Just Passing By

    Looking so lost now, lonely and hopeless, Mine Centre stands today like a complete collapse compared to the thriving village I knew in its gold mining era.
    Picture Fort Frances today allowed to go back to nature, with all businesses and industry vanished. Brush takes over and in the case of Mine Centre, where my daughter drove me last week to end my nostalgia.
    There are not that many rocks around us here, but those were not the most conspicuous part of the village I left so long ago.

    Looking so lost now, lonely and hopeless, Mine Centre stands today like a complete collapse compared to the thriving village I knew in its gold mining era.
    Picture Fort Frances today allowed to go back to nature, with all businesses and industry vanished. Brush takes over and in the case of Mine Centre, where my daughter drove me last week to end my nostalgia.
    There are not that many rocks around us here, but those were not the most conspicuous part of the village I left so long ago.

    After “Sambo” Fedoruk held McDonald’s door for me, I had to ask our all-star Canadians’ Allan Cup defenseman of 1952 what he thought about a new junior hockey team emerging here this fall—and his answer surprised me!
    “I haven’t though anything about hockey in a long time, “ answered Sambo, whose real name I seem to remember a Walter. Partner to Ed Dun Sampson or Alex Kurceba when we were grateful for the presence of three of four blueliners including Alex Kurceba, the latter came from Winnipeg but remained with our team for years.

    Along came a district lady who handed me a photo of my long-gone mother and her sister, Aunt Grace Foors, mother of my cousin, Claude McFarland.
    The picture was a gift from Marlene Kellar of Burriss, whose very name brings up memories of my mother’s relatives and friends among the Kellars of Arden, Ont., where I visited during the Second World War years (the Kellars down east being neighbours of the Veleys, my mother’s people).

Deannie Lynyk comes from Ottawa with a great appreciate for horses of the therapeutic variety (i.e., the kind that can cause crippled riders to feel better). I’d met Deannie before at McDonald’s and shared her interest in Ottawa since I attended Carleton U. there after the Second World War. She had promised to return and soon left to seek Leesa Wickstrom, whom Deannie learned was keeping Appaloosa horses (that breed also has a reputation for helping people). Her own horse is a Pasofino, which she claims can carry a rider at speeds up to 40 m.p.h.—and beneficially.

I was out early as usual, being a former farmer, and our Aspen House caretaker has provided me a bench right at the front door. There I was early last Wednesday when a group of women returned with some good advice: “For an early-morning experience on a good day, try a walk around Pither’s Point Park,” one told me. “It’s so nice out there!” “Beautiful,” agreed another.
• • •

Rising above everything else going on here last Wednesday, again the glorious tones of Jackie Grynol, with Bob Wepruk’s orchestra at the Rainycrest dance, probably earned greatest admiration, although the Shrine Circus at the Memorial Sports Centre stunned the audience with the believably largest elephant on tour. That elephant worked hard to earn its keep, although far below Jackie in musical brilliance as it stuck to musical instruments, playing a huge harmonica and horn and drum to prove its versatility. While I missed the circus, my favourite singer continues to steal all hearts.

Sunshine returning Sunday found it again necessary to bring along a cool morning breeze. But okay, summer cannot be far behind now as the youngsters romp around outside amid the dandelions and blossoming trees. And, would you believe it after all the setbacks, the lawns needed cutting finally!

With word now that Pither’s Point Park dock is being so badly neglected, along with the Rainy Lake Hotel, the former Royal Theatre, and so many other long important aspects of our community, everybody has been wondering what next?

Word that our former NHL’er, Ed (Sonny) Kryzanowski, had died at Atikokan, his home of recent years, hit those from my high school era here very hard. His memory will be prized in Fort Frances, his original hometown, because this always modest man began his athletic career here in high school football as well as hockey of the 1940s before the Boston Bruins claimed him for its blueline. Sonny was closer to me than any other high school friend, having bunked with me twice at Kenora when we spent two nights there after football games.