Posts with the John Zentana tag

Barris Beat

Dull economy without sharp trades

Written by Ted Barris on . Leave a comment
Ed Casella, master hardware specialist in Stouffville, Ont.

Some time ago, I decided to repair a door handle inside our house. (This sort of thing happens when I suffer writer’s block and need a short-term distraction.) So, I went to local big box stores looking for the correct hardware.

The only replacements they offered were huge new assemblies wrapped in that impregnable plastic. And, even if I could cut open the package, there was no guarantee the new assembly would fit my door.

“Ed’s,” I suddenly remembered. “Ed’s Hardware in Stouffville. That’s where I’ll go.” I made an appointment to see Ed Casella, drove down to meet him at his farm, and it was all I could do to keep from buying every old piece of hardware in the place – antique doorknobs, padlocks, floor grates and everything else under the sun … from a bygone era. (more…)

Barris Beat

A willingness to work

Written by Ted Barris on . Leave a comment
In the 1950s, this is the kind of work ethic that got John Zentana and his family into Canada.

He was only 18, back in 1955. He didn’t speak a word of English when he and his parents arrived from Italy. And his skills were few; he knew how to sharpen knives, so his father could butcher what livestock the family had raised for food. But when John Zentana arrived in Canada, none of that mattered. The basic criterion for entry to this new country was simple.

“Are you all prepared to work?” immigration authorities asked.

“Anything,” John’s father promised. (more…)

Barris Beat

Call of the bell

Written by Ted Barris on . Leave a comment
If this doesn't look familiar, read on.
If this doesn’t look familiar, read on.

For those of a certain age, the sound of this bell is unique. It’s distinct from a church bell, a bicycle bell, a carillon bell, and even a fire engine bell. As close as I can put into words, it goes, “Ca-clang, ca-clang,” in a slow, swinging, walking-like rhythm. And it has a very specific translation for those of us who remember it.

“I’m nearby, on your block,” it says. “I’m here for one thing. So, come to the curb if you need your knives, scissors or garden tools sharpened.” (more…)