Mundane some might say. Family and Rockwell and Hallmark cards. This brother of mine I knew and loved from childhood on was always a genius, a nerd before nerds. I loved his filing cabinet in our shared childhood bedroom. H was the only kid I knew who had a filing cabinet filled ideas, projects and plans alphabetized, costed. Articles cut out and added to thoughts. I remember when we were all into rock and roll he was listening to 78 records on an old gramaphone he’d brought home as a teen from some dusty second hand store, the hig old machine and a whole collection from 30’s and 50’s. Symphonies and Fats Waller. All the weird old greats. He’d get his motorcycle back then too but later he’d work on car engines. Always fixing things. Always building and creating. 
He met his beautiful wife in church. I remember him coming home starry eyed. The soprano. Then it Billy Graham and the spirit filled days of Baptist Revival. I was listening to John Lennon and he was listening to Elvis Presley and gospel. He was the good son. I was the black sheep but he always had my back. Always helping. Always a rock.
Here there are buildings and boats. It’s a few acres with a big house with the thoughtful touches of love in every nook and cranny. The choice of light switches. The choices of color for paint on walls. It all works. Each space has comforting whole. There’s lots of windows, lots of space, lots of light. I like the light rugs on floors, the fireplace in the living room, the glass chandelier over the mahogany dining table. .
He died here. I was there when he couldn’t hold on and finally let go. He’d have his last breaths in the nearby hospital hospice surrounded by white.
Here I’ll always remember him standing on the front lawn standing tall and strong pointing out swans on the lake talking about my father and mother. He and his wife did the lion’s share of caring for them in their old age. My brother was a big man. A commanding man. He also had a tremendous sense of humor and joy. In town shopping with him he’d chat and laugh with shops keepers and baristas. He raised fish and had grand salt water tanks in room where the guitars he collected stood amidst photography equipment and a library of books from college, work and endless curiosity.
His sons were his soul. He always spoke of them and his wife. This was his home.
I’m here now breathing the air he breathed wondering at the sights he saw, enjoying the contribution he made to this world. I’m so blessed to have had such a brother and to be part of this family.
His wife Adell continues to manage the property they so loved. With her oldest son, she’s been cutting down trees to address a bark disease. The wing on the house my brother and she envisioned is finished, elegant yet cozy.. So is the sitting gazebo where the sailboats stood by the shore. I imagine him looking down with pride and approval.
His oldest son , now a nuclear engineer has computers and cameras and telescopes cluttering a working space. I remember my father and brother and I lying on the lawn in front of our childhood home as they pointed out the constellations in the sky to me. Years later I’d navigate my sailboat on the vast Pacific looking at the endless stars . Now this is this bearded man I met as a baby in his mothers arms. He is photographs cosmic events, at night taking pictures he publishes while in the day he works in plasma physics.
The skies are vast here. The stars were majestic and happy over Hay Bay at night.
This morning a couple of huge white swans swam by the dock. Geese and goslings have taken over that stretch of beach. We’ve been keeping the dogs up here so as not to disturb the parents. Back from the lake the property is wooded and populated with rabbits. I saw a downy wood pecker and a black and red cardinal. A couple of crows are quite raucous.My sister in law told me of the foxes they saw. Yesterday walking the dogs we spooked three white tails and watched them bound off towards Nick the carpenter sculpture guitarists fields. As we walk the dogs Adell tells me of the comings and going of neighbours. She says she learns most from the folk she plays pickle ball with twice a week in the nearby town.
It’s a wonderland here. Ontario at its finest. The real Ontario, unique and old, not the pavement high rise, angry city Ontario. Those homogenities are increasingly like any city ghetto in the world, Toronto annd Ottawa like Istanbul, New York, LA. Cities. Human order annd control . Homogenized with traffic, crowds, fast food and loud. Here there’s elegance and charm. There’s touches of wilderness. Nature. People all about here have built their own homes, defined their estates and expressed culture and love in a Frank Lloyd Wright sort of way. . This is old Canada. My brother loved to drive by the lakes and tell me tales from hundreds of years ago. He pointed out Mohawks , Red Coats and Loyalists fought Americans. We sailed the lake together. He kayaked Hay Bay. I fished with his youngest son now a doctor with a baby expecting. I’d visited the genious middle son with his beautiful creative loving wife, their two amazing sons , the great nephews. They made me a great uncle and remind me of their father and brother were this age and I played with them. That was when my brother and sister in law lived in the home on the river another city by the university.
There are three dogs here. Cockapoos. My cousin Wayne who built his own log cabin and raised Appaloosas in the north had a cockapoo who rode with him in his truck. Later I’d invite a cockapoo into my home. That was Gilbert now deceased. My dad called him , Monkey Dog. Today I have Madigan, Gaelic for Little Dog. He’s enjoying visitting his cousins Eva and Pepper. They are all a going concern. Growing up my brother and I had Sunny, a liver springer spaniel. He’d reside under the kitchen table at meals. Mom and dad would tell us not to feed him there while my brother and I watched as the two adults each sneaked him morsels. Dogs and kids and home
It’s peaceful here. The dogs have me up at 6 or 7. It was rainy and dreary a couple of days but today the sun is up with blue sky and the occasional fluffy white cloud. King Charles is speaking in Ottawa Parliament today. President Trump is visitting the G7 meeting in Alberta next week or the week after. I’ll be driving home with my camper and truck towing my hard bottomed inflatable fishing boat with Honda 30 hp four stroke. I’d had it shipped here with my big yacht when my brother became sick and I wanted to be with him. We had some years but not enough. I miss him.. I miss my mother and father and aunt and uncles and grandparents. I was thankful that Adell had us visit my cousin. She is older than my brother would have been. She was in hospital recovering from a fall fracture. We reminisced. We’d all taken trips to Europe and talked of relatives in Scotland and Ireland. The Art Professor , the BBC Correspondent, the Audubon photographer. The old country. Here we are in the ‘new’ country while plans are being made to colonize Mars. We drove home stopping at the Big Apple celebrating all the orchards of this fertile cultivated region, rich in agriculture, families and civilization. Maple syrup and everything apple.
Now big grey squirrels are crossing the great lawn. Eva insists on barking to repel the invaders. Pepper joins in and Madigan follows till they depart and the house is safe from attack once again. They don’t think we appreciate all they have done for us keeping the squirrels away.
I’m of an age where memories are all blossoming. Long ago I didn’t know the ugly roots or boring stems would be needed for these glory days of full grown plants with flowers and fruit. It’s all so colorful today. I once remembered most the black and white days. Now I really have to suck on the tit of despair and cry poor me to dwell in that morass. Today I’m more humble. I’m daily focused on gratitude. Now the past is colorful with light and pastels. I love the impressionist era of art. My brothers home is Monet and Van Goht. The family is Rembrandt. I see glimpses of Klimt in my personal life. For sure the group of Seven is here at Hay Bay.
Thank you God for this day, for my brother and his family, for my father and mother, grand parents and all those who have gone before, the workers, the doers, builders and lovers. And of course, I thank you for the dogs, the birds, fish and stars.
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