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Note:  Episode 208 will  come a little later.  It is complicated and

needs  a little more research.  while  combing through my pictures

I came across these two photos…reminded me of an adventure i

had almost forgotten.

EPISODE  209    TRAPPED…WITH THE INCOMING TIDE

alan skeoch

Dec.  2020

Some time ago

Andrew, Marjorie and I decided  to explore some hidden  beaches on the

east side of New  Zealand’s North Island… Taranga location.  Not very 

far from the the Maori grave of  my cousin Roy Skeoch whose Maori wife, Anna

and family we came to see.  

Black volcanic rocks with glass like needles rose  sharply above the beautiful beaches.

We did not pay much attention to the fact that those beaches were

getting  smaller and smaller and the surf was at the same time

becoming angry.

Too late.  Our escape route was  closed…no footpath remained… just churning

surf.  Our only escape was  over the volcanic base of Mount Taranga.

We thought it was funny at first.  Then we became aware that there

was no place to hide.  Marjorie got a bit ripped.  In the end Andrew

carried Marjorie over the rocks.  That gave me a chance to get

two fast pictures.   Afterwards we decided to name our kitten Taranga

in memory of this bit of surf and rock and  churning water.

New Zealand is very safe for tourists.  Great long beaches on both sides of

the islands.  Accessible.  The only danger, apparently, is from a tiny toxic

spider that lives under the rocks.

Well, not the only danger.

Shortly after we returned to North America with Andrew he decided to go back

to New Zealand with his friend Keith Merker.   Both of them kids who would turn

into young men while exploring the world  around them.  The danger?  The greatest

danger they faed in New Zealand came from fellow human beings.   

And at the same time the greatest rescue they experienced  also  came from

a human being…a New Zealand police officer.

I will try to put that story together.  I have the pictures.   

The pictures of this wild surf reminded me of those days and the adventures

we shared.   Our other son, Kevin, could  not go with us as he was a student

at the University of Toronto at the time.  He would have his own adventures  on

the other side of the world that might interest you.  Again…I have the pictures.

alan skeoch

Dec. 2020

EPISODE 207     WOODEN FIRE TRUCK…ATTRACTS KIDS

alan skeoch

Dec. 2020

“What are  you doing in the garage, Alan?”

“Building a fire engine.”

“Fire engine?”

“Got the parts at a farm sale…parts  that looked to me  like a fire engine.”

Took me a couple of weeks to get this fire engine assembled and painted.

The very day we  Wheeled it out to the front lawn a  huge load of  kids 

arrived.   Came like bees smelling nectar.   I counted11 of them..may have 

been more.

But where is Andrew?  Lots of kids…10 of them, but where is Andrew?

“Here I am Daddy.”

EPISODE 206  THE LOBSTER TRAP RESCUE  IN THE STRAIT OF  BELLE ISLE, NEWFOUNDLAND

alan skeoch

Dec. 24, 2020

GIFT TO ANDREW AND  KEVIN FROM DAD AND MOM (CHRISTMAS 2020)

When you were little boys.  Before you became teen agers and would

find  your parents less  dominant in your lives.  Before those teen  age

years  which we thought might be  difficult.  (Which turned out to be  untrue.)

Marjorie and I decided that the best gift we could  give you would be Canada.

So we planned to give you Canada.  We  bought a used  pop up tent trailer made

of chip board and canvas.  Camping seemed the best way to give you Canada.

We wanted you to touch the earth.  We wanted  you to realize how lucky you’re

to live in the second largest country on earth.

That means at least two grand  trips.  First to the east to dip your feet in the Atlantic Ocean

and then to the west to put bigger feet in the Pacific  Ocean.   The trips could have been

miserable failures with us  pulling you across Canada like a pair of stubborn mules.

So, for the first trip, we bought a  pair of handcuffs.   You were both going with us

whether you liked  it or not.   The dogs too…Sonny and Daisy…both Labradors. And a lot of other stuff

like  four bicycles, a Coleman stove, pile of groceries and a first aid kit.

alan skeoch

Dec. 2020

alan skeoch

Dec.  2020

EARTHY is the best word I can you to describe those visits to the Skeoch farm on

the southwest corner of Fergus.  Earthy for sure.  “Would you fancy a beer, Alan?”

And Uncle Norman would lead the way to the barn stable where he kept a case

of Molson’s Golden tucked  under the hay of the first manger.  Why there?

Because Norman’s sisters had ‘taken the pledge’ so to speak.   Temperance

people.   Nice people…warm, hearty, educated, informed, leaders.  All of  this

including  the deep belief that beer and  other alcohols were a blight on the

country.   

That was a good thing.  Kept visitors out in the barn where stories always

seemed richer than  around the kitchen table.

Left to Right:   The  Skeoch Manure spreader, long retired but still admired,  then  Uncle Norman Skeoch (my Dad’s youngest brother),

the Jake Raison (first husband of cousin Jean Skeoch…Jake played box Lacrosse), Bruce Skeoch, Hubert Jim Skeoch (brothers from

the Skeoch farm on the North east side of Fergus), and finally Long John Skeoch … possible  to play dominoes  on his pants.

HOTTER THAN A PEPPER SPROUT

Jake and cousin Jean got married in Mimico.  One of the best weddings I ever attended.  All the Skeoch men were there in the back rows

of the church while the Skeoch women were attentively listening to the minister at the front.   My brother, Eric, sat  beside me for

a  while then he just disappeared.  Uncle Archie or Uncle Norman had reached under the pew, grabbed him by the ankle and

hauled  him in a game of  ‘pass the kid’  to other uncles and hangers on until Eric  got close to the women when he was released.

What a wedding.  Uncle Art and Aunt Mary and the Rawsons had rented a hall not far from the church.  It had a  kitchen 

walled  off from the main hall using thick paper board.  I know it was paper  board because Uncle Ernest (who  was really a cousin)

came smashing through the wall … pushed  hard by Dad (Arnold  Skeoch)  as they argued  about politics, or sports, or anything

worth arguing about.  In my mind I still see  his body as a kind of ‘cut out in paper board’ which made  a new door to the kitchen.

Aunt Elizabeth, Aunt Greta,  Aunt Lena and  mom  acted  like mother ducks protecting ducklings.  They were determined that

the children  should  not enter the kitchen while the discussion was happening.  Someone had got beer into the hall.

Uncle Ernest’s wife, Aunt Ayleen, had the warmest laugh  of anyone I had ever met.  She was an Arawak

from the Caribbean…loved us…she was a  hugger.   I don’t know how she

reacted when her husband smashed through the wall.  I do remember, however, that Ernest and Ayleen drove

mom, dad and us home that night.  Laughing. No hard  feelings.  No.  I do  not know who paid  for the wall.

What a  great wedding…”Hotter than a pepper sprout” but eventually ‘the fire went out.”

See Hubert Skeoch next to long John.  he was in the air force in  World War II.  Somehow he

got his teeth knocked out and they were replaced with some kind of plate.  He would swirl 

the plate around  in his mouth for the Amusement of Eric  and me when he lived with

us at 18 Sylvan  Avenue.  He hated the name Hubert…wanted us to call him Jim…which

we never did.

Long  John Skeoch and I  got the unpleasant job of being the executors of the Norman  Skeoch estate.  

We presided over the selling of the Skeoch farm and  all the equipment.  Norman  left the farm to all

his brothers and sisters  which was the death knell of the farm.  Had to be sold.  Sad  ending.  Wish I had the sense

to buy that manure spreader.  

Bruce Skeoch  was the historian of the bunch.  Father to Lloyd and Vernon.  He Kept the records as best he could.   The Skeoch women kept

a lot of the records as well.  When i showed an interest Aunt Elizabeth loaned  me the letters sent back

and forth to Scotland  in the 1840’s .  I laboured  long and hard transcribing them.  Maybe I got a little to 

close to the truth behind the Skeoch  migration.  Aunt Elizabeth got them them back.

alan skeoch

Dec. 2020

EPISODE 204    TTC LOST ARTICLES  AUCTION SALE

alan skeoch

Dec. 2020

Dad did  not buy presents.  Well, not quite true, one year he bought Eric  and me

a Red Rider BB gun and a long-playing portable record player.  We got them 

unwrapped and later discovered he was  able to persuade some store to sell

them if he put a dollar downpayment.  The rest of the costs was up to us…actually

up to mom as usual.  

That probably sounds terrible to readers who had a more normal family if such

ever really existed.   We took it in our stride.  You already know that the BB gun

only existed  for 1 day and  was then smashed against the Manitoba  Maple tree

in our backyard to the relief of us  all.  We sat the records player on the cedar

chest in the only bedroom in our house.  We had a nice stack  of old 78 rpm records

to feed the machine.  These also only lasted  a short time.  Eric sat on them…smashed

them all to hell.  Or maybe I sat on them.  Forget who but remember the shards

of broken records.

No one ever bought mom a  Christmas  present.  Never occurred to us.  She wrapped

presents  for us though which  was expected.  One year she got upset at this

one way  gift giving. “Does  no one ever buy a gift for me?”  That made Eric and

I suddenly think about reciprocal  giving and  we tore up to the furniture store

and bought her an electric table lamp with a base full of curves.  She was touched.

Put the lamp on the little  table beside her bed couch in the living room.  Rather garish

but she treasured it.  We felt justified in taking her gifts after that.  I think it cost

Eric  and I about $7….all our spare cash from the Toronto Star paper route which

paid us  half a cent per 3 cent paper.

No one really felt bad about this one way gift giving.  Even mom was  not disturbed except that one time.  Our big Christmas presents

for a couple of years was  the TTC lost goods auction sale at a run down store on Queen Street West.  All year long

the TTC  conductors  turned in lost articles to the transport officials.  Piles of them.  Then, sometime around

mid  December, the unclaimed  articles were dumped into huge cardboard boxes and auctioned off to whoever

attended the auction.  

Dad, Eric and  I were enthusiastic bidders.  Limited funds though.  But eventually we were able to get a big box

of things nobody wanted.   We kept the box closed until Christmas Eve or near that day.   Then dad  sat on the

couch that mom slept on…adjusted  his glasses…and opened  the box.  The box was so big that it would fit

a kitchen sink.  This was no tiny box holding a pair of socks.   This  was an immense box  of lost articles.

A Treasure trove.

What do you suppose people forget on the streetcar?   Take a guess.  You are right.  There were usually a

few umbrellas…some working, others bent so badly they would  not unfurl.  The umbrellas were the first

thing pulled from the box.   Dad looked up…amused with each treasure.  Then there were gloves…lots

of gloves.  Most of them female.  Some in pairs…others singles. “These are for you Methusalum.” And mom

began to collect a pile of gloves.   Next were the scarves.  Again most of them were women’s apparel but

a few were suitable for Dad.  He wrapped them around his  neck.

In this  picture, however, Dad  had reached the near bottom of the box and he pulled  out a pair of

pants.   How could anyone lose their pants in the street car?  “Someone got off the street with his

bare ass to the wind,” said Dad  with his amused expression.  Deadpan expression. Not laughing out loud but an  expression

that made the rest of us howl.

There were other things…empty purses,  wallets,  hats…but that pair of pants took the cake that

one year.

A lot of  Christmases  have gone by now.  Lots of  presents have been exchanged.  Sometimes

the pile of presents make the Christmas tree seem  small.   Some great presents.

But to my mind this Christmas  of  the year 2020 could never compare with the Christmas

of 1953 or 1954 when Dad, Eric and I hauled that huge five or ten dollar box of umbrellas

and mismatched socks home to 455 Annette Street on the TTC streetcar and trolley bus.

Mom got most of the stuff…gloves, scarves, purses.   But dad got the pants which he never 

wore but held  up for us to see.   We could imagine some poor sucker getting  off the

streetcar with his “bare ass to the wind” as dad said in his usual colourful language.

alan skeoch

Dec. 24, 2020