Once upon a time in the West (of Ottawa, but still in Ontario, (part three,

[see part one here; part two here]

Friday, July 28, 2023: I should have mentionedour visit the prior afternoon to Story Book Land, to meet up with Andrea, afriend of Christine’s we haven’t seen in a few years, so we could meet theirtwo-year-old, also. The three young ladies ran a couple of hours through thepark, catching a mix of storybook characters, child-sized rides and a smallwaterpark. The focus was for an age group a bit younger than Rose (and therewas at least one ride she was too tall for), but that was fine enough. Rose attendedthe two-year-old, and Aoife ran through a plethora of rides on her own (as I followed,although the rides safe enough that attendants don’t seem to be awaitingparental permissions to put kids through). There was even an assemblage of animals, including rabbits, and deer that screamed such screams as they must have stories told of them involving ghosts or demons (or both). Unsettling. But Aoife and I finally used that quarter we found at the Big Apple on DAY ONE of our big ridiculous trip to collect corn to hand-feed them.


This morning, on our way out oftown, we hit that same park a second time, to meet up with another friendof Christine’s, who drove a two-hour stretch to meet up with us there, alongwith her own daughter, nearly as old as Rose. The three of them ran as atrio through multiple rides and even the water-slides. Does anyone remember the late Storyland park just outside of Ottawa, in Renfrew? It was similar to thisplace, except sans the rides or waterpark or train: simply (semi-creepy) fairytale characters set in the woods that, after a number of years, had begun to erode.I think we went there as kids, and again, once Kate was small. It erodedcompletely not long after that.

Fromthere we headed direct to Woodstock, to visit my Aunt Pam and Uncle Don, aswell as my cousin Kent. A two-and-a-half hour drive. We passed so many smalltowns on the turn upon turn of highways, including Shakespeare, which I had noidea existed. Founded in 1832, it was renamed some twenty years later, after someonesuggested renaming after the infamous playwright. We saw numerous cemeteriesalong the route as well, including a couple of cemeteries that had small squareclusters of ancient white gravestones in a block, as though moved from someother site. Why are cemeteries, at least from out that way, moved at all? I wouldlike an answer from someone on this.

Pamis the last of my mother’s siblings, and the next in line from my mother’sthird-of-seven. Don was the minister we solicited to conduct our wedding, whoalso conducted my sister’s, as well, and a number of family funerals over theyears. It was very good to see them without a funeral, and the weddings havebecome sparse and scattered as the further generations spread apart (and thefirst time they’d met Aoife, as well as the second time they’d seen Rose). Thelast time we were in their house was their fiftieth anniversary a few yearsago, when I couldn’t get toddler Rose to stop running around (even though shewas relatively quiet, she would not sit still, happily exploring the room atfull speed). Apparently they considered her a delight! An equal, I suppose, to whenI brought toddler Kate to their elder son (my cousin) Kayle’s wedding in Londonback in 1993 or so. And Pam even said we were staying in the same hotel! Which Iwouldn’t have remembered. And then over to London! To crash at the hotel.

London,Ontario! The land of Greg Curnoe (1936-1992) and Christopher Dewdney’s A Palaeozoic Geology of London, Ontario (Coach House, 1974) and The Nihilist Spasm Band!Jean McKay! The origins of Brick Books and Brick: A Literary Journal! Oh, London!

Saturday, July 29, 2023: Woke, in London,Ontario. Everyone slept in except Christine, who had to be at her conference at8am. The rest of our trio woke slowly, and lounged in our room. We lounged,went for lunch, and drove an hour to Norwich, to do some further visiting. We spentthe whole afternoon as the young ladies met up with some pigs (they smell sobad! they said), ducks, chicken and even some newly-hatched quail. It was agood afternoon, before we headed back downtown to meet Christine and herconference for dinner at a local pub. I posted to BlueSky that we were there,and (semi-accidental) book blogger Sarah (literal_nobody) caught that we were in town, and askedif she could come get a book signed? Sure! And she spent the whole timedelighting in our young ladies, and in deep conversation. The children wroteher poems and stories and Rose told a wealth of stories. Rose seemed verypleased to be involved in grown-up conversation.

Backat the hotel, ridiculously late, as our young ladies howled at the London moon.How many nights might it take, I wonder, to get them back into their normalsleeping routines?

Sunday, July 30, 2023: We woke in London,slowly. What did we do? It all seems a blur, now. We made sure the children hadbreakfast before a quick visit to the hotel pool as I packed up the car, givenour 11am check-out. They changed, and we headed off. On our way out of town wemade a quick stop at the late London, Ontario artist Greg Curnoe’s infamoushouse at 38 Weston Street—the same plot of land he wrote about in his infamous Deeds/Abstracts:The History of a London Lot (Brick Books, 1995)—for a pilgrimage, catchinga view of the Victoria Hospital (subject of more than a couple of his paintings) en route. Do folk make art pilgrimages to hospitals? I suppose, I did see a bpNichol/Barbara Caruso work while visiting my father in the Heart Institute a few years ago [see that post here]. Since my twenties, the contemporary works by such asCurnoe or Roy K. Kiyooka have always been the ones I checked out first at theNational Gallery of Canada. Have you ever seen that mural he did for theMontreal airport? There’s a whole story there. I think George Bowering wroteabout that, somewhere (he helped install the piece, originally).

And wedrove through Milton! That’s where Jason Christie is from!

Andto Toronto, where we land at the airport-ish hotel to drop our things, shuttleto the airport and train downtown for the sake of a few hours wandering the Aquarium.Andy Weaver (famous Burlington poet) and his family were watching a Blue Jays game simultaneously, so wehad originally thought (a week earlier) that perhaps that might be a time andspace to meet up (we were literally next door), but that didn’t quite work outeither. Ah well. We wandered the aquarium and then to the gift shop as thechildren argued, wandered back through the aquarium to the play centre, whichthey didn’t like, and back to the gift shop where the children argued somemore. Everyone is tired! All my bones from the waist below have begun to ache. Whathas become of us?

Andslowly back on the train and the shuttle to hotel, where we had room serviceand a quiet evening doing whatever it is we all do. I wrote out some postcards,and the young ladies did also. Should we check out the pool?

Oh, and this building is mine now. I don't care what it holds.

Monday, July 31, 2023: Leaving Toronto forPicton, where we are most likely overnight and dropping our young ladies. Everythingmoves slow. The theory is we drop the kids at father-in-law’s for the week as wehead back ourselves Tuesday morning, so Christine can return to work. Presumingall works well with that plan, we’ll see them again come Saturday.