Google Street View Goes Up Manitoba 391

At long last, you can drive virtually to all the way to Lynn Lake on Manitoba 391 using Google Street View. This route takes you through Leaf Rapids, where I spent a memorable childhood; it's also where Sean was born. 

You can even explore certain parts of Leaf Rapids itself, though why Google didn't map the whole town while they were up there is beyond me--they didn't even capture the Town Centre, the community's primary infrastructure. 

But I did notice this: 

We moved to Leaf Rapids so that Dad (with Mom's help) could set up and manage the new Acklands store, seen here on the right. To the left of the old Acklands building is the former Midi Mart, the town convenience store, home of the Wigwag candy bar and Pink Elephant popcorn, among many other treats. All abandoned now. 

Breadalbane Church Model

While reviewing some of the photos stored on Mom's iPad, I found this image of a scale model of the Breadalbane Church . . . clearly shot inside Breadalbane Church. Church-ception! I wonder who built it, when Mom took the photo (or who sent it to her), and where the model is now. It's charming. 
 

Flin Flon Bombers Hockey Puck

While Mom recovers from pneumonia, Sean and I have been helping around her place, cleaning up and so forth. I found this Flin Flon Bombers hockey puck in the basement; until I found it, I'd forgotten we had it. I imagine Mom and Dad got it sometime in the late 1960s or early 1970s. 
 

USS Manitoba

This season on Star Trek: Lower Decks, one of the show's recurring characters was transferred from the show's "hero ship," the USS Cerritos, to the USS Manitoba, named for the province of my birth. Naturally I'm tickled, even though we don't actually see the Manitoba on screen, and the series' untimely cancellation after this season means we're unlikely to ever see it. 

Still, Manitoba represent! 

Cranberry Portage Evacuated

Cranberry Portage has been evacuated as a wildfire closes in on the tiny community. My paternal grandmother and her partner Val lived in Cranberry Portage for as long as I knew them; it lies just a few kilometers south of Flin Flon, my birthplace. 

Cranberry Portage is barely a blip on the highway, home to just a handful of businesses and some dozens of homes; it's a peaceful, quiet, lovely corner of northern Manitoba. I hope it survives this latest crisis. 

Grandma and Val's house in 2006, demolished after their deaths a few years back. Warm memories. 

Sean's Birthday 2024

It's Sean's birthday! Here we are in Leaf Rapids. He's older now, and no longer wears jumpers. Happy Birthday, younger brother!  
 

Gordon Lightfoot: A Legend Passes

Gordon Lightfoot, one of my favourite musicians and a genuine national treasure, has passed on. 

When I was a kid growing up in northern Manitoba in the 70s, I played Mom and Dad's 8-track of Lightfoot's Don Quixote over and over. I wouldn't consider myself a huge fan of folk or country music in general, but Lightfoot transcended genre with music and lyrics of great sensitivity, grace, and power. His songs told stories that rang true and evoked powerful emotion. 

Regarding Don Quixote itself, the title track is exquisite, and I love "Alberta Bound," and especially "Brave Mountaineers," but "Looking at the Rain," linked above, is just...transcendently sad and mournful, soulful and gorgeous, and I can't help but sing along and cry every time I hear it. It's the song I hope survives civilization for aliens to find so that someone out there knows that humans were capable of creating something so timeless and magical.

And of course there are all those other magnificent works from his other albums..."Sundown," "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald," "Carefree Highway," "The Canadian Railroad Trilogy," "If You Could Read My Mind," and, most especially, "Early Morning Rain..."

He was a gift to the world. Thank you, Gordon Lightfoot, forever timeless. 

The Mystery of the Arctic Cat

For a few years in the 1970s, during our time in Leaf Rapids, we had an Arctic Cat snowmobile. I don't have any photos of our Arctic Cat, but I do remember it having some purple highlights, so perhaps it was a model much like the one above. 

Leaf Rapids was a great place for snowmobiling. There was plenty of snow for nine or ten months per year, and exploring the dense forest on the back of a snowmobile gave me a great sense of adventure, even if I was just a passenger. 


 

The Other Side of the Theatre

For most of the 1970s, I lived in northern Manitoba. My paternal grandmother lived in Cranberry Portage, so sometimes we drove a little further, to about 10 km south of Flin Flon, to the Big Island Drive-In. Because the summer days in northern Manitoba are so long, the shows tend to start pretty late. On a clear night, the stars were amazing; light pollution was, and is, pretty low up there. These days you listen to the movie's audio via your FM tuner, but back then we had to attach giant metal speakers to the window, and boy, were they heavy, at least for a small child like me. There was something really special about sitting in the front seat between Mom and Dad, sharing popcorn, a small soda clutched in one hand. 

I believe I saw at least three movies at Big Island, but I only remember two for certain: Heroes, starring Henry Winkler as a suffering veteran of the Vietnam War, and The Other Side of the Mountain, a drama based on the true story of skier Jill Kinmont. All I remember of the third film is a woman in a small brown room sitting at a piano while composing a song. 

I feel as though I also went to a drive-in theatre in Edmonton once, but I can't say for certain; I certainly don't remember what film I might have seen. 

The Big Island Drive-In remains open to to this day, so if I ever head back to Flin Flon, I won't let the opportunity to see a movie there pass me by. And wow, check out the concession offerings! 
 

The Last Photo of Dad

Dad died four years ago today. This is the last photo in which he appears, at least that I'm aware of; one of my cousins or aunts or uncles on Mom's side must have taken it, sent it to Mom, who then must have sent it to me. Or maybe my cousin David (seen here between Mom and Dad) sent it. 

The saddest thing about photos of loved ones is that one such photo will be the last, and you likely won't even know it for a while. This photo was shot near Salt Lake, Manitoba, on August 11, 2018. While this was happening, Sylvia and I were with her parents at a dinner theatre show in West Edmonton Mall. A little over a month later, Sylvia and I left the car in Leduc with Mom and Dad just before we flew to New York. Dad's colour was off that day, but at the time we didn't understand the significance of it. 

Just before we returned, Dad was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. He was gone a few weeks later. At the time, I honestly thought he was going to be okay; I think maybe my brain wasn't allowing any other possibility.  Even when the doctors had to call off the operation that had a chance to save him, I thought they would just try again another day. They didn't; they couldn't. 

So Dad moved on, and all of us miss him. He was a good man. I wish he was still here; for our sake, sure, but more because Dad was still enjoying life and I feel like he had more he wanted to do. 

That's all. 
 

Forgotten Sunrise

Golden light forces its way through the forest's defences

To paint a brave, solitary ray across the foaming surf

Of an undiscovered river with no source and no delta
What the hell kind of river has no source and no delta? 
Metaphorical rivers bubbling briskly through bad poems
 

How Would You Replay Your Life?

Replay, Ken Grimwood's 1986 novel, keeps crossing my mind even a couple of decades after I first read it in the early 2000s. The premise is simple but utterly fascinating in its possibilities and limitations: Journalist Jeff Winston dies of a heart attack at age 42 in 1988, but awakens with all his memories back in his 18-year-old body while starting university in 1963. He lives his life with the tremendous advantage of his experiences and knowledge of the next 25 years to come, but no matter what, he dies at age 42 and starts the cycle all over again, with each "replay" growing slightly shorter. 

Winston occupies his replays in various ways. He finds a different love, he gets rich, he goes public with his knowledge of the future and winds up in the custody of the US government, all the while trying to understand why he's in this predicament and what it all means. 

A Replay with a Difference
I think anyone who reads this book has wondered what they would do in Jeff's situation. I've played out the scenario several different ways, but lately my hypothetical goal has changed, as have my parameters for my replay cycle. 

Imagine if whatever force of nature or diving being was behind the replays wasn't getting what it desired out of the cycles. Perhaps it was missing something fundamental. So he/she/it decides, or evolves, a different replay methodology. 

After my first death, I get a choice. Instinctively, I know that I'm going to be reborn in my own body at a younger age, but I have a fraction of time to choose the exact date. 


I choose April 5, 1976, the day after my brother Sean is born. I choose this death for two reasons: First, because my knowledge of the future and my inability to remember precisely what I was doing when I was seven years old mean that I might do or say something before my brother's birth that might affect his conception, delaying it or advancing it by the few crucial hours or days that would mean I'd likely wind up with an entirely different younger sibling. Second, because in a sudden explosion of near-death hubris, I decide I want to use my replay to save the world from climate change - and having the knowledge and experience of a, say, 60- to 80-year old man housed in the body of a seven year old would be startling enough to attract the attention of adults with enough influence to potentially do something about my warnings of future catastrophe. 

In this scenario, the later I die the first time, the better, because I can describe the worst effects of climate change to the people of the 1970s. But even if I died now (um, please no), I think I still have enough knowledge to convince the powers-that-be that the time to act is their "now." 

Strategy: Minimize Harm to My Circles, Maximize Chances to Halt Climate Change
My first concern would be to avoid traumatizing my parents, my new little brother, my friends and teachers at school, and my extended family, at least to the extent possible. I'm not a good enough actor to play myself at seven years old, but I might be able hide the sudden disappearance of the child that I was by growing even more introverted and thoughtful than I was. 

I'd do my best to act like the kid I remembered being in Leaf Rapids: I'd toboggan in the winter, play with action figures, read voraciously, play cops and robbers, watch Star Trek on CBC, one of two English television channels we had up there. But I'd also be spending (even more) time at the library. And I'd be writing letters. 

The First Outreach
First, I'd try Dr. Carl Sagan. Going strictly my memory, I believe that in 1976 he'd probably be working on either the Viking (or was it Mariner?) Mars lander and the Voyager 1 and 2 probes. My first letter might go something like this: 

"Dear Dr. Sagan, 

"My name is Earl J. Woods. I'm a great admirer of your work and your writing. As a scientist, you know that extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence. I have an extraordinary story to tell you, and I'm hoping we can talk about it. But first, I have to provide you with some extraordinary evidence, evidence that might take some months or years to come to light. 

"Sometime in 1980, you will write and star in a television series called Cosmos, based on your book of the same name. The show will air on PBS, and in it you'll tie human history and civilization to astronomy, astrophysics, and the great forces of nature that shape our evolution and possibly our destiny. The show will feature music by Vangelis; the first episode will be named "Heaven and Hell," which is also the name of one of the pieces of music by Vangelis composed for the show. The show will be hailed as a major work of education, and you'll become famous for your intonation of "billions and billions." (I don't remember if you actually said/will say this in the show, but it becomes an enduring meme.) 

"Voyager 1 and 2 will not only meet but greatly exceed their mission parameters. Or was it the Pioneer probes you worked/will work on? I don't remember the specifics, but rest assured Pioneer was also a great success.

"In the election of 1980, Ronald Reagan will defeat Jimmy Carter. The Iran Hostage Crisis will end shortly before or after Reagan's inauguration. There will be an assassination attempt on Reagan in 1980 or 1981; the would-be assassin will be John Hinkley, who had an unhealthy obsession with Jodie Foster, the young actress from Martin Scorsese's film Taxi Driver.

"Star Wars by George Lucas will be the highest-grossing film of all time in the summer of 1977, though Gone with the Wind will remain the true champion when adjusted for inflation.

"Director Alfred Hitchcock will die in 1980.

"A few years after writing Cosmos, you'll write Comet with your partner Ann Druyan.

"In 1983, the Soviets will shoot down Korean Airlines Flight 007 over, I believe, the Kamchatka peninsula. This action will precipitate a massive diplomatic crisis and is seen as one of the most dangerous events of the Cold War." 

"Conservative Joe Clark will become Prime Minister of Canada for a few months in 1979-1980, leading a minority government. His government will lose a vote of confidence and Pierre Trudeau will return from 'a walk in the snow' and lead the Liberals back to power in 1980.

"Dr. Sagan, by now you will think that I'm some kind of madman, or perhaps a stalker who's somehow discovered things you thought private, like your future plans. I'm hoping that my writing this letter will not cause the events I remember to unfold differently. My only hope of your belief is that at least a few of the events I've predicted come true.

"I'm writing to you because I want to share some very important future events with you. I believe you're one of a small percentage of people in the world who understand the existential threats our civilization faces. Currently I believe you're most concerned about nuclear weapons. Take some solace in knowing that in my experience, they have never been used as weapons of war since 1945. 

"The threat humanity faces is global warming caused by burning of fossil fuels. By 2022, scientists expect that the world could warm up by another 2.5 degrees Celsius or even higher by the year 2050. In my future, the impacts of climate change are already being felt in the form of more intense and more frequent natural disasters such as wildfires, hurricanes, flooding, drought, and so on. The world's glaciers are rapidly melting, and government and industry have failed to take the actions necessary to prevent the worst from happening.

"I am not a scientist. I'm just a reasonably well-read layman. If I can prove my knowledge of future events to you and other influential people, there's a chance that my warnings about climate change could cause human beings to act more decisively and far earlier than they have in my time, which by now you'll have surmised is the early 21st century. 

"If and when you meet me, you'll probably be shocked by my appearance. But that's a problem for another time. For now, I can only hope that you'll be curious enough to reach out and perhaps conduct some scientific tests to determine if I'm telling the truth or if I'm just another crafty faker.

"I'll continue to try and remember events of the late 1970s before they happen in an effort to convince you faster. I'll write more letters as I gather my thoughts; this experience is still very new to me, and very difficult to navigate. 

"I've enclosed my phone number and mailing address just in case you threw away the envelope. How I wish I had e-mail or a cell phone to text you, but those things won't be invented for decades. Would you believe there's more computing power in my phone than there is in your most sophisticated equipment of today - probably by a factor of thousands? I'll tell you about it sometime. 

"I hope to hear from you. Thank you for showing how science is a candle in the dark. You were and are an inspiration. 

"Regards, 

Earl J. Woods" 

Backup Plans
If Sagan failed to respond, I'd probably start writing similar letters to science fiction writers and the campaigns of national US and Canadian politicians. George Lucas and Gene Roddenberry might be good bets; I know enough about the production history of their creative efforts to boggle them. They don't have the benefit of 50 years of behind-the-scenes books and documentaries. 

Securing My Own Future
Somehow, I'd convince our family doctor to check my parents regularly for specific health issues I know they'll develop later in life. I'll be nicer to my brother and more forgiving and less clueless with people my age. I'd be tempted to direct my parents to invest a little money in sure stock hits, but boy, would I be wary lest I create enough of a butterfly effect to change the course of the future and make my predictions less and less accurate and therefore less convincing to the people in charge. 

I'd certainly avoid getting addicted to Coke, and I'd work harder in university. I'd pursue writing jobs more aggressively and start that career earlier, given my decades of subjective experience. I'd stay in shape; keeping weight off is a heck of a lot easier if you don't get fat in the first place. 

Success or Failure?
Even if my warnings were heeded, would industry and governments take action that was bold enough and early enough to save civilization? I have no idea now, and I'd have no idea as I aged from seven up. I might get an inkling by the 2020s; if things aren't as bad in that decade the second or third or fourth time around, I'd know my strategy was paying off. Maybe, as in the book, I'd survive my destined death once civilization was safe, and maybe I'd get enough extra years of life to enjoy the fruits of my efforts. 

It's a nice fantasy. How terrible that I need it. 

The Further Adventures of the Adventure People

 

Over ten years ago, I wrote about the Wilderness Patrol Adventure People set I received as a Christmas gift way back in 1976. To my flabbergasted surprise and utter delight, on Saturday Sean gave me a virtually complete, mint-condition Wilderness Patrol set he found on Ebay. They're all here: the forest ranger, the collie, Red, the pilot, the sleeping bags, the pontoon boat, the plain, and the ATV. The only thing missing is the tow rope, which is pretty insignificant. The toys and figures are all in outstanding shape considering their age, and they brought a whole raft of memories flooding back. These guys really lived up to their name, both in Leaf Rapids and Leduc--exploring the "desert sands" of Leaf Rapids (the beautiful beach sand ground so finely by the retreating glaciers thousands of years ago) and the "dense jungles" of Leduc (the lawn and plants of our back yard). 

Sean, this was an incredibly thoughtful and impactful gift, and I'll find these guys a place of honour when the library is transformed into the game room. 

My Mother's Mother

Our Mother's Day plans for this year were partially foiled by weather, COVID-19, and family illness, but Sylvia and I managed brief visits with her mother and mine to check in and wish them well. This Mother's Day I'm particularly grateful that Mom remains healthy and sharp-minded, and that she's now fully vaccinated against COVID-19. Fingers crossed this also means she's protected against the new variants bubbling up around the world, but luckily Mom is smart and cautious so I'm confident she's going to be okay. 

Earlier today Mom sent over this photo of her mother, my maternal grandmother. It was taken on the Leask farm sometime in the 19-teens. She looks quite vibrant here! It's an image I've never seen before, and I'm grateful to have it - not as grateful as I am to have Mom, of course. 

A Fishy Culinary Tradition

 

Whose idea was it to add breading or batter to fish? Fish is delicious when fried or seared, rich in flavour and texture. Breading it just masks the flavour and makes the whole dish feel much heavier than it should. 

Maybe I'm spoiled. Mom and Dad used to catch fresh fish from the pristine lakes of northern Manitoba and clean and fry the fillets right at the campground. The pickerel and trout they prepared in those days remains my favourite meal of all time. All fish since has paled in comparison. 

Even so, I can still enjoy fish if it's not wrapped in a casing of fried lard and butter. 

Fish: better without the batter. 

Six Million Dollar Mag

Many years ago, almost certainly in Leaf Rapids, I bought this issue of Charlton's The Six Million Dollar Man magazine. Published in black and white, the magazine included comic stories and photo essays. 

The story descriptions on the table of contents provide a decent preview of the writing style used for the scripts. It's a very strange style; dry, with sudden jolts of emphasis. The art inside is quite decent, although the male gaze was definitely heavily in play when it comes to the women characters. 

If I still had the cover, I might have considered keeping this. But I lost it so many years ago I honestly don't remember what the cover looked like. And so the one and only issue of this magazine I ever read slipped into the recycling yesterday as part of my merciless quest to create space. 

It Was X Number of Years Ago Today

Here's my brother Sean some decades-odd years ago, tuckered out in the boat after an afternoon of fishing near Leaf Rapids, Manitoba. Note his yellow lifejacket--safety first! One of Sean's claims to fame is this: he was the seventh baby born in Leaf Rapids. 

Happy Birthday, Sean, and here's to many more. 

A Plan for Pinawa

If it's ever safe to go outside again, I'd love to take a few days for a summer road trip to Pinawa Dam Provincial Heritage Park, the site of one of the first hydroelectric dams on the Prairies; it operated from 1906 to 1951, and judging by the photos on Google Maps, it's an impressive sight. The park itself looks quite bucolic. 

 

More Colours Out of Time

 Here's a black and white photo of Mom (right) with her older sister, my Aunt Jean. It was taken sometime in the 1950s at the farm near Virden, Manitoba. 

Here's the same photo colourized by Jason Antic's image colourization software. Colourizing black and white imagery is nothing new, of course, but I'm pretty impressed by the results given how easy it is to use the software; just upload your photo and the algorithm spits out its best guess. 

I deliberately chose to shoot some of Michael and Naomi's wedding with black and white film. Here are Jeff and Susan at that wedding in glorious black and white.

And here they are in colour. 

Say what you will about the wisdom of colourization, but for all its flaws I find the process fascinating, and I imagine the colours will achieve greater fidelity and believability as the technology improves. 

Farewell Aunt Margaret

Last night, Mom received the news that her oldest sister, Margaret (Etsell) Newton, had passed away in Winnipeg at 88. You can see Mom at the far left beside Aunt Margaret, with Aunt Jean and Aunt Marjorie, respectively, on the right. 

I'll miss Aunt Margaret. She was kind, compassionate, warm, intelligent, and accomplished, and she had a smile that lit up the room. My thoughts are with my Uncle Gordon, my cousins David, Kathy, and Barbara, my aunts, and, of course, Mom.