these were Daisyback times—fish were plentiful, butterflies scarce (click the fish) ...
Jamie Hepple (left)
lived up the street
... and Meaford was boasting the world’s largest fresh-water fishing fleet ... Hugh called his boat Juanita, then Wahneeta
old photographs anderson dickson meaford
one of Hugh’s sons, Paul, lived across from us with his wife, Pearl, and son, Douglas (right)
of these partiers
I clearly remember only three, Vivian Snell, tucked in behind, and the girls next door, the McAfees, second and third from
the left
... was somewhere
out west
manouvering a large yellow Cadillac through Indian territory
with
next-door neighbours
Lois and Joan McAfee
Mom waited tables
nearly all her life, mostly in high-end places, mostly in Toronto ... her visits to Meaford were big occasions and, to this day, I’ve a soft spot for attractive gift-bearing women who smell good and can’t stay long ... parenting didn’t suit her,
nor did marriage
Penny Sturgeon and I (right) are quietly celebrating
our first birthday ... I remember Penny only by name and circumstance: she was the doctor’s daughter and we were born the same day ... the two rowdies, Cynthia Bennett and Jim Gower, would be my classmates from grade one through thirteen
my parents’ marriage
was short-lived ... I don’t recall meeting my father till I was a teenager ... we stayed in touch thereafter but less and less
they married in November 1943 ... I was best man
Gram and Hugh did the parenting
childhood
meanwhile, my grandfather Bert had remarried and, with new wife Ernice by
his side ...
between the cabins, next to the creek, was a rope swing, a pile of sand, and a hammock
visits
except for a few months, I lived the first eighteen years of my life beside a creek across the road from Georgian Bay at the north end of a small town built at the mouth of a river — a town with an old dam, three bridges, a swimming hole, Daisybacks, Rock Bass, a woolen mill, a stone dock, a lighthouse, a suicide hill, clay banks, parks, a ball team, a hockey team, Brown’s Restaurant, two pool halls, a soda fountain, a movie theatre, a library, a downtown-Saturday-night and, for the most part, no TV ... few are as fortunate
it's a tradition on my mother's side not to introduce our children to our fathers, fearing it might unduly discourage them ... consequently, I never met my grandfather Bert and, till the day Mom announced she was going to his funeral, I thought he'd been dead for years
Curly