Like a Dog with a Bone

Early morning near Sandbanks ON in Prince Edward County, Ontario. Our seventh day on the road, only a fifth of the way across This Great Land of Ours. I was once accused of travelling with ‘too much focus’. So be it. The focus this time is Great War memorials. The quest for interesting cenotaphs is real enough but l admit that it’s also an excuse to see new territory.

After stopping at Pugwash NS to gawk at the war memorial statue we dropped in on Amherst Shore friends Garth and Carol and were received just about a warmly as Steve Nash would be if he showed up at my door. On the Northumberland Strait folks boast that the waters are warmer than anywhere else north of the Carolinas. We finally took our first dip of the summer and were inclined to endorse the claim.

At Dorchester NB I communed with great-uncle Wild Bill Livingstone, MC & Bar, who morphed from war hero and youngest member of the Nova Scotia judiciary to a two-year resident in the federal penitentiary. It is a long story, and a sad one.

Woodstock NB is a charming old town on a bank of the Saint John River. We stopped to look at the town’s fine war memorial then went to the library where archivist librarian Greg Campbell went above and beyond to find answers to my question, ‘Who designed the memorial statue?’

Quebec has relatively few war memorial statues but the Eastern Townships boast a small concentration. We found splendid, sometimes over-the-top, specimens at Richmond, Sherbrooke, Magog, all by the same man, skilled Montreal sculptor George W. Hill.

Before setting out on the present adventure I used a red highlighter to mark provincial maps with the locations of every war memorial featuring a statue. My Ontario map looks like a bad case of measles. We can only scratch the surface but we’re already impressed with Ontario’s dedication to remembrance. Morriceburg, Brockton, Gananoque, Kingston, Picton: all attractive towns with fine monuments in the heart of town.

We do other stuff too. We went to Sutton, a beautiful area of southern Quebec, to see Jan’s Aunt Ruth, our first stopover in twelve years. Ruth has a new pal, Pepe, a year-and-a-half Pekinese dustmop who provided a highly entertaining floorshow. At Kingston we found Aunt Evelyn, still ramrod-straight, enjoying better health than most folks in the 92nd year.

I plead guilty to the charge once laid against me: that I am a heatbag, a high-strung and volatile hothead. At Johnstown ON another minor explosion elicited something choice from Jannie: ‘You debase the anger coinage.’ Hmm, perhaps it’s time I learned to count to ten. Satchel Paige, a wise, wise man, counseled that cooling the blood is good policy.

This morning we are off to visit Coburg and Port Hope, both important scenes in the later life and times of Canada’s greatest soldier, Sir Arthur Currie. Yeah, I know, there’s the focus thing again, but the old dog is locked on to a choice bone.