Alan Skeoch

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  • Fwd: episode 1,474; GEORGE RICHEY FAR…..”CLUNK” LOST IN AN OHIO CORN FIELD ON DARK NIGHT IN OCTOBER 1998



    Begin forwarded message:


    From: ALAN SKEOCH <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>
    Subject: episode 1,474; GEORGE RICHEY FARM…..”CLUNK”— LOST   IN AN OHIO CORN FIELD ON DARK NIGHT IN OCTOBER 1978
    Date: December 28, 2025 at 2:27:07 PM EST




    “CLUNK…” The truck refused to go any farther.    It was  dead. 
    the universal joint hung down among the corn stubble. We were
    in serious trouble… inky blackness all around.

    When the truck died we had been driving for 8 hours.  Heading to the Richey Farm in central Ohio
    near the Norwich village (population 85).  Daylight failed by time we reached Buffalo, then west to Cleveland
    hugging Lake Erie shore, then south to Pittsburg on super highway, then cutting westward through Amish
    countryside where no lights showed.  Inky blackness except for headlights. 

    We shared the highway with dozens of 18 heelers en route to the golden valleys of California.        Empty trucks
    driven by cowboys who resented my pathetic two way radio attempt at conversation— an exaggeration bred by fear.

    ‘How is traffic south to Pittssburg, 10-4?”

    “Fuck off.”

    Boxed us in on one occasion.  18 wheelers front back and side…uncomfortable for us.  Was boxing deliberate

    or imagination?


      Two kids, two dogs,
    two adults…one decrepit brown van limping southward.

    “Boxed in.  Is this deliberate?”

    “Cut the small talk on the two way radio, Alan,’’

    The hours slid by…took us 8 hours to reach the corn field…we arrived well after midnight.  Our van
    was no longer purring.  Sort of grunting now and then but once in gear it kept up with traffic.  Very little
    traffic west from Pittsburg thankfully.   Kids asleep with dogs.   Marjorie watching the road seemingly
    unaware of our trucks plaintive wheezing.

    South from Norwich the road twisted and had sharp turns. Black night…black as hubs
     of hell.

    Gravel road….steep hills. Deep valleys. Darkness. 


    Ancient settlement road seemed to end in the corn field.

    “Where are we??”
    “I don’t rightly know>”
    “Could you not stay on the road?’”
    “What road?”
    “What was that ‘Clunk?”
    “Truck will not move…we are stranded.”
    “Shouldn’t we ask for help…farmhouse over there?”
    “Late…black night…danger to knock on door…guns.”

    Then the night darkness was gone.  Headlights popped on,’
    We were surrounded by camper vans and and half ton trucks
    here for the annual Steam Up (ran for 40 years)

    George Richey snuffled a greeting and noticed the gut
    of our truck hanging…
    How did you get here with that … no way to transfer 
     from motor to wheels.”
    “Just kept moving…noisy.”
    “We’ll get it fixed,”

    Two trucks moved over to our truck with headlights…men crawled under…
    marvelled the we survived the journey…said they could
    fix things up in morning.

    MORNING AT STARVED ROOSTER FARM, OCTOBER, 1978
    …George and Helen Richey, Norwich, Ohio— 8 hour drive from Toronto

    Before we awakened a bunch of mechanics crawled under our truck
    and used ‘bailing wire and binder twine’ fixed her up for the trip home
    on Sunday — therefore we had one day to enjoy and interview,
    to eat and tell stories about the fertile drainage basin of the
    great Missisippi River.

    Lionel Hofmeister:  “I remember standing on the banks of Missisippi around 1910 and seeing steam spouting from
    a dozen or more threshing rigs.  The soil was that thick and rich.  Today that rich black soil is washing away each
    season and no one seems to care.”

    Botanical illustrationMaturing crop, Germany<img alt="Aultman & Taylor Threshing Machines Mansfield NEW Sign: 24×30" USA STEEL XL Size – Picture 1 of 1" data-zoom-src="https://i.ebayimg.com/images/g/cBEAAOSw9bRngfcQ/s-l1600.jpg" loading="eager" src="https://i.ebayimg.com/images/g/cBEAAOSw9bRngfcQ/s-l500.jpg" fetchpriority="high" srcset="https://i.ebayimg.com/images/g/cBEAAOSw9bRngfcQ/s-l140.jpg 140w, i.ebayimg.com/images/g/cBEAAOSw9bRngfcQ/s-l500.jpg 500w, i.ebayimg.com/images/g/cBEAAOSw9bRngfcQ/s-l960.jpg 960w, i.ebayimg.com/images/g/cBEAAOSw9bRngfcQ/s-l1600.jpg 1600w” sizes=”(min-width: 768px) 60vw, 100vw” style=”transform-origin: 599px 248px;” class=””>

    What Is Sorghum? 

    <object id="img" apple-inline="yes" style="width: 684px; height: 385px;" class="" data="https://alanskeoch.ca/wp-content/uploads/2026/04/20220919154911-1663705064668@2x.jpeg” type=”application/x-apple-msg-attachment”>So first things first, what is sorghum?

    “Sorghum is a plant that is part of the grass family, Poaceae. Because of its ability to grow and thrive in dry and drought-prone areas of the world such as Africa and India1, it is a primary crop in these places,” says Lena Bakovic, MS, RDN, CNSC, registered dietitian at Top Nutrition Coaching. As a result, sorghum is actually the fifth-most produced grain globally2and one of the most-consumed grains worldwide3. 

    The history behind this grain is also fascinating. Evidence shows that wild sorghum was first harvested by hunter-gatherers in the Sahara as early as 8,000 BC4, and it was first domesticated somewhere between 2,000-1,700 BC.

    ONE GRAND DAY WITH GEORGE AND HELEN RICHEY

    Our boys spent Saturday feeding the sorghum into the crusher that squeezed a thin stream of sorghum into a pail to be refined
    into molasses like product that was edible.  Maple syrup is better in my opinion.

    Ancient farm machines arrived, were admired — some worked — then were taken back to their home farms.  Most of the
    time we talked of times past.  About 50 people were invited.  Not a huge crowd. Really a special crowd.

    “Wild pigs down in the sharp valleys.  Keep dogs close to home, Alan.” 

    ‘ Then we had a harvest feast among George Richey’s collection of tractors all of which were working.

    I spent the day worrying about the trip home.  Would the driveshaft fall out on an American highway  on a Sunday afternoon miles
    and miles from home?  Our truck was fixed but would it last for an 8 hour drive?

    “Can you spare a bit of time, Alan — We would like to show you the BIG MUSKY — just a mile or so south of here.?”
    “Sure, but we have no fishing rods.”
    “Not necessary, anyway.  This is Sunday.  Big Musky sleeps on Sundays.”
    “Let’s take  a look.”

    What was George talking about?  

    Next Episode — THE BIG MUSKY OF EASTERN OHIO



  • GEORGE RICHEY —SEAGOING COWBOY 1946.


    EPISODE  1,473  700 WILD HORSES WITH GEORGE RICHEY…’JUST TURN THEM LOOOSE’.

    ALAN SKEOCH
    DECEMBER 23, 2025

    SETTING: JUNE, 1946.
    S.S.  Benoit Victory
    George Richey, Seagoing Cowboy
    near Hamberg, Germany
    Mysterious disappearance of 700 horses.

    “What do we do with the horses now, George?”
    “All 700 old them?”
    “Yes…and do it fast…we cannot feed them.!”

    “Let them go….all 700 at once on streets of Hamberg…(700 horses running wild…were never seen  again.)
    “What will happen to them?”
    “No one knows…I bet most of them will be eaten. The people are starving and do not have the time
    or the energy to tame the wild ones.   We will never know.  No one keeps records and thousands of
    horses are being shipped to Europe on Liberty ships like ours.  Ships that once carried tanks, troops
    and oil are now carrying horses. heifers, donkeys even chickens.  thousands of them…so many
    have been slaughtered.  Better chickens eaten now than waiting for them to lay eggs.  Starvation.”
    Same with our 700 horse.
    “Surely not that bad.”
    “Worse than you can possibly imagine, George. Just go for a walk along the rubble strewn streets of Hamberg.
    (Bombers from England had pulverized Hamberg…imagine the sudden arrival of 700 horses from America.)
    “Imagine the sudden arrival of 700 horses running free through the rubble…our horses some or
    which must have been captured in the Rocky mountain wilderness…wild horses.”
    “Wild is right.”
    “One bit me…hurt…big teeth clamped on my arm.”
    “Difficult enough for 12 of us to feed the horses as the ship heaved its way across the Atlantic.  So many ships full of animals.”
    “Some ships can carry 1500 horses.  All we have to do is get them to Germany or Poland alive.”
    “Then what happens?
    “guess.!”
    “Have you ever seen something about them?”
    Not a word.”
    “Take cows for instance…
    “Milk is needed  desperately,  Dairy herds gone.  Some cows were shipped but not many.  Suppose we had to milk 700 cows every for
    nine days…impossible”
    Cows have to be milked daily.  If not milked cows die an agonizing death…they scream.”
    “Dairy herds that survived were few in number but I don’t really know.  No records…like
    our 700 horses.   We can only guess their fate. Those that could be harnessed were
    were very valuable but the others…eaten I bet.”

    Does anyone know what h

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  • EPISODE 1,471; EMPATHY — DEMONSTRATED BY JOHN MORTON YEARS AGO at high park curling club., TOROTO.

    alan skeoch dec/ 18, 2025
    Some curling games are soon forgotten…others are hard to forget. This game happened years ago. John Morton threw an 8 ender. That means that my team had a terrible game. John Morton’s eight ender made me feel bad…embarrassing…humiliating.
    “We got an 8 ender!!!“ He began to yell. But he looked over at me. I was feeling lower than a snake in a rut. John cut off his jubilation…threw his arm around my shoulder and said:
    “Come on Al, I’ll buy you a beer.”
    That’s empathy in action.
    alan skeoch

  • EPISODE 1,470; TORONTO’S GRENADIER POND HOSTS 1993 GRAND MATCH OF CURLING (HIGH PARK CURLING CLUB)



    EPISODE 1,470:  GRENADIER POND HOSTS GRAND MATCH OF CURLING   IN WINTER OF 1993

    alan skeoch
    december 17,2025


    <img id="” alt=”image029.jpeg” class=”Apple-web-attachment Singleton” style=”opacity: 1;” apple-inline=”yes” src=”https://alanskeoch.ca/wp-content/uploads/2026/04/4D741554-03D1-405A-A821-BCAC433F4624.jpeg”>


    “ALAN, let’s get a team together for the Grand Match of Curling on Grenadier Pond,” said Brad.

    So Brad Schneller, Mike Dent, Ed Werenich, THE WRENCH, and I became one of the 64 teams of curlers to venture on the
    ice of Grenadier Pond deep in the winter of 1993.  

    Was the winter ice able to hold 300 curlers, several sets of curling stones, and 1 bag piper blowing his heart out?

    Legend had the story that a bunch of British Grenadiers died trying to retreat from American forces in the War 
    of 1812 —  with their wheeled canons and assorted weapons.   If the legend was true (which it wasn’t) then
    their skeletons and their artillery pieces must be poking out of the mud deep down.  The pond is 15 feet deep
    with a bottomless layer of mud (not bottomless but that makes the legend more interesting).

    Our 1993 curling team dressed suitably in old bear, buffalo and raccoon skin coats were ready.  My son Kevin gave me a Russian
    field hat from the ill fated invasion of Afghanistan in the 1990’s.  The other 64 teams were  similarly fashionable.
    If the ice gave way we would all be planted dead — 15 feet down under.

    Just as our games got started in 1993 a snowstorm swooped down so a full count was never done.  64 x 4 x assorted hangers plus one piper equals = 
    a lot of dead bodies if the ice gave way.

    I think it was Paul White, High Park Curling Club, along with many others who hatched up the Grand Match to celebrate the club centenary.
    Did they check with insurance companies?  Good question.  Those who had doubts of our survival linedthe shores of
    the 35 acre pond on west side of 100 acre High  Park.  Maybe bets were made among these rubberneckers.

    As the snow deepened and the ice harder to find Mike Dent of our team volunteered his body as
    a giant broom with two guys dragging him at a right angles to the ice.   Earlier he had forgotten to let go of
    his rock and slid down the ice after his body hit the surface with a loud ‘whump !’.

    Fortunately our skip, Ed W, had a whisky filled hollow metal curling broom.  That provided false courage and warm guts.’

    Back at our High Park Curling Club the gutless wonders who refused risks toasted the memories of those of us who did not
    get off the ice in time.

    Right now I would like to propose toast to three of my teachers at Humberside who founded the club — Stuffy McInnis, Herb Tancock
    and the father of Duncan Green.  They would have joined us had they lived long enough.   Duncan Green offered me his dad’s curling stones
    which would  have  been used on the ice that winter day in 1993.

    Now let’s skedaddle through the twisted streets of Parkdale to the club which is hidden there.

    alan skeoch

    P.S>  Would an insurance company c0ver this venture?

    P>P>S>  Around 1995 we did a Radio Noon CBC story about Grenadier Pond in which Mike Smee,
    Christopher Thomas and I persuaded our boys to dive down to see if the snouts of ancient cannons remained.  Kevin surfaced
    “Nothing down there dad” while Andrew took his time “shoved my arm deep in the mud, no cannons, dad.”
    Marjorie did not think much of the hair brained idea.    What a grand story it would have been had 64 teams of curlers 
    fallen through the Ice in 1993.  Someone else would tell that story.

    The legend lives on.!




  • SOME PEOPLE YOU KNOW ARE TRUSTWORTHY…SIMON IS ONE OF THAT KIND. Hawaii trip Parkdale

    SOME PEOPLE YOU KNOW ARE TRUSTWORTHY…SIMON IS ONE OF THAT KIND.
    alan skeoch dec. 9, 2025
    Simon Cotter was president of our student council…a good leader. Good to be with. Fun. Lots of ideas. Independent…free wheeling.
    So when he asked speak to me privately I sensed it was trouble.
    “Sir, I’m in a bit of a jam.” “Unusual for you, Simon.” “Have you ever been to Hawaii? We need you desperately.”
    Simon thought he could organize a school trip on his own. Thirty students had been working all summer. Saving their money for a March break trip to Hawaii, The travel company assumed the trip was OK…i.e. had teacher chaperones. Simon was Simon…a free thinker. When the travel company discovered otherwise it was about to pull the rug out and take student deposits. He needed a chaperone.
    “OK Simon I will be your chaperone as long as 5 others come…all paying their own way, Marjorie and our boys Kevin, 8 years old, Andrew, 4 years old…and Mr and Mrs. Champion, British exchange teachers.’’ “Great sir, we needed a few more anyway,,,pack your bathing suit.”
    Once the trip became known, several staff members got alarmed…
    “Alan, you are asking for trouble. Simon may have Parkdale street kids coming….no telling what they might do.” etc. etc.
    (Parkdale street kids indeed were on the trip. They knew how to avoid trouble…best kind of kid to have on a trip. I did not like the term ’street kid’…revealed an upper crust attitude. Our principal was supportive. She trusted me. I trusted SIMON. His mom’s a trustee and his dad the a local anglican minister.)
    “Alan, the purpose of this trip is not education. The purpose is not, music history, art. The purpose is fun and fun can be very dangerous.”
    “ I trust Simon. He knows the risks.”
    Our boys, got out of bed early each morning to visit al the girls…loved them.
    EVENTS
    1) kids did not have a lot of money so were quite content to lounge on Waikiki beach with our children. Exotic experience. Middle of vast Pacfic Ocean. Lounging on ancient volcano with live volcano not far away.
    2) Trip to battleship Arizona where so many sailors were entombed.
    3) “What is that helicopter doing?. I asked a guy bobbing up and down on gigantic waves. All Parkdale swimmers were riding the waves with me…all save one!
    ’The Helicopter is spotting sharks and catching swimmers that get caught in the UNDERTOW!” Yikes! Get back to the beach.”I yelled,” and everyone save one did so. Erwin Beltran came along head first planting himself among the millions of coral shards. Marjorie and the boys unplugged Erwin. Lost his contact lenses.
    “Do a count…should be 17” “Count 16, sir…” “Simon is missing,”
    Sinking feeling…key member lost to shark maybe or, worse still pulled far offshore by current.
    “Here he comes…bloody back.” “Sorry sir…got caught in a coral grotto down the beach…..wave pushed me in ….hard to get out… scraped my back on coral but I am fine…sorry to cause alarm.
    There were undertow warnings but we never saw them…so exciting to swim in an ocean wave generated by the vast Pacific ocean.
    THAT’S IT…ONLY ONE ADVENTURE….ONLY ONE I HEARD ABOUT ANYWAY.
    alan skeoch dec. 13, 2-25
    QUESTION; Suppose Simon asked you to go as a chaperone…would you take the risks involved?
    If you want to scare yourself then talk to an insurance company,