In a series of short vignettes, Rev. Dalton describes true life stories of two small boys who can't seem to stay out of trouble, and the importance of the whole community in raising its children.

The Journey Begins

This journey through the eyes and experiences of Jim and David will transport you a time and place where you will build many rafts, pick blueberries on the high rocks, encounter bears (yes, real ones), swim in rivers, and go upstream through the first, second, and third eddy past Terrions' farm, with just a bamboo pole, black line, one hook and a bucket of worms, and fish every eddy. Spear suckers in the Moira River at Ackerman mine. Tap maple trees (on the unknown property of others) and pre-boil sap outside on a huge wood fire. Know just about every farm and family within miles and be a special part of their family. Play "jack-knife" on the wooden steps of the general store and listen to the whippoorwill (magical). Ball games in the summer, skating rinks (two) in the winter, and a ski hill with a barrel jump. Daily visits to the cheese factory, where Mr. Callery would allow us to scoop out of the large vats our cheese curds for the day, much to the chagrin of our mother, who only saw stains of grease on our clothes.

All of this with a cadre of many friends who shared along with us, and we with them, on this magical journey. We would spend time with other’s families on their farms and in homes as they accompanied each of us, as I reflect back on this journey. They were families who cared for us, and in my words, were a village who raised a child.

As we grew in years, Marmora became our home away from home. The village that raised a child was Marmora as well. Our circle of friends grew. Howard Sabine, the Price family, especially Margaret and Margery, the twins, the Lynch brothers, and our family's church home, St Andrews United Church. Stories abound around Charlie Crawford's bus line, Sanderson Taxi, Hanna's Dairy, Breen O'Connor's pool hail, and especially the Royal Hotel on Saturday night. One cannot talk about this time in history without mentioning Dr. Hamilton Crawford, that rotund, almost magical doctor who knew everyone, gave us our first shots, and attended to the clinic in the basement of the Deloro Smelting and Refining Company office (how modem was that in the '40s). As well, we remember the building of the first Dr. Hamilton Crawford Memorial Arena.

There was Glen Allen Park, Marble Point Lodge, Tipperary House, Beaver Creek (where our so-called fishing skills grew), and Bonters cabins dock, where we would watch the sunfish grab our hooks to such delight Again it felt like we were a part of every family, and every family was our family.

We moved three times in Deloro, from our first house at #7 O'Brien Avenue, to the bungalow, and then finally back to O'Brien Avenue. My greatest recollections come during our time in the bungalow, right next to the Chemical Lab, and across from the company office.

Next week: Vera