Alan Skeoch

Year: 2018

  • FACEBOOK DOES WONDERS! (and sequel ” WILD PIGS…RUN..RUN!”

    FACEBOOK: A  POSITIVE FORCE  IN OUR LIVES 
    (a feel good  story of Christmas Present and Christmas Past)


    DATELINE DEC. 7, 2018


    I have read  many criticisms  of our computer age but the one that
    concerned  me the most was the comment that we no longer have
    face  on friendships…flesh  and blood contacts…meet people who
    we can see and touch.   That comment struck me as true and very
    sad.


    Guess what ?  The anonymity of  Facebook is  just not true.
     Marjorie and I  discovered that the word anonymity was not even part of
    the vocabulary of these Facebook  users
    …..as Christine’s smile (above)  confirms.

     Marjorie made contact with this  diverse group of Facebook friends
    who  meet regularly in the middle of High Park.  They have one thing in
    common…their ages and Roncesvales Avenue

    This is Carl who organized it all and  supervised the gift giving and provided me with
    a huge box which I expected to contain wealth beyond  my dreams.  Instead I received
    a  pile of rubber mud  mats “that could be made to fit any car.”

    And on Dec. 7, 2018 Carl organized a big Christmas party complete
    with gifts (under $15) for everyone.  We became part of this  meeting.
    Marjorie made cookies, big butter tarts and  a bright red cowgirl hat.  I wrote a story
    about a dinosaur tooth and the mystery of time.  A replica of the dinosaur
    tooth was included.   Goofy?   Right.  A lot of the gifts had a goofy
    nature.  In my case I got that  huge box of rubber mud  mats that would
    fit any car as long as you could use a big scissors.  Just opening the
    box was an ordeal  worse than any snowstorm.

    John was wearing a bright red  Christmas sweater with a prominent
    Christian cross hanging from his neck.  “Are you a priest?”  “Nope, this
    was my mother’s necklace.  I put it on 17years ago when vowed to never
    touch a  drink again.   Sitting nearby was a man who gave my wife his
    Christmas package which was a Moosehead Beer special.   Now who
    could not enjoy meeting such people.  Some even had special Christmas
    sweaters that were hand knitted.


    It was  a grand experience.  Especially so since several of my ex students
    from Parkdale Collegiate were present.  And they remembered  me.
    One young  lady, Lucy, even confessed  she lied to me back in 1965
    about doing her homework.  Confessional?  Seemed so.  I gave her
    absolution ‘“but sorry to say I will have to dock you ten marks.”
    Silly?   That’s the nice thing about the passage of time.  Being silly.
    “Remember Joan, June and Carmen, …sir?”  “Sure  do.  I remember
    Carmen set their house on fire by hiding in the closet  smoking a
    cigarette.  And  June gave me her old  lawn mower years  ago…cast 
    iron push kind…still have it.  Kids…students…became friends but still 
    called  me sir.”
    Another remembered my odd behaviour when teaching, “You would 
    look at me…direct the question to me…but use the name of another
    classmate on the other side of the room. “Classes were always fun, sir”

    Jerry and Marilyn sat with Marjorie and me.  We have known each
    other for sixty years.  Our paths  cross in the most unusual situations.

    “Sir! “ Amazing to still be called  sir after nearly half a century.
     I am 80 years old and the students at the meeting must be
    close to 70.  Yet they still called  me sir.  Heart warming.  Respected.

    There were nearly 20 people at tis Christmas Party.  People from 
    the 50’s, 60’s and 70’s.  As mentioned They were not brought together by schools,
    churches,  businesses, sports…no, they got to know each other on
    Facebook and they all lived within walking distance of Roncesvales
    Avenue,Toronto.

    alan skeoch
    Dec. 7, 2018

    See  pictures below…and if you really have noting better to do then
    read the sequel which has little to do with Facebook but a lot to do
    with my memories  of the High Park zoo.



    Marjorie Skeoch with Gerry and Marilyn Holmes…our paths have crossed  for more than half a century.  Marjorie touched  base with
    this crowd, “Alan, we must go to their Christmas Party…we were Roncesvales people too.”


    This  is the Facebook gang having their annual Christmas party in the Grenadier Restaurant in the centre of High Park



    MEMORIES OF CHRISTMAS PAST TRIGGERED BY THE  FACEBOOK CROWD

    AN IRRELEVANT SEQUEL…BUT TRUE

    Dad was  not exactly the doting parent.  And when he took on a  parenting role it usually led  to
    a memorable  adventure.   Some of those adventures involved High Park.  Mom was the real
    caregiver of  our family  and  Dad was more like the third child.   He  was no shrinking  violet though.
    Quite the reverse.  He seemed  to have been given a double dose of testosterone when compared
    to other fathers.   Tough and rough and endearing.  Loved.

    THESE PHOTOS are a  little out of period except for the pic os Eric and me in Granddad’s wheelbarrow. 
    But the pics will help the two stories  a bit.  Dad  made our lives  one constant adventure.  Mom kept us
    alive.


    “THOSE GODDAMN WILD  PIGS WILL EAT YOU!  RUN! RUN!”

    As we exited the Grenadier Restaurant two of Dad’s  missteps  as a  parent came to mind because
    both of them originated  damn close to the Grenadier Restaurant.

    1)  The High Park Zoo is built in a little valley that weaves  southward  through the park.  In 1946 to 1947,
    Mom asked dad.  “Why don’t you take the boys  to the High Park zoo?”  He could  find no good excuse
    to avoid  the zoo since the horses were not running at either the Dufferin or Woodbine racetracks.
    So  we went to the zoo. Most people view the zoo from deep in the valley but dad never did what most
    people like to do.  “Let’s see the zoo from the backside…no one goes there.”  Seemed  like a  food idea
    except for the fact that in 1946 the maintenance standards were not high.   Just as we reached the
    wild  pig  enclosure disaster struck.  Now wild pigs are called  peccaries.  They are small but they are
    also  vicious.  And in 1946 they seemed to be breeding like rabbits.  There were dozens of them behind
    the wire fence.   Behind the fence be damned.  “Those goddamn pigs are free…and they out to get us.
    Alan run like a son of a bitch while I grab Eric.”  And we all ran as fast as  we could with a couple of dozen
    peccaries chasing us with their little tusks gleaming.   We survived but Dad was sweating.  Not sure if he
    told  us  to “keep your goddamn  mouths  shut” when we got home.


    “DAD NEVER RETURNED…OUR SLEIGH WAS SMASHED TO BITS”

    2)  Just west of the Grenadier Restaurant is  the long rather steep hill that runs down to Grenadier Pond
    where it was once believed the British Grenadiers drowned  with their cannons  while retreating from the
    American troops  who took Fort York in the War of 1812.  Myth of course.  Let’s be fair and call it embellished
    truth.   In 1946 to 1947, that long hill was a toboggan run.   Long, steep and fast.  No children romp in the snow.
    This toboggan run was serious  business.  That year we got a sleigh for Christmas.  A metal sleight with metal runners
    and a wooden steering bar.  Beautiful thing.  Eric  and  I looked forward to using it.  But we never got a chance.
    “Red, why don’t you take the kids to High Park to try out their new sleigh?”  Again he was trapped.   So we hopped
    on College Street Car that t germinated in High Park.  And there before us was the toboggan run.  Lots  of people
    yelling and  screaming as they thundered down the hill and out onto the ice of Grenadier Pond.  We were nervous.
    No need to be tough.  “OK, boys, let me test the sleigh first.”  Dad was  a big man…a tough man…a 220 pound 
    tire builder at Dunlop Tire Corporation.  The sleigh seemed small when he plopped  his  body on it face down with
    hands on the steering bar.  “Boys, you wait here…see how she goes.”  And  away he went.  and  we waited…and
    waited.   He did not come back.  Eventually we walked  down the hill where a crowd had gathered.  Dad had  rocketed
    his way down the ice covered toboggan run going so fast that the iron runners on the sleigh gave him enough speed
    to become airborne.  He flew out of the wood channels, sailed  through the air for a short while and then hit a tree
    dead on.  Broke his  ribs as it turned out.  He was badly hurt but managed to get us home holding his rib cage all the while

    To us the big disaster was our brand new broken sleigh.  
      

    alan skeoch
    Dec. 7, 2018

  • The SKEOCH CYCLE CAR FACTOR 1920 PRODUCTION LINE … DANGERS



    Begin forwarded message:


    From: SKEOCH <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>
    Subject: The Little Skeoch…picture of 1920 factory
    Date: November 28, 2018 at 12:09:49 PM EST
    To: Alan Skeoch <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>

    THE  SKEOCH CYCLE CAR PRODUCTION LINE IN 1920

    (Dalbeattie, Scotland)

    alan skeoch
    Nov. 28, 2018

    Seems to be quite an  interest in my last email concerning the Little Skeoch so  here  is  another picture of the production line as  it appeared
    in 1920.  Lots of  things to see including the typical line shafting along the ceiling of the factory.   Wheels on the line shafts drove the industrial
    machines…lathes, grinders, etc.    If you are really perceptive you might see the convertible top unfurled  and ready for assembly.  If you can 
    read, and some  of you can no doubt, you will see a sign mentioning Wolseley Oil  Engines…whatever that means.   And  those if you who
    are socially aware  and critical of the grim atmospheres of factories might note that sunshine floods  this  factory floor.

    My dad,  Arnold (Red) Skeoch became a  tire builder in Canada around this time and I will always remember his stories  about the
    dangers  of the big line shafts which had a drive pulley beside a stationary pulley.  If you wanted a machine to shut down all that
    was required was  a slight push on the whirling drive belt to put on ‘idle’.  That way the whole  assembly line was not affected.
     I assume the movement was normally done by some kind
    of lever.  But Dad, working in Guelph and later in Toronto, described how a worker decided to move the belt with his  hand.   His arm got 
    caught and he was converted to pulp as his  body was drawn up and around the drive pulley.  Pulp is the wrong word.  But Dad
    did say the man died.  I had  visions of the poor guy being whirled around the drive pulley like his body was a windmill.  Until his 
    arm was  torn from its  socket and  his  blooded body fell to the floor.  That is my image…might be true .
     The pulleys  in this factory below are quite small but I do not see any idling pulleys which means all at the production line
    has to be shut down to change a belt or service a machine.

    Dad had another industrial  story he told occasionally.   Rubber tires  were made with flat slabs of  reinforced rubber.  To make the rubber
    uniformly flat a large rolling machine was  used.  Very dangerous.  One worker got caught in the  roller and  came out flat.  Dead flat.
    Was this  true?  Well dad told the story as if it was true.  Accidents in factories…even factories like this Burnside Motor Works factory…were
    quite common.  And that still seems to be the case as a  few workers each year in Ontario meet their maker in such  accidents even
    though machines are now shielded and line shafts are a  thing of the past.

    The really bright readers among you will know what that machine on the far left actually did.   It may be the drive engine for the whole line shaft.  
    The machine that powered the whole factory.  See
    the drive belt dead centre…seems  to connect to that machine dead left.  Now why in hell’s half acre did  I  use the t erm  ‘dead’.

    When Dad retired from the Dunlop Tire Corporation around  1970,  Eric and I asked if we could  tour the factory and see what he did
    for his  whole working life.  That was  quite an experience.  Dad was  busy manhandling slaps of rubber … big slabs …onto some spinning
    machine on which he carved bug truck tires.  A job only for the strong.  Dad  was  strong and proud of his work.  He grinned  at Eric  and I
    as  the plant foreman took us around the factory.   Dad wore a simple sweatshirt and his  hands were blackened by the constant contact
    with rubber.   Dad seemed to like his  job as he turned down the foreman’s job when it was offered.  “I can make more money making the 
    tires than supervising.”

    Dad liked working for Dunlop’s because for many years the factory was  very close to the Woodbine Racetrack where he spent all or 
    nearly all of his idle time.   He  loved the horses  yet ye spent his life making car and truck tires for machines that rendered  horses
    obsolete. Eric and I spent a  lot of time at racetracks along with Dad and occasionally mom.  But only once did  we ever visit the
    rubber tire factory.  Glad we  did.


    alan skeoch
    Nov. 28,2018



    Photograph taken in 1920 when the LITTLE SKEOCH CYCLE CAR WAS IN FULL PRODUCTION….three car assembly line.
    In 1921 the factory burned to the ground  and the Little Skeoch became a blip in the the history
    of the car industry.

  • Fwd: The Little Skeoch…picture of 1920 factory



    Begin forwarded message:


    From: SKEOCH <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>
    Subject: The Little Skeoch…picture of 1920 factory
    Date: November 28, 2018 at 12:09:49 PM EST
    To: Alan Skeoch <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>

    THE  SKEOCH CYCLE CAR PRODUCTION LINE IN 1920

    (Dalbeattie, Scotland)

    alan skeoch
    Nov. 28, 2018

    Seems to be quite an  interest in my last email concerning the Little Skeoch so  here  is  another picture of the production line as  it appeared
    in 1920.  Lots of  things to see including the typical line shafting along the ceiling of the factory.   Wheels on the line shafts drove the industrial
    machines…lathes, grinders, etc.    If you are really perceptive you might see the convertible top unfurled  and ready for assembly.  If you can 
    read, and some  of you can no doubt, you will see a sign mentioning Wolseley Oil  Engines…whatever that means.   And  those if you who
    are socially aware  and critical of the grim atmospheres of factories might note that sunshine floods  this  factory floor.

    My dad,  Arnold (Red) Skeoch became a  tire builder in Canada around this time and I will always remember his stories  about the
    dangers  of the big line shafts which had a drive pulley beside a stationary pulley.  If you wanted a machine to shut down all that
    was required was  a slight push on the whirling drive belt to put on ‘idle’.  That way the whole  assembly line was not affected.
     I assume the movement was normally done by some kind
    of lever.  But Dad, working in Guelph and later in Toronto, described how a worker decided to move the belt with his  hand.   His arm got 
    caught and he was converted to pulp as his  body was drawn up and around the drive pulley.  Pulp is the wrong word.  But Dad
    did say the man died.  I had  visions of the poor guy being whirled around the drive pulley like his body was a windmill.  Until his 
    arm was  torn from its  socket and  his  blooded body fell to the floor.  That is my image…might be true .
     The pulleys  in this factory below are quite small but I do not see any idling pulleys which means all at the production line
    has to be shut down to change a belt or service a machine.

    Dad had another industrial  story he told occasionally.   Rubber tires  were made with flat slabs of  reinforced rubber.  To make the rubber
    uniformly flat a large rolling machine was  used.  Very dangerous.  One worker got caught in the  roller and  came out flat.  Dead flat.
    Was this  true?  Well dad told the story as if it was true.  Accidents in factories…even factories like this Burnside Motor Works factory…were
    quite common.  And that still seems to be the case as a  few workers each year in Ontario meet their maker in such  accidents even
    though machines are now shielded and line shafts are a  thing of the past.

    The really bright readers among you will know what that machine on the far left actually did.   It may be the drive engine for the whole line shaft.  
    The machine that powered the whole factory.  See
    the drive belt dead centre…seems  to connect to that machine dead left.  Now why in hell’s half acre did  I  use the t erm  ‘dead’.

    When Dad retired from the Dunlop Tire Corporation around  1970,  Eric and I asked if we could  tour the factory and see what he did
    for his  whole working life.  That was  quite an experience.  Dad was  busy manhandling slaps of rubber … big slabs …onto some spinning
    machine on which he carved bug truck tires.  A job only for the strong.  Dad  was  strong and proud of his work.  He grinned  at Eric  and I
    as  the plant foreman took us around the factory.   Dad wore a simple sweatshirt and his  hands were blackened by the constant contact
    with rubber.   Dad seemed to like his  job as he turned down the foreman’s job when it was offered.  “I can make more money making the 
    tires than supervising.”

    Dad liked working for Dunlop’s because for many years the factory was  very close to the Woodbine Racetrack where he spent all or 
    nearly all of his idle time.   He  loved the horses  yet ye spent his life making car and truck tires for machines that rendered  horses
    obsolete. Eric and I spent a  lot of time at racetracks along with Dad and occasionally mom.  But only once did  we ever visit the
    rubber tire factory.  Glad we  did.


    alan skeoch
    Nov. 28,2018



    Photograph taken in 1920 when the LITTLE SKEOCH CYCLE CAR WAS IN FULL PRODUCTION….three car assembly line.
    In 1921 the factory burned to the ground  and the Little Skeoch became a blip in the the history
    of the car industry.


  • THE LITTLE SKEOCH MOTOR CAR … LIVED FOR ONE GLORIOUS YEAR…1920


    ONCE UJPON A  TIME THERE WAS  A MOTOR CAR CALLED  THE LITTLE SKEOCH

    (also called  The Skeoch Motorcycle  Car)

    alan  skeoch
    Nov. 27. 2018

    Maybe we should bring back the LITTLE SKEOCH MOTOR CAR.   It was small,, cheap and  simple…sort of  a  4 wheel bicycle  seating two people with a chains drive and  small

    motorcycle  engine.  So small that only two very slim people could  ride in it since the

    car was  only 31 inches  wide and a  little over 8 feet long.  

    Some of  you may think this  is some kind  of joke.  Wrong.  In 1920, James Skeoch built his first Little Skeoch, then entered it in a Scottish auto show and sold it
    in ten minutes.   All  told less than a dozen Little Skeoch’s  were built in his small factory.  Ten  were quickly purchased at that auto show. Price?  180 pounds…which was the cheapest car in the show.  None have survived.   Sadly in 1921 a fire  consumed  his little factory and as  a  result the Burnside Motor Company in Dalbeattie,  Scotland, ceased to exist.




    Skeoch utility car




    The original Skeoch Utility Car.


    Skeoch Utility car advertisement






    Burnside Motorworks

    Pictures of the Skeoch production line were retrieved from Skeoch  family albums.   Not exactly an automated  factory.
    But the LITTLE SKEOCHS were real mini cars and seemed about to make a big splash in the booming car market of the 1920’s
    until  fire ended  the enterprise.  Everything became a  blackened  pile  of scrap  iron.

    James Skeoch moved on.   His skills were valued.  He had a  long successful career and  died  in 1954.
    Not many people, by 1954, were even  aware that there was  such a  car as the SKEOCH.   Memories are short especially since 
    none of the Little Skeochs  survived.   Gone  Gone Gone.    

    Well, not quite.

    POSSIBLE REBIRTH OF THE LITTLE SKEOCH

  • Fwd: ALAN SKEOCH AWARD 2018



    Begin forwarded message:


    From: SKEOCH <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>
    Subject: ALAN SKEOCH AWARD 2018
    Date: November 14, 2018 at 6:31:06 PM EST
    To: Alan Skeoch <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>, “Macdonald, Leigh” <lemacdonald@scdsb.on.ca>


    LEIGH…SEE MY NOTE THAT FOLLOWS…THIS  IS THE SPEECH I WOULD  LIKE TO GIVE…MIGHT TAKE EIGHT MINUTES

    ALAN


    SKEOCH  AWARD  … TO  NATHAN TIDRIDGE
    ( HAMILTON WENTWORTH DISRICT BOARD OF -EDUCATION)

    CRITERIA
    1) SENSITIVITY TO STUDENTS AT ALL LEVELS.
    2) COLLEGIALITY WITH FELLOW STAFF MEMBERS
    3) ORIGINALITY
    4) ENTHUSIASM
    5) REACH  BEYOND THE CLASSROOM INTO BROADER COMMUNITY


    ALAN SKEOCH
    NOV. 15, 2018

    Members of  OHASSTA, publishers, student teachers, ladies and gentlemen

    I consider it a great honour to have this  award  given in my name annually to a  classroom
    teacher whose  contribution to education has  been remarkable.  

    What makes  a  remarkable teacher?

    Off the top I would put each of you in that category because you are willing
    to reach  beyond the classroom to the wider  world of  education…that’s why
    you are here at OHASSTA…you are  perpetual  learners … improvers…interested
    in others ideas…prepared to share  your ideas.  Remarkable.

    Nathan  Tidridge, this year 2018 is you…How  do I know?  Because for
    the last half  century…48 years I have sat among you…joined  your tables…
    shared  your joys and  your failures…noticed  things that make you remarkable

    -Remarkable teachers  are respected…first and  foremost…without that respect Remarkability fizzles.
    -Remarkable teachers remember names…memorize names  of their students from the get go
    -Remarkable teachers can  control their classrooms…clear objectives
    -Remarkable teachers never humiliate their students
    -Remarkable teachers  have thick skins…not all teaching goes  smoothly…sometimes a  student might
    tell a teacher to Go to Hell…that is a  real  teaching moment…remarkable teachers  know that.
    -Remarkable teachers recognize distress in certain  students…and provide help…or get help.
    -Remarkable teachers laugh a  lot…and can laugh at themselves
    -Remarkable teachers are positive people;e
    -RemarKalbe teachers respect social distance…they are called  Sir,  Miss, or Mr…not Joe, John or Judy
    -Remarkable teachers enjoy rather than fear parents  nights
    -Remarkable teachers want their students  to achieve…to be elevated
    -Remarkable teachers know what they are doing…the lessons are going somewhere…coherent
    -Remarkable teachers understand the curriculum…even  though they might pinch it a bit…or expand it more
    -Remarkable teachers  are passionate about their subject
    -Remarkable teachers  are passionate about children…love working with them
    -Remarkable teachers  are remembered  … forever
    -Remarkable teachers are cut from various  cloths…they  are not digital cut outs…they differ…students notice

    I had a lot of remarkable teachers


    Phyllis Morgan…who loved Latin but also  spent much  of her life finding  places in the  work world  for her students…and
    who recognized distress and took action.
    Evan Cruikshank…who admitted there were things  he did  not know about our world…instilled a desire  to work as  a  team in the classroom
    Roberta Charlesworth…who lifted  me  by my ear and  drummed one clear lesson into my teen age brains  “I judge people by what they do,
    not by what they say.’
    Duncan Green…who  found a place for everyone in his  classes…in his school  play…on his track and field team…no one was  left out
    Fred Burford…who  made math seem easy…and  who elevated a nondescript bunch of teen age boys into a formidable team of football players…
    education requires  team  work.  I got the hop, step and  jump…not a  stellar role but one I  could attempt.
    Miss Sharpley, Grade 6, who made every student feel important but who also  treated every student the same…
    Mr.  Herman Couke…who suspended  me for 5 days for spotting a  football game played by  an  enemy school…that
    was  unethical behaviour he explained…I have to suspend you Alan … your first offence…must treat all students the same
    or our educational system will collapse into a sea  of favouritism.
    John Ricker who taught me  a wonderful skill…to keep my mouth shut if a  lesson  takes  off…he  was  prepared  to
    zip  sideways  in a  lesson…peripheral … and he used silence as a control skill…and  he showed deep  thinking and power using just as few  words as possible.
    He knew  the power of  Silence…slow sipping of his  coffee  with his  eyes ferreting the room…then with one word…the word “Really”
    he established  that historical  causes and effects are never simple…many causes of  one big effect…and that effect had  consequences
    that were varied … not simple.   If he  were in  your class  next Monday he might ask”
       -Who is Donald Trump?
      -Why did so many Americans vote  for him?   
      -Why did the  Journalist Woodward title his book on Trump, FEAR?

     Or he  might just say, “I was thinking the other night about human  civilization, what makes us remarkable?  Do we have a future?


    Alan Skeoch
    Nov. 14, 2018
    OHASSTA  CONFERENCE