Fleeing to little towns for moments of fellowship part of Canadian experience

Details Below!!

For such a time as these past few days, Canadians surely did not ask or seek.

I just returned to Cranbrook from Toronto, where one of my oldest and dearest friends, Harry 'Butch' Pellow, and his wife Brigitte,  hosted a marvellous party attended by some folks I had not seen since high school days, more than 50 years ago. What a joyous occasion it was for the more than 60 old friends who were there.

As I flew across this vast and magnificent land, over the mountains, across the prairies to the forests of Ontario, into Toronto, which has been so much the central place in my life, I once again recalled the words of Bruce Hutchison in The Unknown Country.  Little did I think during my travels that I would be putting Mr. Hutchison's words into the context of tragedy in my country as well as a great party all in one week.

Mr. Hutchison, who has Cranbrook roots, wrote in 1942, that "No one knows my country ...Who can know our loneliness on the immensity of prairie, in the dark forest and on the windy sea rock? A few lights, a faint glow in our largest city on the vast breast of the night and all around blackness and emptiness and silence. We flee to little towns for moments of fellowship."

He also posed the question: "Who but us can feel our fears and hopes and passions?"

Indeed, who but us? And given the tragedies of the past week with the attacks in Ottawa and Quebec, Canadians from coast to coast to coast vented their fears and hopes and passions as they tried to understand, to make sense of it all.

I won't pretend to have the answers, but I do know one thing for sure: Be not afraid.

As Canadians, let us focus on the positive aspects of living in this still largely unknown country and strive to fulfill our hopes and passions.

I often think of my mother's family who arrived in Canada in 1913 from England to make a new life for themselves. Not here long before my grandfather was badly burned in a fire but he survived. Then it was World War I, then the Great Depression, then World War II, and my father was killed on active service in the RCAF in 1943.

Through it all, my family and I know that yours faced its challenges too, and, never, ever let fear rule their lives.

Let me leave you with two quotes to think about:

"Fear is the only true enemy, born of ignorance and the parent of anger and hate."  Edward Albert

"The enemy is fear. We think it is hate; but, it is fear." Gandhi

As difficult as it may be, let us focus on those things bringing us together rather than dividing us. Let us certainly not be intimidated, but lead the way to the "promised land" where our greatest hopes and passions will be fulfilled -- Canada!

We are all children of the village in Canada and if need be, it is OK, even today to "flee" for a moment to the little towns for fellowship as Mr. Hutchison suggested in 1942. It is part of the Canadian experience. 

I just did, even though the small town was a home in Toronto, and not Chapleau, where we were raised. My email is mj.morris@live.ca

ABOUT THE PHOTO... The 'girls' in the photo were all students at Chapleau High School between 1950 and 1960, and were members of the Girls Precision Squad and/or the Bugle Band of 1181 CHS Cadet Corps. Neil Ritchie, (front left) is in the photo at request of the girls. He was "our CO" they said. Harry 'Butch' Pellow, centre botton row, was our host at the fabulous party in Toronto.

Back row from left Donna, Betty Ann, Doreen, Ann, Naomi, Gemma, Shirley, Dorothy, Front from left Neil, Diane, Butch, Alison, Joy, Jean.

Draining fine Scotch whisky from keg in boxcar provided booze for Chapleau party

My grandfather George Hunt had store here

Chapleau was a "human anthill, a brushed out speck in hundreds of square miles of threatening northern forest" as the Canadian Pacific Railway arrived in 1885, according to Jim Poling Sr in his fascinating book, 'Waking Nanabijou: Uncovering a Secret Past'.

I came across an excerpt from Mr. Poling's book while researching another subject, and it looks like a great read.

Mr. Poling, an author of several books worked as a journalist with the Canadian Press for many years.

In 1885 he notes that Chapleau "offered little in terms of natural beauty, plopped down on the lowlands beside the slow moving Chapleau river surrounded by swamp and tracts of funereal black spruce and emaciated jackpine."

He contends that the "town went up in too much of a hurry to allow for anything beautiful in planning or significant architecture adding that most houses were "wood frame two storey boxes the shape of the hotels in a Monopoly game".

"Buildings usually were clad in clapboard because sawn lumber from the bush was more readily available than manufactured brick." Zap, but true in Chapleau's early days.

He refers to Chapleau in its earliest years as a "bleak place" aside from railroading "especially during the long winters of snowdrifts, icy winds and freezing temperatures that could kill anyone without heated shelter".

By this point, in the excerpt, I was not too sure I liked Mr. Poling's description of Chapleau, but continued anyway.

Moving to early Chapleau families - LaFrance, Tremblay, Burns and Aquin specifically, - he became kinder and writes about the importance of family and church.

He notes that many families, French and English, were Roman Catholic and they "built themselves what probably was the finest building in town", Sacred Heart Roman Catholic Church.

At this point I stopped reading and went to the public library web site, originally founded by Hugh Kuttner, which remains an incredible research tool. After looking at the church built in 1891 and other buildings from early years, I agreed with Mr. Poling.

For many citizens, the church was the "main entertainment place" adding that it was bicultural and bilingual "right down to the stained glass Sacristy windows -- St. Patrick on one side and St. Jean-Baptiste on the other

I did not know that one, and smiled to myself, thinking about all  my Irish and French Roman Catholic friends.

Mr. Poling notes that in 1911 a "young, energetic and personable priest" Father Romeo Gascon arrived who quickly became involved in many aspects of community life  --- for example, in 1916, my grandfather Harry Morris played on a baseball team called the Young Elephants, coached by Father Gascon. Grandpa was Irish for sure, but an Anglican!

I will leave you with one anecdote that likely involved the LaFrance, Tremblay, Burns and Aquin families who became close friends, and in fact, there were some marriages between the families.

Mr. Poling writes that "booze, not often openly used in conservative families made an occasional appearance.

"One memorable appearance was during Christmas holidays when family celebrations broke out all over town. These people then tied to the railway knew all the train schedules down to the minute and the contents of every car.

"One night, one of the Tremblay boys, who had married into the LaFrance family led a party to the tracks with a brace and bit and several buckets.

"It was a bitter night with the white of one's breath barely visible in the fog of blowing snow. One of the boxcars contained a shipment of fine Scotch whisky that was headed west.

"They drilled through the boxcar's wooden floor into an oak keg and caught the whisky in pails as it drained through the hole."

'Waking Nanabijou: Uncovering a Secret Past' by Jim Poling Sr. is available at www.amazon.ca My email is mj.morris@live.ca

FMCC Holds Thanksgiving Breakfast on a Ranch in the Mountains

Joel, MJM, Brian, Ron, Mark, Jim with Gordon, Bill seated

The Friday Morning Coffee Club, aka FMCC, launched Thanksgiving weekend with Breakfast on a Ranch in the Mountains, a huge change from its usual meeting place at Starbucks in the Cranbrook Target store.

Organized by Jim Roberts and Mark Spence-Vinge, with Joel Vinge and Bill Nightingale as the chauffeurs, off we went to the Fort Steele area where Jim lives. Others along for the special occasion were Brian Passey, Ron Mcfarland, Gordon Ingalls and of course me.

On a bright sunny clear Fall day, it was the ideal place to spend a morning with good friends, and has left me listening to and humming  "Climb Every Mountain" made famous by Julie Andrews in "The Sound of Music" by Rodgers and Hammerstein ever since.

Jim Roberts

When I arrived in Cranbrook for the first time in 1988 to look around, on the first morning I was here, I looked at those very same mountains, and said to myself, "I think I would like to live here," Just over 25 years later, I am still here, and have always lived where I could see "my mountains".

This time, as Joel pointed out, we were looking from the "other side" from Cranbrook and what a spectacular, humbling experience it was. No wonder I stayed here.

After enjoying a mountain breakfast of scrambled eggs, sausages, toast and coffee prepared by Jim with Mark as "overseer", we went up to a higher level from where we were and looked far and away at "the back" of Fisher Peak and the Steeples.

Justin (Jim's nephew and assistant)

Joel, Brian, Justin and I walked up while Jim drove Bill, Mark, Ron, and Gordon in an ATV.

Then, because of my bragging about the two times in my life when I was on a horse, it was time to visit the corral to meet Winston. Justin looked after the visit. To be honest Winston did not like me very much -- for some reason, horses, (ponies) don't, although Cinammon, one of the ranch dogs became my instant buddy.  However, for the historical record, Joel did manage to get a photo of me with Winston. Joel was official photographer.

What a wonderful place to spend some moments with good friends, for some laughter, good food, fellowship and spectacular scenery. Thanks so much guys and here are some familiar words from "Climb Every Mountain".

"Climb every mountain,
Search high and low,
Follow every byway,
Every path you know.

Climb every mountain,
Ford every stream,
Follow every rainbow,
'Till you find your dream."

May all climb their mountain and find their dream!  My email is mj.morris@live.ca