WRITER JEFF MAGUIRE REMEMBERS ME -- AND JOHN KENNETH GALBRAITH

The most pleasant surprises occasionally crop up when meandering though the Internet with the aid of my Google search engine.  Such was the case this past weekend when two names suddenly bounced out of my monitor screen -- Jeff Maguire and Dick Wright.  "What the heck (word to that affect)," I said in amazement. I remembered Jeff Maguire as a young reporter at the St. Thomas Times-Journal during my time as City Editor. Quickly hitting on the link, what to my wondering eyes should appear but an Inside Ottawa Valley.com story Jeff had written several years ago, recalling an assignment I had given him to cover a speech by the famed John Kenneth Galbraith in 1971. I'll let Jeff pick up his story from here. He makes liberal and kind mentions of me.

Jeff Maguire has been writing for community
and daily newspapers in Ontario since 1971 and
 contributes regularly to Ottawa Valley. com
online news site. 

By Jeff Macguire
Carleton Place Almonte Canadian Gazette

...I had just joined the newsroom staff at the daily St. Thomas Times-Journal in St. Thomas, Ontario. St. Thomas, a city of some 40,000 south of London, is the centre of government for Elgin County, an elongated jurisdiction of some 1,840 square kilometres that hugs the north shore of Lake Erie between Fort Erie and Windsor.

It was 1971 and I was a wet-behind-the-ears reporter who had just moved to the larger daily newspaper from the smaller (twice-weekly) Wallaceburg News in the town of the same name between Sarnia and Chatham.

The city editor was a happy-go-lucky guy named Richard ‘Dick’ Wright. He is long retired and lives in Southampton, Ontario on Lake Huron.

Dick had connections to Chatham where my late mother Molly and my wife Kathleen (Kathy was my girlfriend in 1971) were both born. He took me under his wing and helped “protect me” from the managing editor an English expatriate who was, to say the least, not an easy man to work for.

One thing Dick did for fledgling reporters was make sure we got a square meal as often as possible. The best way to ensure that was to send us to lunch meetings held by the local service clubs. We covered the guest speaker’s address and got a free lunch.

On this particular day the managing editor had a great deal of interest in the St. Thomas Rotary Club’s weekly lunch meeting. That’s because the guest speaker was world-famous economist John Kenneth Galbraith.

The boss would have preferred a more senior staffer covered the Galbraith speech, but no one else was available that day. He had no choice but to send the rookie. Dick told him, “Jeff will do just fine.”

John Kenneth Galbraith

I didn’t need any added incentive. I was already familiar with Galbraith who, to this day nine years after his death, remains one of the most highly regarded economists in world history. He was a best-selling author. Galbraith penned nearly 50 books along with several novels and hundreds of essays. He authored a famous trilogy on economics ‘American Capitalism’ (written the year I was born), ‘The Affluent Society’ (1958) and ‘The New Industrial State’ which was released in 1967.

Galbraith earned degrees from the University of Toronto and the University of California, Berkeley before starting his teaching career at famous Harvard University in Cambridge, Massachusetts in 1934. Later he briefly taught at Princeton University in New Jersey. But his longest tenure as an educator was at Harvard where he was named Professor of Economics in 1949 and was a highly respected faculty member for half a century.

Galbraith was an active Democrat. He served in the administrations of four presidents including Franklin D. Roosevelt (during the critical Second World War years), as well as assisting Roosevelt’s successor Harry Truman and then serving in the Kennedy administration as well as working for Lyndon Johnson who succeeded the assassinated JFK.

Galbraith was the American ambassador to India during Kennedy’s all too brief tenure. The list of national and international awards the economist received is lengthy.

So, why was he speaking in St. Thomas, Ontario in 1971?

The answer is easy. Galbraith was born in nearby Iona Station in 1908. He grew up in Dunwich Township near the village of Dutton (now part of Dutton/Dunwich) in Elgin County. He attended a one-room school and later received his secondary school education in Dutton and St. Thomas.

Galbraith became an American citizen in 1937, the same year he married Catherine Merriam Atwater, a Radcliffe grad. The couple was married for 68 years until his death in April 2006 at age 97.

He never forgot his southwestern Ontario roots. That’s why he came to St. Thomas in 1971 at the invitation of the Rotary Club. His speech was not focused on his outstanding careers as an educator, author and political advisor to four American presidents. Instead he talked about his formative years. What it was like to grow up on the family farm in rural Dunwich Township. That’s all he wanted to talk about during the interview I did with him afterwards as well.

Galbraith was impressive physically – he was six foot, eight – but what I recall was his very kind demeanour while speaking with a young reporter. He had been interviewed countless times by scribes from the world’s largest newspapers. But his friendly smile and attitude immediately put me at ease.

In his 1963 book ‘The Scotch’ Galbraith, whose parents Archibald and Sarah were Canadians of Scottish descent, wrote about growing up in a part of Canada that was more Scottish than Scotland.

I remember him telling me how tight the community was – in every sense. The Scots of course are not only famous for their contributions to the world but also for their frugality. Galbraith laughed when he said his neighbours “were as tight as bark to a tree.”

In fact in ‘The Scotch’ he recounts the legend of one John “Codfish” McKillop of Dunwich Township. It is said that when McKillop died and was being lowered into the grave he lifted the lid of the coffin and handed out his clothes.

What I remember most about that long ago interview with the famous man was his obvious affection for the place where he was born, raised and attended school. He had such vivid and fond memories of those who were part of his early life. Despite his impressive career and status (he won countless awards and honours in his lifetime) he never forgot his upbringing and happy home life. That’s why I will never forget my interview with John Kenneth Galbraith.

In conclusion, I’m happy to say that my hard to please managing editor was silently satisfied with the story I produced for the T-J. Dick Wright was good enough to tell me that later!

AUNT ANNIE'S HISTORIC METIS HOME IN SOUTHAMPTON

Aunt Annie's House has been remodeled over the years.

There's a little nondescript cottage near the harbour in Southampton that I passed dozens of times without really noticing it. As a matter of fact, it took a good 15 years for me to finally realize the historical significance of "Annie's House", one of the oldest homes in Southampton, built even before the community was surveyed for a town.

Angelique “Aunt Annie” Longe, was a Métis woman born on the banks of the Saugeen River in 1844 and she lived in the home most of her life. As a girl she sailed the Lake Huron shore with her family in a ship packed with chickens, supplies and furs for trade.

Aunt Annie sitting in front of
her home, circa 1900.

Annie spoke English, French, Anishinaabemowin and Gaelic and her home at the harbour became the hub in the community for many of the local settlers, Metis and others who sought to speak in their native tongues. She was also often consulted on traditional medicine and served as a midwife, helping bring many Metis babies into the world. In later years she always left a candle burning in her front window as a symbol of protection for the Metis fisherman who braved the waves of the "Sweetwater Sea" (Lake Huron).

A spinster, Annie died in November, 1934. Her parents were Joseph Longe Jr. and Christine Plante.

The Saugeen Metis have lived at the mouth of the Saugeen River since the early 1800's. They were fur traders, mariners and fisherman and continue to live in the area to this day.

Likewise, Aunt Annie's House remains in the Longe family after more than 160 years and is available for rent during the summer months. 

Historic Saugeen Métis (HSM) are hosting their 10th Annual Rendezvous this weekend and the house will be open for very rare guided tours...I plan to be there to see what else I've been missing.

JAYS CARE FOUNDATION HELPS WITH WALPOLE ISLAND FIELD OF DREAMS

Walpole fans get a hug from B.J. Bird

I stumbled across the following story quite by accident and thought that I would re-publish it on Wrights Lane for the edification of some old friends from my hometown of Dresden who, like me, spent many summers on nearby Walpole Island. I remember in particular one summer in about 1948, playing baseball on pasture-like grounds frequented by wild horses. Toronto Blue Jays fans may be interested too in how our favorite baseball team is reaching out to the community at large.

A future Blue Jay?
The stuff dreams are made of.

Up until last year, Lee Jacobs was embarrassed at the state of Walpole Island’s baseball diamonds on Austin Road. A dedicated volunteer, Jacobs was trying to get organized baseball and softball going on Walpole Island, but the diamonds were close to being unplayable.

“We had unsafe fences, we had pond sand in the infields which just hold water,” Jacobs said. A couple of years ago, Jacobs was forced to cancel 48 home games due to having a field that was destroyed after every rain storm.

With a $140,000 assist from the the "Jays Care Foundation" -- which is the Toronto Blue Jays charitable arm -- as well as contributions from other local sponsors, such as Union Gas and South Kent Wind Farm, the diamonds are now in tip-top shape due to major repairs and rehabilitation. Jacobs and other volunteers had worked tirelessly over the previous couple of years in the effort to upgrade the two baseball diamonds.

“My biggest concern was always the kids,” Jacobs said.

When he started minor ball on Walpole Island almost 10 years ago, Jacobs started with two lackluster diamonds and one team. Walpole Island minor baseball now has five teams and two top-notch fields. Jacobs said he hopes that the organization can only grow, especially with a dedicated group of volunteers that take care of a lot of the work in keeping the organization running.

The new diamonds were on display for the first time last summer during Walpole Island’s National Aboriginal Day Solstice celebrations on June 21. It’s a well-worn cliche, but for Jacobs, it was a field of dreams, as hundreds of people from Walpole Island and neighouring First Nations communities came out to the refurbished baseball fields to take part in a baseball clinic held by the Blue Jays organization.

Jacobs said it was like Christmas morning, as he was excited to see the baseball diamonds get their time in the spotlight.

“I grew up in these diamonds. I played on these diamonds when I was six, seven years-old. Me and my friends would meet up here every day in the summer and we would play games…,” Jacobs said.

Along with a new canteen and washrooms, the fields have been improved, fencing has been added, as well as other improvements. Jacobs said more improvements are in the works, including fixing up a third ball field in the park.

Robert Witchel, executive director for the Jays Care Foundation, said while the majority of young players eventually leave baseball for other pursuits in life, the game teaches "resiliency about ourselves and how to be better people,” adding that the Jays foundation was impressed with the Walpole Island minor baseball minor baseball organization and how the older players helped out with the young players.

Along with the baseball clinic, the Blue Jays welcomed close to 300 Walpole Island residents to one of their home games last June to celebrate National Aboriginal Day.

A most commendable initiative by Canada's one and only major league baseball organization. Makes me even more proud to be a Blue Jays fan!

Members of the Walpole Island Minor Baseball Association gather at home plate for a photo with B.J. Bird, the Toronto Blue Jays' mascot.

BLAME OUR TRIBAL INSTINCTS FOR POLITICAL VEXACTION

"It is easier to be uncomplimentary and argumentative when you are sitting at a computer keyboard than it is when sitting/standing face to face with another individual. Politics in general bring out the worst in people and social media has become a vehicle for venting previously suppressed frustration, anger -- and, yes, even hatred indicative of man's inbred inhumanity to man. This despicable trend will continue as long as an ill-advised public keeps jumping from the frying pan to the fire by electing combative leaders of questionable character and backgrounds in protest to the perceived performance of incumbent governments. Otherwise, Heaven help us, the attack mode now prevalent in political discourse will continue to fester and divide otherwise decent people."

I posted the above comment on a friend's Facebook timeline earlier today in response to his understandable dislike for unsavory and personally insulting responses to a politically-oriented item he had recently generated.

As the political parade passes, the troubling spectacle plays itself out on television and social media every day. Those who gather choose their sides of the avenue. In so choosing, they self-segregate. Tribal affiliations are on display. It’s a natural human tendency, with deep roots in our evolutionary past.

According to Sharon Begley, writing about the Kurzban-Cosmides-Tooby jersey experiment in which team colors seem to overcome racial biases, [Kurzban’s] basketball-jersey experiment and others who have confirmed its results, suggest that humans do have brain circuits for classifying people — but according to whether they are likely to be an ally or an enemy.

As I say, politics brings out the worst in us by tapping into those tribal tendencies. Sure, trading barbs is better than trading bullets. We all know really nice people who participate in stinging or acrimonious exchanges online. Maybe we get so uptight that we do it ourselves.

How about the oft-repeated: "Justin Trudeau is a joke and so are the people who support him."

Here’s a nice headline from the U.S. that you might have seen: “5 Scientific Studies That Prove Republicans Are Stupid.”

Or how about: “Yes, Liberalism is a Mental Disorder.”

Here we have someone calling hundreds of millions of people stupid or crazy. Never mind that the country can’t be so easily divided into two teams. It’s a two party system in the U.S. and three parties in Canada. So in that good old democratic operating system (DOS) you have choices of app, which means choices of tribe.

I wondered if anyone else ever sees this subject from my lonely distance. In this vein, I found some relevant thoughts from the Cato Institute’s Trevor Burrus:

Like any other game, the rules create the attitudes and strategies of the players. Throw two brothers into the Colosseum for a gladiatorial fight to the death, and brotherly sentiment will quickly evaporate. Throw siblings, neighbors, or friends into a political world that increasingly controls our deepest values, and love and care are quickly traded for resentment.

But it gets even worse. The first-past-the-post rules of our democratic politics turn a continuum of possibilities into binary choices and thus imposes black-and-white thinking onto a world made mostly of grays. Teams (politicians), cheerleaders (pundits), and fans (voters) galvanize around an artificially schismatic world view.

And then our biases take over. Now that we’ve invented a problem — “which group of 50 percent +1 will control education for everyone?” — imposed a binary solution — “we will teach either creation or evolution” — and invented teams to rally around those solutions — “are you a science denier or a science supporter?” — our tribal and self-serving brains go to work assuring us that we are on the side of righteousness and truth.

The shrillest and most dogmatic pundits and politicians become the most popular, feeding our sense of righteousness like southern Baptist preachers.

This could have been yet another of those articles which end with a call for reasoned discourse or more tolerance. Plenty of those articles have been written, and I conclude that they don’t do much good. Our tribal brain burns hotter than any intellectual plea for tolerance.

I agree also with futurist and theorist Max Borders who says "Politics sucks and democracy is overrated."

"Politics — especially elections — creates a system that brings out the worst in people. It poisons relationships. It pulls us in as spectators who stand agog at a completely inauthentic show of national politics (over which we have virtually no power). We end up mostly ignoring the local issues over which we could have considerably more influence. As a consequence, an entire nation falls under a particular kind of spell," Borders went on to state in a Foundation of Economic Education article.
  
As like-minded Jeffrey Tucker writes, "We are encouraged to believe that we are running the system. So we flatter ourselves that our opinions matter. After all, it is we the voters who are in charge of building the regime under which we live. But look deeper and you discover a truth that is both terrifying and glorious: the building of the great society can’t be outsourced. It is up to you and me.

"The only people to whom our opinions matter are the pollsters with their robocalls and their wet index fingers held aloft, and the media who hold up mirrors so distorted we can barely recognize ourselves."

People are different. They are going to have differences of opinions, they’ll hold different values, and run in different circles. But we expect that our opinions, values and circles should extend to nations of multi-millions of people; by brute force if necessary. And until they do we’ll just get on Facebook and sock them in the face until they stay plastered.

On Election Day, the team with the red jerseys will pull on their side of the rope. The team with the blue jerseys will pull on their side of the rope. In the end, both will end up in the mud — because they’ve been standing in it all along.

It was ever thus...and evermore shall be!

Too bad.

I don't like it, but I accept political verbal warfare between sides as an unfortunate fact of life that I prefer to view from a safe distance, often with a hint of humor and devil's advocacy.

TRUE LOVE OVERLOOKS THE IMPERFECTIONS OF TIME

Oh God...here I go again, shedding melancholia induced tears.  I'm trying to get over that!

I have lately been throwing out and giving away things that are just taking up space in my life or are no longer of value to me, having outlived their usefulness. In that vain I was about to toss a small notepad in a garbage can today when, flipping through the pages, I came across the following in my rather sketchy hand writing:

"Physical attractiveness diminishes with age. Love sees the imperfections that come with time and turns them into reasons to love even more.  God bless those who are able to share the intimacy of that love over the years. Life can be lonely otherwise." 

I can't remember when I jotted down that note, nor why, but something must have struck a chord within me at the time...It certainly had special emotional impact for me as I read those words today.

All I can add to that notation now is: It (life) is lonely because you are left with no one to share your imperfections with...I really miss that kind of love!

It's not nice knowing that you are imperfect...and not having someone to say "It is okay, I love you anyway!"

Advise to self:  Enough talk about imperfections.  Throw them in the garbage can along with the notepad that has now served its purpose. Love yourself anyway!