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EPISODE 389   OLD FREEMAN FARM…GRANDPA, ERIC, DAD (SPIFFY  OUTFIT), LADDIE…OLD VERANDAH 1943 PERHAPS
                          (SOMETHING IS OUT OF PLACE IN THIS PICTURE…WHAT IS IT?)

alan skeoch

June 2021

Take a look at the picture below.  Something is out of place…does not fit…odd.  What is it?

No, it is not the cat’s bum.  No, it is not the dog Laddie trying to persuade granddad to teach

him to smoke a pipe.   No, it is not the decrepit back stairs.   Wise up.  Look closer.

Laddie, grandpa, Eric, and the cat all fit and are in harmony with the shape of the back porch.

The odd thing is Dad.  Red Skeoch looks spiffy.  Sort of odd for a man whose job was building Truck tires

at Dunlop Tire Company in Toronto.

Look at the new hat…a sleek black fedorah..and the suit.  Spiffy.    Why is he dressed like that?

The answer is simple.  Dad is en route to the horse races somewhere in Ontario.  We had no car.

So getting to the races depended upon special busses leaving for the track at Fort Erie or in New York

State at Batavia.   Close by , however, were many Toronto racetracks also serviced by special 

busses…Thorncliffe Park, Woodbine, Dufferin and another near Mimico.  Those special busses always

seemed jammed with men like Dad.  Many were Chinese which was how Dad came to speak Mandarin!

Dad’s version of Mandarin which is called Gibberish .  His Chinese gambling friends liked dad even

when he was outlandish.  At least my memory of them involved smiles… 

Why so spiffy?   Because dad liked to live a second lifestyle .   He had friends everywhere it seemed.  

One friend let him into the high class part of Woodbine track…or Fort Erie.   He dressed to fit the image

of the Club House class.  When he took us to the track his instructions were always the same. “Look straight

ahead boys…walked right through the ticket gate with me…I have a contact taking Club House revenue…Do

not look anywhere but straight ahead.  If someone yells, keep moving.”

Now this picture was taken before he started taking us with mom to racetracks.   Eric must be out

5 or 6 years old which puts the picture around 1944.   Why wasn’t Dad in the army like so many

of our relatives?  Too old.  His work was also a necessary war industry.  Armies moved on rubber tires.

Dad married late in life “because no woman would have him” some said.

But that was not true.  He attracted people\le even with his offhand manner.  He was one of those people

who were charismatic.   Charming.  Disarming.  Impolite….always searching for the golden ring on

the merry go round of life.  He made our life as his kids fascinating.  

He made the life of collection agencies from Finance companies challenging.   Mom often had to

pay off his debts.  She loved him in spite of his failings.  Whenever he got into trouble her comment

was “Oh Red, you fathead.”

THE PICTURE

No, I do not know how he got from the farm to the racetrack on that day…Gray Coach bus

stopped at Silver Creek.   And Uncle Frank could be relied upon to rev up the Model A or

Model T to get him there.

Granddad was poor, respectable, welcoming.  He liked Dad in spite of his tendency to scam

those around him.   We loved him.

alan

(another Red Skeoch story)

EPISODE 358    “WHERE DID YOU FIND ALL THOSE PICTURES FOR THE EPISODES, ALAN” “IT WAS NOT EASY”

alan skeoch

June 2051

This is my family:  Mom, dad, Eric and I.  We laughed a lot.  Did not know we were poor.

Actually we believed we were rich.  And we were correct.  We were rich.

WRITING STORIES WITH PICTURES 2021

Dan Bowyer wondered why there were no pictures with the rather crude story about the Fireman’s Lift.

He liked both and has responded to every episode, many of which paralleled his life. Then

The Mississauga Library System wanted permission to replicate my pictures.  Others were surprised

I was able to illustrate the 357 stories with pictures.  How was it done?

Getting pictures to fit the stories is not easy.  Some stories took me several days to find pictures.  But pictures

were necessary to establish that the stories are authentic.   

HOW I GOT SO MANY PICTURES

1) From elementary school to the present time I have been a camera enthusiast.   Initially using 

cheap little plastic cameras that always seemed to leak light to the more sophisticated pocket cameras

available today.  My best cameras have been and are the 

Sony 1.8-4.9/10.4 – 37.1 with Zeiss lens.  They take a lot of abuse and do fit in my pocket even if

the weight threatens to pull my pants down. I dropped one ..broke it…cost $500.  Uttered a few

choice expletives and bought another camera.  

2) I saved negatives and pictures in cigar boxes even when a kid.  Then I began making slides….35 mm.

Last year , 2020, I looked at the boxes and boxes of slides that no one would ever see.  There must be a way to get

slides in digital form.   First, I bought a cheap replicator…not good due to dust.   Second, I discovered a

company that copies slides professionally.  At a cost.   Was it worth spending 50 cents to $1 a slide and same

for negatives. ?  I decided to spend the money.  Well over $1,500 so far…not cheap.  More to do. Threw away lots.

3) All converted pictures and slides come back to me in a stick form and can be injected

into my computer like the vaccine is to our arms.   Then Spin them like a slot machine … images rolling by.

4) Reams and reams of pictures … over 1,500 images. saved.

Lots of work.   I also have several thousand images put into my computer from my cameras.

Sometimes I go searching for images to fit the stories.  Sometimes an image triggers a story.

5) Then each picture is photo shopped to improve it…lights up dark images….crop images

to highlight a particular theme.   Lots of work.   Sometimes it takes a whole day to put things together.

Sometimes several days.   It is a challenge to do a Story a Day but an enjoyable challenge.

6) To me a story has to have both a written script and lots of illustrations.  One without the other just

does not feel right.

7) DOES ANYBODY READ THE STORIES?  AM I JUST WASTNG TIME?

Who reads the stories?  No one?

That question occurs to me.  I know, however, that some people in isolation like

having a story a day.  My sister in law, Anne Hughes, told me yesterday that she looks

forward to my story every morning with her coffee.  She and her husband are cloistered

in a tiny home.  They can no longer drive.  My stories help which pleases me.

8) Do the stories go beyond my friends?  It is wonderful to get an email from persons I do not

know who have found my stories on the internet.  Yesterday I got  note from a young man who spends summers at  Paradise Lodge on

the Algoma Central Railway… a person I do not know.  He loved those wilderness stories about

Wart Lake, mining exploration, wolves, lightning and Marjorie arriving with our cat and her sewing

machine.  We had lots of wolves . We had no electricity.   So many notes like that.

Victor Poppa’s grandson for instance…writing a play about Victor.  I hoe he will Remind me to send some

more pics…lost his email.  Then there is Dr. Norm Paterson, my former boss in the mining

exploration days who sends notes often.   On and On.  Letter from Belgium, Australia, England,

Ireland…from the far corners of Canada like Mayo Landing , Whitehorse, Anchorage Juneau

Then so many notes from people who have had similar experiences but have lost

the pictures.   Lucky for me that mom had kept some black and white pics of our childhood.

Missing pictures?  Lots of them.  I wish we had more pics of dad wasting his money at racetracks

…wasting his money but sharing the experience by sneaking us in to tracks when we were young or

setting us up as scam artists selling gamblers day old racing forms.  Did we really do that? Or is it

imagination.  No pictures to prove or disprove.

And nice to get notes from friends…to rekindle friendships in spite of the pandemic. Russ Vanstone and

his bees; for instance…..too many people to name.  I know some people do not read the stories.  a couple of months ago

I started to delete names because I felt I was cluttering up the emails of those who do not respond.  There was a

hue and cry … so I have not deleted yet,  And will not.  So many of my former students are on the list. We

speak as peers now.  Jeannette Chau even nominated me for a Mississauga literary award.

JUST THE BARE FACTS…LOOK AT THAT GRIN!

8)  Should I worry if the story and the pictures do not reflect well upon me?  No,  I am too old to 

worry about my appearance, my language, my.mistakes,  I try to be self effacing.  Who the hell

wants to read about personal heroic exploits.  Better if the stories have a more earthy touch.  Like

when Floyd Faulkner nick named me Fucking Al on that Groundhog River job in Northern Ontario.

It was a compliment.    Voltaire’s novel Candide has been a big influence…i.e. the naive innocent

facing the best of all possible worlds. Remember Voltaire’s conclusion?  “If this is the best of all possible

worlds, what then of the others?.”

THIS STORY BELOW SHOWS HOW IMPORTANT PICTURES ARE … WHO WOULD BELIEVE IT OTHERWISE?

9) Here is a mini story.   A story made in gentler times.  Today our behaviour

on an Air Canada flight to Iceland and then Toronto might lead to big time trouble.

But  in 1965 we were just entertainment … young and foolish.  If I told the story without

the pictures you might think it was a fabrication.

PHOTO 1:  Marjorie, my brother Eric and I had been drinking a pint of Guinness

in the Dublin lounge waiting for our flight back to Canada.  We were joined

by a Catholic priest and his father.  Nice men. Might have shared a second pint.  Innocent enough

Lots of people drink Guinness.  We boarded OK.  But once in the air the Guinness

did funny things.  We started to giggle.  Marjorie wiped my brow with whipping cream

or was it mashed potatoes?

PHOTO 2:  I maintained I was sober until I found this picture in my camera.

Apparently the pilot came back to check us out.  He borrowed my camera to get

this magnificent shot.   Pictures might remind you of Jack Lemmon and Shriley McLean

in Days of Wine and Roses.

PHOTO 3    Our Air Canada pilot was called by the stewardess to check us out.

He realized we were just young and silly.  Then he borrowed my derby hat for 

this picture which I managed to take.  My brother and I had bought derby hats

at an antique market.  The seller insisted that mine had belonged to Sir Ernest

MacMillan whose initialS were inside.   The derby hat looked good on the 

pilot who was a laid back kind guy.  What a great pilot we had on that flight.

ABSENT PHOTO 4:  Eric was busy proposing to the stewardess much to her amusement.

I have a picture to prove it but wanted to keep this story brief.

PCTURES TELL A STORY

Each of the pictures below could be a story…should be a story…will be a story.

EPISODE 163   WE TOOK THE KIDS TO IRELAND… JUST BEFORE THEY LEFT THE NEST…GLAD WE DID

alan skeoch

June 2021

CHILDREN have a tendency to grow older…to grow up.  When they hit those late

teen age years they often leave the nest no matter how comfortable that nest has

become.  Marjorie and I knew that.  Most parents know that.  We knew it would happen

soon so we tried to capture them for this fling to Southern Ireland where I once

worked as you may remember in earlier episodes.

We landed in Shannon on the Irish west coast…rented a car…and then

I said “Let’s find a pub and get a pint of Guinness right away.”

I still remember Marjorie’s response because it was so out of character.

“Well Alan, I hope visiting pubs is not the main part of our trip with the boys?”

At which point I looked at the boys and they looked at me.  We grinned

and soon found a pub.  

WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO READ A STORY ABOUT OUR TRIP?

Good point.   Why would you want to read a story about our trip? Plan your own trip.  Perhaps you  have plans

to travel there when this Covid 19 scourge ends.   One of my ex-students Jeannette Chau, whose

husband, Michael, is Irish, asked “Do you think Ireland is still like the Ireland you found

back in 1960…then again in 1965…then again in 1980…then again and again.”

Yes,  I really think Ireland keeps its charm.   The violent past is present but it

sure is not a downer for tourists unless you are looking for a fight.  I think we have

been to Ireland seven times.  Each time memorable.  Pleasant.  Boisterous.

Kids like calves grow into adults.  We tried to catch our kids when they were

on the cusp of adulthood.

I wanted to share my Irish adventures crawling through the 100 year old Knockmahon

mine…with the boys.   More than a tourist venture…an Adventure.

There were several ancient adits to the mine open on the cliff face along

the south coast near Bunmahon, County Waterford.   The local people knew about them but few others

did.   crawling on our stomachs and walking bent over was not something Marjorie

wanted to do again.  She had been here with my Brother Eric and I way back in 1965

when the boys were just a gleam in our eyes.   Marjorie did not think of the crawling

as an adventure.   I think she thought it was just a bit foolish…and dangerous.

Which was true.

Today, in 2021, the old mine is celebrated and the area is described in tourist

brochures as the Copper Coast.  Tours can even be arranged.  Not quite the same

as our explorations.

In 1960, Dr. Paterson entrusted me as a Field Man for Hunting Technical and Exploration Services…doing a geophysical survey for

Dennison Mines of Canada in Ireland just to see if it was possible to re open the old Knockmahon

mine.  He trusted me.  I never violated that trust.  There is something special about trust.

HURLING MATCH…ON THE BEACH IN WESTERN IRELAND

Ireland is a tourist heaven.   Easy to meet people and often replete with simple joys such

as when the boys joined a hurling match on an Irish beach.   The young Irish lad

was so enthusiastic describing hurling to big boys like Kevin and Andrew.  He was

very cute.

Old stone houses without roofs are plentiful.  Their history is often disturbing.

We stopped for dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Kennedy in Bunmahon.   In 1960 we rented

part of their rambling house as living quarters for our team.   Mrs. Kennedy became

a house mother.   A previous mining team had not been as gracious as we were she said.

While waiting for my equipment to arrive in 1960 a strange thing happened.   Kevin Behan and his family

looked after me. No relation to Brendon Behan. Their kids were great.  There warmth endures to this day.   Our son Kevin does not even know that this

is his namesake.  

The Dublin days are described in earlier episodes.

Mrs. Behan, suggested I go to see THE QUIET MAN with John Wayne and Maureen O’Hara which played continuously in a Dublin theatre.

After seeing the film I thought that Ireland could not possibly be like the move.   I was wrong.  My Irish experience was exactly like the movie

I recommend you find a copy … you will enjoy it even if for the second or third time.

Once upon a time a man…a kind of monk…lived here in the little domed structures many of which are common on

the Dingle and other west coast places.

Here is the Kenneay family as found in 1960.  Gerald, the little boy, was handicapped as you can see.  He was a never ending

joy.  Followed me around a lot.  The whole family was wonderful.   Mrs. Kennedy kept me informed about proper behaviour and

insisted I go to mass on Sundays even though she knew I was Presbyterian.  She was correct.  Being at mass made me belong

to the community.  Our employees delighted in throwing Holy Water my way as I exited the church.   

This is just a snippet of our visit to Ireland around 1980.   It should be enough to make you wish you were with us.   Just finding the pictures has

transported me back in time.

I said at the beginning of this story that Marjorie and I knew our days with the boys were numbered.  They would soon 

carve out their own lives.  But they would not ever forget us.

Sure enough, a year or so after this Irish trip both boys left.  It was Oct. 7…damn close to Marjorie and my birthdays (9 and 16) that

the boys left.  Kevin headed for a job as an English teacher in Slovakia just as Czechoslovakia broke apart and the Berlin Wall was collapsing along with the Soviet Union.

Andrew and his friend Keith took off the opposite direction heading for Pacific Islands and then on to New Zealand and Australia…travelling

west with a variety of cars destined for scrap yards.  They stopped in Los Angeles to visit Victor Poppa (Last Flight of HX 313 episodes).

Victor carved wooden side windows for the car wreck they had at the time.

Guess what?

Both boys returned.

alan skeoch

June 2021

alan skeoch

june 2021

One of our most delightful trips when our boys were old enough was a unscheduled

trip to Southern Ireland where I once worked (as you may know).  Today I would

like to give a sample of that trip…

The dominant feature were the Cliffs Moher and secondly Quealy”s Pub

If you have time and can find Irish musicians playing the Cliffs of Moher you will be transported

to that place in your mind. Wonderful spot.  Dangerous too.

More to come but very busy today.

alan

EPISODE 351     “ALAN, I THINK WE HAVE A  PROWLER” 

alan skeoch

June 10, 2021

“Alan, somebody moved the old dump rake .”

A MATTER OF CONCERN

We are cocooned in a wilderness in Port Credit.  I know that is hard to believe with so many

condominiums under construction.  But take a look at these pictures taken when Marjorie noticed

our ancient dump rake had been moved.   If you want to scare yourself then imagine someone

is hiding in the June undergrowth.

“Alan, some teen agers moved the old dump rake one day last week….ad last

night  I think we had a prowler.”

Last night Marjorie found our back gate forced…enough room for someone to slip through

and the sideboard gate was open allowing Woody to get out and find some garbage.

Here are some pictures of the back of our lot at Mary Fix Creek.    Lots of cover for

B and E people.

A MATTER OF PRIDE

I think we own one of the largest…if not the largest…trees in Mississauga.

Silver Maple that is nearly 9 feet wide at the base.

SEARCHING FOR A PROWLER

The closest I got to the prowler was the secret places where our coyotes live and maybe raise a family.  But there are also

trails where humans walk.   As well they should for this bit of forest is a treasure.  Prowler?   Impossible to find. Long gone.

A person of the dark night.   Or maybe just a nature lover lost in our sudden wilderness.  a person who wanted to reach

the pavement on the other side of our house.

alan skeoch