%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |    My random thoughts and reactions to my everyday life. The voices like a forum. |
| I do not know quite what happened or when , but my hubby and I now qualify for seniors' discounts at some venues. This creates a quandary; in order to save money, but not face, we have to admit to our age. HMMMM..... We definitely do not consider ourselves to be old. In this day and age ,when people as a whole are living longer and healthier lives why are 'young seniors', those in their fifties, like moi, considered 'old'?? It's so true that age is just a perception! "Maturity" is very objective/subjective, and I object! Whew, a few years have skittered by since I composed this biography block. Those "fifties" are in the rear view mirror and they are distant, fond memories. Oh, I do not plan to stop writing any time soon. |
| Saturday Night Drive-In Saturday Night Drive-In Movie Prompt - Take a drive down memory lane and arrive at the Drive-In Theater. (circa ????) The movie is over and you are on your way back home. What movie did you see? Do you have any favorite movies or actors that you just HAVE to see on the BIG SCREEN? (indoors or out) I learned a little bit more about life hosting this, Saturday Night Drive-In Movie. I assumed drive-in theater was a global thing. I learned that I'm a little older than I thought I was. I learned that I miss those days of drive-in theaters, cars made of metal and chrome, leaded gasoline, and lax security. This was fun, thanks for playing along. Brother Nature Sig #3 Made in Canada There are so many back roads and highways to meander in my memory bank. For the most part, traversing the routes with company made the different jaunts entertaining. A foray to the drive-in always guaranteed fun. Without hesitation, hubby and I introduced our three kids to the wonders of an outdoor, big screen display of movies. Who wouldn't welcome an adventure that extends past bedtime? All anyone must do is stay awake and the booming sound tracks made that possible. One of the featured films we chose to watch was Ghost Busters. I'm certain all of us recall those lines whenever we hear the music, or someone happens to mention those two words, 'ghost' and 'busters.' Even now, I'm singing, to myself and out loud because thank goodness I'm alone, " If there's something strange in your neighbourhood, who you gonna call? Ghost busters!" I still hear my kids chanting this and then hooting, "I aint 'fraid of no ghost!" They loved the whacky, space suit outfits the actors wore and the 'cool' ectoplasm-exploding guns. That vehicle with the ECTO1 plates resembled an ambulance, but it hauled a**.' Just the very idea of a 'paranormal removal company' is humorous. Imagine science nerds offering their services to vanquish spirits. On our return home that night many years ago ( 1984 to be precise, WOW!) my three hyped-up hoodlums relived every scene. "Whoa, did you see that giant Marshmallow Man? He just exploded and gooey guts, lots of them, rained down. There were freakin' marshmallow puddles!" "I liked that green blob thing. His green slime stuck everywhere. He sure could eat." "The ghost busters shot up a hotel!" Yes, wow, 1984... Do I confess to stalking drooling fawning over a particular actor? Short answer, no. I'm easily mesmerized entertained. I watch a wide range of movies. |
| May 25th HOME SWEET HOME Blog Prompt: What would happen if Andre opened a bar in your town? Hmmm, yes, what could possibly happen if a monkey created a bar here in Sundridge? Nothing could go awry, right? It's not as if the locals do not have practice gawking at wildlife. Legend has it that a beer-guzzling black bear is not an unusual sight. More than one raccoon has helped itself to a swiped whisky bottle. This masked animal knows all about tipsy. As they imbibe they sway on their feet and stumble into garbage cans. I would imagine that serious drinkers don't much care who serves them their 'potion' of choice. As long as the drinks keep coming they are content. Who doesn't appreciate free-flowing suds and/or spirits. Drunks Happy aficionados are simple folk. If a monkey, specifically one named Andre, were to operate as a pub master no one would blink an eye. Some imbibers seem to perpetuate reputations as animals, so why would they object to one keeping their buzzes fresh? As long as Andre possesses the necessary skills to crack open bottles and pour he'll impress.The overall aura becomes animal et animal. Andre is lucky. He will be able to stock his bar with wares from two nearby breweries. At one he will revel in the unique beers and ales. At the other he will slake his thirst and that of his customers with whisky, moonshine and vodkas. I envision this monkey as the silent sort. He probably is not prone to babble on and on in mindless conversation. Many of the locals pride themselves upon being outdoorsmen. While hunkered down in their duck blinds, or perched up in their moose/deer tree-top blinds, or swaying within a moored boat, these persons maintain a noise blackout. They are pro sitters and waiters. No nattering is necessary, or expected. When in a bar they revert to those ingrained habits. They perceive drinking as serious business. No need to expel undue energy with hasty movements. No need for the intrusion of idle conversation. Of course, with groups of drinkers anything could occur. Misunderstandings are possible. Inebriation seems to affect if not disable the sense of hearing. Words are blurred. Their context is scrambled. Speech is also impaired. Enunciation is mangled, mumbled, slurred. All of this results in miscommunication, or as some prefer to say reactions. Okay, over-reactions might be more accurate. Insults are implied and slung.Perceived slights sting.Animals depend upon their basic instincts. Is that not the fight, or flight response? What would animals, imbibing animals, do in such a situation? Would the monkey and his patrons engage in a bar brawl, a free-for-all? Would they screech and swing from the rafters? Would fur fly? Would the participants puff out and beat their chests in acts of attempted intimidation? Would they shove? Would they gouge and scratch? I really have no idea what might happen if Andre opened a bar here in Sundridge. I've never owned, or toiled in a drinking establishment. I have no experience and therefore I really mustn't speculate. No insults to Andre, or other like-minded individuals, but is this a form of monkey business and as such isn't that old adage true? Could even a monkey do it?( word count 543 minus the 18 words of the prompt ) |
| BANANA BAR MAY 21st PROMPT DRIVE-IN SERIES: Any additional visits to the drive-in after your first experience? Short answer, yes. After my first experience with a drive-in I continued to visit. Why not? Two movies for the cost of one in a theatre? Sit in my own vehicle with the freedom to stretch my legs? Attend with company/other people if in the mood? Bring my own snacks if I so choose? Natter and comment without disturbing other movie patrons? At one time in the recent past drive-ins existed in many towns/cities. On a whim, I could travel to whichever one appealed to me with its showings. My hometown boasted one drive-in, The Sunset. Two more awaited my perusal within a short road trip excursion distance. Oh, did I mention my brother and I learned to drive at The Sunset? Our family called a large land yacht,an Oldsmobile Ninety-Eight, our official transporter. Mark and I spent one summer season picking up the garbage that predictably accumulated at the site. Hey, it was a paying job. Together we developed a feel for that car and tested its manoeuverability/ turning radius weaving in and out between the numerous speaker poles. No one interrupted us as we 'worked' at our own pace. Did we kick up dust? Maybe. Did we squeal the tires? Maybe. Did we dent the car? Why no, never. Hubby and I were once newlyweds and as such we decided one Saturday evening to explore. Jumping in our vehicle we headed out of town in search of a new-to-us drive-in. Our foray took us about an hour from home. As the sun began its blazing descent we pulled into a parking spot next to a speaker perched atop a metal pole. The driver-side window was lowered and hubby pulled in the speaker. He clipped it to the door. He fiddled with a knob. No sound. He jiggled the wires. No sound. He picked up the mute speaker and shook it. No sound. With a shrug, Paul balanced that faulty speaker back atop its pole. He restarted the car, reversed and angled for a different spot. After all the re-settling moves, he once again reached for a speaker. In a deja-vu moment, he wrestled with a second uncooperative piece of junk. Despite his best efforts no sound emanated from this speaker either. Bright lights flashed across the screen. Figures jumped. Vehicles sped along a highway. The actors gesticulated and their mouths moved as if miming speech. We heard nothing; no dialogue, no background, mood-setting music,no blare of car horns or rumbling exhausts. We glanced around and noticed other patrons tapping and shaking their speakers. One by one, irate, I assume, customers threw speakers out their windows and screeched away in clouds of dust. Ah, so, no on was wired for sound. Just for giggles, hubby and I stayed put. We amused ourselves by inventing our own dialogue. We attempted lip-reading. Anyway, the silent movie we viewed up on the big screen featured two well known actors/comedians, Cheech and Chong. Up In Smoke proved to be just that. |
| MAY 23rd HOME SWEET HOME BLOG PROMPT: What is the most annoying thing about your area? Are you, or anyone suggesting Sundridge is not perfect? Is it possible that not everything is idyllic? Gasp, as if! Yes, okay, it's true. I've often moaned that where I choose to live would be perfect if not for the existence of a hellish insect known as a blackfly. Why, oh why must that bloodsucker live here? I'm certain that none of the locals sent out a welcoming invitation. No one who has cursed this annoyance would ever wish to co-exist with them. Blackflies do not make the best of neighbours. They are inconsiderate. They travel in swarms. They attack without any warning whatsoever. They leave their considerable victims bloodied and itchy. They care only for their insatiable appetites/bloodlust. Did I mention blackflies are sneaky, ninja-like. They are not similar to the mosquito which whines and swoops announcing its presence. There is no early-warning system. The drawing of blood is quick and silent. Flit in undetected, bite, and skedaddle. In their wake, they leave a noticeable, itchy welt more often than not oozing blood. Clothing is neither a deterrent nor a barrier. I'm not sure any armour could protect their prey.Thanks to their diminutive stature, blackflies manage to squirm under/into material. Perhaps burrow is more descriptive of their dedication/determination. For some unfathomable reason, this irritating insect especially prefers dusk. Do you fancy an evening stroll? Do you hanker a peek at the sunset? Do you long for al fresco dining? The blackfly also likes these activities. They will join you. Perspiring, huffing and puffing people seem to be delectable,too. Joggers, gardeners, paddlers, swimmers, swingers and more become vulnerable. I especially dislike blackflies clinging and hiding in my long hair. They have their own means of travel, wings and flight. They bite me and stowaway for free, effortless transportation? They drain me of precious blood, weaken me, yet rely upon me to expel energy to lug them about? Sure, hop on board. While you're putting your feet up and resting your wings, why don't you partake of a nibble, or two. My exposed ears are within your reach. Believe it or not, Sundridge condones something that also annoys me. Yes, I admit two things mar the perfection of Sundridge. This is a tourist destination village. Terrorists Tourists descend upon our serene streets all year round. They arrive to breathe the fresh air, ogle wildlife, and attempt a myriad of outdoorsy activities. Now I'm not insinuating that all visitors are callous. I've enjoyed plenty of interactions/conversations with lovely newcomers. It's the careless ones that annoy/irk. They litter. They elbow their way through the one and only local grocery store. They ignore the speed limits. They park their vehicles wherever they feel like it. They motor their boats up onto the beaches teeming with swimmers/children.They complain about lack of television signals and internet-free zones. Some, bemoan the lack of fast-food restaurants. Enough of them expect 24/7 gas stations. I do not understand these tourists. Why on earth are they opting to travel out of their comfort zones? What makes them think that a tiny village will be like home? Why do they leave home? Why do they have these unrealistic expectations? At least I revel in one consolation. The blackflies are not discriminatory. They are equal opportunity scavengers. All blood is delicious.( 565 words minus the 16 of the prompt ) |
| May 18th HOME SWEET HOME Prompt: What is the biggest plus for living in your area? Sundridge is not a bustling, noisy city. It's a rural village. I'm not claiming it's perfect, or a paradise. I will claim that it's as close to perfect as a municipality can be. Public transportation does not exist. The waiting crowds do not exist. No one is jostled, or accosted by grumpy throngs intent on one thing only, getting from point A to point B. No one is packed aboard subway cars, buses, street cars, tight like sardines. We are devoid of box stores, malls and fastfood diners. Again, we are not forced to swim with the tide/sea of humanity. Sure, if we wish to browse/stroll/shop in a mall we have the option of driving forty-five minutes in either of three directions to find a bigger town. With smaller populations even there we are free to get in and get out. The lines in stores are manageable. We do not spend hours wading through over-crowding. We do not spend valuable time waiting and idling in intense traffic. Light pollution doesn't exist here. Star-gazing is possible and mesmerizing. Locals indulge in campfires. We walk our limited streets at night worry-free. Gangs and their violence do not call this area home. Vehicle traffic exists, but snarls/delays are rare. I enjoy the minimal noise pollution. The blaring horns, screeching brakes, rumbling trucks and buses, and non-stop racket of a city are not missed in Sundridge. As my Mom used to marvel, you can hear yourself think. The locals are for the most part open and friendly. Sponataneous conversations occur outside the one and only post office, or on the street in passing. Greetings are pretty well guaranteed.Neighbours know neighbours. Of course living next to a freshwater lake is a definite plus. It is mere steps from my home. Swimming at any time feels fantastic. For small children, the sand bars create a shallow shoreline and thus a safer area to explore. They are free to splash, paddle or run. Sandy beaches enthrall them, too. Nature is unspoiled here. Building projects consist of the occasional new, single-family dwelling, or lakeside cottage. There are no high rises, or factories. Trees are abundant. They thrive in multiple forests. Wildlife co-exists with the small population. Deer, moose, raccoons, squirrels, fox, groundhogs, porcupine,skunks, many species of birds and more are frequent visitors. Sometimes, bears wander into sight. I haven't always referred to Sundridge as home. I've lived elsewhere in towns and cities alike. They all had their appeal, but they do not compare to the quality of life here. I chose to live in Sundridge because it's quieter. The pace of everyday living is more sedate. There's no hurry. In comparison, I refer to Toronto as Toronto the Teeming. Like New York it never sleeps. It's go-go-go 24/7. Lights and their inherent glare obscure the night sky. The noise is constant and often jarring. I'm content at this stage of my life enjoying the lifestyle in Sundridge. I don't feel I am missing anything. I'm not cut out to be a city girl. ( 521 words minus the 16 prompt words) |
| Prompt: Tell me five things about yourself that you don't think any of the other bloggers would duplicate. (write the same response) Tuesday Mystery Prompt May 17th: Well, I just may have to ponder on this for a time. What makes me unique? Wait, am I unique? Is there a list of my differences? I am thinking. Don't rush me. There must be something, right? Do other bloggers respond to a prompt with questions? Am I stalling waiting for a eureka moment? Five Things About Me... 1.Okay, this is a physical attribute, an anomaly. My feet are a wee bit different. They were born with a large, I mean sizeable gap between the big (greater) toe and the one next to it. Not that another digit sprouted in that space, but the other toes would not have complained about being crowded if that had occurred. I came equipped with flip-flop/thong adaptable feet. I really should've lived in a tropical climate, but, no, I reside in Canada, a country that is definitely not conducive for year-round sans-socks/sans-boots living. 2. Since I'm being candid and I already mentioned my strange toes, I believe the other bloggers cannot bragclaim to have broken their poor, defenseless toes numerous times. I've lost count of the toe-stubbing incidents. If it wasn't for the wonderful occasions I delight in sauntering in flip-flops, I'd consider amputating my toes. Some have admonished me toes are necessary for balance. That's not been my experience. My toes have never fought to keep me upright and they fracture at the least form of resistance they encounter. 3. Sigh, if I write about my toes, I must also introduce my irritable, contrary knees. I'm willing to bet no one else refers to their knees as if they were stubborn, cranky beings. My knees act as an old, bickering married couple. They co-exist side-by-side only because they had no choice in the matter. Each joint does as it wishes and ignores its twin. Neither one of them has heard about much less practiced teamwork. Both attempt to step forward first. They save their best disagreements for when I am navigating stairs. One prefers to balk at this auspicious moment and the other refuses to bend. As you can imagine, my knees are not the best of house mates. 4. Thanks to those quarrelsome knees, I've endured five surgeries and counting. I've also fractured other body appendages ( not just the toes) due to unfortunate tumbles. To the accident list I must add countless sprains and strains. My knees drag me along , protesting , to emergency rooms and surgical suites. Perhaps they operate under the misguided illusion that at some point we will receive discounted medical care, the one-hundredth consultation is free? 5. My eldest daughter is a tattoo aficionado and as such she has suggested, more than once, that I join her in adorning my body. Wouldn't I like to disguise my scars? Um, no. I cannot envision anything but snakes and tree roots circling my limbs. Not exactly an attractive look. There are moments when I'm strolling amongst people and I wonder if I'm one of the few who has chosen not to tattoo. I did it! I created a list of five things about me. |
| HOME SWEET HOME May 16th Blog Prompt: What industry is/was your town/area noted for? Well, in that murky long ago era pre-computers, Sundridge relied upon farming and logging. In time it became a tourist venue. Outdoorsmen and outdoorswomen visited to stalk moose and deer. For a change of scenery they fished in the numerous lakes. Sports types sought skiing, snowmobiling, four-wheeling, cycling, and boating fun. Industry of a manufacturing sort has never called Sundridge home, not until 2016. In that auspicious year, a brewery, a distillery opened in the village. It chose the name Copperhead Distillery. 'Fresh' booze pleased the tourists and provided one more incentive to stay and linger. Much of their product line is sold in mason jars. They began with whisky aged in barrels and branched out to offer unique, fun items. A best seller is apple pie moonshine. Acknowledging the long history of local maple syrup harvesting, this distillery creates maple moonshine. As a nod to their site the company now sells a Sundridge notch moonshine. Some love the Cin-A-Bun liqueur while other patrons like the flavoured vodkas. A recent innovation is known as "juice bags" which contain 12% cocktails. I'm not a drinker, but I do enjoy a different, delicious product, Whisky Mash Smokin' Gun BBQ Sauce. No grocery store offers anything like it. I imagine I'm a booze smuggler sometimes when my eldest daughter requests that I purchase a few cases of apple pie moonshine for her friends. All those glass mason jars clinking in the trunk as I bounce and jostle over the rutted backroads... I do hope nothing shatters. I prefer my apple pie to be served in a pastry shell with vanilla ice cream. A mere five-minute drive 'up' the two-laned highway steers thirsty folk to the South River Brewing Co. It too adopted our area as its home in 2016. On site in great, gleaming stainless steel vats craft beer is born. Rumour has it that taste tours exist. Again, this is not my cup of tea. What else is Sundridge famous for? What do visitors rave about when they return home? What has transformed them and left them speechless/awed/shaking their heads? In one simple word, blackflies. Nothing both irks and terrifies the newbies like this teeny-tiny, 'ninjaesque'flying insect. Environmentalists insist that their annoying presence signals a healthy climate. Blackflies are discriminating bugs. They breed/flourish/multiply in clean, flowing, fresh water. Wonderful! As locals and tourists alike are attacked and savaged by these biting scourges we can justify our suffering is for the greater good. Our waters are not polluted. The blackflies dine upon us and in turn provide sustenance for birds, fish, and dragon flies. We are but bit players in the wheel of life. Bleeding and itchiness are a small price to pay. There it is. 'My' quiet village is not similar to any other destination. We are home to industrious sorts. The whisky stills and the insects keep busy. Sundridge produces moonshine, ravenous blackflies, and scratching, welt-covered victims. Drop in for a wee sip and feed our bugs. New blood is always welcome and much appreciated. ( 518 words minus the 16 words of the prompt) |
| Wednesday 5/11 ~ Home Sweet Home Prompt What food or foods are your town/area noted for? What's the prevalent cuisine? Where is your favorite place to eat out in your neck of the woods? Hmmm, nothing special, nothing of culinary wizardry exists in my neck of the woods. Two diners and now a new pizza joint call Sundridge home. Thanks to the close-down rules of Covid those two family restaurants have yet to fully recover. Mask and vaccination mandates have been lifted, but no one has returned to offering evening dining. I suppose no one trusts that a complete and sudden lockdown will never happen again. Imagine stocking a kitchen and arranging staffing only to shut down at a moment's notice. Both eateries offer the usual limited fare and both are okay, not spectacular, but okay. I've yet to sample a pizza from the new venture. I'm somewhat leery because they refer to their creations as 'pie' and that's an American description of pizza. Pie and pizza are nothing alike. I am nostalgic for Michael and his delicious cooking. For several years he graced the local main street with a British-style restaurant. His name for his establishment was not big on imagination. He simply named it Michael's On Main and this was an insider joke because the Main Street is two, maybe three blocks in length. Many residential buildings grace that same street. No one could ever claim to become lost and wander for miles seeking his place. Michael had been a transplant from England with a dream of utilizing his chef experience. Stupid, uncaring Covid interfered. Like so many other business owners Michael depended upon the tourist trade to keep his doors open. Restricted travelling and governmental red tape limited his profit. He shuttered the restaurant and moved away. I miss his giant Yorkshire pudding stuffed with delectable beef, kidney, gravy and veggies. His servings were more than generous. No one waddled away suffering hunger pangs. I loved his Sticky Toffee Pudding with the not-so-secret ingredient, date puree. Wherever you are Michael I hope you are satisfying appetites. To dine and actually have a choice of food, hubby and I venture forth to either of two towns both a forty-five minute drive distant. There we can opt to eat at chain-type restaurants established in many bigger centres, or choose one-of-a-kind, specialty eateries. We can placate our cravings for Italian, Greek, Chinese, or more. Surprisingly, one of the best breakfasts is found at such an establishment. It does sport the rather strange and limiting name of Burger World. I often wonder how many people pass it by because they are not looking for a burger. There is always a line-up of patrons. The same, familiar, friendly staff work there year after year, so should I presume it's a great place to work? To answer the prompt question, nope, Sundridge does not have a prevalent cuisine. Then again if I wished to join the outdoorsy set of hunters and fishermen-folk I might challenge that opinion. Many locals consider moose, bear and deer to be desirable. Yes, I will admit to tasting this game, but it has never become a staple in my household. At this time of year, smelt 'run' in the waterways. It's a brief fishing season. It's okay, but meh, I wouldn't go out of my way to eat it. As far as I know no one dines upon the leeches that folklore insists lurk in Lake Bernard. ( 578 words minus the 34 words included in the prompt ) |
| Tuesday's Mystery Prompter's Prompt May 10 Mysterious Blog Prompts by our mystery guest prompter every Tuesday in the Banana bar Post a blog entry every Tuesday in the Banana Bar and receive a mystery gift. Prompt: What is the one thing nobody tells you about _______? What is the one thing nobody tells you about prompts? Nobody, no one, not a soul has ever told me prompts were easy. They are not at all like taking candy from a baby. Sure, there's some degree of stickiness and often a wee bit of wailing when I must tackle a prompt. There's not always a temper tantrum with kicking and flailing. Sulking in a corner while serving a time out isn't helpful either. No one mislead me with platitudes, or promised something better. I was left to flounder and fuss as best I could. No pats on the head accompanied by murmurs of 'easy peasy lemon breezy' sugarcoated any prompts I read.I must admit to struggling with the intricacies of pastry making, so it comes as no surprise that prompts are not as easy as pie. Now if they could consider being as easy as eating pie... Perhaps they could also be as sweet as pie. Sigh. Prompts are never as simple as ABCs. Yes, they consist of words and therefore a combination of letters, yet they convolute, confuse, connive. What does any prompt mean? What does the prompt provoke? Wait, is that supposed to be evoke? Maybe it rhymed and it meant to be stoke, or cloak. What am I rambling about? Prompts force me to think. Isn't writing an exercise in spontaneity? I wouldn't describe it as carefree, or inconsiderable. Note to self: Ease up on the thesaurus consultation. You lingered too long at the entries for 'easy.' |
Sunday's prompt; Tell us about a famous person or persons who lives or came from your Home Sweet Home I know, I know. I'm Canadian and because of this people have expectations. They presume I am born to like hockey. The so-called national obsession is supposed to flow in my veins as does maple syrup. Ah no, hockey is not my thing, my jam, my raison d'etre. Oh, I recognize hockey-isms. I've absorbed them despite my indifference. Hat trick, gloves thrown, high-sticking, penalties, icing, an assist, whatever ,I'm aware of hockey. I just don't choose to become a slobbering fan. My mother, God bless her enthusiasm, had more than enough hockey fervor for several citizens. During my childhood we would abandon Mom in the den located in the basement on Hockey Night in Canada. We did this to preserve our sanity, our dignity. Neighbours ten houses away heard Mom scream and cheer. The poor couch suffered abuse as she jumped and pounded it. Despite my indifference, my son is also a die-hard hockey devotee and he chooses to support the mystifying underdogs, the Toronto Maple Leafs. He lives each agonizing defeat and floats on cloud nine when they rally to a win. Why do I babble on about hockey? Well, my home sweet home, l'il ol' Sundridge's claim to infamy is its bragging rights to not one, but three sons of hockey. Yep, three lads were born here to one day make their hometown proud. I know this because I consulted the almighty Google. Future hockey great Bill McCreary entered this world December 2nd, 1934. He followed hockey and all its ups and downs to The New York Rangers, The Detroit Red Wings, the Montreal Canadiens and the St. Louis Blues. Keith Mc Creary, born June 19th, 1940 played hockey for the Montreal Canadiens, the Pittsburgh Penguins and the Atlanta Flames. The third hockey enthusiast of note, Greg DeVries, was born January 4th, 1973. Two of the teams he wore a jersey for were the Edmonton Oilers and the Colorado Avalanche. I prefer to recognize a woman born in Sundridge, Mary S. Edgar. She made her grand entrance May 23rd, 1889. Her claims to fame? She wrote poetry and hymns.God Who Touchest Earth With Beauty has been reprinted in many church hymnals and its beautiful words have been immortalized in a local stone cairn. My Nanny gifted me one of Miss Edgar's books of poetryUnder Open Skies and as a child the included autograph/signature awed me. She was also an entrepreneur and business woman. In 1922, Mary Susanne created a girls' camp, Glen Bernard, on the shores of Lake Bernard. She enjoyed all things camping and wished to introduce this to others. The camp still operates today and strives to be a leader in environmental issues. On the opposite side of Lake Bernard sits a gorgeous park known as High Rock Lookout. Miss Edgar donated this parcel of land to Sundridge. Now this woman left a legacy.( 529 words minus the 19 words of the prompt) |
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