A Funny Story aka Perils of Living in The Grey Area (Spoilers ahead)
On this day in 2007, the famous “Sopranos” ending aired. Back then, we watched our TV with what was called a Free-To-Air satellite box, which was a receiver that was designed to bring in free channels available on satellites that could also be programmed to bring in paid channels. Like I’ve discovered with most things in my life, it wasn’t illegal to do this in Canada, but it was definitely in the grey area.
Due to it’s instability, there had been a few occasions in the past where our TV had stopped mid-show. You can imagine how frustrating this was.
So, picture this - we had put our young children to bed and settled down to watch the much-hyped finale of one of our favourite shows ever. As the episode approaches its end, the Soprano family slowly arrives at their favourite restaurant one by one as Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing” plays. There is some tension in the air. As the scene builds, suddenly the screen goes black.
I can’t remember exactly what the reaction was at the time, but I’m sure it involved some cursing as we couldn’t believe the receiver stopped working just before the end of the show. I hustled trying to get it back on, but eventually we realized it was too late. We missed THEEND! Or, at least, we thought we did.
The next day we awoke to learn that there were many, MANY others who thought the same thing had happened to them - that, for some reason, the show had been cut off accidentally.
Of course, those who know the finale, know this was exactly how it was supposed to end. And, although many hate it, I now think it’s a brilliant ending as it reflects how quickly and quietly a life, even one as big as Tony Soprano’s, can be over.
And what a daring and challenging way to end such a successful series - “not with a bang but with a whimper.”
I returned to a favourite spot for hundreds of trilliums earlier in the week, but unfortunately, I arrived after their peak. However, just like every other living thing impacted by entropy, there is still beauty to be seen. Beauty is not just for the young and blooming.
(I considered not posting this today because of the heartbreaking news from this week. Please read to the end to understand why I am.)
I watched an episode from the newest season of “Black Mirror” last night; I had forgotten how thought provoking it is. The episode was titled “Eulogy” and it was the story of a man, played by Paul Giamatti, who receives a package from a “memory collection service” in preparation for the funeral of someone from his past. To aid his memory, the service is able to place him inside of photos he finds. As always on “Black Mirror” the unintended consequences of entering his photos force the main character to question his memories of the failed relationship he had with this person. And, without hopefully giving too much away, he discovers that he missed or wasn’t aware of some important details that could have changed the trajectory of his life dramatically. It was heart breaking. It got me thinking about the importance of awareness and reminded me of something I used to ask my students when it felt like their eyes were too focussed on their screens - What if the thing that might inspire the rest of your life passes you by simply because you’re not paying attention? This triggered Thoreau who wrote, “most men lead lives of quiet desperation.” Which, to me, isn’t saying that so many are simply unhappy. It goes deeper than that. There seem to be many who give the appearance of outward contentment, who, in fact, never followed their true desires and because of this feel stifled or unfulfilled. I can’t help but wonder if this is because they “missed their calling” due to a lack of attention? Or perhaps they were convinced their inner desires didn’t fit in with societal expectations, which is also a type of distraction. Which brings me back to where I started. There are likely some who will read this and think I’m being insensitive by posting this today. I am not following societal expectations when it comes to death and mourning. But this is part of the point I’m trying to make. Life is fleeting. At some point we will have to say goodbye to everyone we know…and we’ll be lucky if we get the chance to as life can change in an instant. Which is why, as I now understand it, my parents always hugged me and told me they loved me when we were leaving each other. This was often accompanied by “Just in case this is our last time together” or “Just in case we die.” Something that I (annoyingly?) continue to do with my family and close friends. Although many will see this as morbid, I do not. Because if we treat every moment we have with each other as our last, we appreciate and are more grateful for the short time we have together. And we’ll never run the risk of not saying goodbye to the people who are most important to us. Sending much peace and love to all, but especially to those impacted by this weekend’s tragedy.
(This is an edited version of a blog post originally written in May of 2020.)
With many of our usual summer events and routines being changed this year, it is getting harder to see what our future holds. So, instead of looking forward, I thought I’d look back at some of the area’s interesting history and start with the one that is physically nearest to us and the one that got me interested in the local history: The Ainslie Wharf.
When we first moved to Leith 21 years ago, I had no idea that there was once a wharf here. Well, I guess that isn’t exactly true. The pilings above the water certainly suggested that something once jutted out into the water. More accurately, I had no idea how big both the Wharf and the dreams of this hamlet were.
As local historian, Andrew Armitage, describes it: “It’s a romantic ruin, a massive length of heaped stones and water-soaked pilings that at their most westerly extent vanish into the bay.”
At first, I just thought the pilings were something cool to photograph.
Sometimes they attracted interesting wildlife that perched in the bay.
And then, some time between 2014 and 2018, the pilings disappeared as Lake Huron rose to overtake them. Around that same time, I purchased a stand-up paddleboard. On one of my first launches from Leith, I once again had a chance to see the pilings, this time under the surface of the water. As I paddled out, I was amazed at how far they went.
Some time later, I asked Andrew about the pilings. Within a few days, he sent me a story he had written about the wharf. I was stunned when I learned what an ambitious project it was. Andrew writes, “Adam Ainslie’s dock is the story of the hopes and dreams of Leith, a village that once wanted to be a city. Settled in the 1840s by ambitious Scots, Irish and English, the rapidly growing community was touted as an important port of call, a settlement that would surely rival its neighbour, Owen Sound, whose harbour was actually a tamarack swamp.”
The more I learned about the wharf, the more amazed I was at the work that must have gone into it. Adam Ainslie convinced members of the community to build his dock. They worked hard, “building it straight out into the bay on the north side of the Water O’ Leith in 1861. Bee after bee was organized as area farmers drew thousands of wagon loads of rock to fill the substantial cribs that formed the dock’s foundation.”
Years later, the dock was built further out into the water and an L-shape was added to the end. But the dock was a disaster waiting to happen. “The first came when the schooner Maple Leaf, loaded with grain, was caught in a rising autumn storm while moored to the dock. All night the ship pitched and wrenched at the wharf, tearing off siding and ripping out pilings.”
And then, again, “In the spring of 1880, the schooner Restless lived up to her name. A gale tore her loose from the anchorage causing severe damage to the dock. The Restless ended up on the south shore, spilling her cargo of wheat. Area farmers found a ready supply of seed that spring.”
While all of this was happening, Owen Sound was working hard at improving its harbour and attracting more boats away from Leith. “The wharf grew more dangerous year by year. After Adam died, the villagers were forced to tear the dock down. Its planking, beams, and flooring were rescued and made into new houses for the residents of Leith.”
Every time I pass through Leith, I wonder which houses have pieces of the old Wharf in them and if they could talk, what amazing stories they might tell.
Andrew’s full story and my photos can be found in a book we did together for the Ginger Press in Owen Sound. You can order a copy here.
With the water in Georgian Bay so low, I’d been waiting for the perfect night to capture some new images of the remains of Ainslie Wharf. So, last night, with the water so calm (and after watching the Maple Leafs force Game 7), I ventured to the Leith Spit with my camera and tripod in hand. Upon arrival, I could clearly see a thunderstorm heading our way from the direction of Owen Sound. But I had no idea until I took this photo that there were also some Northern Lights hanging around. After getting this shot, I spent the next hour capturing many others which I’m sure I’ll share in the future. Upon leaving, I ran into some friends in the Leith beach parking lot who were also out enjoying the beautiful evening. What an amazing area we live in.
Although they are far less frequent, I still have days where I feel like I am shit at everything - being a husband, dad, friend, photographer, writer…you name it.
But something I’ve noticed is these spirals never last as long as they used to. I give credit for this to my practice (which is why it’s called practice) as I am able to fairly quickly quiet the endless negativity from my mind.
And this helps me remember that I am not doing this for the reactions or the money. I’m doing it because I love life. And I don’t want it to be based on what others think it should look like.
Which also helps me remember that I don’t actually want everyone to like what I do as we already have more than enough of that.
For me, it depends on the photo. Some are calling to be titled (especially if there are multiple meanings), while others work better without. Like this one.
Today, the Chi-Cheemaun leaves her winter home in Owen Sound to head to her summer home in Tobermory where she will ferry people to and from Manitoulin Island every day until next fall. I was hoping to put my drone up to capture her exit, but the weather had other plans. The rain won’t make the trip up very pleasant for the passengers. I hope it’s, at least, not terribly wavy for them.
So, instead of sharing a photo from today’s cruise, here’s one from 2021, developed using a tilt-shift lens technique so it looks a little like a model.
Nice to see one of my photos introducing the new Owen Sound Community Profile. I believe this is or will be printed as well. And a few of my other photos should be in the plan, too.
I love this area and I’m always happy when my images are used to show others what there is to love about it.
