Have no idea where this jumble of ideas will go, but Bob has been on my butt to put my thoughts into another submission. Since Windows XP no longer has security support, and, as Bob knows,  I cannot afford a newer system especially a MAC as he is suggesting,  maybe I will send him a bug.
   The  submissions have morphed from class memories, times and tribulations associated with our grade 8 class and school building to the many and varied memories we have of our time in Wingham. And this probably enriches Bob's endeavour, and our enjoyment of each others thoughts.

   Early memories of Wingham, for our family reached back long before we lived there. Dad, as a pitcher for the Wingham fastball team (Crosset Mercurys) brought us to the park when I was 8 or 9. We really didn't watch much of the games, but one gentleman instilled a memory crystal clear to this day; that is the memories of Alex Coutts rattling opposing batters. A sudden burst of noise which I think can best described as blowing bubbles under water was the sound that Alex made. A short man, with a bald large round head, Alex's eyes bugged through his wire rim glasses as he let forth his gurgle from a position directly behind the home plate just a a pitch was delivered.  How our catcher was able to concentrate, I don't know.  But it was a sound and sight to behold. Many an opposing player suffered from the curse of Alex. As an aside, many of you will have had his daughter, Miss Coutts, as a Social Studies teacher in grade 9. 
   Fast forward to our  arrival in Wingham in Nov. 1955 for my first meeting of Mr. Beattie's  grade 8 class. My first report card was not all that great, but encouraging words by Mr. Beattie,  a solid  home front, and becoming more familiar with the new school scene, did bring better results as the year moved on. Also, as the year moved on, I picked up a London Free Press paper route. For me, this was a familiar way to make a few dollars as, for 3 years previous to this, I had delivered the Toronto Telegram in Clarksburg. Most memorable of all the days I  delivered the Telegram was the day in 1953 when a  full front page headline screamed "STALIN DEAD".
   Back to Wingham, delivering papers introduced me to the adult world of Wingham at a time when I was so shy, I had great difficulty befriending from my peers. With the adults, I had a job to do--deliver the paper, place it in a secure location, and collect each week. Only as time passed did association with a few of my peers occur, Bob becoming a very good friend as we continued on into high school. I was kinda this small buck toothed kid that was new to town and shy beyond words.


   It was within this aura of shyness that a local lady, Mrs. Duval (she and her husband owned the mink farm on the base line) asked me one day while I was cutting their lawn, another way to make some spending money, if I might be interested in golf. It was something I had never dreamed of. This was for rich people. Anyway, with an old 4 iron in hand and a ball, both  provided by Mrs. Duval, we went to the golf course.  A mighty swing, as only a kid would swing, a few solid contacts on that first  walk around the course and the seed was planted.  Soon a visit to Vic Loughlean, a local barber who also made a buck selling sporting equipment, resulted in my first set of golf clubs. I  had found an activity and a place where I could  play and practice in relative seclusion, and as time passed, with confidence. But again, I was in an adult world at a time when  golf had  not reached the popularity it now enjoys among young people.        

Thus passed my first couple of years in Wingham. Bob has already alluded to the competition among he, Mickey McEwen, and the Jardin boys for the Royal T Sat. night treasure (beer bottles) Mickey chased us off one morning, but I just got up earlier the next Sunday. Since Huron was dry at this time, beer bottles were disposed of in Walkerton. Thankfully, my dad was on the road at this time, so occasionally her delivered the bottles and brought home the booty. 

So what else? Without Bob's grade 8 class project would any of us be spending much time thinking back to these times in Wingham? And there is so much more that can be told. Don't we all recall the reputation that Chief of Police Bert Platt had as a marksman? And how about our recollection of OPP Ron Bell as we hit the road. Maybe one more submission is brewing--at least some rough notes are laying around somewhere. That's it for now. Adios from the west

Lyman Jardin

Port Alberni

Summer is bringing back many pleasant memories of when the carnival came to town. Every summer the red trucks from Carter Shows would pull into town and set up for the Kinsman Carnival or who could forget those fabulous Frontier Days with the wonderful parades of floats and horses,clowns,calliope,vehicles of every description. The town park would be filled with food booths,merry go round,chair-o-plane,swings,octopus and ferris wheel rides. Candy floss and candy apple trailer,games of chance,dart game,milk bottle toss,a high striker to see who could hit the bell and win a prize for their sweetie. There were dances and entertainment every night. The air was filled with excitement and fun.There was the noise of the motors from the rides and music from the merry go round. There were no people walking around gazing at cellphone screens or yakking away and there were no "beer tents".  Our parents always knew where we were.(nearly) 

These memories are particularly vivid to me as they nearly parked the ferris wheel in our backyard. Over many years we became well acquainted with the Carter family and became friends with them.I loved Ernie Carter because brought joy and fun to people and I used to get lots of free rides. He was a small man with wisps of blond hair on a well tanned balding head,american born he had a New York Yonkers accent. He was a very clever mechanic,in fact he built all his rides himself. I had the experience of working with Carter Shows one summer when I was 15 traveling from town to town sitting up rides and tearing them down every week. I ran the dart game when the midway was running,it was fun watching people having fun. I slept on a cot in the back of the merry go round trailer with the flies.It was actually a pretty rough life but when you were that age you never noticed.

Ah! Summertime !