Ted Barris

A few days ago, my daughter – who’s recently joined me on my morning walks – posed a provocative question:

“How come we haven’t got a bridge in Uxbridge?” she asked.

I didn’t have an answer. But it occurred to both of us that we have an opportunity to change that. Since construction crews have ripped open most of the main thoroughfare through the downtown to make way for the renovation of the underground flow of the Uxbridge Brook, here might be an ideal chance.

Why not, we thought, somewhere along that now gaping throughway for storm and other water passageways, make an effort to include some sort of bridgeworks that might reflect our name?

I’ve discovered that the origin of our town being named “Uxbridge” has more to do with bureaucracy than with bridges or that other Uxbridge in suburban London, England. Apparently, one of the traditions held over from Ontario’s British heritage, requires that the first post office opened (once a township is established), must be the same as the township name – thus Uxbridge Township bestowed the name Uxbridge on this community.

Anyway, why not take some advantage of the trench in our midst – instead of burying it all for another hundred years – to create something practical, attractive, utilitarian and perhaps a centrepiece for a downtown park adjacent to Brock Street shops, movie theatre, boutiques and storefronts? And it might also get some of us off the hook when asked, “So where’s the Uxbridge bridge?”

In part, such thinking emerged during a recent visit I paid to one of the now thriving communities in Ontario’s busy wine country – Picton, in Prince Edward County. While there, I got into a conversation with a local resident about PEC history and how it’s preserved … or not preserved.

“Oh, you mean the controversy over the statue of Sir John A. Macdonald?”

“No,” I said. “But the problem may be just as tough to navigate.”

Downtown, on the main street in Picton, stands a life-sized statue of our first prime minister – I mean the bronze figure looks as if John A. just stepped out of a local coffee shop. (Macdonald had run his cousin’s corporate law office in Picton, in 1834).

Well, ever since we’ve recently begun reassessing whom we chose to commemorate in statues, the people of Picton have clashed quite openly about the bronze Sir John. Some point out Macdonald’s support for residential schools; others remind us he was a father of Canadian Confederation. And while town council and the public debate, the statue has been spray-painted and cleaned and on and on.

In the interest of steering clear of the controversy, I noted that Picton has done a masterful job of preserving and celebrating much of its other history, just steps from the Macdonald statue. For example, the Picton Armory might well have bitten the dust. Built in 1913 as the home of the storied 16th Prince Edward Regiment and later as the recruiting depot for the equally famous “Hasty Ps” regiment, it’s recently been transformed into an engaging indoor museum and boutique mall.

Right across the street sits the town’s old post office. It too was forgotten and nearly torn down, when, in 1999, a group wishing to preserve Canada’s marine heritage convinced the powers that be to save the building and convert it into a gallery, reading room and research centre for those curious about Canadian nautical history. Last year, I got lost in the Naval Marine Archive (NMA) searching for the stories of Canadian merchant navy and military navy sailors. It’s an amazing modern resource preserved in a piece of Picton history.

On the other hand, Picton appears to have overlooked another chunk of its heritage. Just outside town, on about 100 acres of municipal airport land, lie the remnants of one of Canada’s most unheralded wartime stories. On that spot, thousands of air cadets trained (in the British Commonwealth Air Training Plan) for overseas service in the Royal Air Force and RCAF. The former No. 31 Bombing and Gunnery School today consists of a half dozen massive airplane hangars and scores of barracks huts and classroom buildings where aircrew were trained in Canada to help bring home victory in the air over Nazi Germany.

All that remains today are a few memories and the (mostly) rock-solid structures built in 1940. Today, some of the buildings are art studios and storage sheds, but if somebody worked out the logistics, those hangars and barracks could house vintage aircraft and Air Force artifacts in an accurate setting, if not dozens of local cottage industries.

When it comes to building solutions in modern communities, we often can’t see the forest for the trees … or perhaps in Uxbridge’s case, the bridge for the culvert.