Showing posts with label Stratford Ontario. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stratford Ontario. Show all posts

Thursday, April 07, 2011

Found Treasures ...

One of the hardest things I've had to do lately is the process of sorting and cleaning at mom's ... with almost fifty years of accumulated mementos, treasures and trash ... it is a long process that had barely began when Scott died suddenly, and that has been complicated by his passing ... Every time I step in the door, I not only have to wrestle with the memories and legacy of Mom, I now feel Scott's presence too, and have to deal with things that for 40 years were off limits ...

Every time I pick up something in Scott's room, I hear his voice in my ear: "what the hell are you doing?" ... then I feel a wave of guilt that I'm touching my big brothers stuff, and sooner or later I'm gonna get pounded for it ... old patterns die hard, and for the first twenty years of my life the cat and mouse game of touching, borrowing and retrieving one another's possessions usually resulted in me getting a 'brotherly beatin' ... one Scott would maintain I deserved.

The last few visits to Mom's has been harder because my sorting is now reaching back into my childhood and Scott's ... I'm find the toys and mementos from our childhood ... a drawer of matchbox and hot wheels cars that I dared to 'borrow' now sits forlorn with Scott's absence ... the stuffed animals that were once filled with life through our play recalls Scott, Mom and their creator Grandma Ankenmann ... the drawings and cards we gave one another recall a simpler time when life glowed with love and seemingly limitless potential ... over and over I find myself revisiting a time and place before the stormy perils of adulthood broke over us and battered us and our lives ... a simpler time when Mom's word was law (backed up by the wooden spoon on top of the fridge) and Scott was my big brother who and would readily pound me for infractions perceived and sometimes real, and yet filled me with respect and awe ...

Over and over I find myself recalling the many moments that helped forge me into the man I am today ... some good ... some not so good ... but all of them cherished recollections that are part of my heritage and history and my present reality ...

Today I had to pause when I discovered tucked in the back of a closet my baby shoes, my first little red slippers, and a card from the Ladies Group at the now defunct Lingelbach United Church (or as it was called then Lingelbach EUB Church) celebrating my safe arrival, along with a Centennial Dollar Bill ... over and over I find myself smiling with tears in my eyes at the many treasures I keep uncovering in my personal archeological dig ... mom's house is full of memories and mementos ... and each time I make the drive and spend a few hours exploring them, I reconnect with my past and reacquaint myself with my family story ... and as hard as it is, it is good!

mom would insist that we should just get along ...

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Sermon for the 170th (and last) Anniversary of Lingelbach United Church




It’s funny – this building, this place is an important part of my history and heritage, I’ve passed it countless times on going to and fro on the highway ... I’ve stood numerous times in the cemetary visiting the graves of my dad, my grandparents, and assorted family members who lie there ... I’ve been honoured on a few occassions to come and stand here and preside at worship with you – I can visualize Uncle Bruce sitting in the backrow with a goofy smile listening ... I also know this is the place my family has called home for generations. Funerals, marriage, baptisms, all of the transitions of life have been marked here by the Ankenmanns and the other families who over the 170 years have called this home ...

Lingelbach even began life on our old home farm across the road ... I remember Grandma telling me as a kid that the first services for the church happened in the old stone building that used to lie behind the house. They gathered there until they could build their own building, she said before it caved in on itself – it was the first church.

When we look back over the history – our history – as a people there have been many changes ... services were first conducted in German ... the name on the outside changed from Evangelical to United Evangelical Brethren to United ... the fortunes and attendance has risen and fallen ... and the clergy folks who served here has included some memorable characters like EUB’er Mervyn Reuber and Paul Erb ... but through it all, one thing remained constant – the little yellow brick church on the north side of the highway, and the dedication of the people who called it home ...

Churches are funny things. We don’t really think about what they represent to our lives, or to the community around us until they are threatened, or until something happens ... as one who has watched a church building consumed by fire, and who later that same year helped pack and move the boxes containing the accumulated history of another EUB congregation in Stratford, I’ve come to realize that as important as the physical structure are, Churches are far more than their buildings.

We often sing the little kids ditty that says “The church is not a building, the church is not a steeple, the chuch is not a meeting place ... the Church is a people ...” It then goes on to say – “I am the Church, you are the Church, we are the Church together. All who follow Jesus, all around the world. Yes, we’re the Church together.”

We are the Church.

We are people who have called Lingelbach home for almost two centuries ...

We are the people who over countless cups to tea and coffee, through hundreds of weddings, funerals, baptisms and worship services have offered our ministry of care and faith to each other, and to the world around us ...

We are the people who in the coming days will continue to be The Church regardless of where we stand or sit, or where we worship ...

There is an indelible mark – a ribbon that unites us through our common faith, our common heritage, and our common story – and that ribbon will not simply pass away.

When I lived and ministered amongst the Nuxalk people of the North-West Coast, I learned about something they called Smayusta – literally The Story.

The Smayusta is the accumulated narrative of the Nuxalk people – their legends, their myths, their understanding of the world and the cosmos, their songs, their dances, their place in the world ... the smayusta informs the people about every aspect of life – it is their history, their heritage and most of all their legacy handed down from generation to generations. The Smayusta is who they are and what makes them different ...

Every community has a smayusta. The stories we recount when we look back – the events and happenings that have become legends – the moments when we smile and remember what happened when ...

When I preside at funerals and memorials I firmly believe that the most important work – the truly holy work of that service doesn’t happen in the Sanctuary or the chapel, but rather happens afterwards when people gather with a cup of coffee or tea in their hands, or on some occassions a beer or a glass of wine ,,, and they have that conversation that goes something like this:

I remember when ...

And the person facing them says, “oh yeah,” with a smile and adds, “I remember that, and do you remember when ...” and they relate another anecdote ... and so it goes – back and forth, story adding to story as a life is celebrated through remembrance, and for a wonderful and holy moment tears and sorrow are pushed back and life is truly and completely celebrated.

And so, our task in the waning months of life as Lingelbach United Church is not to mourn what we are losing – but rather to celebrate what we and our community has gained over the last 170 years ... our task is to engage in that conversation that begins “I remember when ...”

“Oh yeah, ... and I remember ...”

And in the process we reclaim our past, celebrate our present and entrust into God’s keeping our future ... So long as we remember where we’ve come from The Church that IS Lingelbach United Church continues to live and breath and share its ministry.

I remember the week before I headed to Windsor for my ordination service in 1993. I was puttering around the yard when a car pulled in and Reverend Reuber waved me to the car ... he and I sat and talked for hours that night ... in that moment he became a friend and a mentor and he shared his reflections about ministry, and our common heritage as children of the EUB ... What I remember most clearly was him saying with a smile – “Your name – ANKENMANN, It’s German. It’s EUB. Don’t be ashamed of that, and never forget that ...”

He then went on to describe what the EUB church meant to him, and he said – “you’ll be the last one you know?”

“The last one what?” I asked.

“You’ll be the last EUB’er ... I’m the oldest still standing,” he observed, “and you were born just before Church union. So you’ll be the last one ... be proud of that. Tell everyone that the EUB Church isn’t gone yet ...”

In the few years between that moment and his death, Rev. Reuber and I exchanged a number of letters, particularly when things in ministry got challenging and tough for me. One of his tid-bits of wisdom stands out for me and has become part of my view of the world and the role of the Church.

He wrote one day – “we make a mistake when we want the church to be a namby-pamby social club where everyone gets a warm pink fuzzy hug. We’re the Body of Christ, called to witness to the DEATH and Resurrection of Christ. We’re CALLED to afflict the comfortable, and to comfort the afflicted. We need to stop making apologies and trying to make sure no one gets thier feelings hurt, but instead go out into the world and be faithful KNOWING that is till hurt and offend some, and it will comfort and welcome others ...”

He then went on to talk about how fundamentally, the EUB was different in that ... Reverend Reuber perhaps more than any one else opened my eyes to the necessity for a prophetic voice in our modern Church – a voice that stands outside the power and structures and asks the tough questions that no one else really wants to ask for fear of causing offense.

Faith is about boldness and courage.

Faith is about living out the words we say over and over ...

Faith is about confronting moments like this – preparing to say Good Bye, and continuing to live ...

I’ve often quoted American physician Patch Adams who observed that life is a gift, and that he is surprised that anyone every wastes even a moment of life ... go out and live life fully and unapologetically he urges.

I first encountered this reading around the time I was preparing the funeral service for a 42 year old woman who was dying of lung cancer ... she had been a nurse, raised dalmatians and lived her life fully – surrounded by family and friends ... as she approached death she embraced the concept of WHY waste a moment ... to the very end she was doing the things she liked to do surrounded by family and friends ...

My journey in ministry has at times been challenging. There has been more than a few ups and downs and some unexpected bumps along the way ... I have had moments when I sat feeling utterly alone and wondering where God had gone ... yet through it all, even the deepest darkest moment came the realization that as our United Church creed says – “we are not alone ...”

The holy breaks thru.

Light dispels the darkness.

Fellow pilgrims arrive on the scene, often unexpectedly, and unintentionally, and they reveal the very presence of God by their words and actions ...

At the end of the day – this is the Church in action.

The church is not fixed to a place, nor does it need a specific building. The church is what we do when we live our worship services and go back into the world.

The Church is what we – you and I – do with our faith.

The legacy of Lingelbach will remain so long as we share and live our faith. The legacy of Lingelbach will remain so long as we continue to share the stories of who we are and who we have been – stories of our past and how we became the community of faith that we are and will continue to be.

It is never easy to say good bye ... and the prospect of shutting the door and turning off the lights one last time has little appeal ... yet, we remain a people of the Resurrection.

In the face of death and darkness we proclaim life and light.

As a people of the Resurrection we KNOW in the very fibre of our beings, that God isn’t abandoning us, but is instead calling us to a new ministry – a new way of being Church.

The first step is knowing the foundation on which everything else stands ... knowing our roots, our history, our heritage so we can carry forward what it valuable and important, and leave everything else behind.

Reverend Reuber sitting with me before I left for my ordination service helped to underscore the importance of celebrating and holding on to our roots as EUB’ers. There was and is something special and different about the EUB tradition – we brought more than just two nice church camps into Union despite what the official history says ... we brought a grounding and a passion for faith that comes from our background ...

We are, as Reverend Reuber said – German, and we are predominantly rural, descendents of the folks who came and with blood, sweat and tears earned a living from the land around us ... the view of the world and faith was influenced and coloured by that ... our way of living our faith in the world is influenced by that ... the challenge from here is for the legacy of Lingelbach church to continue as we continue to tell the stories that forged and shaped us, and as we continue to live and share our faith regardless of where we go ...

The seeds have been planted and nurtured, our task is to bring in the harvest and to continue to sow and plant for the future ...
May it be so, thanks be to God, let us pray ...

Thursday, April 22, 2010

Pics from our recent travels ...


Ms. H and Flute at the Terry Fox Memorial outside of Thunder Bay ...


Beetle holding Oboe at the Terry Fox Memorial ...

Spreadin' It Old School near St Jacob's Ontario ...

Feeding one of Stratford's Black Swans on a warm spring day ...


Gathering the flock to feed them ...

Playing on an old golf cart (not working) ... Oboe wants to drive !!

Happy Dog bounding through the bush ...

Are we there yet??? (on the way home)

Monday, February 08, 2010

Music to Accompany the Book Review story ...

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Okay, I couldn't post the above story without supplying the music that played such a central role to the story of my High School friend and his dad ... EVERY time I hear this song I can picture his dad dancing around the living room of thier house - the MUSIC BLARING at FULL volume !!!!!!!

It was AWESOME !!

Enjoy !



Tuesday, December 02, 2008

Farewell from a fan ...


There are many tributes and honours being poured out to the late Ted Rogers, and the media empire he founded, built and leaves as a legacy ... from neighbourhood video stores, thru to the Toronto Blue Jays - his empire is vast, varied and simply amazing.
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But today my thoughts turn to my personal interaction with the Rogers' empire when it was in its first stages of growth while I was growing up in Stratford Ontario ... Long before the advent of Rogers Cell phones and Video stores, our local television cable provider was Rogers, and along with the community access channel that supplied a variety of locally produced shows including a sing-a-long programme that offered a weekly rendition of "how much is that doggy in the window", the repair and service crews drove around town in BRIGHT orange vans!!
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At Halloween each year the bright orange vans could be found driving around neighbourhoods helping to keep the young trick or treater's safe ... The name of this community service WAS and remains - Roger Pumpkin Patrol, and for close to 30 years, they have been "watching out for kids' safety."
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The modern, cheery red vans don't have the same pumpkiny feel as the old ORANGE vans - but the goal is the same - "keeping kids safe".
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It's the small things that Mr Rogers should be remembered for ... local cable programming, halloween patrols, The JAYS ... the many ways he has interacted with almost every Canadian, and how, in the process he left his mark on our country, our communications and ultimately OUR lives ... farewell Ted - you've made the world a better place by your presence, and we'll miss you !!

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

And the curtain falls ...

He had quite a run ... the last 14 as Artistic Director at the Stratford Festival ...

Today, at the age of 64, the curtain has fallen on one of Canada's most influential figures in the world of Theatre ... he's gone too soon, too young ...

Aideu Mr Monette, and thanks.

(cbc.ca - Theatre Director Richard Monette dead at 64)

Thursday, June 12, 2008

Six Degrees of Seperation ...


I never met him in person, but I've long admired his work ...

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Today, poet, professor, play-write and fellow alumni of Stratford Central Secondary School, James C. Reaney died at the age of 81 ...

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I remember studying one of his poems in High School and having our teacher assign us with the task of tracking the poetic journey from the school we sat in, to James Reaney's home ... it took some doing, but we found all the milestones Mr Reaney had marked in his words ...

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In 1980, I was amongst the many residents and visitors to Stratford that marked the Centennial of Central School by watching Mr Reaney's play King Whistle that commemorated the whistle at the old Kroehler's Plant on the corner of Ontario and Romeo St that sounded several times a day to guide the daily lives of factory workers who made the beautiful hard wood furniture that once rolled out the back door of the massive red bricked building ...

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Later, I would work in a metal shop in the Old Swift Meat Packing plant where the strike in 1933 lead the Government to bring Tanks into the city to quell the uprising ... the story we grew up with was that the tanks being deployed was the first time in Canadian History that the army was dispatched to deal with its own citizens ... the other was the October Crisis in Quebec !! Regardless, I remember standing in the upstairs doorway that Mr Reaney highlighted in his play, where the Strike Leaders defiantly stood shouting out their demands ...

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And last year, I had the opportunity to meet Thomson Highway who shared with me one of the greatest influences on his life and writing was a poet, professor and playwright James Reaney ... "ever heard of him?" Thomson asked ...

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"Heard of him? Hell, I grew up in the same town as him and I LOVE his work ..." was my reply.

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Today, we say a fond farewell to a literary gem ... and give thanks for the legacy he has left ... in word and in lives touched ...

Sunday, March 30, 2008

The Closing of a Circle ...

I AM a Preacher ...
It is something I do exceptionally well, it is something I take great pride in, and it is something that is neither easy for me, nor that I take for granted ...

I still get very nervous when I stand before a group of people and speak ... I have ALWAYS said, the day I stop feeling nervous, is the day I quit and do something else!!

I AM A PREACHER ... but I wasn't always a good preacher ...

My first attempts at speaking from the pulpit of my home congregation, Centennial United Church in Stratford were not pleasant for me, I doubt they were pleasant for the kind and caring folks I had grown up amongst.

I spoke too quickly, jumbling my words together ...
I spoke too softly, causing straining the elders' hearing as they tried to hear my mumbles ...
I struggled ...

Thankfully there was a retired Kindergarten teacher named Mary in our midst ... Mary was in ALL things - A TEACHER. If she took you under her wing you KNEW IT.

Along the way she took this nervous knee knocking wanna-be under her wings and shared the tutelage that ONLY a retired OLD SCHOOL Teacher could offer ...

I remember Mary standing up and saying - "Slow down, we can hardly understand you ..." or "Oh would you speak up, we want to hear you !!"

Over and over, dear Mary would rise to her feet, even in the middle of a sermon, and say what needed to be said ... and with each interruption I was gently guided closer and closer to my voice ... The Voice of a Preacher ... a voice that is measured ... audible ... confident ... and strong.

I have always said I owe my voice - The Voice of a Preacher - to Mary ... her interruptions were a gift ... she, in her own indomitable way, taught me to speak with confidence and strength, SHE taught me to project my voice and say what I was called to say ...

It was a GREAT day when I made it through an entire service without Mary rising to say SOMETHING ... the service ended and Mary sat in her familiar pew, a warm smile on her face and with a simple nod of her head, she told me the lessons were done ... I had FOUND my VOICE!!!

Eight months ago I was silenced ... my public preaching voice was muted by a decision of Assiniboine Presbytery who chose to discipline me for my reactive behaviour to the toxic actions of others (actions and behaviour that to date Presbytery has curiously chosen to simply ignore) . I have no quibble with the decision itself, but I DO have a problem with the obvious imbalance of it all ... Calling one party to task for bad behaviour while ignoring the behaviour of others who engaged in equally bad behaviour only serves to give tacit approval to people who need to look deeply into the mirror and FIX THEIR PERSONAL SHIT before they hurt anyone else!!

For eight LONG months I have not spoken in public ... The harshest experience of all in this wilderness was being denied the ability to preside at the wedding of my Little Brother, who has for 24 years been a friend and a family member ... his wedding came days after the imposition of the Suspension, and even though it was 1400 kms away, I was denied the long awaited moment of standing with he and his bride and sharing in he moment where my once 6 year old Little Brother, stood with his life partner and proclaimed their covenant. We had planned for this event for over two years ... and then because "the rules are what they are," we had to scramble to find someone at the eleventh hour, and EVERYONE in the room looked at the legalism and senseless bureaucracy of the United Church with contemptuous disdain ...

On Wednesday March 19th I spoke publicly for the first time ... my co-worker Lori, had been part of the organizing committee for the March against Racism in Brandon, and because of a last minute cancellation needed someone to offer a Blessing on the event as we marched from City Hall to the University. I was honoured that she asked me.

Borrowing a prayer from the Lakota people and a blessing from the Maori people, I began by sharing the teachings the Nuxalkmc elders had offered me when my ministry started ... They said that: I was a preacher ... I had the voice of a D'plata (preacher in their language), and that I should speak as one with the authority of Managuys (their name for God-the Great Spirit) wherever I go ..

On Wednesday March 19th, in the lobby of Brandon's City Hall, as an employee of Brandon Neighbourhood Renewal Corporation, I stood before the assembled crowd and spoke publicly for the first time in EIGHT months !!!

I was still nervous ... but I had found that voice that for eight long months has laid mute and silent within ... I spoke the words of Blessing and the Drums began to lead us forward ... I had reclaimed my Voice ... The Voice of a Preacher ...

Later that night, I went home and opened the web page for the Stratford Beacon Herald ... when I opened the obituary page my heart stopped ... Listed there was an obit for Mary ...

At the age of 94, her earthly journey had come to a end ...

But it was the symbolism of her dying the very day that I found the voice she was so much a part of creating within me ... She started me on the path of ministry ... along the way I've been battered and bruised and I've periodically strayed from the path and found myself wandering into places of wilderness and darkness ...

On March 19th, as I found my way BACK out of the silent wilderness of my suspension, and reclaimed my Voice, it would seem that Mary's work was finally done ...

She had been a stalwart presence in my life, and the reason I can speak the way I can ... and for that I will be forever grateful ... as one circle closed, another opened, and I will carry Mary's loving lessons forward wherever this journey leads ...

I will NOT be silenced again ... I will speak with the strength, confidence and assurance that comes from the faithful and loving guidance of people like Mary ...

I am a preacher ... Mary taught me much ... and it is because of her I have journeyed through the wilderness and emerged on the other side stronger than EVER before ...

I AM A PREACHER !!! That has NEVER changed !!!

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Friday, November 16, 2007

A Beautiful picture of one of my favourite places ...


I love the Shakespearean Gardens in Stratford ... I have spent many an hour there over the years ... in every season it is a beautiful place!!
Today I found this picture on the website for the Stratford Beacon Herald, and decided to share it ...

Sunday, November 11, 2007

One Last Thought for Remembrance Day ...

One of my favourite monuments to the War Dead is the Cenotaph tucked alongside the river in Stratford. Designed by the same sculptor who gave the world The Vimy Memorial, I've often used images of the beautiful bronze figures in posts about the fallen in Afghanistan. The two figures convey much in their stance and posture ... They offer a visual contrast between Might and Defeat, perhaps found most vividly in the futility of war ...

I've previously shared some of the background and history of the monument (click here to read more), and I've shared some of the information about Mr Allward that I learned earlier this year. (click here that article)

Today after reading a brilliant and subtle entry over at "I can fly, just not up," the thought occured to me that it given that today is a day for remembrance it would be a good time to revisit Mr Allward's stunning sculpture that has stood in Stratford for the last 80 years as a legacy to those who marched to war and never came home ...


Saturday, September 08, 2007

Scenes from Stratford ...



I miss my digital camera ...
... but the 35mm did okay!!

Dammit !!!

At the risk of being dubbed a "copy cat" I JUST have to use this picture ...

I found it last night on the net when I was looking for photos of Stratford to accompany a piece I've been working on that is reflecting on "being home" over the last couple of weeks.

This morning I signed on to the net and went visiting my favourite blogs only to discover that my friend and fellow blogger Candygirlflies over at I Can Fly, Just Not Up had posted a piece entitled "This is my home " wherein she reflects on the fast weekend visit she and her daughters have made to Stratford, and the things they will do on a very busy and fun-filled weekend "HOME."

While I applaud the piece and the writing and all that it involves. I was left with the realization that once again (and THIS is NOT new in my friendship with CGF !!), I had been scooped in both the tone, the content AND the pictures ... I was left scrambling.

So instead of prattling on about my trip "home." I suggest you read CandyGirlFlies' entry and I for one simply tip my hat to her and her writing ... though I JUST HAD TO POST THE PICTURE ... it was too good NOT TOO !!!

Gotta love those Swans !!

This week as roamed around Stratford on my bike, and spent time connecting with people I haven't seen in years I realized how important that little town nestled on the banks of the majestic Avon River is to me ... and I realized how much I missed it ... it's more than chocolate and bookstores ... it's about having a place to call home.

And like CGF ... Stratford remains THAT for me ...

Dayenu !!!

My Kinda Place ... Callan Books of Stratford !!

I am a book fan ... or a book fiend ... take your pick.

I have surrounded myself, both figuratively and literally with books ... I can even remember the day my collection started ... I was about 10 and The Rev. Ross Cumming gave me a copy of "In the Days of the Canada Company" by sisters Robina Lizars and Kathleen MacFarlane. ... That day Ross set me off on a biblio-philic journey that continues to this day ...

While my collection pales in comparison to the vast collection Ross' acquired in his life time, mine has many gems that hold special meaning to me, whether or not they are valuable to another collector.

I've spent many happy hours combing through bookstores across Canada looking for new and used volumes to add to my ever growing library.

I have favourite bookstores across this land, but none has ever supplanted the place in my heart held by John Callan and his tiny back street store, aptly named "Callan Books" on York Street, over looking the Avon River in Stratford.

Since it first opened, Callan books and its proprietor have been counted amongst my cluster of friends. One of my earliest memories of John and his store comes from the time when I went off to University and came home one weekend looking for a book to read. I walked into John's tiny store and said - "I need something to read, what would you recommend ..."

John thought for a moment then offered a selection ... I was hooked ... I unfortunately don't remember the first book ... but I remember many of the choices he offered - none of which EVER disappointed me. Every trip home from University, from work, from life elsewhere has had me walk back into Callan Books at some point and say the words - "John, I need something to read, what would you recommend ..." And John places in my hand a literary gem !!!

It was John who whetted my appetite for Canadian Literature. He introduced me to the likes of Timothy Findlay, Mordecai Richler and Nino Ricci among others... his suggested volumes have NEVER been wrong. He always offered a book that was exactly what I needed in that moment. And for that I am very thankful.

Over the years I have compared the selection, the service and the ambiance of EVERY book store I've entered to the tiny back street location of Callan Books ... and almost every book store has been found wanting ... Such is the mystique of Callan Books over me and my literary and biblio-philic tastes.

Last week before I left Stratford I stopped by Callan books for one last visit for the road and said the familiar words - "John I need something to read, what would you recommend ..."

John offered to me a number of books ... remarkably, several of the volumes are ones that had been recommended to me by fellow blogger Katie from over at "At the Half Note", or were books I'd already read thanks to our local library ... but then he suggested a couple of other authors, that he noted "are my favourites", and offered a couple of paper backs that I hadn't read but had heard others speak of ...

In short, once again, in my favourite book store my request for something to read was rewarded with a number of literary gems, and I left feeling reconnected to an important piece of my life ... the past and the present came together in a gift of serenity ... Thanks John, not only for this week's offerings, but for your business, your literary taste and most of all for your friendship.

Oh, and by the way ... the picture here is NOT Callan Books ... Callan Books is much neater and tidier place than the bookstore pictured above and a fraction of the size too !! ... though I must confess the bookstore above would be a place I would LOVE to go and hang out in ... THAT'S what a USED bookstore is supposed to look like !!!!

OHMIGAWD !!!!!

Growing up in Stratford Ontario, one of the true delights was a stop at the little chocolate shoppe on Brunswick Street called Rheo Thompson's ... their mint smooties were a delight. Through high school, the large mint smoothies (similar to the one above) were a favourite on those days when I was walking home ... and over the last few years I've introduced my children to the delights of Rheo's chocolates any time we've been back in Ontario ...

But alas ... like Rheo and his predecessor and mentor Olin Brown ... all good things must come to an end ...

A couple of years ago Rheo decided to hang up his apron and retire - selling his business to new folks who were proud to carry on the tradition Rheo had started many years earlier when he started up his own business after Mr Brown refused to sell out to him. (Olin thought Rheo was too young and inexperienced to be successful - BOY was he WRONG!) A couple of years ago I purchased chocolates at Rheo's and noticed they were different ... I couldn't put my finger on it - but they just weren't the same ... the difference was waved off by a staff member who said - "oh we've changed the mold style that's all !!"

In time I learned that not only had they changed the mold style, they had changed the recipes too ... the mint smoothies and the other chocolate delights were no longer the same ... progress had tinkered with perfection and ... well, it was disappointing.

Then a few months ago over at the Blog "I Can Fly, Just Not Up" my dear friend Candygirlflies mused on the trip she and her children had taken to a "NEW" chocolate shoppe in Stratford, one run by a former employee of the venerable Rheo company ... Chocolate Barr's !!

Last week while I was back in Stratford I decided to pick up some chocolate to bring home to my kids ... I heeded not only CFG's advice, but that of another old friend in town who said - "Barr's is by far the best chocolate ... it's like the chocolate that Rheo's USED to make ..." So off we went on a chocolate buying expedition...

ONE WORD:
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OhMiGawd !!!!!!!
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The minties by Chocolate Barr's are EXACTLY what the Mint Smoothies USED to be like at that other place ... and the other items they have there are simply and utterly incredible ... As I write this, there is a stack of butter lemon yellow boxes on the kitchen table (already sampled from) filled with a delectible selection of delights from this "new" chocolate and candy shoppe and the soft smell of minties is wafting through the air - it's a good way to start a day !!!
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I simply can't say enough about Chocolate Barr's ... If you're in the Stratford area stop in and you'll see what I mean ... as for me - I NOW have a new place to stop whenever I go back to Stratford ...
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So my thanks to CandyFliesGirl for the heads up ... and thanks to the owners and staff of Chocolate Barr's for bringing BACK to Stratford the tradition of HANDMADE chocolate started by Olin Brown many years ago ...

Wednesday, April 11, 2007

One of my Favourite Places:

At the risk of having the blogger gods ding me for plagarism, I found the following article on the web site for The Stratford Beacon Herald, the local paper from my home town. It is about one of my favourite places ... The Cenotaph in Stratford.

The Cenotaph is located on the south bank of Lake Victoria, just down the hill from Stratford's downtown core. The site east of the dam is a beautiful place to reflect on the meaning of war and the preciousness of peace. (something that all Canadians should be doing this week). The Cenotaph itself is stunning, and the bronze sculptures are breath-taking.

The article below gives the history of the Cenotaph and its associated lineage to the Vimy Memorial that was rededicated this past weekend in France. I offer it as a tribute to one of my favourite places to go and spend time ... it's a lovely setting, and a powerful reminder of the boys who too often go to war and never come home ...

Today we honour the six who are coming home from Afghanistan ... Lest We Forget !!


Allward’s rock of ages

By Paul Cluff Staff reporter

(The Stratford Beacon Herald - Tuesday April 10th 2007)


Walter Allward’s last assignment before being commissioned to design a memorial for the ages at Vimy Ridge was in Stratford.

The Toronto-born sculptor designed the First World War memorial that now rests in the cenotaph on Veterans Way, then departed overseas and laboured for 14 years on the Vimy Ridge Memorial in France.

It’s a connection local historians are proud of because it bonds Stratford with one of the most important military battles in Canadian history.

Former Stratford-Perth Archives director Lutzen Riedstra said the city’s chamber of commerce decided it wanted the best sculptor in Canada and was willing to pay for it. “He was Canada’s best sculptor and in true Stratford fashion, we went after the best,” said Mr. Riedstra.

It was 1919, and the people of Stratford and the three surrounding townships gave $25,000 to one of the finest memorials in the country.

The soldiers’ memorial committee decided on a site at the intersection of Erie and Ontario streets.

It took Mr. Allward some time. He finished the first portion but then became depressed by the experience and the relevance to war.

The monument was about the stresses of war, the tension and suffering, said Mr. Riedstra, so it got to its designer. It was a change in theme for sculptors. Victory alone had been the common theme in previous designs, and it is there in Mr. Allward’s central figure, which depicts Canadian manhood represented by victorious right. The defeat of might is exemplified in the sinking figure at the side, carrying a broken sword.

Carved on the centre is the inscription: “They gave their lives to break the power of the sword.”

A photo from the Nov. 6, 1922, edition of The Beacon Herald sums up the importance of the memorial to the city and region. Thousands lined the streets and heads popped out from the Gordon Block and surrounding buildings to witness the dedication of the Stratford War Memorial on a dull and foggy Thanksgiving Day. The bronzes were cast in Toronto, and the granite blocks came from Quebec. Buglers Percy Comley, Victor Ham and Frank Marshall played The Last Post as the monument was unveiled.

“The labour spent by the committee in selecting the memorial and raising the money has been a labour of love; no effort has been spared to assure the erection of a memorial worthy in every respect,” said William Preston, chair of the Stratford Chamber of Commerce.

Mr. Preston said the committee “wished to honour the glorious dead whose names are cut in granite blocks. Over 1,800 left the district and 345 did not return.”

Mr. Allward was in Europe during the Stratford dedication.

The monument rested there until 1961 when it was moved to its current location. Mr. Allward was commissioned to design the Vimy Ridge Memorial from a pool of 160 others. Work began in 1925, and 11 years later it was unveiled.

The base and twin pylons that stretch to the heavens contain 6,000 tonnes of limestone imported from the former Yugoslavia.

The two pylons represent Canada and France, allies at war.

Mr. Allward’s masterpiece was hailed by artistic and military experts throughout the world as the noblest memorial in Europe.

The sculptor first earned acclaim for works in Queen’s Park, but the fan of Greek sculpture and
Michelangelo outdid himself at Vimy, putting him on par with his heroes.