Posted on May 3, 2014 under Storytelling with no comments yet

The day they dismantled the toll booths at the Causeway

 

 

I recently dusted off my Cape Breton passport.  If you think becoming a Canadian citizen is demanding, just try and prove your roots in order to be considered a Cape Bretoner … or a reasonable facsimile.

In order for me to pass the screening process to become a columnist for this paper, I had to present my credentials.  Tarbish player?  Musician?  Writer?  Hockey player?  I have tried my hand at all of these things but they are hardly “passport worthy”.  So let’s get right to the heart of the matter: “What’s yer father’s name?”

My father’s name was Peter Donald MacDonald, otherwise known in these parts as “P.D.”  He was born in St. Peter’s, Richmond County, and his forefathers were from Soldier’s Cove.  My great grandparents are buried at Barra’s Head.  So half of my DNA is totally legit.  By the way, when researching our family tree, my brother Don (to his chagrin) discovered that there were eighteen men answering to John MacDonald in Soldiers Cove at one point in time.  Quite an unimaginative bunch when it came to doling out names.

My father was one of the pioneers of the Credit Union movement along with John MacPhee.  The MacPhee house, up where St.Rita’s used to be, was my home away from home.

I have passed through Industrial Cape Breton many times over the years.  I am happy to report that I never passed out while spending time there … not for lack of trying on a few occasions.  Over the years I spent time learning about Cape Breton culture at fine establishments like Smooth Herman’s and the Campus pub on Charlotte Street that used to be on the campus of Xavier College.

I was a hockey player and made several trips to Sydney and Glace Bay during high school and Junior B days.  One more than one occasion, I had my face rubbed into the wire mesh at the rink in The Bay.  And that was even before we got on the ice.  Now that was a tough place to play.  Sydney Academy was always a power house and our nemesis at the high school level.

I also played a lot of golf back then and took part in the Road Builders tournament in Lingan for a number of years.  We also travelled to Seaview to play in inter-club tournaments.  The hospitality was always first rate.

I have been to the Sanitary Dairy and attended the “Rise andFollies” at the Savoy Theatre.  Are you getting the picture?

I also developed lifelong friendships with some of the nicest people you can imagine.  I hope some of my old girl friends from the Sydney area have moved out to Fort McMurray and won’t write letters to the editor protesting my reappearance in God’s country.  They tried to drive me out … but I’m back.

If I could turn back the hands of time, I would stop by Glebe Avenue and have a visit with Frank and Iris.  I would savor a piece of the best apple pie in the whole world and play a hand of Olympic crib with Frank.

My only regret is that I don’t get to show my passport to attendants at a toll booth at the Causeway.

( Thanks to the Port Hastings Historical Society for the photo )

 

 

 

 

Posted on May 1, 2014 under Thursday Tidbits with 10 comments

Happy Days Are Here Again

    Eyes opened. Check. Feet hit the floor. Check. Was able to walk to the bathroom, use the bathroom and shower… unattended. Check. Ate breakfast. Check. Walked to work. Check. So did most of you. So what’s the big deal? The big deal is that most of us never give this a second thought. Like so many other things in our daily orbit, we take it for granted. That is, until someone pulls the rug from beneath us. It is human nature to complain. I met and chatted with a few people this week who have unimaginable health challenges under their roofs, and they hardly complained at all. Preachy Week45 Len says, oh so gently… do not take anything for granted. Fill up your gratitude jar.

I heartily applaud the “Happy Antigonish” initiative. ( see the picture above ). The town looked great yesterday,  festooned with yellow balloons and yellow streamers. God, in her infinite wisdom and charity, blessed the organizers with a sun dappled day. There was a lot of traffic and hopefully the merchants were rewarded with lots of sales.

Thanks for the amazing feedback on the Credit Union story which was posted on my website on Tuesday. I think some people were surprised that I should write such a story when the Credit Union can be seen as competition for me in my day job. But you know something, we need all businesses to succeed to make our community grow and prosper, especially businesses that have a social conscience. I will continue to line up on cheque day!

The sequel to “Adding Fuel to the Fire” will be coming at you soon. As you will recall, in that story I carefully explained how gas prices are calculated. If you missed this, go back and check it out. I fully expect to get a call from the Economics Department at St.F.X. as a guest lecturer to go into my theory a little bit deeper. Now that we know how prices are determined, how do we explain the phenomenon of lining up at the pumps the day before a price increase? The Psychology Department will surely come a calling once I tastefully ( and somewhat sarcastically ) describe this in the story, “ Pandemonium at the Pumps” coming soon at Week45.

Is it possible for a woman to train her husband/partner?  People can train dogs so surely it is in the realm of possibilities to train a man? I don’t know who’s going to be more upset with me when I “unleash” this story… men or women. I am an “equal opportunity” offender.  “Off Leash Men” explores this sensitive subject.

I make my debut in the Cape Breton Star this week as the first edition of a new weekly paper rolls off the presses. I will post my initial story on the weekend. It’s called “My Cape Breton Passport.”

Have a great week.

Posted on April 29, 2014 under Storytelling with no comments yet

Bergengren Credit Union

 

 

By and large, women are running the economy.   By and large, men are ruining the economy.  The good news in Canada is that many of our governments and businesses are led by women.  They are trying desperately to mop up some big messes.  A new broom sweeps clean.

I made a trip to my local credit union the other day.  My mission was quite simple; to empty the contents of our safety deposit box and shut it down permanently.  We hadn’t used it in eons and thought that it was time to pass in our keys.   It had been so long since we visited it, in fact, that we weren’t quite sure what was in it any more.  “Did you find anything valuable?” queried my wife.  “Lint” was my reply.

I must admit my bias towards credit unions, as my father was the long-time manager of our local institution.  Even though it usually isn’t necessary to visit the teller most of the time, with ATM’s and on-line banking at our fingertips, I still find myself being drawn to the wicket and will even patiently stand in line on ”cheque day”.   This is when senior citizens receive their Canada Pension Plan and Old Age Security cheques.   I now have a legitimate right to be in this lineup.

In a world that is becoming increasingly cold and impersonal when it comes to business, credit unions have somehow managed to retain the personal touch.  This, of course, is born out of the roots of the cooperative movement which, sadly, has seen better days.  Our local co-op grocery store fell victim to the times not too long ago.

On a busy day you pick up a lot of news while standing in the lineup at the credit union.  When it is quiet, you can engage the teller, who feels almost like next of kin.  Once the topic of the weather has been covered, the conversation usually moves to family and community.  And even though the credit union has grown and competes with all of the major banks, there is still a feel to the place that makes it different.

All businesses should have an information desk.  As a male consumer and a non-shopper, there is nothing more disconcerting than entering a store and being unable to find someone to give you directions.  It’s almost like I have a sign on my back which says “please ignore”.  The women who staff the information desk at the credit union are like air traffic controllers, carefully guiding young and old (increasingly the latter) to their final destination.  And when you need a few minutes to rest, they have a comfortable chair and the morning newspaper.

I still collect loonies and toonies in a small steel container.  Every few months I roll the coins and carry them down to the credit union.  It gives me an excuse to chat with the women who run the place.  Let me make it perfectly clear that women are the backbone of all financial institutions, not just the credit union.  Let’s give them credit where credit is due.