Over the weekend I travelled to Simcoe, Ont., to attend the 100th birthday of a veteran friend of mine. It was a wonderful celebration. Lots of friends and family dropped by to shake his hand, swap stories and enjoy his cake with a hundred candles on it. At some point during the afternoon, someone asked me where I was from.
“Uxbridge,” I said proudly.
“What’s Uxbridge like?” she asked. “Typical Ontario small town?”
I almost said, “Yes.” But I caught myself and said, “No, not really.” And I stumbled around a bit trying to offer her an explanation. It occurred to me that this community we live in has a unique atmosphere. It has unique people. It has unique places. But after the Foster Memorial, the Lucy Maud Montgomery Manse, the York-Durham Heritage train and the new roundabout, I ran out of examples. I don’t think I did our town justice on the spur of the moment. So, I’ve been thinking about some of those singular characteristics that I had forgotten. I just hope my acquaintance in Simcoe reads my column so she’ll realize how distinctive our town really is.
Fortunately, Uxbridge still has one foot firmly planted in agriculture. Our family and neighbours have always relished the farmers’ market (in recent years on Sundays in the arena parking lot). Whether it’s the family farmers or the individual produce and service vendors, that weekly stroll through the stands is always a treat for the senses – sight, taste, touch, smell and yes, sound, because there’s always a great conversation with somebody you haven’t seen for a while. And as much as some people in town dislike it, when the smell of our farm neighbours spreading natural fertilizer on their fields wafts over town, I find the aroma a welcome change… for a little while anyway. More fragrant, however, are the unique smells coming from Hermann Laue’s spice plant.
“You don’t run into that kind of smell very often,” our publisher commented the other day.
There are plenty of terrific vistas I’ve taken for granted around our community, such as the view from hilltops into downtown – the one coming west down Reach Road from Port Perry, the one coming south down Blue Mountain on Lakeridge and the one from the top of the preserve lands south of Canadian Tire. But there are lots of other views only those of us who’ve been here a while would enjoy. When there are storm clouds coming from the northwest, I love the walk into the wind up the Quaker Common. In fact, when the rain pours downtown, I get a kick out of seeing the rivers of water shooting through the Toronto-Brock streets intersection. And have you ever stood at the top of the museum grounds (amid the clouds of mosquitoes) to watch the July 1 fireworks going off all the way from Port Perry to Uxbridge?
From times past, I remember finding a lot of comfort seeing Dianne Holman, in her safety vest, dashing out into the middle of Brock Street from the shoe store to help clear the way for firefighters to get to the firehall and then helping the fire trucks get out of town. I still miss the old air-raid siren wailing away while all this was going on; somehow that was comforting too. Another regular sight when I passed the Testa Medical Building early in the morning was spotting Gino Testa’s car already there in his parking spot; he was already hard at work. Or, Ron and Linda Baird’s iron sculpture in front of the hospital (and how many place’s can boast a health care centre with a name like “The Cottage Hospital”?)
I’m sure these next impressions won’t make any sense at all, but they’re ours and I find them unique too. Whenever the Cosmos directors held meetings in Brian Evans’s boardroom, I loved looking at his framed pictures of the old Uxbridge Post Office; I never saw the real thing, so Brian’s collage is all I’ve got. There’s no cosier feeling on a cool September night than interviewing some of this country’s most celebrated writers in front of a packed house of booklovers at the Music Hall during Celebration of the Arts; but I have that privilege. And isn’t it interesting how much the Uxbridge Creek comes alive, not because it flows right through the middle of town, but because each spring we all gather at its edge to see whose Duck Derby rubber duck will win the big prize money. Only in Uxbridge.
I know these are just a few of the nooks and crannies, sights and sounds, people and impressions I should have mentioned when that woman asked me where I was from. But then, if the world knew how distinctive this place is, Uxbridge would have been overrun by now.
