. I then returned to my task of freeing the jack and tire iron. Despite my best efforts to pull the van as far as possible onto the shoulder, I hadn’t even managed to recover the jack when another passing transport blared its ear-splitting horn only a few short feet from my already frazzled nerve-endings. “Just how far onto the shoulder do these idiots expect me to go?” I yelled to no one in particular. “Another six inches and I’ll need a tow truck to get us out of the ditch.” Quickly, I got the jack and tire iron and set about replacing the rear tire on the driver’s side, noting my close proximity to the eastbound lanes. It wasn’t until I had almost ﬁnished when a third air horn shattered the afternoon air. I leaped to my feet, somehow managing to refrain from throwing the tire iron, and instead screamed a few choice words in the direction of the departing truck. I knew I was making a fool of myself in front of my wife and children, but at that point I was beyond redemption. I was red in the face, drenched with sweat and trembling with rage. I knelt one last time by the tire and heaved the wheel into place, all the while keeping an anxious eye out for incoming transports. Finally, I got to my feet and positioned myself by the back of the van, tire iron at the ready while I caught my breath. Perhaps waving it threateningly at the approaching truck would be enough to prevent the driver from leaning into his stupid air horn. My stature had already taken a severe beating in the eyes of my four young sons.

A valuable life-lesson was presenting itself, and I mustn’t waste the opportunity. I looked over to the grassy knoll. There my four little boys continued to sit like little angels with their mother. I turned my gaze back to the highway, to a rapidly approaching truck—only seconds away. My hour had come. I looked back at my family one last time. All four boys, eyes huge with delight, watched the charging silver transport truck roaring down the highway towards us. That is when I noticed something for the very ﬁrst time. Their arms were madly pumping up and down in the hot summer air—the universal signal to all transport drivers— BLOW YOUR HORN! ■

Above: Nat’s sons (clockwise from back row) Nathan, Eric, Joel and Jason back in 1984.

WHEELS

A TRULY GRAND FINALE Sharing a love for vintage cars, two old friends come together for one last hurrah—replicating a Model T ambulance! by Jonathan Vanderpol, Coleman, Alta.

veteran had worked on a Model T, but this one would be different. My father is a frugal man. There are catalogues with newly made parts for some of the oldest cars, but those cost thousands of dollars. There were already-restored cars that could be reﬁtted into the ambulance model, but that was no fun. Instead my dad drove up to Ken’s garage one day with a trailer-load of rusty fenders and axles that looked like they’d been pulled straight from the back 40 of some nameless farm (which they likely had been). Thus started the odyssey that would continue the rest of that year, and into the next.

y father had already been friends with Ken for years at the time this story ﬁrst began. They’d bonded over one thing that brings so many men together: the love of old vehicles. Ken Turnbull of Treherne, Man., had been a mechanic for years, starting with Lancaster bombers with the RCAF and working his way to where he was now: restoring steam engines and antique cars. A radar tech while in service, my father was a highway truck inspector with a penchant for thrift stores, socializing and knowing where every antique car in southern Manitoba was parked. “Rick,” Ken said to my father, “I’m getting older, but I think I have one last car in me,” and held up the gift that my father had given him months back: a plastic and metal miniature of a 1915 Model T military ambulance. This wouldn’t be the ﬁrst time the

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PARTS AND PIECES The plan was that Ken would restore the parts Dad brought him if possible and send him away again with a wish list of new

parts. Whenever my father was there, Ken would stop working and talk, or humbly show off his progress. He would never work with an audience, no matter how willing that audience was to help. The parts kept coming. First rusty bits of frame, then a surprisingly intact motor. The wood body came from re-claimed beams off of a railroad bridge and the coil box from a car that no longer ran. The only new parts on the Model T ended up being the canvas on top, the tires under it and the paint covering it all. Even the paintbrushes were cleaned and used from other projects! Everything was recycled, refurbished, or fabricated from not-quite-right parts from other antiques, or other things that might suit a specific purpose. For example, the hood ornament is actually a nose ring from a bull, with a metal red cross symbol soldered on. My father insisted on several details. Never anything major; he trusted Ken with everything to do with building a car. The few pieces of work that my father managed to achieve under Ken’s supervision were mostly decorative. He installed a small wooden sleeve by the driver’s seat to hold a book titled Poems of a Red Cross Man by Robert Service. Near the front fender, he hand-traced a sketch of “Winnie the Bear” by A. A. Milne, Canadian Army Veterinary Corps. Most significantly, he sought out Ken’s military service number, and used it as the registration number for the Model T. To this day, the number is painted on both sides of the ambulance and appears on its vehicle registration. The day finally came when the car would officially be considered complete. It had already been inspected and registered, and ready for its maiden voyage. My father arranged for it to be played out of the garage by bugler Les Allison, under the watchful eye of a contingent from the Royal Canadian Legion, and the glass eye of the local

news crew. It went without a hitch; the ambulance ran perfectly, the Legion members and news reporter all got to enjoy rides, and Ken said goodbye to the last car he would complete. Until Ken’s death in 2015, my father would let him drive the ambulance in any parade he liked, happily trailering the car across the province all summer. It doesn’t see as much road time as it used to (40 km/h and wooden seats not being conducive to road trips), but every so often the 1915 Model T ambulance with its bull’s nose ring, a 100-year-old book of poetry and veteran’s service number tattoo emerges from her trailer for another trip down memory lane, just how Ken Turnbull would have wanted it. ■

Clockwise from above: Ken seated in the Model T; Rick (foreground) and Ken in the shop; ambulance sideview with Ken's service number on display.

SUBMIT

Tell your fellow Canadians about the "Wheels" that mean the most to you! Submit online at ourcanada.ca or turn to page 64 for our address.

PHOTO CONTEST

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YOUR CANADA Congratulations to the winners of our annual photo contest—choosing among such amazing entries wasn’t easy! Here are the three winners, along with some others we felt worthy of special mention. Thanks to all who participated!

place: $500

Peak Moment Jackie Gartner, Lloydminster, Alta. “We were atop Sulphur Mountain in Banff, Alta., and I was hoping to capture a sunset shot but the daylight hours were still too long, and the ﬁnal lift down on the gondola for the day was waiting for us. The sky was still so beautiful and I had a brief moment with no one around, so I snapped this photo.”

place: $300

It’s A Lock! Linda McIlwain, Selwyn, Ont. “Celebrating National Canoe Day, the Peterborough Liftlocks hosted an event to see how many canoes and kayaks could ﬁt into the liftlock chamber at one time. The event was a huge success with paddlers coming from all over. So many paddlers coming together to manoeuvre their crafts to ﬁt as many as possible into the space was a sight to see—an exemplary example of teamwork among strangers. The event is now a yearly tradition.”

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place: $200

Cold Comfort Kimberley Chipman, Baker Lake, Nunavut “Wintertime in Nunavut is really beautiful but long and frigid when we have to go out to the store or work. This photo is of me and my baby wearing our traditional winter parka, called an amauti, to keep us warm as we walk to the store in temperatures of -50°C or colder.”

RUNNERS-UP

CUDDLE BUDDIES “I just love this picture of my youngest son, Alec, and one of our pet chickens,” shares Brittany Brown of Salvage, N.L. “We love raising animals in our backyard. Collecting eggs and sneaking a chicken cuddle are some of Alec’s favourite things to do.”

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SIMPLER TIMES “This photo, snapped at the beautiful Bowden SunMaze in Bowden, Alta., reminds me of being a child and reciting the ‘Ladybug, Ladybug, Fly Away Home’ nursery rhyme, says Colleen Kaiser-Gill of Caroline, Alta. “A ﬂashback to simpler, carefree times, this beautiful ladybird tucked into a sunﬂower is hiding from the craziness of the COVID world. It gives me hope that brighter days are ahead.”

SITTING PRETTY “I snapped this pic of a massive stellar sea lion basking on a buoy in the Strait of Georgia, just off-shore from Tsawwassen, B.C.,” writes Gabor Dosa of Surrey, B.C. “Not visibly frightened, it appeared to be comfortable with the presence of humans, as if purposely posing for the camera.” ■

WRITER’S BLOCK

WIND AND RAIN Helping a fellow mouse turn over a new leaf!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Roslyn always enjoyed writing as a young girl. Born in an old farmhouse in Grand Tracadie, P.E.I., she loves the outdoors and nature. Her fondness for animals and children was later incorporated into her stories and characters. Roslyn raised a large family of ﬁve boys and three girls. A great joy for her was and is writing stories and reading to her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Roslyn enjoys writing about her hometown, nature and animals. She hopes readers enjoy her stories as much as she liked writing them.

ind and Rain were two mice trying to make a life for themselves. Wind lived in a fancy hotel in Charlottetown while Rain lived out in the country. Rain worked very hard on a farm. He was an honest mouse and never stole anything. Wind on the other hand was not honest, he was always trying to get something for nothing. He would dress up like a king, wearing fancy clothes and putting on airs to fool people. Meanwhile, Rain was a noble mouse and everyone loved him.

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The two mice met up at a farmer’s meeting at the ﬁne hotel where Wind lived. They both listened to all the farmers talking about the price of potatoes. “How boring,” Wind said. “Don’t they do anything else but grow potatoes on P.E.I.?” “Oh yes,” replied Rain. “They fish a lot, too, except in winter. When they can’t work, they draw unemployment.” “What’s unemployment?” asked Wind. “It’s a program where they get money from the government: When they work, they pay into this program and when they can’t work, they draw unemployment,” explained Rain. Wind said, “I never heard of such a thing. I never heard of people getting paid for doing nothing. I don’t believe you.” Rain said, “You should try working sometime.” “But where would I get a job like that?” Wind asked. “Well, there’s an unemployment office in Charlottetown. You go down and register your name, then start working on a few boats,” replied Rain. “What kind of boats?” Wind enquired. “Potato boats. They come into the harbour all the time. You know we grow the best potatoes! Everyone is always looking for them,” explained Rain. “Well, I’ll be darned,” replied Wind. “Work and you get paid. Don’t work and get paid. What’s the world coming to?” “Oh, but don’t forget,” Rain said. “It’s very hard work.” “Why, I’m as strong as an ox,” Wind replied. “I think I could work almost anywhere. What kind of work do you do?” “Oh, I work for a few different farmers. I don’t make a lot money, but my living

ILLUSTRATION: ISTOCKPHOTO

by Roslyn Gregory Gibbs, Little York, P.E.I.

quarters are warm and there is plenty of food. Lots of cheese. Do you like cheese?” asked Rain. “Oh, yes!” replied Wind. “And I can work. I’m big and strong.” “You may think my life is poor, not worthy to mention. But I like it very much,” said Rain. “There’s nothing like a good solid day of hard work.” “I don’t know about that,” admitted Wind. He’d never had to work. Wind admitted that there were times the dishonest way he lived could be dangerous. He never really thought much about it until now. Rain said, “The way you live, you will get caught in a trap sooner than later. What are you going to do when you get old and cannot move very fast? Who will look after you? You ought to change your ways before it is too late. You don’t want to live in a jail cell for the rest of your life! Hearing a jailer come banging at your door with a slice of bread and a mug of water everyday.” “My gosh!” Wind said. “A mouse could get pretty thin living on that stuff.” “Exactly!” said Rain. “How do you know so much about jail?” Wind enquired. “We had a few former inmates who worked on the farm from time to time. I’d always listen to their conversations. It sounded very unpleasant. If you wish to change your ways, I know a few farmers who would be interested in some extra help. In return, you get a warm bed and plenty to eat and a few bucks. You don’t have to worry about police coming and knocking on your door,” explained Rain. Wind enquired, “What about cats? I hate cats.” “Yes, there are cats, but at this farm they don’t eat mice. They get plenty of cheese as

well,” explained Rain. “Cheese?” Wind said. What kind of cheese? “All different types of cheese. They wouldn’t mind if you took an extra piece to nibble on after their dinner,” explained Rain. “Really?” said Wind. “I think you’re pulling my leg!” “Well, if you don’t believe me, come for a weekend and see for yourself,” suggested Rain. Wind packed a suitcase and went to the country and was grateful he had. He loved the soft straw mattress that he got to sleep on. Besides, he didn’t have to hide all the time when there was a knock on the door. With lots of milk to drink and cheese to eat and a few bucks to boot—what more could a mouse ask for? He really couldn’t ask for anything more. ■

FEELING INSPIRED? If you are a writing enthusiast looking for an appreciative audience—why not share your ﬁction, creative nonﬁction and poetry with the Our Canada community? Or, if you are a member of a writing group, we’d love to hear from you! Submit your material at ourcanada.ca for a chance to be published in a future issue.

BIRDS & BLOOMS

FLYING FREE A memory-making walk among the butterﬂies by Kim Ross, New Minas, N.S.

nnapolis Royal Historic Gardens is located in the town of Annapolis Royal, N.S., which, in 1605, was home to the first permanent European settlement in North America. In 1981, the town opened the Gardens to augment the historical tourism destination it had become. With more than 15 acres of flower gardens, a rock garden and many varieties of trees, there is plenty to capture your attention, especially the smells— heavenly! While on a day trip there with my mum, we came across this lovely monarch butterfly (above) taking a rest on a flower in

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one of the many themed gardens. My mother was the first to spot our butterfly friend and we were able to take several shots, this one being my favourite. Butterflies are so intricately designed and the monarch has such striking colours. They flit around and about as though they’re enjoying their day. It’s almost as if they know you’re there and want you to follow them, which is fine until they fly up into the sky! My mum joked that day how she’d like to fly with them, which turned into a laughing fit as we imagined ourselves with Tinkerbell’s skills. We had such a lovely day strolling around the area, complete with a picnic lunch in the sun. We got hundreds of beautiful shots of flowers; there are 270 types of roses in the rose garden—such amazing beauty at every turn, it was almost overwhelming. The gardens are teeming with bees, bugs and butterflies; you can hear the buzz if you stay still. Although we took lots of photos that day, this one is dear to my heart as it reminds me of that day and brings me comfort in knowing that my mum finally got to fly in the sky with the butterflies on her way to heaven. ■

DINNER! Paula Brown of Ottawa shares this amazing pic writing: “This blue heron is looking for food but also playing in the water at Petrie Island— so much fun to watch!”

PICKY BEES Brenda Solobay of St. Catharines, Ont., shares these stunning images writing: “The blossoms of my dark opal basil plant were so beautiful but the bees were not attracted to them, preferring the lighter coloured ﬂowers of the African blue basil.”

CRITTERS

Hello, Pussycat Capturing a few pics of this adorable baby lynx was a thrill by Denise Enns, Winkler, Man.

y husband, Leroy, and I enjoy the outdoors and taking road trips. We often have our camera accessible to capture wildlife sightings. We have taken many photos of bears, mountain goats, birds and butterﬂies. These encounters have always been highlights of our journeys. In the summer of 2019, we took a weekend road trip to Kenora, Ont. At the B&B where we stayed, we saw a variety of small wildlife but the highlight of this trip was encountering a family of wild lynx on the roadside near Kenora. As

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we were driving, we ﬁrst spotted an adult lynx strolling across the highway—the ﬁrst time we’d ever seen a wild lynx! We were very excited and quickly pulled over to watch this beautiful cat. While watching her, we heard some “cat-like” crying in the bushes on the side of the road close to where we were parked. We realized there was a baby lynx calling for its parent. On the other side of the road on the rocky hillside, there were two additional medium-size lynxes watching and waiting. The baby lynx was peeking in and out of the bushes and at one

point came within ten feet of our vehicle, which provided us with a great photo op! The adult lynx (we assume the mother) crossed the road several times in front of our vehicle to check on the baby. The mother totally ignored us and seemed unconcerned with our presence. We watched this scene for at least 30 minutes, eventually deciding to leave, so the lynxes could proceed to their destination. It was just an amazing experience to see this wildlife interaction. We were thrilled to get a few pictures of the baby lynx—this one is our favourite. ■

COLLECTORS

History on Parade As the world prepared for WWII, ﬁve artists in Montreal banded together to capture the era in remarkable fashion by Hélène Jasmin, St. Polycarpe, Que.

s international events were building towards the Second World War, a small group of artists from Montreal decided to merge their creative forces and incorporate as a company to earn their keep while expanding their knowledge of art and sculpture. And so Rémi Arbour, Henri Bélisle, Fleurimond Constantineau, Armand Filion and Louis Parent, all graduates of the Montreal School of Fine Arts, banded together to form La Maîtrise d’Arts, also fondly known by many as the ‘The Group of Five.” Below: a self-portrait of Henri Bélisle. Right: Standing in front of the warehouse where parade ﬂoats were created are (from left) Louis Parent, Fleurimond Constantineau, Armand Filion and Rémi Arbour.

All five were gifted painters who wanted to expand their horizons and explore other mediums as well. Arbour, Bélisle and Parent became fascinated with pottery, while Constantineau and Filion found a unique challenge in creating large-scale allegorical floats for Montreal’s St. Jean Baptiste parade, held on June 24 every year. The five men developed a close friendship over the years, collaborating on projects and helping one another at every opportunity. La Maîtrise d’Arts first began to work on the St. Jean Baptiste parade in 1932. The City of Montreal lent them a brand new warehouse in the Chabanel district to use as a workshop. The floats could not be more than 16 feet high, because overhead

electrical wires along the parade route were hung at 18 feet, but tended to droop in hot weather. The parade attracted thousands of spectators, all standing along the streets, clapping in celebration as historic representations of French Canada streamed by with much fanfare every summer. The ornate horse-drawn parade carriages were a joy to behold and a triumph for everyone who had worked on them.

Lions for King George VI In May 1939, King of England George VI and Queen Elizabeth came to Canada on a Royal Visit, the ﬁrst British monarchs to ever do so. A stop-over and parade in Montreal was on the itinerary for their national rail tour, undertaken

largely in support of the war conscription movement. To properly welcome these distinguished guests, many Quebec artists were asked to work on various themes and motifs for display along the Royals’ parade route. La Maîtrise d’Arts was invited to produce a set of lions, which were to be part of a street archway. Sculpted with an artistic flair, the lions were then plaster-cast by Carli-Petrucci, Montreal statuary makers who had been in business for over a century. The Royals 1939 tour through Montreal was a truly remarkable event in our history, creating countless memories— and opportunities for artists and artisans to apply their talents in creative ways. For those of us who love to haunt local thrift stores, flea markets and antique shops, finding artistically crafted memorabilia from that event and time period is always a joy!

Pottery on Île Sainte-Hélène While contributing their skills in sculpting to La Maîtrise d’Arts’ parade efforts, Rémi Arbour, Louis Parent and Henri Bélisle were focusing increasingly on

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their passion for pottery. They badly needed their own workshop to experiment and create in, and seized upon an opportunity to work inside the old stone fort on St. Helen’s Island under the Jacques-Cartier Bridge. On Friday, September 1, 1939, the programming on Canadian radio stations was interrupted with news of Hitler’s sudden attack in Poland, resulting in anguish and rapidly changing circumstances across the country and throughout the world. When word came that the old fort was to be returned to its original purpose as a military

facility, La Maîtrise d’Arts had to move, and quickly. Born in the rural town of St. Julienne, Henri had just finished building a new house in the Ahuntsic district of Montreal, working with his uncle Wilfrid— who specialized in building barns! Henri designed his house to suit his needs as an artist, keeping the best and largest areas for artistic purposes, and choosing to sleep in a tiny room. Upstairs, he enjoyed a spacious and bright studio, while the basement housed his pottery oven. A room on the first floor was used to prepare the glazes, and a showroom was set up in the living room, where his partner Louis would give presentations to visitors about ceramics and casting, telling them about the main steps from A to Z. Members of The Youth Chamber of Commerce of Clockwise from below: signed Maîtrise d’Arts pottery; King George VI medallion marking 1939 Royal Visit; the King and Queen on parade; lion head sculpted in clay.

Daudelin, who would later become a distinguished sculptor. The sphere was hung by steel cables, using a 20 horse-power motor. When the structure was complete and opened for viewing, visitors were astonished at the sight standing before them on the Oratory grounds. La Maîtrise d’Arts is now a treasured part of our archives, and I ﬁnd it heartening to know that the artists’ creations are still being enjoyed in many homes to this very day.

Right: A rendering of the sphere used for publicity purposes in 1942. Below: a sample of the cow ﬁgurines created for the HEC museum.

Montreal, then numbering around 80, would visit Henri’s house from time to time for guided tours. Henri sometimes hosted gatherings in his studio for his La Maîtrise d’Arts colleagues and friends. One night, someone brought over acclaimed violinist Arthur Leblanc of New Brunswick. Henri’s entire home vibrated with beauty that evening as Mr. Leblanc played his 1733 Stradivarius within what proved to be the studio’s ideal acoustic conditions. The creations of La Maîtrise d’Arts covered quite a large spectrum. For example, they designed an Art Déco thumb rest beer stein, which, in the 1940s, was to be sold at Morgan’s, and Birks, in downtown Montreal. Reproductions of this original mug are still on the market today, and are among our collections here at La Belle Amérique. They produced many other styles of beer steins, as well as vases and hand-turned pottery created by Louis Parent, who had studied pottery in Philadelphia in the mid-1930s. In addition to his artistic contributions, Louis was also the businessman of the Group of Five. In 1941, the artists were commissioned by the HEC Business School museum in Montreal to produce ﬁgurines of Quebec’s various cow species; sculpted in clay, the pieces were then plaster-cast by Carli-Petrucci and afterwards hand-painted by the

artists and put on display. That same year, La Maîtrise d’Arts was also asked to create the stage design for a special theater production put on by Les Compagnons de Saint Laurent, an acting company that were performing at the fabled Montreal Forum. According to the theatre critic of La Presse, the artists created an astonishing design in the style of France’s Chartres Cathedral, featuring “a very nice perspective.” The following year was a big one for La Maîtrise d’Arts. To help commemorate Montreal’s 300th anniversary (1642-1942), they were asked to create a huge sphere for an exhibition held at St. Joseph’s Oratory, based on the theme of Canadian missionaries helping others worldwide. A team of artists and craftsmen agreed to work on the project, including a young Charles

Also, because of their combined volume of work, those “rare finds” in thrift stores or flea markets you sometimes hear about have been known to actually come about with respect to the work of La Maîtrise d’Arts. So, keep your eyes open and perhaps you will be the next lucky person to find one of the group’s artistic treasures at an affordable price. ■ Find out more about Hélène's passion for art history at www. labelleamerique.com

DESTINATIONS

LOST YEAR When pleasure travel stopped, an inner journey began by Ruth van Leeuwen, Grand Bend, Ont.

T “As I write this, in March 2021, the vaccine is being administered to the general public. We are still cautious as new variants emerge. But hopefully life will return to ‘normal’ soon. Maybe 2021 will be a better year?”

58 Our Canada

he year 2020 was supposed to be special, as it was the year that I was celebrating my 60th birthday and several events had been planned. I was in Panama in January with my husband and daughter when we first heard about a new virus in China. No big deal, we thought, like SARS and Ebola that had occurred in other far-away countries. It didn’t seem to be a threat as we continued our carefree vacation. Little did we know that it would be our last trip of 2020—and I had three others booked! By February, the virus had invaded Italy, the site of our next proposed trip. Luckily, we were able to cancel it in time and for a full refund. Soon, several cruise ships at sea were refused entry to all ports of call and many travellers were stranded abroad as the world began to close up. And, many struggled to find a way home. A world pandemic was declared on March 11 and Canada imposed its first lockdown soon after in an attempt to slow its spread. Much fear and uncertainty resulted. March 20 was my daughter’s 30th birthday, but there would be no celebration for her. It was the first of many disappointments as we began to “social distance” from everyone. In April, I began to feel some optimism as people started to figure things out. It was early days and we thought that we had it under control in Canada. It was a different story in the U.S.A. where many underestimated the situation and even called it a “hoax.” And, soon the numbers of infected began to rise quickly. The long-term care homes were especially hard hit. And, health care workers began to struggle to cope. My big day was May 9, at the height of the lockdown. Eight weeks of fear and isolation. JUNE / JULY 2021

I couldn’t celebrate my birthday with family or friends! Several cards, calls and emails could not make up for what I was missing. The only people I could see were my husband (who I lived with) and my 90-year-old mother (who lived alone). We were all ordered to stay home, except to go out for groceries, work or medical appointments. By June, boredom and despair really began to set in. The death toll was rising quickly. Businesses were closed and many lost their jobs and began to rely on government assistance. Those who still had jobs, worked from home. I cancelled another trip for a credit refund only, and my final one was also in jeopardy. As the weather got better, some hoped sparked that limited interactions would be allowed outside only. July 1 was still Canada Day, but there would be no parties or fireworks this year. The renters began to flock to our small beach town to escape the city. We entertained small groups of guests outside on our deck. Masks and social distancing were still the norm inside. The border with the U.S.A. was closed to travel. In August, we were finally able to host our

ISTOCKPHOTO

daughter for a short visit. Such a treat for her to escape the conﬁnes of Toronto. And, we hosted a few more friends on the deck, too. Luckily, it was a beautiful summer. Otherwise, we stuck to our usual “bubble”. September was soon upon us and we feared that with the coming of fall, we would need to go inside again. We had taken so much for granted—travel, shopping, restaurants, theatre and every other form of social interaction! Despair abounded and many conspiracy theories about the virus began to emerge: It was “made in China,” the numbers were inﬂated and even that the end of the world was imminent. Anti-maskers emerged, even in our own family.

THE LONG HAUL In October, we really began to experience “Covid fatigue” and the second wave began to take its toll. My ﬁnal trip of the year didn’t happen. There would be no Thanksgiving dinner with the family either. More restrictions were imposed as we were in it for the long haul. But we had no idea of just how long! For the ﬁrst weekend of November, we

had unusually nice weather and risked a weekend escape to a lovely, isolated spot— what a treat! Joe Biden was elected President in the U.S. just as so many Americans were dying of the virus. Perhaps he could turn things around, if given a chance? December did not bring any relief as the numbers continued to climb. More businesses were shuttered. Christmas shopping was all done online for the first time. And, Christmas gatherings were being discouraged. No family, no friends. The decorations still went up as we tried to fabricate the semblance of normalcy. We decided to risk having our daughter and her boyfriend for Christmas. We had a nice but somewhat guilt-ridden visit. Admittedly, we were lucky to escape the virus, unlike many other “rule-breakers.” It didn’t happen again—New Year’s Eve was “celebrated” with friends via Zoom. Despite everything, there was still hope. The first vaccines were being given out to healthcare workers and seniors, and we were still enjoying walks and fires outside when the weather permitted. Life went on as we dared to dream of a better future. We'll see. Q

AN UNFORGETTABLE CHARACTER Remembering an unlikely and brief friendship one long-ago summer by Vern Giesbrecht, Gibsons, B.C. Right: Vern at the vacant cabin, three years after his brief stay.

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ear the end of my first summer away from home, I went with my older brother to visit a man who might have a place to rent. He was a sort of hermit, we had been told, and lived in the woods near Port Edward, B.C., south of Prince Rupert. My brother and I were working at the pulp mill and had been living in a trailer in Port Edward for the summer, but the owners had just returned from a long sailing trip, so we had to find other accommodations. The first sight of our prospective landlord gave us a shock. He emerged from his weathered little cabin as if he had been roused from sleep, though it was midday. Stubble-faced, shirtless, with a pink stump where his right arm should be and a long white scar tracing a crescent across his massive belly, he greeted us affably enough. We tried to ignore the stains of egg yolks, grease and who knows what else on his shabby trousers and accepted his invitation to look around. The little shack had four rooms: two bedrooms with a woodstove in each, a tiny porch where firewood was stored and a dog lived, and a tiny washroom. Both bedrooms were cluttered and filthy, but at least the hovel had running water and inside plumbing. The windows were covered with plastic and each bedroom had a sagging bed, a couple of shelves, a table and two chairs. “There’s lots of scrap wood lyin’ around that you can burn, and you can borrow my JUNE / JULY 2021

wheelbarrow,” the man said, gesturing with his good arm. “It’s not much of a place, but you can have it for 50 bucks for two weeks.” My brother and I looked at each other, then nodded. The price was right and soon we’d be back in the Fraser Valley. So we moved in, uneasy about the prospect of sharing a house with this sloppy old hermit, but intrigued by the challenge. Cleaning our bedroom was a daunting task, but after we had tossed out the refuse of the previous tenant, lined the shelves with newspapers, stored our few belongings and lit a ﬁre, it started to feel like home.

TEA AND COMFORT Our landlord’s name was Romeo Davignon, we learned, but he kept pretty much to himself until my brother left to return to the University of B.C. During the ten days or so that I remained in the cabin, Romeo began to seek out my companionship. “When you get back from work tomorrow, why don’t you join me for a cuppa tea?” he suggested. So I did.

I had worked the graveyard shift at the pulp mill and after walking about a mile to the little cabin in the woods, I was ready for a cup of tea. When Romeo invited me in to his part of the cabin, I couldn’t help noticing how soiled his bedsheets were. Romeo put an old black kettle on the stove and set out two cups, one of them chipped. While the water boiled, he sliced a loaf of bread. I watched, fascinated, as he pinned the loaf to the cutting board with the stump of his right arm, then sliced it using his left hand. Despite the squalid surroundings and my host’s slovenly appearance, the tea tasted fine, and so did the toast and jam. Romeo was a laconic man, but glimpses of his life emerged as I had tea with him almost every day during my short stay in his cabin. He was a former boxer from Montreal who had lost his arm in a railway accident, I learned. A friend sometimes took him deer hunting—how proud he was of being able to pull the trigger with his left hand while pressing the rifle against a tree with his stump of an arm. Sometimes he supplemented his pension by selling postcards on the streets of Prince Rupert, he confided. Once he proudly showed me how he had rigged up a series of pipes to provide hot water from the heat of the woodstoves. It was an impressive feat of plumbing and I was quick to say so; how he managed it with one hand was beyond me. Romeo smoked incessantly, rolling his own with the aid of a little device, and I was afraid he’d burn the place down, but the cabin was always there when I returned from work. Simple as it was, it was a cosy little haven,

especially when I walked through the dark woods after midnight at the end of an afternoon shift. There was no lock on the door, but my possessions were never disturbed and I felt quite safe there, warmed by the stove, hearing the relentless Prince Rupert rain drum against the tin roof and the wind buckle the plastic windows. I read letters from home by the light of a single bulb that swung from a long cord above my bed. One evening, Romeo had visitors, a girl of about nine and her brother, probably a couple of years older. I remember the girl had beautiful long hair and big, dark eyes; she let her brother do most of the talking but she seemed fascinated by Romeo. I never did learn what had prompted them to visit the lonely old man or if they were related to him in some way. One my last night there, I lay on my bed reading all the letters I’d received from family members and friends during the summer. I was 900 miles away from home and the letters made me feel nostalgic, but I burned all the letters in the woodstove as I’d soon be seeing these people again in person.

WITHOUT A TRACE As for Romeo, I never met him again, nor did I try to keep in touch. Three summers later, I worked as a porter on the Canadian National Railway. On a weekend layover in Prince Rupert, my friend Al and I walked all the way from Prince Rupert along the railway tracks to Port Edward, then up the hill into the woods. How surprised Romeo would be when I dropped in, I thought, but when I got to the cabin, it was gutted and bare. The outside was as I’d remembered it—red siding on “my” side, cedar shakes on his—but the interior had been charred by ﬁre. Had his constant smoking caused the ﬁre, I wondered, and where was he now? This was all more than 50 years ago, but once in awhile, when it’s rainy or windy, I’m transported to that little shack in the woods, watching Romeo pin the loaf of bread to the cutting board with his stump and handing me a hot cup of tea in a chipped mug as he asked, “So how was your shift today?” ■

Just Try to Say No! The phone rings, you answer, and the call goes like this: “Hi, how are you this evening?” You were brought up to be civil, so you respond with a clipped, “Fine,” meaning: “I don’t want to play this game.” The cheery voice launches into its well-rehearsed blurb at lightning speed. Meanwhile, you formulate your response and await your chance. “My name’s Cindi and I’m calling on behalf of the Absolutely Unknown Charity. I want to thank you for your past donation of $25.” You have never supported the A.U.C. and suspect Cindi knows it. “Is this the correct address?” She begins reading it to you, and you tingle sensing this is your moment. Just as you are about to

speak, Cindi tells you what will actually happen next: “I’ll just pass you to my supervisor to conﬁrm the details.” And the opportunity to say goodbye to Cindi is lost. A new voice reads your address to you, thanks you for your $25 donation, and hangs up. What just happened here? Occasionally, you are connected to a telemarketer with limited lung capacity. When the pause arrives, you are ready. “No, thank you.” A rookie mistake. You expect that he will fulﬁll his social contract and thank you for your time. Ha! “It would only be $75 and you just put that in an envelope…” It is here that you unravel because 15 minutes earlier, you received a call from “Your Old School That

IILLUSTRATION: STOCKPHOTO

FUNNY STUFF

Just Spent Millions On A Phys. Ed. Complex.” You started talking before she finished. You were calm, stating: “I have chosen two charities to support this year, so, I’m sorry I am unable to donate to your organization. Thank you, anyway.” Beautifully done, you congratulated yourself. Succinct, pleasant and to-the-point. “Well, we really need your help, let’s say $50.” Hanging up felt rude so instead you screamed: “Have you heard anything I said? I can’t afford it!” Oops, that was a little personal. “Oh, you don’t have to pay right now, just send us a post-dated cheque, that would be fine.” Landlines and rotary phones had the advantage of being able provide a good slam—a crushing reverberation unequalled in force by today’s finger poke, no matter how fierce. Instead of “end call” on your smartphone, you search for an “exterminate” icon, to no avail. And so you poke away with all your might and end the agony with a stab of your finger. The aim of telemarketers in the past was to avoid a “No.” Today’s goal is to not have you speak at all. Vivienne Mathers, Dundas, Ont.

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Send Us Your Best Stories & Photos HERE ARE SOME OF THE FEATURES AND DEPARTMENTS WE’RE HOPING TO REPLENISH FOR UPCOMING ISSUES

OUR TRAVELS

WHEELS

Where in Canada do your travels take you in winter, spring, summer and fall? Do you have a special “go to” spot or do you prefer to roam, seeking out new adventures in new locales? Wherever your travels take you across this great country, we want to hear about it!

Have a passion for vintage cars and motorcycles? Or maybe high-performance vehicles, trucks or jeeps are more your speed. Even oddball junkers are welcome—whatever gets your motor running is of interest to us!

DESTINATIONS What exotic places outside of our beautiful country have you travelled to? Whether it’s a tale of a previous trip full of fond memories or an upcoming adventure when we are all able to travel again, tell us about your exciting trips abroad and be sure to include lots of colourful pics!

COMING TO CANADA Whether your family arrived on these shores several generations ago, or you are newly arrived to Canada, we want to hear about the journey that brought you to this country. Share your inspiring tale of arriving and adapting to life in a new land: the hardships and joys alike.

PASTIMES

FUNNY STUFF

Are you a Collector of unusual things? Maybe you’re particularly Crafty or have a talent to Showcase? Wherever your interests lie—from scrapbooking to hiking, and all points in between—we hope you’ll tell us all about them—and send along plenty of eye-popping photos as well.

Do you have a hilarious tale to tell? Our funny bone is just waiting to be tickled! Send along your side-splitting misadventures and knee-slapping anecdotes— everybody loves a good laugh, especially Our Canada readers!

OUR KIDS What are your kids up to? Do you have awesome photos to share of your offspring as they run, jump and play? Send them along with a short paragraph describing the action. Please remember if you’re submitting as a proud grandma or doting aunt you must have permission from the little ones’ parents!

STORYTIME Whether it’s part of their midafternoon “quiet time” or their nightly tucking-in ritual, kids just love a good story. Here’s an opportunity to share that original children’s tale you’ve been meaning to write! If you have an idea you don’t see here, send it along as well! Submit your stories and photos at ourcanada.ca

COIN IMAGE: ALL CANADA PHOTOS

SPOT THE LOONIE

We’ve hidden a loonie somewhere in this issue. Can you find it? It could be anywhere, but it’s not the one below! If you spot the loonie, tell us in which issue and on what page on a postcard, or in a letter, and mail your entry to “Spot the Loonie” Contest, P.O. Box 975, STN Main, Markham, Ont., L3P 0K7. Or join the fun online by visiting ourcanada.ca and clicking on “Spot the Loonie.” We’ll collect all the entries and have a drawing every other month. The first five correct entries we draw will win $50. Entries will be accepted until July 31, 2021. For complete rules, write to “Spot the Loonie” Contest, Reader’s Digest Contest Administrators Office, 5101 Rue Buchan, Suite 300, Montreal, Que., H4P 1S4. This contest is open to all Canadian residents who, at the time of participation, have reached the age of majority according to the law of the province or territory in which they reside. One entry per person, per day is allowed. In the April-May 2021 issue, we hid the loonie on page 41 within the Taming Hair & Legos feature story. Check out our latest winning loonie-spotters below.

OUR LATEST WINNING LOONIE-SPOTTERS Hedley Parons, Oro-Medonte, Ont.; Jacqueline Fankhanel, Edmonton; Pauline Yurklu, Grandview, Man.; Vivian Mooney, Quinton, Sask.; Barb Reinhart, Kitchener; Deanna Caldaroni, Scarborough; Laurent Godbout, Edmonton; Muriel Hallett, Moose Jaw, Sask.; Marjorie Skirving, Burlington, Ont.; Joyce Stinchcombe, Vancouver; Jack Boyko, Grandview, Man.; Vivian Mooney, Quinton, Sask.; Olene Webb, Thornton, Ont.; Margaret Shortreed, Port Hope, Ont.; Stanley Grysuil, Winnipeg; Carolyn Reid, Leamington, Ont.; Raymond Parttridge, Grindrod, B.C.; Marlyn Maier, Lumby, B.C.; Bill Harvie, Grandview, Man.; Brian Hunter, Long Sault, Ont.; Jane Leblanc, Bains Corner, N.B.; Louise McGorman, Abbotdford, B.C. Congratulations to all our winners!

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Our Canada and More of Our Canada are unique publications in that they are written by and for Canadians just like you! Send us your stories and photos and you may see them published in a future issue. CONTRIBUTE TO OUR CANADA AND GET A FREE 1-YEAR GIFT SUBSCRIPTION UPON PUBLICATION! If your story or photo is published in Our Canada or More of Our Canada, you will receive a free, one-year gift subscription to the magazine. Already a subscriber? Have your gift subscription added to the end of your current subscription or pass it along to someone else. TEXT LENGTH Between 500 and 1,000 words is ideal. Your story may be edited for length and style. PHOTOS For digital images, set your camera for the best picture quality and send us JPG ﬁles. For hard copy photos, send highquality prints—copies are preferable; we are not responsible for lost photos.

Submit at ourcanada.ca or mail submission to: Our Canada, P.O. Box 988, STN Main Markham, Ont., L3P 0M1.

By submitting stories or photos to Our Canada or More of Our Canada, you are conﬁrming that you are a citizen, permanent resident or landed immigrant of Canada. RETURNS We can’t acknowledge submissions or return unused photos. Submissions may be edited for length and clarity, and may be reproduced in all print and electronic media. Upon publication, original submissions (text and photos) become the property of The Reader’s Digest Magazines Canada Limited and its afﬁliates.

PET CORNER

SCOOTER DOG

Kathy Holler of Edmonton writes: “We adopted Rosco, a rescue, on Thanksgiving Day in 2019—it was one of the best decisions we ever made. He is part black Lab and part Blue Heeler and is the sweetest dog I have ever come across. His favourite activity is getting on ‘Dad’s’ scooter and heading to the dog park, where he has lots of friends. He is harnessed in and wears his jaunty aviator glasses. Rosco has never tried to jump off and stays in place until unbuckled. One of the people at the local dog park christened him ‘Scooter Dog’—an appropriate nickname it is!” Have a great shot of your family’s pet? Send it along and it may appear on this page!

STORYTIME

The Right House for Mouse Once upon a time,

Mouse wanted a new house. She found the perfect spot under the root of an old stump. She had just started cleaning it out when Badger walked by. “What are you doing?” Badger asked. “I’m making a new house,” said Mouse. Badger looked at the little hollow. “Mouse, that’s too small,” he said. “I’ll make a new house for you.” Badger began digging a hole in the nearby milkweed patch. Dirt flew in all directions and the air ﬁlled with milkweed silk as the hole grew bigger and bigger. Mouse gathered up the milkweed silk and lined the walls of the little hollow. Rabbit hopped by. “What are you doing?” she asked. “I’m making a new house,” said Mouse. Rabbit looked at the little hollow lined with milkweed silk. “That house is much too narrow,” she said. “I’ll make a new house for you, Mouse.” Before Mouse could say another word, Rabbit hopped over to a tall pine tree. She pushed aside a layer of pine needles and started to dig. Mouse watched Rabbit’s back end disappear into the hole. She gathered up the pine needles and covered the ﬂoor of her little hollow. A large brown head popped out of the ground near the stump. “What are you doing, Mouse?” asked Groundhog. “I’m making a new house,” said Mouse. Groundhog looked at the little hollow lined with milkweed silk and pine needles. “That house is too short,” he said. “I’ll make a new house for you.” Pebbles and earth rolled in all directions as Groundhog worked on another hole. Mouse collected the pebbles to make a little garden for her tiny hollow. Just then Badger called from the milkweed patch. “Mouse, come see your new house!” Mouse went into the den that Badger had made. It was huge

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and dark. Mouse shook her head. “Thanks Badger, but this house is too big for a mouse,” she said. “Mouse, come and see your new house,” called Rabbit. Mouse went over to the burrow Rabbit had made. She looked inside. The burrow was so wide she couldn’t touch the walls. Mouse shook her head again. “Thank you for all your hard work, Rabbit,” she said. “But this house is too wide for a mouse.” Groundhog poked his head out of the hole had made. “Mouse, come and see your new house,” he called. Mouse stood at the edge of Groundhog’s hole. She looked down, way, way down. Mouse shook her head. “I’m sorry, Groundhog, but this house is too deep for a mouse,” she said. “Well, it isn’t too deep for me,” said Groundhog. “The new house I made isn’t too wide for me,” said Rabbit. “And the new house I dug isn’t too deep for me,” said Badger, pushing aside some more dirt. “We were supposed to be making a new house for Mouse,” said Groundhog. “But we each ended up making a new house for ourselves,” said Rabbit. “Things didn’t work out the way they were supposed to,” said Badger. “Yes, they did,” said Mouse. “You each have a new house that’s just right for you. And I have a new house, too.” She showed them the little hollow she had made under the stump. “Thanks to the milkweed silk, the pine needles and the pebbles, it’s warm and cozy and dry. It isn’t too big and it isn’t too wide and it isn’t too deep. It’s just the right house for a mouse,” said Mouse. ■

ILLUSTRATION: ISTOCKPHOTO

Creating the perfect home took the help of some well-meaning friends by Marilyn Helmer, Belwood, Ont.