Posted on June 28, 2014 under Storytelling with 2 comments

Mark Chisholm and Gerald MacDonald – Enchanting!

 

 

“Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling …”

Frederic Weatherly

When I hear the peepers, I know that spring is here and summer is sure to follow.  When the leaves start falling from the trees, winter can’t be far off.  And when I hear the first three notes of a bagpiper playing outdoors, I realize that The Highland Games are just around the corner.

I grew up on Hillcrest Street, next door to one of the best pipers to ever come out of this province.  We were also within shouting distance of Columbus Field.  You could sit in the back yard during the Games and hear Ray Mac’s voice coming through the loudspeakers, announcing the next group of pipers and drummers.

Besides uttering the words “I do”, being piped in and out of the cathedral by Marilyn on our wedding day was the highlight of the ceremony.

Antigonish has a rich tradition of piping and drumming and has produced world class bands over the decades.  One of the missions of The Antigonish Highland Society is to preserve and perpetuate the music of the Gael.  From 2006-2009, The Antigonish Highland Society had a limited number of pipers and drummers.  In 2009, the band decided that they needed to return to a regular summer schedule and partnered with Old Scotia Pipes and Drums from Great Village.

I stopped in at one of their weekly practices in the town of Pictou.  I saw 14 year old Mark Chisholm practicing with his chanter.  Beside him is 80-something Gerald MacDonald, son of “Jack the Piper”.  There is no “generation gap” here.  Just a group of people plying their craft and preserving the Scottish heritage.

This is a story about collaboration.  According to Pipe Major Lorna MacIsaac, “Old Scotia had Ray Halliday, an experienced lead drummer, who helped us recruit and instruct local Antigonish drummers. What was most important was that our partnership would be an opportunity to continue piping and drumming in our individual communities.”  I noticed the shirts that several band members were wearing.  They bear the logos of both bands in order to maintain their identities as they work together. (This could be a template for municipal reform across the province!)

Several years ago, friends from Toronto travelled east for the first time and accepted our invitation to stay with us.  They just so happened to arrive on my birthday.  That summer, my sister-in-law and her family were also staying with us while their daughters attended theatre camp.  Her husband is an accomplished piper.

It was one of those glorious warm, soft summer evenings and a singsong broke out on the front deck.  At around 10:00 o’clock, I could hear the unmistakable skirl of the pipes as Mike rounded the side of the house.  Our guests had never heard the bagpipes.  The look on their faces was a cross between astonishment and fear.  Good thing that someone wasn’t following behind the piper, brandishing a Claymore.  I fear that they might have thought the world was about to end.  We told them that it was the usual end to a Saturday night in Antigonish.

The storied history of piping and the pipe band continues.  Two very different communities have taken what is best and are making beautiful music together.

Slainte!

Posted on June 26, 2014 under Thursday Tidbits with no comments yet

Someone’s small piece of paradise

 

 

I just returned from a whirlwind trip to Montreal to pick up our granddaughter who is going to spend most of the summer with us. Early Tuesday morning ( 5:00 a.m. ), I was on my way to grab a coffee. Verdun is one of the older neighborhoods in Montreal and the streetscape is very typical of Montreal. Street after street is made up of three story apartments side by side with a spiral staircase reaching the top floor. There is a small plot of grass in front of each building. My guess is that it might be 10 feet square at the most.

It was early daylight when I passed an apartment and saw this lawn display. It is amazing that some people are able to make something out of very little.

The “chase the ace” phenomenon is spreading like wildfire after someone won $289,000 last week in Havre Boucher. Congrats to her and the hard work of the community. But, as you know, sometimes I can’t resist poking a bit of fun about lotteries and games of chance. “Chasing Clouds” is a light hearted look at this latest craze. I hope to publish it soon… after I stand in line for lottery tickets!

How many of you have travelled to Iona? Iona, Cape Breton,  that is. It is one of many beautiful spots in Cape Breton and the subject of my story in this week’s Cape Breton Star. Some of you will remember that my daughter was ( is ) a great baker. She was the “cupcake lady” at the Farmer’s Market in Antigonish , for a few years. She also made amazing wedding cakes. This story is the tale of a harrowing drive we took to Iona a few years ago, with a three tiered wedding cake on the hottest day of the summer. I will be posting this on my website in the next week or so.

And keeping with the Cape Breton theme, I was at it bright and early yesterday morning writing another piece for the Star, highlighting the community of Inverness. Betty’s father was a doctor there for several years and we travelled to visit them on many occasions. “ A Link to Cabot”, a none too subtle reference to the new world class golf course, Cabot Links, is a reflection on my times visiting the area.

Ok. Here’s my last chance to plug “Art in the Park” which launches tomorrow evening at 5:30 in Chisholm Park. It runs until 9:00 p.m so don’t worry if you can’t get there at the beginning. It’s going to be a great evening of art and culture. I will be the emcee and will be wearing my kilt. No peeking! If you want to see some wonderful talent on stage or in the many kiosks dotting the property ( including food ), grab a chair and “come on down.”

And one other thing. Unless my editorial team says otherwise, I will be publishing “Pipe Dreams”  this Saturday on my website. It’s meant as a shout out to the Antigonish Highland Society Pipe Band.

Have a terrific weekend.

 

Posted on June 24, 2014 under Storytelling with one comment

 

 

The MacDonald clan has been known to hold grudges for long periods of time.  We still haven’t gotten over the Glencoe Massacre, and that was a mere 322 years ago.  We will avoid a Campbell at all costs unless it comes in a can and can be heated in less than two minutes.  Some would say that we’re just plain poor sports, but I beg to differ.  We may be poor at sports, but otherwise we’re a reasonably cheerful lot.

It’s hard to imagine talking about a winter sport during the dog days of summer.  Mind you, the hockey season drags on so long these days that hockey is a fair topic at just about any time of the year.  And summer still eludes us.

A chance meeting with an old childhood friend rekindled lots of memories.  And not all of them were pleasant.

When we were growing up, our street teemed with humanity as our parents took the baby boom very seriously.  You were never without someone to play with, even if you were a touch weird.  Mind you, looking back, we all seemed a bit off kilter.

We played hopscotch, red rover and tag.  We then advanced to more serious pursuits like baseball, football and hockey.  There was never any trouble rounding up a dozen kids or so and playing a game of softball in the back field.  Different streets in town had similar demographics and were also able to field teams; this produced some incredible rivalries.

Everyone, boys and girls, played street hockey.  When we weren’t on our knees in the living room saying a decade or two of the rosary, we were out on the street pretending we were Rocket Richard.  And our street was a particularly hot bed for street hockey as it was a dead end street … and the mayor lived at the very top with the best view of the action.

And speaking of Mayors, it seems like just about every mayor in the 125 year history of the town has been a Chisholm or a MacDonald.  This fact did not provide a “pass’ when it came to Mayor Chisholm’s children.  If they were going to play with the other kids, they would get their noses dirtied by times.

The Mayor’s eldest daughter was de facto his eldest son … if you ask her.  When it came to the rough stuff, she could give as good as take.  So when the street hockey season ramped up, she could be found right in the thick of things.

Not everyone can be Jean Belliveau or Bobby Orr.  Someone has to play nets and Mary Beth was thrust into the role of Johnny Bower.  She learned very quickly to take shots.  Some of them verbal and some of them launched from the end of a hockey stick.

I think I had a crush on her at the time but then again, young boys have crushes on just about every member of the fairer sex at that age.  I thought I would impress her with my slap shot.  Back then, we weren’t sissies.  None of this soft tennis ball crap.  No, we played with a real puck.  Real pucks hurt even when you’re wearing appropriate gear.  She didn’t have any real equipment, so when my shot came at her at pretty good velocity (about 8 mph!), it struck her in the shin with brutish force, leaving her slumped on the asphalt in tears.

I was taught to be a gentleman, and when a young lady is in distress you’re supposed to ride in on the white stallion and save her.  My offer of a hand and a kind word was met with a scowl, followed quickly by two of the fastest left/right combos ever seen.  She laid a first class beating on me.  Now it was me lying on the pavement with a bloodied lip and a tear forming in the corner of my eye.

We both raced to our respective homes.  She wept as she explained to her father the thuggery of her neighbor.  I wailed as I explained to my mother that the fair haired girl from just up the street had beaten the tar out of me.

And that was the end of it, until just a few days ago when we met to go over details of an upcoming community event.  To the utter amazement of the other people in the room, she lifted her pant leg ever so slightly, to show a small indentation in her shin.

It seems like the MacDonalds aren’t the only clan with long memories.