Alan Skeoch – Alan's Oeuvre

October 27, 2024October 27, 2024

EPISODE 1,175; IMAGINARY CONVERSATION WITH EIC SKEOCH (1944 snowstorm , mud cleats, syringe, broken beer bottle)

EPISODE 1,175; IMAGINARY CONVERSATION WITH EIC SKEOCH

alan skeoch

oct. 22, 2024

Picture of Eric and me in front of one of our snow forts in 1946 or around that time. In 1944 great December

storm Eric was only 4 years old while I was six years old…obviously we were younger than we appear

in the picture above. Over 20 people died trying to shovel the snow…and a street car ran off its tracks…and

the city of Toronto became snowbound.

The snowstorm of 1944 brought life to a standstill in Toronto.

Hey Eric. remember the snowstorm of December 1944. Almost two feet old snow came down

and paralyzed the city. More than 20 people died trying to shovel their way to the coal chutes outside each house..

No chute – no coal – no heat. The city was stopped dead. I think you, mom and I slept in the

same bed on cold nights while dad was on the couch.

Remember what we did in those ww2 war years, Eric? We built the best damn forts made of snow where we could fight

against make believe enemies. We were largely unaware that World War Two was raging. Hubert Skeoch

and Harvey Metcalfe arrived when the war ended. Hubert had a plate of false teeth he removed

for our enjoyment and you found a ‘safe’ in Harvey’s back pocket.

Hey Eric, remember when this picture was taken? We inherited the Freeman Farm around 1960 after grandma and grandpa Freeman died. Mom inherited

the place…25 acres of stony soil with 5 swamps. Hardly a farm was it? The farm house was solid. This is my favourite picture of the four of us. Laughing.

We laughed a lot didn’t we? In spite of dad’s gambling addiction. It is possible to love people despite their weaknesses and eccentricities. Mom kelt us

together. She got no credit. She did not expect it. We were not huggers and kissers, We took each other for granted. We loved each other.

Hey Eric, remember when I fell on that broken beer bottle in Dufferin Park? We were playing Blind Man’s Bluff with mom.

Big slash. Some blood. The park was

a dangerous place in the war and post war years. Gangs…The Junction Gang and the Beanery Gang.I think the

beer bottle had been a weapon. Easy to make. Grab the bottle by the neck and smash it against a rock. In most cases

shards of lethal looking protruded. Perhaps the bottle was just cast aside by a beer drinker. No matter its origin

the bottle cut me badly. I still have the scar 80 years later. The cut was bad enough but made worse by

mom saying “Alan, we must get the cut stitched up at the hospital.” Now that terrified me. Hospitals were places

where people go to die. What did I do? Remember? I ran home as fast as I could. Upstairs and under the

big bed. Grasped the bed springs. Mom could not pull me out. I screamed. Dad came home a little later. He fished me

out fast. He lifted the whole bed, turned it over and hauled me erect. Strange that I do not remember getting the

stitches nor the hospital. The whole incident showed me that the game of Blind Man’s Bluff could have bad

consequences and that dad was as strong as an ape. He could lift a double bed and turn it over.

Muddy football fields were to be expected. This was our 1962 team at Victoria College, U. of T., Russ Vanstone and I have

mud faces on their right.

eric is in back row.

what wonderfull friends we had.

You are probably thinking “What this story got to do with me…Eric.” And there is a reason. Years later you

were sliced far worse than me. I remember the moment. We were playing football against Riverdale whose

quarter back was nick-named Banana Nose. The field was a quagmire of mud but our game was scheduled

regardless. The change house had been bashed up and one Riverdale guy poked his head through a

missing divider yelling “We’re going to cream you pricks,” Or some such expression. Football was serious

business. We won. But there were casualties. You limped off the field at one point. “Little cut in my leg

you said to coach Fred Burfprd. It turned out to be a very nasty hole in your leg…more than an inch deep.

No-one knew that until later. The hole had been filled with mud and white chalk field marker. You played the

rest of the game. No one knew how serious the slash was. It was not a scratch. It was big mud filled hole.

Just looking it made me feel weak in the knees. The hole was ghastly…looked like you had been shot.

alan skeoch

oct. 26, 2024

October 22, 2024October 22, 2024

EPISODE 1,174 :PART 1: REMEMBERING ERIC SKEOCH FONDLY…FEBRUARY 8, 1940 TO AUGUST 1, 2O24

REMEMBERING ERIC SKEOCH FONDLY…FEBRUARY 8, 1940 TO AUGUST 1, 2O24

alan skeoch

(brother)

October 6. 2024

My brother, Eric Skeoch, died on August 1, 2024. His death was a shock to all who new him and particularly to

me as we were close enough to be twins. The only example of sibling rivalry that comes to mine is the ‘cake

icing caper’ below.

we shared 80 years of adventures. I miss him.

These are my memories of Eric revealed in an imaginary conversation…the kind we had often when

he was alive.

THE IMAGINARY CONVERSATION

Eric, remember The Cake Icing caper? It comes to mind first and foremost as I begin to remember

you.. The Cake Icing caper does not reflect well on me

but the incident shows in a simple way Eric’s planning skill.

Mom made good cakes with real cake icing liberally lathered on cake that had the bad tendency

to dry out. Eric sliced the icing off the cake and looked forward to wolfing it down after the cake was gone. I knew that

and planed to grab te slab of icing and then race down the back stairs before Eric could slide off

the kitchen chair. My moment. I grabbed the slab and raced for the door.

That is as far as I got. Eric knew what was about to happen. He had locked the door. And he pinned me to the wall.

He may have landed a punch but he was too busy laughing to do any damage.

I think mom and dad were part of Eric’s scheme.

Such a trivial story. Then again Such a meaningful story because it shows both Eric’s wit and his knowledge of

my frailties.

Hey Eric, remember Dad taking us sleigh riding. Our new sleigh. Must have been around 1944 or

thereabouts. Remember dad said ‘you boys wait at the top of the Grenadier hill while I test the

sleigh.” We waited and waited and waited but Did never returned. Far below a crowd had gather around a tree.

Eventually we slid downtime hill on our bums to find dad and our slight wrapped around a tree. Dad

broke some ribs but we were more concerned about our broken sleigh.

Hey, Eric, remember those wild peccaries at the High Park Zoo? Vicious little wild kind of pig. Dad thought we could get closer to

them by climbing up behind those pigs. They had tusks. There must have been about 30 of them

waiting to greet us. They had tunnelled under the wire fencing

and were in attack mode. I will never forget dad carrying you Eric and trying to kick the peccaries

while yelling at me to get the hell out of there. He was surrounded but got a couple of good kicks away.

What if he had fallen Eric? Would the pigs devour both of you and then come for me?

That must have been the springtime of 1943. You were 3 years old and I was 5.

Hey Eric, remember perching on old Mr. Howard’s cannon. Dad took us there under duress.

He preferred to take us to Dufferin Racetrack didn’t he? Mom must have persuaded him to keep him

away from the Dufferin track. where he wasted his pay checks. He wanted us to be little more self reliant scam artists

like the Artful Dodgers in Dickens novel.

Dufferin racetrack was close to our flat at 18 Sylvan Avenue. The racetrack was dad’s real home…that was where

all his paychecks were spent. Mom supported our family as a sweatshop garment maker. How she did that remains a mystery.

Remember when we were big enough to sneak into Dufferin Racetrack. You were 8 and I was 9. Just the right age to scamper under the

fence where gamblers gathered. “Boys your job is to Pick up all the tickets that are dropped. Always some

fool drops a good one.” We got piles of them. Dad said not to bother with tickets covered in

tobacco juice. Remember seeing dad checking them? Occasionally he would find a good one

which he could cash. That was his scam not ours. He kept the cash while we enjoyed being part

of his skulduggery.

Remember dad showing us how to run our own scam at the racetrack? “Boys, gather up

some of those racing forms thrown away by people leaving the track then sell them

for a quarter the next day” We did that successfully a couple of times. Good money. Someone

must have complained because we were chased away. Too bad for the guys betting on

yesterdays horses. Good for us.

Hey Eric,remember how dad a showed us how to get into just about any racetrack or Fair free? …like

the Royal Winter Fair. “Eric hold my hand.

look straight ahead as if you own the place.” And dad would put his free hand on the rump of a

Holstein cow or Shorthorn steer being led into the showroom. That worked every

time as I remember. More difficult at the racetracks but doable.

He yEric, remember how dad used that scam wherever tickets were required. Like sneaking into

the Club House at the old Woodbine track. “Look straight ahead…no expression on your faces…slip by the

gate, I know a man there… we don’t look nervous …we will be fine.”

That was a lesson in life skills not taught at school. Bit of a scam. We developed nerves of steel.

Hey Eric, remember when Uncle Norman arrived at our house with half a pig. Trail in blood from

his half ton truck to our flat om Sylvan avenue. Or was that just my imagination? Food was short due to rationing in the war years.

Remember tn\hose pork pies mom made?

Hey Eric remember when dad bought that horse in a claims race…part of a horse really.

We sneaked into the track through the board fence to the stables. We got there just in time

to hear the shot. The horse reared ump a bit then fell down dead as I remember. We were

relieved. How was dad ever going to keep a horse in our flat? Mom would have been fit

to be tied. Not sure that dad ever told her. If he did mom would have said her usual

criticism of him. “Oh Red, you fathead.”

Hey Eric, remember when you knocked Barclay Cormack’s front teeth out with the baseball bat?

His baby teeth. Remember all those kids we played with?…Jimmy Melvin, Joan Linton, Bobby Samanas,

Barclay Cormack, you and me? Barclay was the catcher…played too close to thebatzer.

Even professional catchers get whomped occasionally.

Hey Eric,remember how Bobby Samanas’s dad made us wooden Tommy Guns for our

imaginary war in Dufferin Park? Remember how we ventured up to Mount Dennis and

the Mount Dennis gang smashed our wooden guns against a tree and chased us home.?

Hey Eric, remember how we collected orange crates and roller skates to make scooters.

When the crates broke they were easy to replace so we had our own little demolition derby.

The skates were the running gear…half a skate on each end of a short 2 x 4.

Hey Eric, remember the Robertson candy truck heist ? We made a big mistake that day.

We watched two boys steal chocolate bars from the Robertson truck. They ran home. Down Dufferin

Street below College Street. We knew them. A police car arrived and the cop asked if anyone had

seen the robbery. “We did!” The officer then put us in his cruiser and questioned us. “Do you know where

the thieves live? “Yes sir,” we answered a bit nervously. “Come along.” He knocked on the door

“He turned to us…”Are these the boys?” We new then and there we were in trouble as snitches.

For days we went to and from Kent Public School nervously. Nothing happened fortunately but fingering

bad guys to the police was avoided from then on.

Hey Eric, remember the school dentist. Free for kids. He fixed lone of my teeth. “If it bleeds hold your

mouth over the curb of the sidewalk until it stops.” We were expected to be tough rather than sucks.

Hey Eric, I envied you big time. You were right handed. I was left handed. You could do just about

anything. Like catch a baseball. I fumbled. Baseball gloves were made for right handed people

like you and 90% of kids. I was an oddball. Worse! My teachers in grade 3 or 4 or both decided to

“brake me”. Force me to use my right hand. It did not work so they gave up. Result is that I cannot

tell; right from left. f someone says “turn left or turn right”,I have to think about it. I am no 86 years old

and still have trouble. You became a better athlete than me. I was OK at sports…but not terrific.

You were terrific. You were Chosen to attend the Ontario Athletic Leadership Camp one summer

as I remember. I envied you.

We were close friends all our lives. Little sibling rivalry. I miss you every time I see cake icing.

END PART 1; Celebration of Eric Skeoch’s life. AN imaginary conversation.

October 22, 2024October 22, 2024

EPISODE 1,174: THE LEAVES ARE MAGNIFICENT RIGH TNOW

alan skeoch

oct. 22, 2024

This is the time you should be walking…anywhere! The autumn leaves are spell binding.

Beyond words. Take a look.

P.S. Some of you might wonder why my stories have not been coming. They will come.

Right now I ma writing a series of conversations with my brother Eric who died August 1,2024.

Imaginary conversations. The kind of conversations we had when he was alive. Our childhood

was exciting. We were a lucky generation. Some readers know that. Others may find

these conversations interesting.

First let’s look at the autumn leaves.

a;lan

October 16, 2024October 17, 2024

Fwd: EPISODE 1.171: MARY FIX PARK — A JEWEL IN MIDST OF CHAOS

Begin forwarded message:

From: ALAN SKEOCH <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>

Subject: EPISODE 1.171: MARY FIX PARK — A JEWEL IN MIDST OF CHAOS

Date: October 16, 2024 at 2:22:18 PM EDT

To: john Wardle <jwardle@rogers.com>, Marjorie Skeoch <marjorieskeoch@gmail.com>

EPISODE 1.171: MARY FIX PARK — A JEWEL IN MIDST OF CHAOS

alan skeoch

oct/ 14, 2024

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October 16, 2024October 17, 2024

EPISODE 1.171: MARY FIX PARK — A JEWEL IN MIDST OF CHAOS

alan skeoch

oct/ 14, 2024

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October 12, 2024October 12, 2024

EPISODE 1,170: “START SPREADING THE NEWS”…TORONTO’S GROWING TODAY

alan skeoch

Oct. 11, 2024

We got caught in a Toronto gridlock which gave us time

to appreciate the towers that are now Toronto.

I have been distracted by various visitors for the past few weeks

and have been unable to keep up with our ’story a day’ project.

Storoes are sittimg here unfinished.

The shock of my brothers’ death weighs heavily upon us.

So a few stories will be coming to Celebrate his life via

the internet. The stories will be imaginary conversations between

Eric and me such as :

“Hey Eric, remember when I stole the icing you had carefully

saved from mom’s stole cake? You outwitted me that day.”

and

“Hey Eric, remember when you threw that folded newspaper

right through a customers bathroom window…bathroom was

in use at the time or so she claimed.”

and

“Hey Eric, remember when I Said ‘I will give you a quarter if you grab that squirrel by the tail?’

You did and got your arm ripped with its claws. Sorry about that Eric.”

and

Hey Eric, remember when dad trained us to sell day old racing forms to men rushing

to catch the last races at Dufferin racetrack. The poor guys were betting on horses

that did not exist.;”

etc. etc

alan

P.S. Sorry you are so sick Caroline…your left handed writing needs attention.

I will try to get stories coming.

P.S. Are you OK John (Wardle)?

September 24, 2024September 24, 2024

EPISODE 1.107: BEACH AT RICHARD’S PARK LOOKS LIKE SAND…BUT IT IS NOT SAND

alan skeoch

Sept/ 22. 2024

“Swimming will be good for your new knee, Alan.”

WE went for another swim at Richard;s Park. The beach was empty

at first then a young woman arrived. Cheerful person. Recent Ukranian

refugee it seemed.

I wallowed around in the surf propped up with my wooden cane which gave

me the advantage of a three point posture. Without the cane I would

topple for sure.

The swim was delightful up to the moment we decided to leave the

water. I wallowed to the shore. Very unsteady. The sandy shoreline was very

soft. Impossible for me to wade as my legs just sank into the gumbo.

“Marjorie, I cannot stand…too weak…these small waves are pushing me over.”

“Don’t get so excited.”

“Cannot stand…no pruchase…I’m going over.”

‘YIKES! ..I’M dowm!”

And then almost instantly I was rescued by two angels. Marjorie and the

Ukrainian swimmer. They fought the waves and tried to get me

back on my feet.. It was not easy because the sand just would

not let me stand. My legs sank into the sand as they laboured to

get purchase. I tried to help but legs kept pushing through the sand

as the small waves buffeted all three of us.

“There, we made it. Thanks to you two.”. The Ukrainian girl did not speak

English She smiled and left us. “Without her I do not know what we could

have done, Alan.”

“ Could have wallowed my way to the hard sand, Guess…I was not

going to drown.”

There was something odd about the sandy shoreline. Odd indeed.

It was not sandy. Looked like sand. But the shoreline was composed

of thousands…hundreds of thousands of tiny plastic balls. Grains of

sand…a fake shore. That’s why my cane and legs failed. All three

penetrated the plastic microchips. A deceptive shoreline.

CURLING DECISION — SAD

“My balance is not good, Marjorie. These plastic miniballs defeated me.”

“You cannot go curling”

“But I am the skip of my team. They expect me.”

“You cannot even stand on a sandy shore…how will you stand on ice?”

She was right of course.

Those millions of plastic balls that lined the shore at Richard’s Park were reminders of

just how we have mismanaged planet earth. It is a fake beach. A trap for unsteady feet.

I had to send a note to John Morton that I would be unable to curl. I let down my

team. But had I toppled on the unforgiving ICE of the High Park Curing Rink and hit my head

there would be no angels of mercy like Marjorie and that Ukrainian refugee.

alan

My knee was replaced on December 12, 2023. The operation

went well but the recovery has been long and painful due to a

reaction to the drug used.

September 18, 2024September 18, 2024

RICHARD WOLNIEWICZ – RICHARD’S PARK , MISSISSAUGA: WHO WAS RICHARD WOLNIEWICZ?

EPISODE 1,105; WHO WAS RICHARD WOLNIECWIZ? (RICHARD’S PARK, MISSISSAUGA)

alan skeoch

sept. 17, 2024

AN EMPTY BEACH ON LAKE ONTARIO NORTH SHORE

“ALAN, you need to walk more.”

“I do walk.”

“not enough,according to the therapist. So today we are going for a walk at Richard’s Memorial Park….smAllest parl

on Mississauga lakefront.”

“Who was Richard?”

‘Bit of a mystery…not much is known about him except that he was 14 when he died.

“Why is the park named after him?”

“Because the boy’s heart was transplanted to Mayor Robert Speck ,mayor of Mississauga

back in 1971. Mr. Speck wanted something done to remember Richard Wolniewicz”

“What is known about the tragic death of Richard?”

“Nothing that I can find.”

“Isn’t that strange…the boy has one of the nicest parks in Mississauga named after him but

there is no record of why he died at age 14…just before his 15th birthday.”

RICHARDS MEMORIALPARK, MISSISSAUGA

So, on September 17. 2024, Marjorie took me to Richard’s Park. Hardly

anyone was there. The sun was shining and the beach was inviting so we

stripped down to our underwear and waded in. We we’re almost alone

…one man doing excercises on the beach and another swimmer so far

out in Lake Ontario that he or she was only a bobbing speck.

These two humans took no notice of two underwear clad 80 year old

citizens. The water was delightful…soft sand…the water gradually

got deeper. I was helped by my wooden can. We left the walker on

the beach. We had the whole park to ourselves really. It was wonderfull

and we plan to go swimming every day until fall turns to winter.

Next swim we will have bathing suits.

**Please obey all signs posted at the beach and take caution if it has rained in the past 24-48 hours.**

Richard’s Memorial is the smallest of Peel’s three lakefront beaches. It has picnic areas and BBQs as well as a mostly sand beach. The park commemorates Richard Wolniewicz, a fourteen year-old boy whose heart was donated to Mayor Robert Speck in 1971. The Park is also home to a five-foot tall peace monument, bearing the inscription “Planet Earth is our Home, Humanity is our Family.”

RICHARD WOLNIEWICZ

Mayor Bob Speck’s heart donor was to turn 15 on Tuesday. Mississauga News, December 22, 1971
The generosity of a family is honoured in Lorne Park [Richard’s Memorial Park]. The Booster, January 4, 2006

September 15, 2024September 15, 2024

episode 1,104SANDHILL CRANES – 4300 LIVE HERE – 95,OOO STOP TO REST AT SPOTS LIKE LOING POINT -TOTAL POPULATION IS 450,,000 – SHOULD HUNTERS START KILLING THEM?

EPISODE 1,1O4: SANDHILL CRANES – 4300 LIVE HERE – 95,OOO STOP AT REST SPOTS LIKE LOING POINT -TOTAL POPULATION IS 450,000 – SHOULD HUNTERS START KILLING THEM?

alan skeoch

sept. 13, 2024

“Dad, four huge birds were eating grain dropped by the combine harvester.. I Checked

them out. They are SANDHILL CRANES. When they stand erect they are almost as

tall as humans. All four took off making a gobbling noise.”

“Wonder if I can get a look at them?”

“Doubt it Dad. They saw me before I saw them…took off immediately. Try the back field.”

Result? No sign of the Cranes even though I drove the Kubota through all the fields most of

which were now covered with red clover plants. also Must be lots of grain dropped by the combine

harvester.

“SURVIVAL?” … SURVIVAL IS A QUESTION

I Have never seen a Sandhill Crane even though 95,000 of them live or pass through

Ontario each year. I am 86 years old and an amateur naturalist which means I love

nature but have no easy answer to the survival of Sandhill Cranes. I do not grow

wheat, oats. or barley.

What is known about Sandhill Cranes?

– nearly became extinct from over hunting but seem to have rebounded as there

are now around 95,000 visiting Ontario each year. 4300 were counted at Long Point

on Lake Erie. The total population in Canada is around 450,000.

-Right now they are protected but pressure from farmers may result in a change.

Why? Because flocks of sandhill cranes devastate some grain fields particularly in Northern

Ontario. Losses of grain on some fields are as high as 50%.

-Sandhill crane nests usually have only two eggs but only one hatching survives.

Of late the population has grown about 4% per year.

-Nestng sites are always close to wetlands. Big nests of dry reeds and even burdock.

-They eat almost anything including frogs and snakes but grain seeds

are their favourite food.

-preditors are raccoons and other carnivores which are driven away by adult cranes using their

feet.

-24 cranes are wearing collars in an effort to determine if population of cranes

should be ‘harvested’ (which means shot)

-Breeding sites are mostly in the northern tundra.

-wintering sites are as far south as Florida and Texas where they gather in thousands.

-wingspan as much as 7 feet

-they remain aloft for hours

-considered a prize by hunters as they weigh as much as ten pounds

-Skeoch family sitings on Fifth Line, wellington county – Andrew saw and photographed four sandhill cranes

-Alan Skeoch saw none because the cranes saw him first it seems.

alan skeochupload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/5/5e/Grus_canadensis_in_flight-2618.jpg/400px-Grus_canadensis_in_flight-2618.jpg 2x” data-file-width=”3646″ data-file-height=”2051″>

sept. 13, 2024

HERE IS THE QUESTION…IS CULLING THE FLOCK A QUESTION OF SURVIVAL?

Should we allow hunters to kill sandhill cranes…one crane per hunter?

Consider that they mate for life. Shoot a crane and leave the mate to fly alone.

Consider that each pair of sandhill cranes produce one hatchling per year.

Consider that predation by raccoons, coyotes, foxes, eagles, disease, loss of wetlands

already is a natural check on population growth.

Consider that I have never seen a sandhill crane but would like to do so.

Consider that I do not make my living by growing grain

Weigh the checks and balances carefully

We are considering a road trip to Long Point.

On a mid-February morning at Big Creek National Wildlife Area, which encompasses 771 hectares on the north shores of Lake Erie, eastern sandhill cranes patrol the icy surface of a marsh. The large grey birds with red-splashed foreheads take off, swooping one way, then another, and the air fills with squeaky chatter. They land in a field and scratch for grain.

Sandhill cranes are no strangers to the area, which sits at the base of the Long Point peninsula, a 40-kilometre sand spit that’s a little more than an hour’s drive from London. It’s one of Ontario’s most important staging areas for bird migration. What’s unusual, though, is that they’re here now. Typically, the migrating birds visit briefly in the fall and early winter before continuing toward the American Midwest and, sometimes, as far south as Florida. But, this year, thousands have remained — there are roughly 4,300 today, according to a Canadian Wildlife Service count.