Dull economy without sharp trades

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…)

Escape to the cottage? Yes and no.

A rustic cottage – thin walls, stove, up on stilts, fish flies on the screens.

They’ve been packing up for weeks. RVs all loaded. Trailers full of motorboats, Sea-doos, kayaks, flotation devices and other water paraphernalia. Oh, and they’ve got plenty of camping gear too, with food coolers and bug repellent crammed into every nook and cranny of their cars and trucks.

I asked one of my neighbours, heading out of town, how long he’d been getting ready for this summer’s great escape to the cottage.

“Since we got home from the cottage last year,” he said.

Recently, I’ve been thinking about all my friends dashing off to cottages each summer. (more…)

Norm and Alex, the stars they were

Sheriff (Brian Keith) challenges Russian sub with help of Russian sailor (Alan Arkin) in “The Russians Are Coming.”

It’s the early 1960s. The Cuban missile crisis is still fresh in people’s minds. The Cold War is at its peak. A Soviet submarine has run aground on the New England coast. Locals in the closest town think it’s the start of a Soviet invasion of America. The panicking townsfolk – armed to the teeth with shotguns – are lined up on the dock facing an armed Soviet sub.

And the local sheriff stands between the two sides about to open fire. He pulls out his parking ticket pad, looks up at the sub commander and through a Russian sailor translating, says, “All right, let’s have your full name and address.”

The sub commander orders his deck gunners to prepare to fire. (more…)

Wildfires – as close as your backdoor

Road signs do more than help travellers find their way – they can be a fire lifeline.

I escaped to a remote Ontario lake for some R&R last week. And as a guest at a wilderness property, I tuned in to what Ontarians at their cottages on holiday have on their minds. I figured they’d probably be talking about how many days it’s rained or encounters with bears at garbage dumps or the cost of gas just to get there and back. One night my hosts invited over a couple of their friends and I learned just what is top-of-mind in cottage country.

“You know the Smith’s Bay Road sign on the main highway’s been gone quite a while,” their woman guest said. “That means fire crews won’t know where to find us.”

A few seconds of silence followed as her timely concern sank in.

“I think we ought to get the ministry (of natural resources) to replace that sign quickly,” she added. (more…)

Music that fills the distance

Frank Zappa’s “Hot Rats” album and memories of meeting him, help fill the COVID gap.

Until about a year ago, it sat there, unused. It was just a piece of furniture filling a corner of my office, covered in dust and unopened. Its knobs, glass dials and chrome corners pretty much untouched for years. Then, shortly after Trudeau and Ford locked things down, the result of the pandemic, I unlocked its lid, turned the dial to “phono,” and got reacquainted with an old friend – my record player.

I should say friends. In the opposite – and equally dusty – corner of my office, I pulled out some of my favourite vinyl. And I got lost in the leisure of pulling discs from their cardboard jackets and paper sleeves, sliding them onto my turntable, dropping the stylus in the groove and turning up the volume. (more…)

A dog’s life

A boy and his first dog.
A boy and his first dog.

Just the other day, I bumped into one of my acquaintances in the park. Of course, the people I meet in the park generally have a companion with them – of the four-legged variety. Anyway, as often happens among dog walkers, we got talking about breeds, dog compatibility and ages of our pets.

“This Kerry’s a bit older than my last dog,” I said to my dog-walking acquaintance.

“Mine too,” he said. “She’s been with us throughout the lives of our kids.” (more…)