REFLECTIONS by Ralph Bice
From June 15, 1977
As we all know there was an election only last week. Like most elections and all wars nothing much was settled, but it did make for a bit of interesting reading. Then they picked a day when all of us would have had a better day if we had gone fishing.
Watching so many of the voters brought by car made me think back years ago when you got to the polling station on your own. That is if you wanted to vote. And years ago casting your vote was a serious business, and unlike many people today they were proud to be able to exercise their franchise.
I was told a story some time ago about a man who was born in this area many years ago. There were two men, one a Tory, the other a Grit, and had farms not too far apart. They were the best of friends, and not even elections spoiled their friendship. But come election time they hitched up the horse, got into the buggy, drove several miles to where the voting was done and then drove home satisfied that they had fulfilled their duty as good citizens. The man who told me the story is a grandson of both these early pioneers.
Then there is another story about two other of the early settlers. Also the very best of friends. Only they took their politics a little more seriously. One family was Irish Roman Catholic, the other Protestant and very devoted Orangeman. But best of friends. That is if you overlook about two weeks before an election, and the twelfth of July Orange Parade. During these small interludes they did not drop in for a cup of tea and a short visit. Sort of a truce, as they did not wish to argue. After these events had been over for a couple of weeks the close friendship resumed, and all would be well until the next election or Orange Parade.
One time after harmony had been restored, or perhaps continued, the family who lived the furthest away had been in town and on their way home called in for the usual tea and a visit. Nothing was said until they were leaving and then the Irishman said, “John, you and your wife are the best friends we have. I hate to think what it would be like without you. But when I see you riding that white horse I want to throw stones at you.”
These things happened of course years ago and we who were small boys then are now the old men.
I did attend one funeral that being the first of the men who went on. I remember the crowd of people who came to pay their last respects, the heart broken family who stood nearby. What I will always remember that these two men opposite in religion, opposite in politics, but such good friends and one stood and wept unashamedly as his old friend was lowered into the ground. So there can be feelings that go much deeper than politics and religion.
Then there were two men who lived not too far apart and they never saw eye to eye. Most of the time they barley spoke. They were bad friends. During one business deal the one claimed that the other had gypped him of 30 cents. That was a lot of money 80 years ago. The man who told me this story was driving to town one morning near Old Kearney. He picked up the man who got the better of the deal from a financial angle. As they were nearing town they met the other man who was walking and carrying a can of coal oil. It was easy to see that the can had a puncture as it was dripping. Thinking it was about time to be more friendly the man in the buggy called, “Hey Martin, your can is leaking.”
Without even looking up or changing pace the replay was, “Tight as you it wouldn’t l’ake.”
The house of the man who got the better of that business deal was taken down and is now the museum at Emsdale.
This story is about my paternal grandfather. It happened when my dad was a small boy. The area where they lived had been settled by quite a few Pennsylvania Quakers, also known as ‘Plain People.’
My granddad built bark canoes and snowshoes. He had just delivered a pair of snowshoes to one of these people. Since it was near noon granddad was invited to stay for dinner then always served at midday. He thanked them for the invitation but said he had to hurry and could not stay. Then just as he was about to put his coat on the man’s wife came through from the kitchen with a roast goose on a platter.
He looked at the goose, his mouth started to water and he started to remove his coat. He remarked that he had changed his mind and would stay.
The horrified host said, “Oh no Isaac, thee said thee couldn’t. Thee shant tell a lie in my house.” So, no roast goose.
I have been in a polling booth in some capacity for over 40 years. Always an interesting day except for making up the books after all is over. This year we were to attend a class to get acquainted with the new ideas. Unfortunately I was in the woods (you know that old saying “if fishing interferes with your business sell the business.”)
There were two polling stations in the one room this year and the one finished before we did as we had twice as many voters. But the young lady from the other station came over without being asked and since she was new and had studied the rule book did as much in five minutes as I would have in half an hour. Which proves that old idea you can get by without much money but where in the world would you be if you did not have some friends?
P.S. ABOUT POLITICS
If you are familiar with the hamlet of Tory Hill you may wonder how it came to be named. For years the area voted Conservative (Tory) with the Liberals (Grits) were almost a non-entity. When a new post office opened it needed a name. A somewhat sarcastic Liberal, tongue-in-cheek, suggested “Tory Hill”. To his shock his suggestion was accepted!
Tory comes from the old Irish “torai” – outlaw or robber. The first Tories were Royalist refugees from the English Civil War who turned into outlaws. The Royalist Conservative Party was nicknamed “Tories”. In Canada Tories were considered Monarchists or Loyalists during the American Revolution, from the British perspective, or the War of Independence, from the American viewpoint.