<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378</id><updated>2011-11-23T18:39:31.955-05:00</updated><title type='text'>E.T.  Concentrators Car Club</title><subtitle type='html'>A SITE TO REMEMBER OUR YOUNGER YEARS AND THE FUN WE HAD. 
 FORGET ABOUT THE LOSSES AND EXAGGERATE THE WINS!</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>47</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-7296653817915171615</id><published>2011-09-15T17:32:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-15T17:35:11.479-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Two 38's at 2 St. Peters Road</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sckE69SQtoE/TnJuYMT8CYI/AAAAAAAABA4/zFBG0kV0E84/s1600/Hearse+at+home.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sckE69SQtoE/TnJuYMT8CYI/AAAAAAAABA4/zFBG0kV0E84/s320/Hearse+at+home.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;John Paul just dropped off this picture of his 38 and The Hearse at my home.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;WOW what a great picture..&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;Probably 1965.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;If you zoom the picture, I'm sitting behind the wheel and John Paul is leaning in the window talking to me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-7296653817915171615?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/7296653817915171615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=7296653817915171615&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/7296653817915171615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/7296653817915171615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2011/09/two-38s-at-2-st-peters-road.html' title='Two 38&apos;s at 2 St. Peters Road'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sckE69SQtoE/TnJuYMT8CYI/AAAAAAAABA4/zFBG0kV0E84/s72-c/Hearse+at+home.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-7206954528472732283</id><published>2011-04-10T06:53:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-10T06:54:06.912-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Kallie Come Here</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-b5c93081d0a34297" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v15.nonxt6.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Db5c93081d0a34297%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330015005%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D729B1F8EC8F0D7DE13666D65E4B0E76C32985354.57DB40DF37402EA24AF37411F2E365AA484CD615%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Db5c93081d0a34297%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D6G-Anc1m-YQ4nQoGqXFaC8CX_S8&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v15.nonxt6.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Db5c93081d0a34297%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330015005%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D729B1F8EC8F0D7DE13666D65E4B0E76C32985354.57DB40DF37402EA24AF37411F2E365AA484CD615%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Db5c93081d0a34297%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D6G-Anc1m-YQ4nQoGqXFaC8CX_S8&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-7206954528472732283?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=b5c93081d0a34297&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/7206954528472732283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=7206954528472732283&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/7206954528472732283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/7206954528472732283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2011/04/kallie-come-here.html' title='Kallie Come Here'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-2162225211979858795</id><published>2010-10-03T15:24:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-03T15:26:42.220-04:00</updated><title type='text'>CFCY  Broadcasting Ellis Brothers Opening</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Loman and Betty  from CFCY doing a live broadcast from Ellis Brothers Shopping Centre Grand Opening, Does anyone know the year?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/15505783" width="400" height="300" frameborder="0"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://vimeo.com/15505783"&gt;CFCY Live from Ellis Brothers Shopping Ctr.&lt;/a&gt; from &lt;a href="http://vimeo.com/user4297564"&gt;pex&lt;/a&gt; on &lt;a href="http://vimeo.com"&gt;Vimeo&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-2162225211979858795?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/2162225211979858795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=2162225211979858795&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/2162225211979858795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/2162225211979858795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2010/10/cfcy-broadcasting-ellis-brothers.html' title='CFCY  Broadcasting Ellis Brothers Opening'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-2144543952822565514</id><published>2010-10-02T17:22:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-02T17:24:45.354-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Ellis Brothers Shopping Ctr. Opening</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;This is from a 8mm film, I slowed it down to 30% speed &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/15249546" width="400" frameborder="0" height="300"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://vimeo.com/15249546"&gt;Ellis Brothers Shopping Ctr.&lt;/a&gt; from &lt;a href="http://vimeo.com/user4297564"&gt;pex&lt;/a&gt; on &lt;a href="http://vimeo.com/"&gt;Vimeo&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-2144543952822565514?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/2144543952822565514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=2144543952822565514&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/2144543952822565514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/2144543952822565514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2010/10/ellis-brothers-shopping-ctr-opening.html' title='Ellis Brothers Shopping Ctr. Opening'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-238981273873020832</id><published>2010-08-01T14:06:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-01T14:06:35.176-04:00</updated><title type='text'>C.D.P. 1987</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="400" height="300"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=13798878&amp;amp;server=vimeo.com&amp;amp;show_title=1&amp;amp;show_byline=1&amp;amp;show_portrait=0&amp;amp;color=&amp;amp;fullscreen=1"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=13798878&amp;amp;server=vimeo.com&amp;amp;show_title=1&amp;amp;show_byline=1&amp;amp;show_portrait=0&amp;amp;color=&amp;amp;fullscreen=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="400" height="300"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://vimeo.com/13798878"&gt;CDP  area 1987&lt;/a&gt; from &lt;a href="http://vimeo.com/user4297564"&gt;pex&lt;/a&gt; on &lt;a href="http://vimeo.com"&gt;Vimeo&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-238981273873020832?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/238981273873020832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=238981273873020832&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/238981273873020832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/238981273873020832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2010/08/cdp-1987.html' title='C.D.P. 1987'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-6911194796844790366</id><published>2010-07-28T06:10:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-28T06:10:53.164-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Charlottetown 1987</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="400" height="300"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=13690547&amp;amp;server=vimeo.com&amp;amp;show_title=1&amp;amp;show_byline=1&amp;amp;show_portrait=0&amp;amp;color=&amp;amp;fullscreen=1"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=13690547&amp;amp;server=vimeo.com&amp;amp;show_title=1&amp;amp;show_byline=1&amp;amp;show_portrait=0&amp;amp;color=&amp;amp;fullscreen=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="400" height="300"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://vimeo.com/13690547"&gt;Charlottetown 1987-88&lt;/a&gt; from &lt;a href="http://vimeo.com/user4297564"&gt;pex&lt;/a&gt; on &lt;a href="http://vimeo.com"&gt;Vimeo&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-6911194796844790366?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/6911194796844790366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=6911194796844790366&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/6911194796844790366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/6911194796844790366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2010/07/charlottetown-1987_28.html' title='Charlottetown 1987'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-1687498099512790828</id><published>2010-02-22T19:25:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-22T19:58:32.150-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Is It The Metric System?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/S4MkqjRTAlI/AAAAAAAAA-g/5_sl3aeQG0o/s1600-h/Morris+Minor.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 263px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/S4MkqjRTAlI/AAAAAAAAA-g/5_sl3aeQG0o/s400/Morris+Minor.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441233088234586706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;In the 50's this was such a small car. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;They had a little arm between the front and back door that would stick out and light up to let the driver behind know the car was making a turn.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;As kids we thought this was so cool we would be on the look out to actually see it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The only one we knew of was owned by the Puncher's on Hawthorne Ave. When we would see Mr &amp;amp; Mrs Puncher leave the house and go to the barn and get the Morris out we would get set to see this little arm appear. We tried to pull it out with our fingers when they left the car in the drive way but no luck.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;So The Puncher's would come out and get in the car, Mrs Puncher always drove, and back out onto First Street.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The first turn was about 10ft from their driveway, no signal. So we would run behind her car waiting for the next turn.  Mrs Puncher did not drive fast so we could easily keep up if we ran fast or had our bikes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The next turn was at St Peter's Road, surely this was big enough to warrnat a signal,  but no!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;She would go a little faster down St Peter's Road and we would start to fall behind and then loose interest by the time she was by Chester MacClure's.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;She probaly didn't make another turn untill Queen Street, I wonder if she ever used that turn signal, or knew it was there?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/S4Mg1GzyRiI/AAAAAAAAA9g/2dEvTHEv0Rk/s1600-h/side+show.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/S4Mg1GzyRiI/AAAAAAAAA9g/2dEvTHEv0Rk/s400/side+show.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441228871526663714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;These photos are 1959 taken at The Bill Lynch Midway.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;This couple were in a side show billed as The Fat Man and Woman, I went in to see them it cost a dime.&lt;br /&gt;They sat on two chairs and drank large bottles of 7up and ate chips.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;They had a big ol Lincoln parked behind the tent that they travelled in.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;When the Morris car came around people were amazed at how small it was, and at how big these people were. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;From todays view the car is very big and these people would not get a second look if they were shopping at a mall&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/S4MgsdrYJSI/AAAAAAAAA9Y/mHuzVA2KcvU/s1600-h/side+show+4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 219px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/S4MgsdrYJSI/AAAAAAAAA9Y/mHuzVA2KcvU/s400/side+show+4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441228723046589730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/S4MgoDYjeNI/AAAAAAAAA9Q/4G5un69Er_E/s1600-h/side+show+3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/S4MgoDYjeNI/AAAAAAAAA9Q/4G5un69Er_E/s400/side+show+3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441228647268841682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/S4MgkqfDGgI/AAAAAAAAA9I/5zcZ-_pZg8s/s1600-h/side+show+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 252px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/S4MgkqfDGgI/AAAAAAAAA9I/5zcZ-_pZg8s/s400/side+show+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441228589045586434" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Photos from Kevin Mackay&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/S4MkOI3F5rI/AAAAAAAAA-Y/kYX_sAEFFLw/s1600-h/newt+in+Buick.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 385px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/S4MkOI3F5rI/AAAAAAAAA-Y/kYX_sAEFFLw/s400/newt+in+Buick.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441232600109016754" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Newt in his Buick&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-1687498099512790828?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/1687498099512790828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=1687498099512790828&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/1687498099512790828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/1687498099512790828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2010/02/is-it-metric-system.html' title='Is It The Metric System?'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/S4MkqjRTAlI/AAAAAAAAA-g/5_sl3aeQG0o/s72-c/Morris+Minor.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-2943457767325448036</id><published>2009-09-13T19:14:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-13T19:17:49.870-04:00</updated><title type='text'>YMCA</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/Sq19kcEMNuI/AAAAAAAAA6o/dP-nWIuPOM4/s1600-h/war.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 250px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/Sq19kcEMNuI/AAAAAAAAA6o/dP-nWIuPOM4/s320/war.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381095194740143842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;I don't know anyone in this photo, taken at the YMCA &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-2943457767325448036?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/2943457767325448036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=2943457767325448036&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/2943457767325448036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/2943457767325448036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2009/09/ymca.html' title='YMCA'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/Sq19kcEMNuI/AAAAAAAAA6o/dP-nWIuPOM4/s72-c/war.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-2898275870750156351</id><published>2009-09-03T19:48:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-03T19:51:07.739-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Parkdale Homecoming</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Visit Parkdalehomecoming and look at the photos from our celebration&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-2898275870750156351?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/2898275870750156351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=2898275870750156351&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/2898275870750156351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/2898275870750156351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2009/09/parkdale-homecoming.html' title='Parkdale Homecoming'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-6152275731684732362</id><published>2009-02-09T16:42:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-09T16:44:02.539-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Prince Edward Island 1952</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;This is one of a series of films that Carl Dudley did of places around the world in the 40's and 50's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I could use help in identifying locales.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Enjoy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed id="VideoPlayback" src="http://video.google.ca/googleplayer.swf?docid=4530122112787140055&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=true" style="width:400px;height:326px" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-6152275731684732362?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/6152275731684732362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=6152275731684732362&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/6152275731684732362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/6152275731684732362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2009/02/prince-edward-island-1952.html' title='Prince Edward Island 1952'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-5177993871875580099</id><published>2009-02-02T18:52:00.011-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-03T15:45:55.702-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Bad News On The Door Step.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/SYeLH3t8mtI/AAAAAAAAA3o/coGOHtUTX4I/s1600-h/Buddy+Holly.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 231px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/SYeLH3t8mtI/AAAAAAAAA3o/coGOHtUTX4I/s320/Buddy+Holly.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298356453956688594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;This Feb 3 marks the 50th year of Buddy Holly's death.&lt;br /&gt;Above is the Guardian from Feb 4th 1959. I was a paper boy in St Avards and clearly remember delivering the paper that morning. It was very icy and few people were up when I left the paper.&lt;br /&gt;As I was leaving the paper at George Gregory's , his son Allan came to the door and I told him about the plane crash.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;My boyhood friends and I were all Holly fans and to us this was so tragic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;I'm still a Holly fan and listen to him often.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Ged Burke wrote to Buddy's widow to tell her how sorry he felt for her at her loss, and she sent him a Christmas card.&lt;br /&gt;We take for granted today our ease of listening to music on the go, but for us Teenage Bucks is was a challenge to get good music, and then a miracle. John Paul Kenny came up with a converter that changed 6volt DC to 120 AC and we were in business. We hooked up the converter to the car battery and took our household record player with us to listen to our music.&lt;br /&gt;Many night a bunch of us would sit in the Hearse and listen to Buddy Holly on our record player and wonder what music would have been like if Buddy had lived.&lt;br /&gt;Driving presented a problem and the guy in  the back  had to hold the record player on his knees as we tore around town blaring our music out the windows. He had to be able to be steady and not let the kneedle skip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;In 1979 I purcased a 6 album set of Buddy's work.&lt;br /&gt;It was compiled by a couple of his English fans. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;It includes his early stuff with Bob Montgomery " Buddy &amp;amp; Bob western and Bop".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/SYhS-VMm9uI/AAAAAAAAA4s/R_9A-Hz08hU/s1600-h/buddy+and+bob.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 202px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/SYhS-VMm9uI/AAAAAAAAA4s/R_9A-Hz08hU/s320/buddy+and+bob.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298576192396785378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt; It includes a country version of "That'll Be The Day"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;The set includes his home recordings, that, after his death backup music by "The FireBalls " was added and released.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;I've only plyaed the records twice. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;In 1979 on the 20th anniversary I sat down one saturday and listened to all 6 LP's both sides, all alone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;When I finished listening to them, I got on the phone with the Lubbock operator and tried to get through to his parents but they had an unlisted number. But i did get his brother Larry and talked to him for about an hour.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;And yes I did get to his grave in Lubbock.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;I do remember if I cried when I read about his widowed bride.&lt;br /&gt;This&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; past saturday night "Cousin Brucey" hosted a reunion of the surviours of that Winter Tour at The Surf Ballroom in Clear Lake , Iowa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The 1959 calendar is indentical to 2009.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;50 years, Willie Nelson was right,&lt;br /&gt;"Ain't it funny how time slips away"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Here is an article from A British Paper&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div id="three-col"&gt; &lt;h1 style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;Buddy Holly's wife tells how she'll pay tribute with fans 50 years after  tragedy&lt;/h1&gt; &lt;p class="article-date"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;FEBRUARY 3, 1959 was the day the music died...when a plane crash claimed the  lives of Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens and The Big Bopper. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The tiny aircraft Holly hired to fly them to a gig plummeted to earth at  170mph in an Iowa snowstorm. Buddy was 22, The Big Bopper 27 and Ritchie just  17. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;On the eve of the 50th anniversary of their deaths, Holly's widow told the  Sunday Mail he only signed up for the fateful tour to earn money to prepare for  the birth of their first child. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;On Tuesday, Maria Elena Holly, 73, will gather with fans at the Surf Ballroom  in Clear Lake, Iowa - the venue for his last ever performance - to celebrate his  life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;She was ill in bed with morning sickness when she heard the awful news. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Maria said: "I got a telephone call from a friend saying, 'Maria Elena, stay  in bed and don't put the TV on'. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"Of course, I got up, turned it on and saw a news report saying Buddy, The  Big Bopper and Ritchie had been killed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"I collapsed crying my heart out and within minutes the house was besieged by  newspaper men. I was devastated and the shock was so traumatic I later  miscarried and lost our child." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;One of the first telephone calls of condolence Maria Elena received was from  a young American serviceman posted in Germany. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;She said: "Elvis Presley called to say how sorry he was. Buddy had opened for  Elvis in his home town of Lubbock, Texas, and they became good friends. They  used to hang out." Maria Elena - from San Juan, Puerto Rico, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;And it was love at first sight at least for the singer who had classic hits  with songs such as That'll Be The Day, Not Fade Away and Peggy Sue. Maria Elena  said: "I had never been out on a date with a guy in my life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"I lived with my aunt who was very strict and didn't want me to hang around  with musicians. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;It wasn't that she didn't trust me - she just didn't want me to go out with  every Tom, Dick and Harry and at that time rock'n'rollers had a very bad  reputation. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"I used to mail Buddy's records out to radio disc jockeys but when he walked  through the door I had no idea who he was. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"He asked me out on the spot and we went out for dinner that night." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Maria Elena and Buddy went on a date to PJB Arthur's Restaurant and she  almost fell off her chair when he proposed, just five hours after first setting  eyes on her. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;She said: "He excused himself and left the table. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;When he came back he had one arm behind his back. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Buddy pulled out a red rose and said, 'Will you marry me?' "I thought he was  kidding. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;But I think I'd fallen in love with him the minute he walked through the  door." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The couple married two months later on August 15, 1958 in Lubbock. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Maria became pregnant and they moved into their own appartment. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;But Holly was going through a bitter and costly legal dispute with record  producer Norman Petty and the newlyweds struggled to pay bills. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Maria Elena said: "My aunt got us an apartment on 11th Street and she paid  the bills because we had no money. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"Buddy wasn't very comfortable with that. His money was tied up in the  difficult break up with Norman and he said, 'I need to do something. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I can't have your aunt pay for everything. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I'm supposed to take care of you.' "He decided to try to get a gig to earn  some money." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Buddy agreed to top the bill of a two-week tour with The Big Bopper - DJ  turned singer JP Richardson - who was promoting his now classic song Chantilly  Lace - and heart-throb singer Ritchie Valens, who was launching his single  Donna. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;As they hit the road on the badly organised tour - in the grip of a sub-zero  winter - conditions were spartan. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;When the heating on the bus broke down Ritchie's drummer was taken to  hospital suffering from frostbite After playing the Surf Ballroom, Buddy paid  108 to hire a Beechcraft Bonanza plane to transport him to the next show in  Minnesota. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;But he didn't tell Maria Elena he would be travelling by air instead of road.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;She said: "Buddy called me every night from each gig but in Iowa he never  mentioned a plane to me. He knew I didn't like those small aircraft. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"He'd get one of the guys to hold the telephone up while he was on stage  singing his closing number True Love Ways - the song he wrote for me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"He told me everybody had flu and as there was no road manager he took it  upon himself to organise alternative transport. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"There were only three seats on the plane, one for Buddy and his guitarists  Waylon Jennings and Tommy Allsup." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Then fate defined one of the most iconic moments in pop history. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The Big Bopper had flu and asked Buddy if he could take Waylon's seat.  Ritchie pleaded with Tommy to swap places with him. The friends tossed a coin  and when Valens called correctly he boarded the doomed flight. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"I hope your ol' bus freezes up again," joked Holly as they set off. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Waylon replied: "Well, I hope your ol' plane crashes." As news of the crash  spread around the world fans mourned the death of the iconic Holly. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;One teenage admirer was so moved he wrote a song about the incident years  later when he became a musician himself. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;His name was Don McLean and the song he wrote was the classic American Pie  which includes the famous lyric, I can't remember if I cried/When I read about  his widowed bride/But something touched me deep inside/The day the music died.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Holly's body lies in the City of Lubbock Cemetery beneath a headstone which  carries the correct spelling of his surname - Holley - carved in the shape of  his beloved Fender Stratocaster guitar. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Maria Elena, who eventually remarried and had three children, has never  visited his graveside. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;She divorced and is now a grandmother living in Dallas. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;She admits Tuesday's commemorative celebrations will be very emotional. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;But the devotion of fans has helped her over the years. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;She said: "Fifty years after Buddy passed on his music is still alive. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;His fans have stayed loyal and he'll always be remembered. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"That's something I take great comfort from. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Losing him was heartbreaking. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I'm thrilled his music is still played and enjoyed all over the world. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;It means Buddy didn't die in vain." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Holly inspired a host of superstars including The Beatles and The Rolling  Stones. John, Paul, George and Ringo named their group as a homage to his  backing band The Crickets while Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Brian Jones, Bill  Wyman and Charlie Watts chalked up their first Top 10 hit with a cover of his  song Not Fade Away in 1964. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Maria Elena says her husband would be amazed at his current status as a pop  icon. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;She said: "Buddy was not the kind of person to boast about his success. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"He never saw himself as a superstar. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;He was just happy he was so prolific with his songwriting and that he was  being accepted. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"He knew exactly what he wanted to do and in which direction he wanted his  career to go. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;He was a very modest man, it was never a case of look who I am. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"If he were alive today I think he would still have been writing songs and  making music. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;He wanted to get involved in all facets of the industry." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;And what is Maria Elena's favourite Holly classic? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;She said: "I love all of his songs because no two are like. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;But I'd have to choose True Love Ways because it was our song. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"When he wrote it he said, 'This is for you'. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;In every tour he did he played it last in the set. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;"It's difficult for me to listen to True Love Ways if it comes on the radio.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I still get tears in my eyes and I have to stop and compose myself." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;THE Very Best of Buddy Holly and The Crickets double CD and The Music of  Buddy Holly: The Definitive Story DVD are released through Universal Records  tomorrow. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Stage musical The Buddy Holly Story is at the King's Theatre, Glasgow from  February 2-7 and Inverness Eden Court Theatre from April 13-18.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;MAILFILE &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;HE was born Charles Hardin Holley in Lubbock, Texas, on September 7, 1936.  His career lasted just 18 months yet he was hailed the most creative force in  rock 'n' roll. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;BUDDY'S first recording was a cover of Hank Snow's country song My Two Timin'  Woman done on a borrowed tape machine. He turned to rock 'n' roll after Elvis  Presley played in Lubbock. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;HE signed a record deal with Decca in 1956 and recorded That'll Be The  Day...his classic song inspired by a line spoken by John Wayne in the Western  epic The Searchers. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;WHEN Buddy first toured the UK in 1957 he appeared on top TV variety show  Sunday Night At The London Palladium. Teenage viewers John Lennon and Paul  McCartney became instant fans. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;ROLLING Stone Keith Richards saw Holly play Not Fade Away and suggested his  own group cover it. The Hollies were named to honour Buddy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;ANOTHER famous Holly fan was Bob Dylan. He saw him play just three nights  before the plane crash. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;HOLLY made it cool for pop singers to wear glasses. Look at Hank Marvin,  Elvis Costello, Kurt Cobain, Jarvis Cocker and The Proclaimers. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;PAUL McCARTNEY bought publishing rights to Holly's back catalogue and dressed  as him in his 1980 Coming Up video. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;IN 1987, Gary Busey was nominated for an Oscar for best actor when he starred  in the The Buddy Holly Story. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;HOLLY has influenced The Ramones, Run DMC and The Strokes. Blink 182 wrote  Peggy Sue in his honour and Weezer have a song called Buddy Holly. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN plays Holly hits before every gig to help vibe him up. The  Boss said: "That keeps me honest." - was a receptionist for Peer-Southern Music  Publishing in New York when she first met Buddy in 1958. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-5177993871875580099?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/5177993871875580099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=5177993871875580099&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/5177993871875580099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/5177993871875580099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2009/02/bad-news-on-door-step.html' title='Bad News On The Door Step.'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/SYeLH3t8mtI/AAAAAAAAA3o/coGOHtUTX4I/s72-c/Buddy+Holly.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-2771835128301445926</id><published>2008-11-29T06:52:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-29T07:20:35.682-05:00</updated><title type='text'>COOL WEATHER AND COOLER GUYS</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Cool weather and Cooler guys.&lt;br /&gt;Looking back at some of the people who grew up in Parkdale, we sure had some cool characters. One who sticks out in my mind is Robin Clay.&lt;br /&gt;I delivered the paper to Clay’s and I recall going to the back door and Robin would be sleeping on a bunk in the back porch.&lt;br /&gt;He was the type of guy who spent a lot of time combing his hair &amp; was a cross between Fabian and James Dean.&lt;br /&gt;In April of each year we all wanted Summer to arrive and fore-go Spring. Robin did something about it. One sunny day in April we watched him shovel the snow on his front lawn to make a bare spot to lay a blanket down to work on his tan.&lt;br /&gt;He drove a Volkswagen and I can see him now tearing down St Peters Road, turning into Barry’s, slamming on the brakes and jumping out of the car and going up to the counter.&lt;br /&gt;Cool guys never called Barry by his name they called him B&lt;br /&gt;“Hey B”&lt;br /&gt;“Hey Robin, what can I get you”?&lt;br /&gt;“Ice Cream B”&lt;br /&gt;And Barry would proceed to get him some, not in a cone, not in a cup, no way! not for Robin.&lt;br /&gt;He had his ice cream in a paper bag. He would roll down the paper bag just like we did our rubber boots. How cool is that???&lt;br /&gt;We were always a little scared of him as he answered to no one and was always on the go.&lt;br /&gt;One April my friends and I wanted summer to arrive but weren’t ready to give up all of our winter fun.&lt;br /&gt;It was early evening and Roger, Knees and I had our bicycles out, even though there was still lots of snow. We were up by Cuddy ‘s Restaurant, The Tea Cup, which eventually was home to the first Parkdale Pharmacy.&lt;br /&gt;The three of us had our bikes and were making snowballs to throw at cars. &lt;br /&gt;To our delight we spotted a small car tearing down the road...our prey.&lt;br /&gt;One problem though it was Robin in his Volks. &lt;br /&gt;Jim Croche in his song speeled the rules out, &lt;br /&gt;"You don't pull on Superman's cape, You don't spit into the wind, You don't pull the mask off The old Lone Ranger and You don't mess around with,(in this case Robin). &lt;br /&gt;Now I can see why dogs chase cars and cats tease dogs but I can’t comprehend why anyone would draw Robin’s attention to them.&lt;br /&gt;But there was the Perfect Storm, A kid with a snowball ready and a speeding car; impossible to resist.&lt;br /&gt;The next few minutes went by in slow motion. Roger wound up his arm and let go with all his might at the speeding Volkswagen. We watched that snowball arc to the sky and with the accuracy of a Cruise Missle it found it’s target.&lt;br /&gt;The world was silent as that ice missle flew but I don’t think I have ever heard a louder sound when it hit Robin’s car.&lt;br /&gt;He slammed on the brakes and spun around on the road and in an instant he was in front of us. &lt;br /&gt;There was no escape, no time to mount our bikes and scatter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Who threw that Snowball?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roger, to his credit, confessed immediately.&lt;br /&gt;Robin whipped back his coat reached into his waist band and pulled out a hand gun, pointed at Roger and fired.&lt;br /&gt;Roger fell backwards off his bike, Robin put the barrel of the gun to his lips blew on it, put the gun back in his waist band, jumped in his car and sped away.&lt;br /&gt;Knees and I stood there in shock holding on to the handlebars looking down at Roger laying in the snow.&lt;br /&gt;We noticed the front of his pants was getting damp, oh no he is bleeding , no that’s not blood!!&lt;br /&gt;Parkdale, at this time, barely had TV, let alone hi tech sporting equipment. When we wanted to start a race we used the traditional method of &lt;br /&gt;“ON YOUR MARK, GET SET, GO!!!&lt;br /&gt;Just to clear things up Robin had a Starters Pistol and Roger peed his pants.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-2771835128301445926?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/2771835128301445926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=2771835128301445926&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/2771835128301445926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/2771835128301445926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2008/11/cool-weather-and-cooler-guys.html' title='COOL WEATHER AND COOLER GUYS'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-2063544258561350346</id><published>2008-11-03T16:07:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T16:10:43.390-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Driving Through Charlottetown 1966</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Here is the rest of the video that I posted on my other Blog.&lt;br /&gt;It begins in Wood Island's and picks up entering Charlottetown. There is alot to see heading up Queen Street, Canadian Tire, The Met , Roger's Hardware and Dominion Stores.&lt;br /&gt;then out to Brackley where the Covehead Bridge is down&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed id="VideoPlayback" src="http://video.google.com/googleplayer.swf?docid=9156607110875629829&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=true" style="width:400px;height:326px" allowFullScreen="true" allowScriptAccess="always" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt; &lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-2063544258561350346?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/2063544258561350346/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=2063544258561350346&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/2063544258561350346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/2063544258561350346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2008/11/driving-through-charlottetown-1966.html' title='Driving Through Charlottetown 1966'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-8724633880452241489</id><published>2008-07-13T19:32:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-13T20:52:14.568-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Boarders</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Here is an Email from our Cousin Basil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Hi Carl&lt;br /&gt;This happens to be one of the 'boarders' that you mentioned in your blog.  I know that they were many but perhaps not many stayed as long as I did.  April 1949 to Nov. 1951.  In fact I was either there or heard about it shortly after it happened,  that is the biting incident that you wrote about.  You were without a doubt a little 'geezer'.&lt;br /&gt;Thought the photo might interest your for two reasons.  Firstly this is the working dress of  the Mounties in the 50's.  Quite different then the way they dress now.  Secondly this is the Highway Patrol Car used at the Bridgewater Detachment. It was a 1953 Meteor 2 door, flathead V8 with standard transmission.  I do not recall, in my time there, of anyone out running this vehicle.  Lastly the photo was taken in Lunenburg County in either the fall of 53 or spring of 54.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/SHqcfvL13WI/AAAAAAAAAl0/GCg_xT7uAXA/s1600-h/scan0005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/SHqcfvL13WI/AAAAAAAAAl0/GCg_xT7uAXA/s320/scan0005.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222658786945523042" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;I remember Basil coming to live with us, I was only 2 at the time, but boy was he fun to have around.&lt;br /&gt;When Basil applied for the RCMP he had to write an exam and to prepare for it , &lt;br /&gt;he and Mother would sit at the kitchen table going over and over the work, as a kid I din't think he would ever finish and play with me.&lt;br /&gt;The day Basil left for the RCMP Mother and I walked down to the train crossing to wave good bye.&lt;br /&gt;Below is a video clip from Mom and Dad's 60th wedding anniversary, Basil is paying tribute to Mother "for being the first woman to pass the RCMP exam".&lt;br /&gt;Every time Basil came back to visit and later with Nancy and their 9 children Mother and Dad would be so excited and proud of him.&lt;br /&gt;One rainy day Basil showed up at our school to drive me home in a car he had just bought, I recall it being a coupe probably mid 30's.&lt;br /&gt;Basil you never showed me which house Mr. Mount Stewart lived in, I don't think it was the one with the old man sitting on the front step that you yelled &lt;br /&gt;"Hello Mr. Stewart".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed id="VideoPlayback" style="width:400px;height:326px" allowFullScreen="true" src="http://video.google.com/googleplayer.swf?docid=-8247849355011271833&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=true" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt; &lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-8724633880452241489?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/8724633880452241489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=8724633880452241489&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/8724633880452241489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/8724633880452241489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2008/07/boarders.html' title='Boarders'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/SHqcfvL13WI/AAAAAAAAAl0/GCg_xT7uAXA/s72-c/scan0005.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-6892746015868347599</id><published>2008-05-20T22:02:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-20T09:07:18.036-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Pex On CBC with Karen Mair "LIVE FROM THE 36"</title><content type='html'>&lt;embed id="VideoPlayback" style="width:400px;height:326px" flashvars="" src="http://video.google.com/googleplayer.swf?docid=-8556315898658570744&amp;amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-6892746015868347599?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/6892746015868347599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=6892746015868347599&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/6892746015868347599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/6892746015868347599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2008/05/pex-on-cbc-with-karen-mair-from-36.html' title='Pex On CBC with Karen Mair &quot;LIVE FROM THE 36&quot;'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-5590835476242869161</id><published>2008-05-11T17:47:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2010-11-21T14:45:40.845-05:00</updated><title type='text'>That Was No Picnic  For This Teddy Bear</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Last night we went to the Confederation Centre to see a Charlottetown Rural High School play.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;It was very good with great acting, singing, music and of course costumes.            &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;With a lot of things it triggered a memory of mine and a play we did at the WI Hall many years ago.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our old school on Linden Avenue has been torn down, Bull Dog Demolition completed the job. Dick McGuigan’s company. A good Parkdale boy too!! Lucky for him "Chief" wasn't around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/SCdulrzlzQI/AAAAAAAAAjM/aTjl3GqvO-w/s1600-h/school+1936.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/SCdulrzlzQI/AAAAAAAAAjM/aTjl3GqvO-w/s320/school+1936.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199245888515853570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In back of the school was the WI Hall which is long gone after catching fire some years ago.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;As I related in previous stories, this old hall was the scene of many concerts and events for many years and was the centre of entertainment for Parkdale.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m thinking back now to a particular school concert we held there probably in late spring,&lt;br /&gt;I recall it was quite warm in the hall.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/SCdu2bzlzRI/AAAAAAAAAjU/NhZX1V-Y1aY/s1600-h/wi+hall.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/SCdu2bzlzRI/AAAAAAAAAjU/NhZX1V-Y1aY/s320/wi+hall.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199246176278662418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Our class was putting on a play and I was to dress up as a Bear.&lt;br /&gt;There was no Value Village or Froggies in this era, in fact there was no such thing as giving away old clothing. Even our underwear was handed down from oldest to youngest, thank goodness I had older brothers as well as sisters. &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember telling Mother I needed a costume for the play and I was to be a Bear.&lt;br /&gt;Mother had many things to get accomplished before worrying about a costume. &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;We practised the play and my Teacher would enquire how my costume was coming along and I’d Say&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;“OK, I guess”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The day arrived and I still didn’t have a costume and I continued to ask Mom to make me one.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Finally she sent me down to the store to but a 10cent package of RITT DYE, dark brown. &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;At last I would get my costume.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember we were a family of 8 kids , me being the last, so their was neither extra time nor money for wasteful things like costumes&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Much to my horror Mother came down stairs with an old pair of Long Johns, you know the kind, the ones with the trap door on the rear end.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;She dyed the underwear brown and hung them on the clothes line to dry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/SCd63rzlzTI/AAAAAAAAAjk/_kIrdMeMKZU/s1600-h/long_rear_view_02.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/SCd63rzlzTI/AAAAAAAAAjk/_kIrdMeMKZU/s320/long_rear_view_02.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199259391893032242" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next she sent me upstairs to fetch my old Teddy Bear, the one I was supposed to have grown too old to play with, does anyone ever get too old to love their Teddy Bear?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;She took the Teddy and cut his head off and pulled out the stuffing.&lt;br /&gt;I ‘m still shaking at the sight of my Teddy being killed in front of my eyes.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Off we walked to the Hall and mom and I went in the kitchen to get me dressed.&lt;br /&gt;It was full of other kids putting on their costumes over their clothes, boys and girls. Mom told me to strip down to my shorts! &lt;br /&gt; I recall Brenda Mutlow and her Mother were there.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“No way not in front of these girls”!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;“Don’t be so foolish, they can’t see you”!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Yea right.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I obeyed Mother and stripped down to my underwear, actually they were probably Niall’s or Gord’s old pair.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pulled on my “costume” knowing full well it was really an old pair of Long John’s dyed brown with a faulty trap door just waiting to open and expose me to the world .&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was not going to fool anyone!&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then placed the eviscerated head of my recently departed Teddy over my head and stumbled on to the stage for my bit part.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I recall is realizing there I am , standing in front of all those people in my underwear wearing my Teddy’s head over mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/SCd5g7zlzSI/AAAAAAAAAjc/XpZb_62Y1aE/s1600-h/teddy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/SCd5g7zlzSI/AAAAAAAAAjc/XpZb_62Y1aE/s320/teddy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199257901539380514" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;It is an eerie feeling looking out from in side the body of your recently departed best friend feeling your warm breath filling the cavity and imagining your Teddy is coming to life and has eaten me in revenge.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn’t think I could make it through that afternoon with out dying of humiliation , but I guess I did, with a minium of mental scars.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must Google Freud on this one and see if it explains any part of me.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That day was no picnic for this Teddy Bear.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-5590835476242869161?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/5590835476242869161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=5590835476242869161&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/5590835476242869161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/5590835476242869161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2008/05/that-was-no-picnic-for-this-teddy-bear.html' title='That Was No Picnic  For This Teddy Bear'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/SCdulrzlzQI/AAAAAAAAAjM/aTjl3GqvO-w/s72-c/school+1936.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-3443904900370262614</id><published>2008-03-09T11:41:00.018-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-08T19:17:58.854-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Boy Bites Dog</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;BOY BITES DOG&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m sitting here watching Clara play with our dog Kallie and smiling as I think of my childhood and all the puppies I had .That triggers a memory of play times I had with my Father.&lt;br /&gt;Dad was born and raised in Bangor PEI in a large family of little means. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The first part of the story is quite close to how my Dad told me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/R9QJFUV1_DI/AAAAAAAAAgs/gRlFzid08lc/s1600-h/1949+mackay.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/R9QJFUV1_DI/AAAAAAAAAgs/gRlFzid08lc/s320/1949+mackay.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175771858719865906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day when he was just a teen he was splitting wood using the axe that had been in his family for many years. It was his grandfathers axe, the same one he used to clear the land, the original family heirloom, even though the handle had been replaced 5 times and the head twice, such are poor peoples heirlooms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/R9QKlUV1_FI/AAAAAAAAAg8/RuWprEKDY7g/s1600-h/chopwood.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/R9QKlUV1_FI/AAAAAAAAAg8/RuWprEKDY7g/s320/chopwood.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175773507987307602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Dad was one of seven brothers and one sister on a poor potato farm with one&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; horse.&lt;br /&gt;As he was splitting the wood, the trusty old axe bounced of the wood and stuck his toes, partially severing a couple. Dad yelled and his father came over to see what happened, took a look and said,&lt;br /&gt;“That’ll teach you to pay attention boy”&lt;br /&gt;He walked away leaving Dad in agony. As he was walking by the barn the horse coughed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/R_WDSPeuRII/AAAAAAAAAjE/JvxJJ7rUDjI/s1600-h/bangor+barn.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/R_WDSPeuRII/AAAAAAAAAjE/JvxJJ7rUDjI/s320/bangor+barn.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5185194895403271298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Grandad yelled “ Quick get the vet, the horse is sick”and one of the older boys ran into Morell to fetch the vet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the vet had announced&lt;br /&gt;“The horse is fine Colin”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grandad said to the vet&lt;br /&gt;“You might as well sew the young fellows toes back on while you are here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/R9QHFEV1_AI/AAAAAAAAAgU/kw7i_uE-HG8/s1600-h/Untitled-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/R9QHFEV1_AI/AAAAAAAAAgU/kw7i_uE-HG8/s320/Untitled-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175769655401643010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The story probably contains a little hyperbole but brings home the point of how valuable to the farm was the one horse in comparison to 9 boys.&lt;br /&gt;I’m the last of eight kids which indicates that my parents were not young when I arrived, Mother was 41 and Dad was 38. The fun was pretty well used up in Dad after playing with 7 other kids and working as a linesman.&lt;br /&gt;Like any other kid I wanted to play with my Dad as soon as he got home and my favourite game was for the two of us to get down on our hands and knees and pretend we were dogs, ( long before Cheech &amp; Chong) and have a dog fight. We would growl and try to put the other down crawling around the kitchen floor.&lt;br /&gt;I always played as hard as I could and thought Dad did also and that it was a real fight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/R9QL4EV1_GI/AAAAAAAAAhE/ZYxNnMpLSLA/s1600-h/dad-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/R9QL4EV1_GI/AAAAAAAAAhE/ZYxNnMpLSLA/s320/dad-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175774929621482594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dad tired quickly and said he wanted to lay down for a bit.&lt;br /&gt;Our kitchen on St Peters Road was very large, suitable for 8 kids, 2 parents 2 grandparents and always a boarder. In addition to the big table and chairs we had a day bed underneath the driveway window. On the opposite side by the sink stood a floor model Singer Sewing machine. The machine was made of cast steel and iron housed in an Ash cabinet.&lt;br /&gt;The cabinet was rectangular with four sharp corners.&lt;br /&gt;Dad lay on the day bed and fell asleep in minutes, his feet were bare and were resting on the metal frame pointing skyward.&lt;br /&gt;I was still in my playing mood, crawling around the kitchen floor looking for another dog fight, when I spied these two bare feet belonging to my dog nemesis, just waiting to be attacked.&lt;br /&gt;The old axiom “let sleeping dogs lie” at this moment was most apt, but sadly I had not head it yet.&lt;br /&gt;Sneaking up to the foot of the bed , I heard the “Dog” in deep slumber and knew it was time to finally win the fight. I slowly raised myself on my haunches and examined my prey. Here is were odds come into play , was it a 50/50/ chance or 0/100 that I’d pick the wrong foot?&lt;br /&gt;I opened my mouth over Dads foot(The Bad Dog I had been fighting with) and chomped down with all my 5 year old might.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Worlds Collide&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;My world of make believe ended when my teeth struck flesh and didn’t stop.&lt;br /&gt;Now in my own defence that foot was probably easy to bite through because of the blow from the axe years ago.&lt;br /&gt;The next thing I knew Dad was rising up off that bed faster than Dracula could from an open casket. I’ve never seen such a look of anguish before on any mans face.&lt;br /&gt;I let go and started to run backwards wondering what in the name of Heaven had I awoken?&lt;br /&gt;Dad was yelling in agony and I was crying in fear as I ran backwards, fearing for my safety.&lt;br /&gt;Here is where my luck changes for the better.&lt;br /&gt;I tripped , while in full steam reverse, fell backwards and struck the edge of the Singer sewing machine with the corner of my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/R9QN5UV1_HI/AAAAAAAAAhM/7DypYU6Oxvs/s1600-h/singer.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/R9QN5UV1_HI/AAAAAAAAAhM/7DypYU6Oxvs/s320/singer.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175777150119574642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;My head cracked open and blood began to squirt over the floor and I began to loose consciousness saving me from the perceived wrath of my father, which by the way never existed.&lt;br /&gt;Dad immediately forgot about his pain , picked me up in his arms and hugged me while stopping the flow of blood from my head.&lt;br /&gt;Being in Parkdale we didn’t have a horse , only chickens, so no reason to call the vet to “sew Dads toes back on, and stitch the young fellow’s head.&lt;br /&gt;A bit ironic that we both are there bleeding in front of a "Singer sewing Machine"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clara, who turns two tomorrow , is tugging at my arm to go and “wrestle”with her up on our bed.&lt;br /&gt;Do I dare teach her how to play “Dog Fight”?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-3443904900370262614?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/3443904900370262614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=3443904900370262614&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/3443904900370262614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/3443904900370262614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2008/03/boy-bites-dog.html' title='Boy Bites Dog'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/R9QJFUV1_DI/AAAAAAAAAgs/gRlFzid08lc/s72-c/1949+mackay.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-5739477326082091044</id><published>2008-01-21T15:21:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-22T16:45:06.828-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Attack on America</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Here is a short video I did on my feelings after 9/11. I did this a few years ago and am finally posting it. I found it very emotional to look at then and I still do now. That day we witnessed over 3000 people murdered.&lt;br /&gt;The original is in DVD format and uses 5.1 surround sound.&lt;br /&gt;It is eleven minutes long and is a history lesson as well.&lt;br /&gt;It covers the initial attack on The Twin Towers as well as The Pentagon and the heroes of Flight 93. It concludes with a tribute to the Rescue Dogs who worked at the disaster sites.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pex&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed style="width:400px; height:326px;" id="VideoPlayback" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://video.google.com/googleplayer.swf?docId=7060657966771262355&amp;hl=en-CA" flashvars=""&gt; &lt;/embed&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-5739477326082091044?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/5739477326082091044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=5739477326082091044&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/5739477326082091044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/5739477326082091044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2008/01/blog-post.html' title='Attack on America'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-604983315497454255</id><published>2007-12-29T17:45:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-30T08:41:23.017-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Great Uncle Percy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I remember this event happening, Mom took me down to the crossing to see it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;When I read this I was suprised it happened the same week Sylvia was killed, I can not imagine the pain my Mom and Dad felt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/R3bPO24digI/AAAAAAAAAe4/NlqOiL0vzbY/s1600-h/uncle+percy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/R3bPO24digI/AAAAAAAAAe4/NlqOiL0vzbY/s320/uncle+percy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5149531078102190594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-604983315497454255?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/604983315497454255/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=604983315497454255&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/604983315497454255'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/604983315497454255'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2007/12/great-uncle-percy.html' title='Great Uncle Percy'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/R3bPO24digI/AAAAAAAAAe4/NlqOiL0vzbY/s72-c/uncle+percy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-5330416844079351814</id><published>2007-10-18T19:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-22T14:23:04.879-04:00</updated><title type='text'>O'Brother Where Art Thou?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;My brother Ernie had these pictures of Niall, Gord and me that were taken down home. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;The one of the three of us in the backyard brought back more memories to me of funny stories from my childhood.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;One year Dad bought and old pickup truck from Rankin McLaine that had been leased to Maritime Electric.&lt;br /&gt;His intentions were to use it for a while , fix it up and sell it to make some extra money.&lt;br /&gt;I recall that Dad made $40.00 a week working at Maritime Electric and raised his family on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/RxfvT2A2xBI/AAAAAAAAAd4/o6dMi0ZaHmw/s1600-h/niall+gord++carl.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/RxfvT2A2xBI/AAAAAAAAAd4/o6dMi0ZaHmw/s320/niall+gord++carl.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122826225352885266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Me being the youngest brother by default made me the most gullible.&lt;br /&gt;One day Soupy Campbell and I were playing around this old Fargo truck Dad had bought.&lt;br /&gt;Gord came along and said that he could do magic, “no way “ we said.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;“Just watch” said Gord.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;“I’m going to put the keys to the truck in the ignition, wind up the windows and lock the doors, then I’ll say the magic words and presto the door will unlock”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;“WOW, really, truly?” we said. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;“Yes I can do magic” Said Gord.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;He then put the keys in the ignition, wound up the windows, and closed the door, (This is the gullible part)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;He told us the doors were locked and pretended to try and open it, and it sure looked locked to us, but he would not let us test the door to see if it was really locked. We just believed him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Then he yelled “ABBRA CADABBRA” grabbed the handle and the door opened..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;WOW, were we impressed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;“Let me try” Said gullible Pex.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;I made sure the keys were in the ignition, checked the windows, locked the doors and slammed it shut.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;I waited the required time , closed my eyes,&lt;br /&gt;and yelled “ABBRA CADABBRA”&lt;br /&gt;grabbed the handle, BUT it would not budge,&lt;br /&gt;I yelled “ABBRA CADABBRA ABBRA CADABBRA ,&lt;br /&gt;it still would not budge.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;It then occurred and me that Gord didn’t really lock the door.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;It was then noon and Dad pulled in the yard, wondering what we were doing around the truck, we told him what happened. He didn’t say much, which was very scary, and told us we had till supper time to get the keys out, then he went back to work.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Soupy and I tired everything we could to get the door open, the battery was under the floor and we could see through the floor up to the keys.&lt;br /&gt;We tried to use a coat hanger but could not reach the keys.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Time passed. Dad came home.&lt;br /&gt;Soupy and I hid behind the barn, Gord was long gone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;O’Brother where art thou?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Dad tried the door, looked in side saw the key in the ignition and walked to the barn.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Now to an adult getting the key out would not be too difficult, you could pry the vent window open with a screw driver or even break it, not a big deal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;But a Father who has all afternoon to stew about this, a simple solution is not enough.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Dad went into the barn , came out with a shovel, went up to the back window, drew back , and let fly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Barry Bonds, does not swing the bat as hard as Dad swung that shovel.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Oh, well it is only one window we thought, but suddenly the shovel came out of Dad’s hands and was not content to just break the rear window, but travelled through the cab and out through the windshield.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;The sound of smashing glass filled our ears and then suddenly it was quiet. Dad reached in and took the keys out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;He went down to Walter Burhoe’s and sold him the truck. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;I think dad paid $40.00 for the truck and sold it for $20.00.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The story I wrote about the circus and Gord out running the Clown, he is a picture of Gord and me with Gord's ribbons he won at Track and Field.&lt;br /&gt;I rember one saturday Dad, Gord and i were at Victoria park where gord was in a track meet, he won the race and broke the record that had been held by our Uncle Lorne Callbeck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/RxfwYWA2xDI/AAAAAAAAAeI/ls_8ZJFWUwI/s1600-h/gord+n+carl.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/RxfwYWA2xDI/AAAAAAAAAeI/ls_8ZJFWUwI/s320/gord+n+carl.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122827402173924402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;This is Niall in our living room down home, we had a TV.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;A few years earlier when televison was new to PEI, very few people had one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;A company from Halifax called , Forrest Hill opened up an appliance store in Blair moore's bike shop up the street. Niall got to work there in the early evening while the owner went home for supper. It was rare for a retail store to be open nights during the weekat this time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I recall it was winter andwe would go up to the store and wait out side , Niall would put the TV up to the window and we would sit out side on a snowbank and watch it.&lt;br /&gt;Butsy Dennis worked there also as well as delivering milk, he would tell his customers about these wondefull TV'S and ask if he could bring them one to try.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Shortly after, Barry bought a TV and put it in the snackbar down at the back. there was no local station. The nearest one in Moncton and you needed an aerial on a tower in order to get the signal. I think the station began brodcasting at 5 or 6 pm daily and stayed on for a few hours.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I recall they only had one camera and rolled it up to a floor lenght mirror so the viewrs could see what the camera looked like.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The biggest suprise we got from seeing Barry's TV for the first time was that it had sound also. we never heard the sound through the window.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Is it just me or was TV more exciting then? Maybe it is how we watch it now, laying down on a sofa in a warm room.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I think I'll dig out an old pair of rubber boots, slip on some leggins and go out side and sit on a snow bank in front of the living room window.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-weight: bold;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/RxfxQ2A2xEI/AAAAAAAAAeQ/AKiNbXdyzeY/s1600-h/niall.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/RxfxQ2A2xEI/AAAAAAAAAeQ/AKiNbXdyzeY/s320/niall.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5122828372836533314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-5330416844079351814?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/5330416844079351814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=5330416844079351814&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/5330416844079351814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/5330416844079351814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2007/10/obrother-where-art-thou.html' title='O&apos;Brother Where Art Thou?'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/RxfvT2A2xBI/AAAAAAAAAd4/o6dMi0ZaHmw/s72-c/niall+gord++carl.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-3645742880559420708</id><published>2007-10-17T19:45:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-17T19:50:26.233-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Be Carefull Crossing The Road</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-3c6c156f09861220" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" 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href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/3645742880559420708/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=3645742880559420708&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/3645742880559420708'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/3645742880559420708'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2007/10/be-carefull-crossing-road.html' title='Be Carefull Crossing The Road'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-9094990990958383719</id><published>2007-10-12T18:18:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T19:40:23.950-04:00</updated><title type='text'>2007 Pex Visits 1965 Pex</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-f22cbd6e0a2802eb" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" 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bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v11.nonxt6.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Df22cbd6e0a2802eb%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330015006%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D2ABA08EC2552A699E790EF727A3F00C41E6F210E.5EAF9F34616369E92583321DBDE56F4DE467B65%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Df22cbd6e0a2802eb%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DKIVvLsc_rG1ztZfDXX4M6VNjJ68&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-9094990990958383719?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=f22cbd6e0a2802eb&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/9094990990958383719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=9094990990958383719&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/9094990990958383719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/9094990990958383719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2007/10/2008-pex-visits-1965-pex.html' title='2007 Pex Visits 1965 Pex'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-8278703497112938682</id><published>2007-09-21T16:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-21T18:55:46.439-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Breakfast At The Circus</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;The highlight of every summer as a kid was the arrival of Old Home week and The Bill Lynch midway.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;But every now and then a Circus would arrive bringing exotic animals , clowns and acrobats.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Three of these stand out in my mind.&lt;br /&gt; The first was held down at the exhibition grounds.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;We saw it arrive by rail as it passed our house, the brightly coloured wagons atop of the flatcars. The line seemed endless as it slowly made it’s way to the station.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;We would immediately head down to the station to watch.&lt;br /&gt;The wagons would be rolled of and hooked up to horse which would then pull them up to the grounds.&lt;br /&gt;The most amazing site was the elephants walking single file holding on to each others tail and walk behind the trainer.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;The largest elephants would help raise the Big Top, pulling on ropes and raising the canvass.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;My mother took me to see the circus and bought me a bottle of coke. I so enjoyed that day as the action was non stop in the three rings.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next one I remember took place at Victoria Park (As I Recall), Mom and Dad were away and Brenda was in charge of us. She so wanted to go and made us promise “Don’t tell mom and Dad”. If we didn’t tell she would buy us a popsicle.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;We walked out to the park , it was in the evening, I don’t remember getting in to see anything , just walking around.&lt;br /&gt;We left there , and true to her word, Brenda bought us a popsicle at Foster’s Ice Cream on Euston Street. &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;We were so excited to be getting a popsicle all to our selves. We slowly unwrapped them and waited for that cold sweet flavour to hit our tastes buds!!!!mmm &lt;/span&gt;    &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt; YUK,&lt;br /&gt;These were awful, they tasted like kerosene, the oil lamp above the freezer had leaked the kerosene into the cooler and unto the popsicle. &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;We could have lit them and smoked them they were so saturated., but we ate them anyway.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Third circus I recall set up over where Superstore is now located, it was a vacant field with one barn housing Dunlop tires.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;The price of admission was one dollar which was out of our price range and we could not get any money from mom.&lt;br /&gt;It was one of the few times I ever saw my mother in bed during the day , not feeling well.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;We jumped on our bikes and drove over anyway. We walked around the tent looking for an opening and then we spotted one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Niall was the first to try , he got on his stomach and slid under and disappeared, Gord was next with me close behind. I poked my head under the tent just in time to see Gord take off running being chased by a Clown on stilts. The Clown didn’t stand a chance , Gord was gone in a flash.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;I was halfway under the tent at this point , ready to make my run.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;There aren’t many exotic animals on PEI, and certainly none to be afraid of, but The Circus is another world.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was contemplating my run, my heart pounding in fear of being caught , I got up on my knees and was just about to go, when I felt hot smelly breath on my cheek. I turned my head slowly to the right and there looking into my eyes was a Giraffe. The were in a corral by the side of the tent and he lowered his neck down to check on the excitement.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;I dropped to my stomach and slid back out under the tent, ran to my bike and peddled home, still shaking.&lt;/span&gt;    &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;But as I said the best time for any kid in the summer was Old Home Week and The Bill Lynch Midway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/RvQs1mA2xAI/AAAAAAAAAdw/A8Niq82jKuY/s1600-h/old_home_weekcopy_+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/RvQs1mA2xAI/AAAAAAAAAdw/A8Niq82jKuY/s320/old_home_weekcopy_+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5112760776221180930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Everybody has their favourite memories of that week each summer so I’ll be quiet about mine.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;This picture is probably 1955, going by the cars.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Remember The Burlesque Tent, the girls would come out and dance around while the Barker enticed the men to go in.&lt;br /&gt;I hear that during the last show on Saturday Night they take it all off.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;The Rollo Planes were very scary, it held a total of 8 people , two in each end, and you were held in by a metal bar that crushed down on your knees, &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Baldy Williams would sit close to this ride and wait for it to shake the change out of peoples pockets.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;You can see the Bingo tent down by the lower gate, The Priest who travelled with The Show would hold Mass there on Sunday Morning.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just behind the Two Ferris Wheels is a ride shaped like a water wheel, two people would sit in it and it would rotate.&lt;br /&gt;After the Midway left town the Gallant boys built one in their back yard. They would charge you a nickle , and they would tie you in with rope and spin it till you threw up.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can see from this picture the rides were few and there are lots of side shows.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;The food stands were mostly locals, The Redmond’s from the east end, Joe Ghiz and his Father, Ring the bell to win a cigar, Whitey Macdonald, The Burgoynes had a couple of concessions and I recall the bought hotdogs from Canada Packers , not by the dozen but by the Ton.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway there is a lot to see in this picture, take your time and enjoy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-8278703497112938682?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/8278703497112938682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=8278703497112938682&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/8278703497112938682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/8278703497112938682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2007/09/breakfast-at-circus.html' title='Breakfast At The Circus'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/RvQs1mA2xAI/AAAAAAAAAdw/A8Niq82jKuY/s72-c/old_home_weekcopy_+copy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-8634064292127835628</id><published>2007-09-10T18:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-10T18:55:50.232-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Race Track</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;This photo is difficult to date it is after 1911 as you can make out the Old Jail. Our house at 2 St. Peters road is there but not musch more.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;You can see The Infirmary very clear as well as the rail tracks going up along side the cannery on esher Street. There is no Belmont Street or any others in Parkdale. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;No electricity at the track either.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/RuXKa5xiDXI/AAAAAAAAAdI/rU_gLUTkFhA/s1600-h/race+track+very+old.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/RuXKa5xiDXI/AAAAAAAAAdI/rU_gLUTkFhA/s320/race+track+very+old.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108711915855678834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-8634064292127835628?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/8634064292127835628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=8634064292127835628&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/8634064292127835628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/8634064292127835628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2007/09/race-track.html' title='The Race Track'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/RuXKa5xiDXI/AAAAAAAAAdI/rU_gLUTkFhA/s72-c/race+track+very+old.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-4262825047718811642</id><published>2007-08-24T18:39:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-09-12T18:54:43.407-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunshine Superman</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/Rs9evJxiDOI/AAAAAAAAAcA/RePiR13-NTA/s1600-h/2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/Rs9evJxiDOI/AAAAAAAAAcA/RePiR13-NTA/s320/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102401067004595426" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Percy And Jack Gay in front of the Dairy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are some things and places that never seem to change with time and then suddenly they disappear. When you are just a kid everything seemed so permanent, your parents, your dog and your neighbourhood, then one day you look and they are gone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Sunshine Island Dairy was such a place for me. It was always there and I thought it always would be.&lt;br /&gt;In May of this year Purity Dairy ended it's milk home delivery service.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;My brothers and I spent a lot of our youth at the dairy both working and playing. On Saturday mornings we would go down to the dairy after we finished delivering our newspapers to see about going out on milk delivery.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first man that let me tag along was Mr. Hamm, Frank was his first name but we never used it, he was Mr. Hamm. He was one of countless&lt;br /&gt;men who left their homes and families and went off to war. Fought for King and country, lost many friends in battle, then returned and picked up their lives again and got on with building a family.&lt;br /&gt;I never heard him speak of the war even though it had only been a few years since it ended.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;He was a strong man, if anyone recalls how milk was handled back then. The stainless cannisters weighed about 35 lbs empty and must have been well in excess of 100 hundred lbs when filled with milk. Mr Hamm would carry one in each hand and toss then up on his wagon as if they were weightless.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this era dairy farmers had their customers for milk but didn’t have the equipment to process it, so they would take it into a dairy and sell it and buy pack a finished product to sell to their customers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;The milk was packaged in glass bottles with a cardboard stopper on top with the name of the company printed on it. Milk was available only in one grade, 5% and it wasn’t homogenized so the cream always rose to the top. Before you used it you had to shake the bottle to suspend the cream in the milk.&lt;br /&gt;In the winter the milk would freeze and the cream would push the stopper out of the bottle and a frozen cream cone would rise up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr Hamm lived out in Mt Herbert and would make the trip into the dairy early each morning, after he finished milking his cows, and load up his wagon with bottles and start his deliveries.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each Saturday and all summer I would be at the dairy waiting for him to arrive. I was too small to help unload the milk but was able to carry the wooden cases of bottles and stack them on the wagon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Oh , by the way Mr Hamm did not use a truck but a horse and wagon in the summer and a sleigh in the winter. I ‘m at a loss as to the horses name but it was along the lines of “Annabelle” I hope someone can tell me what the name was.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Summer was a great time to deliver milk, the weather was so warm , you were up early and always finished by 12:30. Mr Hamm had a few customers who actually took a vacation in the summer and left their house and didn’t require milk.&lt;br /&gt;This is&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/Rs9eVpxiDMI/AAAAAAAAAbw/uzcp0cueUmc/s1600-h/frank+hamm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/Rs9eVpxiDMI/AAAAAAAAAbw/uzcp0cueUmc/s320/frank+hamm.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102400628917931202" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt; where a kid is most handy. Our horse new the milk route as well as Mr. Hamm did and would stop at our customers houses and wait for me to deliver and come back and then move on to the next customer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;When we would come to a house where the people were away the horse would stop anyway, not knowing about vacations. The horse would stop and wait for the delivery , so I’d jump of the wagon, rattle the bottles and jump back up on the seat and she would be content and move on to the next customer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Winter was the opposite, it was so cold, and as I mentioned in another story, we wore rubber boots with wool sock. The insulating value was a minus factor and after about 5 steps the socks fell down your leg and bunched up in your toe. After a few hours your feet lost all feeling and you forgot about them until you went home and took off your rubber boots and placed your feet on the oven door and they began to sting as the cold began to leave.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;One day in the fall Mr Hamm arrived with a different horse “Annabelle was sick. This was a much younger horse and not too experienced, a lot like me.&lt;br /&gt;Mr hamm warned me not to stand up but to sit as this horse would make sudden moves and I could get hurt.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt; Well it didn’t take long.&lt;br /&gt;It was a very cold morning and there were ruts frozen in the mud around the dairy.&lt;br /&gt;We loaded the cart and pulled away from the loading hatch and began to drive up Belmont Street , when suddenly the horse stumbled over a mud rut, lost his balance and fell down.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;The cart was loaded with milk crates and was very heavy, if the horse tried to get back up he would either tip the cart or break the shaves. In a flash Mr. Hamm jumped off the seat of the cart and landed by the horses head, he put his knee on the horses neck to prevent him from being able to stand. I ran up to the White Rose and sounded the alarm and Walter, Wenn, and Bill Burhoe and Allison Moore came running down. They unhitched the cart and kept it from rolling back down the hill. Mr Hamm got the horse back up and hitched it back into the cart and away we went.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;As We drove along Mr Hamm would teasingly say&lt;br /&gt;“ Did you trip the horse? I thought I saw your leg stick out”.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;“ No way Mr. Hamm, look I can’t even come near his leg”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Later that day we were going up Walthen Drive and I’d forgotten his warning and was standing up when the horse suddenly moved. I lost my balance and fell on the horse’s rump , tried to hang on to the harness but slid down his back between his legs and onto the street underneath the horse.&lt;br /&gt;The horse got a scare and began to jump around with me under him my hands and legs sticking up trying not to get kicked or stepped on. There were hoofs flying every where but I managed to roll out from under him unscathed.&lt;br /&gt;I sat down the rest of the day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;When we finished the milk route and returned back to the dairy, I would put a blanket over the horse and put on his feed bag, then I would help him unload the empty bottles and place them in the bottle washer.&lt;br /&gt;What a neat machine , it was a conveyor and we turned the bottles upside down and they were washed and steamed to sanitize them. &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;I recall a bottle of milk was seventeen cents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Mr Hamm would give me 25ct.for helping him and away I’d go home for dinner and then off to the Capitol Theatre to watch a good Cowboy movie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;I never remember Mr Hamm with a truck only his horses and his quiet and thoughtful manner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I grew a little older and lost interest in the horse and wagon and went on to help Louie Savident and ride in a new truck.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/Rs9fg5xiDQI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/jV84MACDgs4/s1600-h/Untitled-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/Rs9fg5xiDQI/AAAAAAAAAcQ/jV84MACDgs4/s320/Untitled-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102401921703087362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Reg Gay loaned me these pictures.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The two men at the back are Des Whitlock and Arnold Roper?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The other man with white hair is Bob Farqueson&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;and in front are Elmer Paquet, Dick Bevan, And Louie Savident.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The picture was taken fron the balcony up at Walters.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The two houses that are where Chandler Bros is were bought by Stu Mackay and moved.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;They are both on Donwood Drive in Parkdale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I mentioned, my brothers and I were at the dairy every Saturday , with but one exception.&lt;br /&gt;CARTOON  CAVALCADE&lt;br /&gt;Once a year Sussex Pop would sponsor a morning of cartoons at The Prince Edward Theatre on Grafton Street. To gain admission you had to produce 7 caps from Sussex pop. They also bottled Nesbitt’s Orange and Evangeline products.&lt;br /&gt;We would spend days going store to store emptying out the cannister that collected the bottle caps, sort through them to get enough for the cartoons.&lt;br /&gt;The Prince Edward was a grand old theatre with the box office in the middle of the entry with picture of coming movies on either side.&lt;br /&gt;Kids rarely went to this theatre as they mostly showed mushy adult stuff about love, we went to the Capitol were they showed serials, short comedies like The three Stooges and a good western every Saturday afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;Close to the Prince Edward was a Chinese laundry run by a family who lived there. The grandfather lived to be 112.&lt;br /&gt;The family had children and in the evening as adults lined up waiting to purchase tickets the youngest son would march in front of the people playing a drum.&lt;br /&gt;The adults would OOOOOH, &amp; AAAAAH and give him money.&lt;br /&gt;So the morning of Cartoon Cavalcade we would join hundreds of kids and have a feast of laughter, watching warner Bros. Cartoons, Abbot &amp;amp; Costello, The Bowery Boys, and of course The Three Stooges, what a morning we had.&lt;br /&gt;I also saw King Kong , the 1930's version there, when Kong came on the screen I was gone, laying on the floor , terrified.&lt;br /&gt;Niall would say&lt;br /&gt;“It’s ok , he’s gone come on up”.&lt;br /&gt;Sure enough I’d poke my head up Kong would roar and I’d be gone again.&lt;br /&gt;So there we were watching the show when suddenly the show stops , the light come on and The Man, Mr. Mullis is standing there with our father.&lt;br /&gt;He calls out Niall’s name and we are thinking what did he do , this is serious.&lt;br /&gt;Niall goes up to see dad and then comes back to tell us he has to go.&lt;br /&gt;Butsy Dennis, the milkman that Niall worked with , had a heart attack.&lt;br /&gt;As I said before with Mr Hamm, the horse knew the route and all the stops, but a Chevy pick up truck didn’t.&lt;br /&gt;They needed Niall to go with Butsy’s replacement and show him the route.&lt;br /&gt;Saturday was a difficult day for milkmen as it was the day people paid for the week or bought tickets for the next week.&lt;br /&gt;We were so proud of Niall that day as he left Cartoon Cavalcade to deliver milk.&lt;br /&gt;Neither Rain, Nor sleet, Nor  Cartoon Cavalcade could prevent the milk from being delivered.&lt;br /&gt;The Prince Edward burned down one night, it was very elegant with a balcony with two winding stair cases up to it.&lt;br /&gt;We went down to survey the fire the next morning and it was still smoldering. next to it was a small store caleed Ray's, it was badly smoke damaged and flooded with water.&lt;br /&gt;LLoyd Duffy waded in , again thank goodness for rubber boots, he picked up smoe candy that was floating in the water and brought it out.&lt;br /&gt;He gave me a soggy and a smokey Eatmore bar, mmmmmmmmmmm delicious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-4262825047718811642?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/4262825047718811642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=4262825047718811642&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/4262825047718811642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/4262825047718811642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2007/08/sunshine-superman.html' title='Sunshine Superman'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/Rs9evJxiDOI/AAAAAAAAAcA/RePiR13-NTA/s72-c/2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-547244298459027635</id><published>2007-06-20T19:46:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-20T19:48:24.679-04:00</updated><title type='text'>THE FARM</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Marilyn Burns gave me this picture, it was taken in 1963.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Spend some time and look for familiar land marks, The Pickle Plant, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Burke's Rink, The Pig Barn, The Apple Orchard, Burn's House, The Round Chicken House.&lt;br /&gt;The Apple orchard, real apples with no worms or scabs and all you had to do was wait untill it was dark and jump over the fence , grab some apples and get back out before the Guards caught you. If you were patient enough and could wait untill Halloween Mr Parent gave out apples as treats, but the stolen ones tasted better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/Rnm8afd3kzI/AAAAAAAAAaA/KW41K5PNJRs/s1600-h/experimental+farm+1963.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/Rnm8afd3kzI/AAAAAAAAAaA/KW41K5PNJRs/s320/experimental+farm+1963.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078297218146341682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-547244298459027635?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/547244298459027635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=547244298459027635&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/547244298459027635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/547244298459027635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2007/06/farm_20.html' title='THE FARM'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/Rnm8afd3kzI/AAAAAAAAAaA/KW41K5PNJRs/s72-c/experimental+farm+1963.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-7787008047510382355</id><published>2007-06-08T20:02:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-06-09T20:36:06.338-04:00</updated><title type='text'>ORIGINAL COLD BEER STORE</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/Rmn1Ovd3khI/AAAAAAAAAXo/bGmircgDAlM/s1600-h/BeersGrocery2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/Rmn1Ovd3khI/AAAAAAAAAXo/bGmircgDAlM/s320/BeersGrocery2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5073856088818291218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I just recieved this picture from Ted Beer's daughter, Karen.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Thats George, "Bobby" and Ian.&lt;br /&gt;They are standing in Beer's backyard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;This shows the front of the store, look to the right of the photo and you will see a kid sitting there. Anyone know who it is?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;That is Found's house in the background.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/Rmn7hfd3kjI/AAAAAAAAAX4/HSBDGTDRYSY/s1600-h/BeersGroceryStore3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/Rmn7hfd3kjI/AAAAAAAAAX4/HSBDGTDRYSY/s320/BeersGroceryStore3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5073863008010605106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I don't know who is standing in front.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/Rmn9wvd3kkI/AAAAAAAAAYA/1aqirFuIJNA/s1600-h/FrontofGrocers.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/Rmn9wvd3kkI/AAAAAAAAAYA/1aqirFuIJNA/s320/FrontofGrocers.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5073865469026865730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The store was located on Hawthorne Avenue behind their house on St Peters Road, we always  called it Beer's Store. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Notice the "Buckingham Cigarettes Sign" on the side.&lt;br /&gt;This was one tough smoke, I remember when I worked at the drugstore in the mid 60's these were still available.&lt;br /&gt;When a man came in to buy a pack he would say&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"Give Me A pack of Bucking, hack hack, cough, hack cough, hams", the word was too long and required to much lung capacity for the men who were addicted to them.&lt;br /&gt;I can recall buying some candy there at various times and a bottle of Wynola Pop, the original cherry coke. I barely remember George's father who I think ran the store, was his name Russell?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I forgot about the gas pump at the front.&lt;br /&gt;Ian looks about 2 years old so that would make this picture about 1947/48.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I think the store had Insulbrick siding and "Beaverboard" ceilings. The counter was on the right side and there were living quarters above.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;in the mid fiftys Art Rynes ran the store and he also raised chinchillas, I wonder if he made any money?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The store burned one evening in 1956, we were allowed to go over the fence to sit on the stairs that led up to my sister Shirley's apt. above Vera's. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I think that my Father had a mild heart attack that night also.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I recall the intense heat and how bright and high the flames were. Parkdale Fire dept fought the blaze and I remember the "Old Federal" 1916 I think, fire truck which was used as a ladder truck.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The next day we went up to check out the remains, no one was hurt but I think Art's father had to jump from the second story, those who were there can correct me if I'm wrong.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;As kids we were facinated by the burned out building and one thing that sticks out in my memory about was, Mr Matthews from the CAA grounds ( Charlottetown Athletic Association)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;was there with his horse and dump cart beginning the clean up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;As we arrived he was opening the front door to the store and was coming out with Rynes's dog on the end of his pitch fork, I remember him as being a black Lab.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The dog had made it to the front door and died from the smoke. The site of that has stayed with me this 50 years.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The store was then torn down and a house built there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-7787008047510382355?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/7787008047510382355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=7787008047510382355&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/7787008047510382355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/7787008047510382355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2007/06/beers-store-hawthorne-ave.html' title='ORIGINAL COLD BEER STORE'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/Rmn1Ovd3khI/AAAAAAAAAXo/bGmircgDAlM/s72-c/BeersGrocery2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-7677276035965005570</id><published>2007-04-08T13:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-04-08T14:05:16.821-04:00</updated><title type='text'>ROUND ROUND GET AROUND I GET AROUND</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;April 8th and a late winter storm is hitting the Island . I’m STORMSTAYED. I’m thinking back to how much we enjoyed storms as kids and the excitement they would bring. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;One of our favourite winter sports was “hooking on cars”. This expression covers both cars and trucks. There is a learning curve to acquiring this skill. In my case it began with sleighs. Our next door neighbour Art MacKinnon had a farm over in Rocky Point and travelled there daily. In the summer he used a horse and wagon and winter a horse and sleigh. In the 1950's and earlier we were not obsessed with bare roads, in fact bare pavement was not good for travel.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;From an early age we leaned how to slide on our feet with rubber boots on. Art would come home each noon time for dinner and a snooze. It was possible in those days to drive across the ice. The reasons being, all oil products came by rail and so no ships broke up the ice, most people had septic tanks and not hooked up to a central system that dumped hot stuff into the river.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;After lunch we would jump the fence and go to the barn and harness the horse to the sleigh and wait for Art to make the return trip to Rocky Point. We would jump into the sleigh as we left home but as soon as we were out of sight we would hop over the back and start to slide. There were always ropes attached so you could grab on and get towed. We would stay on till we reached the ice and then let go and fall into the snow. We would get up , dump the snow from our rubber boots and start to walk back. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;We then had a problem, not enough time, if we walked , we would be late. So ,now with the art of standing on your feet and sliding behind a moving sleigh mastered, it was time to move on up.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;As I said the roads usually had a layer of snow or ice on them, the roads were not salted or sanded so it was fairly smooth sliding.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;We would walk up to an intersection and wait for a vehicle to slow down and appear to be heading our way and grab on to the bumper.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Cars in this era had great bumpers, big and chrome and sticking out from the body of the car. To hook on unnoticed, you merely walked behind the car dropped down to a squat , grab the bumper and away you go. A kid had to have a good knowledge of the streets and know them by looking down between your legs as it sped under you. WARNING, never hook on a chrome bumper without mitts, remember Ralphie’s tongue on the flag pole in Christmas Story.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Trucks we much better to hook on as you could stand up and do some fancy foot work, and if you were lucky , and the driver was a young buck you might get a super ride. Some truck drivers would pick up speed and slide around corners, either to give a thrill or to knock you off. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;WARNING, never put your arm through the tail gate chain, although the chain allowed you greater control and the older guys would do fancy footwork, if you lost your balance you could not let go.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;When we were kids we would always be up at Barry’s mostly to stand out side and watch as we would not have money for anything to eat. The older guys had a good system, one of them would stand out on the highway in front of Barry’s to slow down a truck, if you remember the nearest stop would of been back at Longworth and Euston the way out of townand the next stop would probably be lands end at East Point.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;So one of the guys would make the truck slow down and a few others would run out from Mr. Driscoll’s fence , grab the tail gate and go for a slide. The object to this was to see who could hang on the longest. The down side of this was getting back to Barry’s as most evening traffic was out bound. Most guys dropped off up by Fred Hickox’s Texaco, the really brave might make it to Frank Mackay’s turn. One night we watched in amazement as David O’brien grabbed on to a chain and lost his balance as he disappeared into the darkness, his arm caught in the chain and not able to get back on his feet. According to lore he was taken as far as Wright’s Creek before the truck stopped. He had to walk back to Barry’s.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Summer was as much fun as winter for getting around, sliding was out but there were still wagons and cars and trucks had running boards.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Jerome Dorion worked and lived at the farm behind the present day Mount St Mary’s. He always seemed old to us and unchanging. He would take the horse and wagon into the city a few days a week, down Mount Edward Road into the city to The Monastery of The Precious Blood on Sydney Street. His wagon had steel wheels and you could hear him coming from a long distance. Jumping on his wagon required skill, you had to use stealth, it was like sneaking up on a sleeping cat. His head was always hanging down as if asleep ,nodding with the movement of the wagon and the rhythm of the horses hooves. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;We would pretend to be walking and let them pass us and them we would canter up behind the and gently climb on the wagon being careful not to make the wagon move so as to wake him. We would sit on the back our feet hanging down, usually Knees and I, feeling smug and ready to enjoy the ride into the city. There are two things worth noting, one Mr. Dorion carried a whip in his right hand and maybe he wasn’t asleep. Just as we though we had it made he would awaken and snap the whip at you. Zorro was never this good with a whip, Jerome could hit you on the back of the hand in a flash and YEOW, we would jump off . As we walked we would try to plan our next attempt. I don’t ever remember getting to town or back out him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;As we got older we got braver and graduated up to getting on the running boards of cars . The problem here was getting the car to stop or slow down enough to jump on and as I said earlier there were few stop signs. There was one stop sign close to our house, for cars coming down Mt Edward Road connecting to Longworth Avenue. The only problem here was the type of driver that you could jump on with was not one who obeyed such things as stop signs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Watson “Moose “ Higgins was a retired Deputy Chief Of Police and he lived on Gower Street he drove a tan 1938 Chev with running boards , ideal for getting on. He always drove with the window down so if you could get on you could hold on to the door post. Moose did not like us doing this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;When we would see him coming down the road , even if we went going anywhere, we would run over to the intersection and hope that he would at least slow down at the stop sign. We would run along side jump on the running board grab the door post and hang on , Moose some times would try to knock you off by opening the door and swinging it out, if you were holding on right you just lifted your feet and swing with the door and wait for it to swing back and not jamb your fingers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Moose never stopped for the one traffic signal or anything else. When he arrived at his destination he left the car in the middle of the street and did his business.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Another good ride was Mr Newson. He owned the fox ranch where Parkdale School was built. He had a great orchard with apples , pears, grapes, plums and probably more. I was never in the orchard during the day only after it was dark. Mmmmmmmm Forbidden Fruit.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;I think he owned a Model B, Bob or Deryck would know. Legend has it that he had a ball on a cord hanging from the middle of the door frame. When he would come home he would line up the Rad ornament with the ball and drive in. On halloween the older guys ( Bob) would move the ball a few inches off to the side, causing Mr Newson to scrape the side.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;Anyway, Mr. Newson didn’t heed signals either and was a very poor driver, jumping on his running board was easy , he never knew you were there but he sure had a lot of close calls. We didn’t jump on his running board too often, we were very cautious and didn’t like to do dangerous stuff. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;I tried to get pictures of these men but to no avail, maybe someone has one they can send me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;                               &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-7677276035965005570?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/7677276035965005570/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=7677276035965005570&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/7677276035965005570'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/7677276035965005570'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2007/04/round-round-get-around-i-get-around.html' title='ROUND ROUND GET AROUND I GET AROUND'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-4348504313118396724</id><published>2007-02-15T15:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-19T05:25:40.693-05:00</updated><title type='text'>GET OUT OF JAIL FREE</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;As with most kids growing up, I have a few places, that I played near, that have made lasting memories.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;The Jail being one. We lived kitty corner from the 1911 Queens County Jail and had a great time there. I spent a lot of time in jail as a kid. This was the early fifties and the Island was going through changes that we &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;were n&lt;/span&gt;ot aware were talking place.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;The Ice Man. Enterprising men would go to lakes in the winter and cut out blocks&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/RdhRhVL4zOI/AAAAAAAAAMY/2MX4uwUTjII/s1600-h/ice+man.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/RdhRhVL4zOI/AAAAAAAAAMY/2MX4uwUTjII/s320/ice+man.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5032862216651066594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt; of ice, take them to an ice shed and cover them with sawdust and wait for&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt; summer. Winters during this period were difficult for seasonal workers,&lt;br /&gt;no Employment Insurance meant no money to live on.  When Employment Insurance first arrived , it was called Unemployment Insurance. When you were hired for a jobb you were given a small book about 4inches by 6 inches. Each week when you were paid, inside the pay packet was a stamp. You would take the stamp and paste in in your book. When you had enough stamps and were unemployed you went to The Federal Building Showed your book and then were able to draw on this insurance. It is interesting how the phrase "enough stamps" has continued to be used by a generation who have no concept as to what it means.&lt;br /&gt;There were many corner stores and each one had a number of customers who charged their groceries over the winter and pay up in the spring when they found work. There were still a few places around our home that still used an icebox to keep things cold. The ice was placed in a covered storage unit on top and milk and other perishables were placed below it. As the ice melted it drew heat out of the unit. As kids we &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;did n&lt;/span&gt;ot have money either to buy a treat on a hot summers day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/RdTGQFL4zLI/AAAAAAAAAL0/GnfxJUIF9kI/s1600-h/ice+tongs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/RdTGQFL4zLI/AAAAAAAAAL0/GnfxJUIF9kI/s320/ice+tongs.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5031864663251930290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;So we would walk around , hoping to spot the iceman and his horse drawn wagon and follow him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;There was one family that lived above Walter &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Burhoe&lt;/span&gt;’s White Rose that still used an ice box. We would follow the iceman and wait for him to stop and to make a delivery. He would jump to the ground come around to the back and lift a heavy tarp to get at the ice. He would take the ice tongs and grab hold of the ice block with great force to carry it up the stairs. If we were really lucky , on a hot August day, a piece of ice would break loose and fall to the ground into the dirt. We would dive for it , pick it up , wipe it on our pants and then sit on the curb and enjoy it. I can’t tell you how lovely and cool it was on a hot day. We would slurp it and savour it , hoping it would last forever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/RdTGUlL4zMI/AAAAAAAAAL8/NafMCWKAjg4/s1600-h/ice.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/RdTGUlL4zMI/AAAAAAAAAL8/NafMCWKAjg4/s320/ice.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5031864740561341634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;There was also a chick hatchery just below the dairy. It too was fascinating.  There were always chicks being hatched, all day. The ones that were weak and probably not going to live were dumped into a barrel outside. The hatchery would mail boxes of chicks to people around the Island. The box, about the size of a Strawberry crate, would be packed with live chicks, covered with a top with air holes and sent by mail. It was not &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;unusual&lt;/span&gt; to go  to the post office during chick mailing days and hear the sound of 100's of chicks &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;chirping&lt;/span&gt; in their boxes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Sometimes we would find a good chick in the barrel take it out and go home with it. We would put the cute little chick in the cage with the canary. It would stay there till dad got home. We kept chickens in a barn in our yard, so I’ll assume Dad put the chick in there. We usually had a chicken for Sunday dinner , Dad would go to the hen house on Saturday , &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;grab&lt;/span&gt; a plump hen and do the deed. Sunday as we ate dinner we would try to guess which hen we were eating. We as kids always picked a chicken as our pet and hope he would not get the axe. When Dad sold the hen house to Joe MacDonald , a man came to buy all the hens. Joe was not going to use it as a hen house but as a barn.&lt;br /&gt;Vernon Duck , who worked with dad at Maritime Electric, arrived with a Chrysler &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;product&lt;/span&gt; called a Power Wagon. This was a World War Two truck that the company used to get around in the winter. It was four wheel drive, very high and a winch on front.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/RdhQMFL4zNI/AAAAAAAAAMM/ZSYiAocNthA/s1600-h/PowerWagon-1-01.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/RdhQMFL4zNI/AAAAAAAAAMM/ZSYiAocNthA/s320/PowerWagon-1-01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5032860752067218642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;We were watching as the man, loaded all the birds into his crates, our pet birds included. All of a sudden one of the birds escaped. Which one??? It was Brenda's Benny The Rooster!!! As he ran around the yard Brenda was yelling "Run Benny Run". Brenda did he escape??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;In the early fifties the jail was not very security conscious. We had easy access to it at any time of the day or night. Friday nights were always fun as it was fight night. We would watch the jail to see when the police cars came with some guys arrested for drinking and fighting and the run across the street to watch. Now the police knew it would be struggle to put these guys in the drunk tank with out getting into a fight with them and ending up with a black eye. This is where we came to the rescue. We knew most of the guys arrested so we would take them by the hand and put them in the cells, they would never hit a kid. We would stay till things calmed down and then with the keys in our pocket we would go home for the night. We would return in the morning to let them out for breakfast .During the summer months the prisoners would get us to run over to the store for them, smokes and Ale.  Smokes came in two size packages, 20 and 25 cigs, priced at 36 ct. and 40ct.&lt;br /&gt;The stores at this time sold a drink called Town Ale. I don’t know how they did it but there it was , it cost 25 ct. a bottle. So we would run over to the store buy a bottle, but we were told to hide it under our shirts, and run back . &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;It probably tasted as cool and good to the men as the ice chip did to us. As I grew older I still talked with these men and traded stories about their time there. As they grew older I visted them in nursing homes and hospitals. As I think about it I was a Pall Bearer for two of them at their funerals.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;But back to the story.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;There was a man in jail for murder!. At the time, we were told that he wanted to marry a girl but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;was no&lt;/span&gt;t allowed due to a difference in religion. The story has it that the girl's grandmother was most opposed to the marriage.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;She was shot dead by the man through window. The story is embellished today to where she was on her knees praying with the Rosary. The point is she was shot and Joe went to jail. I was of the understanding that he was held on what was then called “A Lieutenant Governors Warrant” This was an open ended sentence and you were held at the pleasure of the Crown.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;We were very young when Joe came to jail as a prisoner. The Jail keeper liked him and he soon became a trustee and had access to most of the jail.&lt;br /&gt;Now my friends and I called him “Joe The Murder” and he never seemed to mind.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Joe the Murder was kind to us and looked out for us. I loved getting up early running over to the jail, check the box at the gate, this is where meat and fish were left for the meals. I’d run in with it, go down stairs to the lower level and start to cook. I leaned how to light that big coal stove and coal furnace and start cooking for a bunch of men. I leaned to make large amounts of porridge, coffee, potatoes and all the other jail house fare.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;The Jail keeper had two daughters and we played with them, always reenacting the last hanging that took place there, Phillips &amp; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Lund&lt;/span&gt;. One day we were playing house in the wood shed, Soupy , me and the girls, we were only about years old. Joe came in and lectured us on proper behaviour with girls.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Joe also built us an out door rink in the winter and kept it flooded and put up some lights so we could skate in the evening. He would tie our skates tight so we would not go over on our ankels.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;One day Joe disappeared and we never saw him again, we heard he went to B.C. and started a new life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;I recall with fondness his kindness to us. My mother always enjoyed this story , especially this part.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;When I’d be going out the back door, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Mother would ask: “Where are you going?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;I’d rely: “I’m going over to the jail to play with Joe The Murder”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;She would call out as I was leaving: “Be careful crossing the road”&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-4348504313118396724?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/4348504313118396724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=4348504313118396724&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/4348504313118396724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/4348504313118396724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2007/02/get-out-of-jail-free.html' title='GET OUT OF JAIL FREE'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NTfzurYB-2M/RdhRhVL4zOI/AAAAAAAAAMY/2MX4uwUTjII/s72-c/ice+man.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-116913918707479760</id><published>2007-01-18T11:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-02T17:09:36.922-05:00</updated><title type='text'>New Blog For Parkdale</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;HI I've added a new Blog with pictures of Parkdale. I'll not bother with any stories on this site. Please email any picture you have, or newspaper clippings&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CLICK TO ENTER&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;li style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.thethirty6.blogspot.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;a href="http://www.thethirty6.blogspot.com/"&gt;"PARKDALE PICTURES"&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-116913918707479760?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/116913918707479760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=116913918707479760&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/116913918707479760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/116913918707479760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2007/01/new-blog-for-parkdale.html' title='New Blog For Parkdale'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-116906410777113054</id><published>2007-01-17T15:00:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-23T06:46:31.177-05:00</updated><title type='text'>One man's garbage is this kid's treasure.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;This is a view of the bridge taken from the dump.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2362/3051/1600/562619/hillsboro%20bridge.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2362/3051/320/53904/hillsboro%20bridge.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the 50's ,long before re-cycling, there was a great place to play in Parkdale, The Dump.&lt;br /&gt;The dump was located on Riverside drive where Bagnall’s mills eventually built their building supply store.&lt;br /&gt;There was no organized garbage pick up , most people had an old barrel in their back yard and burned what they could. The rest was stored in a pile behind the barn. Once a year it was hauled away, usually by a man with a horse and dump cart. In our area it was Mr Matthews from the old CAA grounds. (Charlottetown Athletic Association) This was shortened to The C A Grounds.&lt;br /&gt;In those days Riverside Drive didn’t rally exist, there was no road between the dump up to the current QEH site just open water.&lt;br /&gt;Carts and trucks would arrive with the garbage and dump it, some of it directly in to the water to reclaim land , the rest through out the dump. There was always a number of fires burning in the dump. I recall two houses close to the dump. Gunner Bell lived next to there in a swampy area. When it rained his bottom floor was flooded. Up a little further , the Murphy’s, Max and his family.&lt;br /&gt;We spent a lot of time at the dump searching for treasure. H.H. Marshall, the company that distributed magazines would take their stuff there to be burned. The stores that sold magazines would tear of the front cover from out of date magazines and return it to Marshalls.&lt;br /&gt;Now timing is everything, every kid loved comics and you had to be at the dump at just the right time to look through the comics before they were burned.&lt;br /&gt;Doesn’t sound to difficult, except for Duddley!!!&lt;br /&gt;The dump had a care taker who directed the traffic and kept the fires burning and liked to go through the garbage looking for stuff to sell. He had a shack in the middle of the dump were he ate his meals and took a nap.&lt;br /&gt;Duddley Dump Rat, that’s what we called him, legend has it “he could take the comic book out of a kid’s hand with a pitch fork at 100 paces". Anyway he would throw the pitch fork at us as we scrounged for comics.&lt;br /&gt;Clark Fruit would dump rotten fruit there also, usually Monday morning. We would try to be there for their arrival and root through the Oranges looking for some only partly rotten and have a feast.&lt;br /&gt;The other thing of value to a kid were the orange crates. They were made of wood about 30 inches long and a wooden divider in the middle. Who ever designed is owed a debt of gratitude by guys from my era. The crate was just the right size to hold comics, two stacks. Comic trading was a ritual also. On winter nights when you had nothing to do, no TV no Radio and all your comics read, you would call up a friend (Soupy Campbell down over the grocery store)and say “do you want to trade comics?” The answer is always “SURE”.&lt;br /&gt;So of we would go with our orange crate filled with comics, one brother on each end, and walk to our friend’s house.&lt;br /&gt;He would take out his crate, we would then look over his, and he ours, setting out the ones of interest. We would do this in absolute silence.&lt;br /&gt;When we each had examined the others comics we would check the number each had and trade comic for comic and off home to read.&lt;br /&gt;As we grew into our teens the dump continued to hold it’s grip on us.&lt;br /&gt;Wacky Carver was an avid sportsman and loved shooting. He had a Ford Panel truck in which he put a hatch in the roof. If you were lucky enough to be up at Wacky’s oil shed when the urge hit him , off you would go to the dump. Wacky would let us drive the truck through the dump as he jumped out of the hatch to shoot rats and crows. I don’t think I ‘ve ever been in a place with so many rats, we would have to fight them for the food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dump eventually closed, the land settled and building were erected over this massive garbage pile.&lt;br /&gt;When the dump officially closed and was covered over the rats moved on through out Parkdale. Every home had a rat problem for the next few years. Our dog at the time slept in the barn and every night she would kill rats. It was not uncommon to see rats running across the streets during the day light hours.&lt;br /&gt;I ran into Duddley years later, he was living in a boarding house with a group of old men. We had a chat and laughed about the pitch fork and the rats.&lt;br /&gt;As we were chatting a few other men were discussing things from their past.&lt;br /&gt;The conversation was on equipment that lasted a long time. Each man told a story about, a car, a tractor or an other implement that had great longevity.&lt;br /&gt;Duddley who was listening to this piped up and said&lt;br /&gt;“Why back in our old home, we had a pendulum clock, it ran so long the shadow of the pendulum wore a hole in the back of the clock. None of the men  could top that story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-116906410777113054?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/116906410777113054/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=116906410777113054&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/116906410777113054'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/116906410777113054'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2007/01/one-mans-garbage-is-another-kids.html' title='One man&apos;s garbage is this kid&apos;s treasure.'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-116698060951607509</id><published>2006-12-24T12:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-15T14:41:11.977-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I'll Be Home For Christmas, Just You Wait And See!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2362/3051/1600/655945/Trixie%20or%20Gus.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2362/3051/320/994694/Trixie%20or%20Gus.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Here it is Christmas Eve 2006. I turned 60 this year and became a grandfather to a very precious girl , Clara. As I reflect on Christmas past, there are many fond memories from my childhood.&lt;br /&gt;Does Santa exist? Have I been good enough? Will there be enough snow for Santa? ( My friend Roger told me, when we were quite young, don’t worry Santa has a helicopter for this type of weather.)&lt;br /&gt;One Christmas story comes to my mind each Christmas eve. As I have written earlier, my nephew Kevin spent a lot of time at our house. He is 10 years younger and was considered by me to be my younger brother. He still believes everything I tell him.&lt;br /&gt;I think the year was 1963 and we had Gus as our dog, lovely Border Collie mix. I picked her up at the Dog Pound that was located out in Dundtaffnage, coincidently Gus belonged to Ted Beer the same person we got Trixie from. Gus was a female!!! I picked her up in 1961.&lt;br /&gt;She had her set routine, every morning she would go down to the service station and Walter would give her a treat. Then across the street to Albert Dennis Clover Farm and if lucky a big bone to chew on.&lt;br /&gt;Kevin slept in the front bedroom as I was in the one at the other end of the hall.&lt;br /&gt;Every night we would battle to see which one of us Gus would sleep with. So for an hour each of us would call her and she would run back and forth. Most nights I let Kevin win. As he was away from his parents Gus meant a lot to him and he considered Gus as “his dog.”&lt;br /&gt;Well Christmas eve morning we all went about or routines , Gus included.&lt;br /&gt;Late in the afternoon it began to snow as it was getting dark, we called Gus to come in the house.&lt;br /&gt;There was no sign of her , so I went around the neighbourhood to see what she was up to. No luck!&lt;br /&gt;I checked down at Walter’s, and yes she was in that morning got her treat, and left.&lt;br /&gt;Albert thinks he saw her around 10 am , but not sure as the store was busy with people picking up groceries.&lt;br /&gt;I began to worry and panic a little. I ran up to Barry’s , no sign, Mrs Hudson’s, no sign, stopped in at Roger’s , no he didn’t see her. Then back down to Sunshine dairy and finally over to Swift’s.&lt;br /&gt;I ran home and gave everyone the bad news, Gus was gone and here it was Christmas Eve.&lt;br /&gt;I then went around Parkdale checking the ditches to see if she was hit by a car. Thankfully I didn’t find he laying there.&lt;br /&gt;It was now about 10 pm and our house was very sad, Christmas would not be Merry without Gus.&lt;br /&gt;Kevin went to bed and cried, Dad was in his bed , while Mother and I sat down stairs in the living room with the lights out. Mom and I prayed as we waited while Kevin was in his bed praying and crying.&lt;br /&gt;This was worst Christmas Eve ever! Anyone who has ever had a dog as your best friend and has just lost her , knows this feeling. There is nothing as sad as losing your dog, you are inconsolable for days.&lt;br /&gt;When Ali lost his first professional fight, Howard Cossell shoved the microphone in front of him and asked “Ali, how does if feel to have lost the Heavy Weight Title?”&lt;br /&gt;Ali looking sad and withdrawn replied “I feel the same right now as I did when I lost my first puppy”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well mother and I sat there, and every few minutes we would arise and look out the living room windows , up and down the street. All we saw was the streets deserted as everyone was home in their beds awaiting Christmas, all over Charlottetown children were in their beds fast asleep and dreaming of Santa.&lt;br /&gt;But at 2 St. Peters Road, in the front bedroom a little boy lay there crying and praying for the return of his best friend.&lt;br /&gt;I looked at the clock and it was nearing midnight and mother up our vigil and try to get some rest and try to make Christmas the best we could.&lt;br /&gt;As we were getting set to leave the living room we took one more look, the snow was falling very heavily, the town looked so peaceful to all the world..&lt;br /&gt;I looked up towards Barry’s and thought I was seeing a snow mirage, there running in the snow was a dog!!! Oh please let it be Gus. I ran to the front door and there she was running down past MacNevin’s on past Deacon’s across the street up the walkway bounding into the house.&lt;br /&gt;She was so wet and shivering , we tried to hug her and we were both so elated to see her.&lt;br /&gt;She escaped from our hugs , ran up stairs and bounded into Kevin’s bed.&lt;br /&gt;I don’t think I've  seen a happier sight, a boy and his dog reunited on Christmas Eve.&lt;br /&gt;Kevin hugged her , wet as she was and they both had a peaceful night sleep.&lt;br /&gt;In the morning we checked Gus over, her paw pads were raw and she was still shaking.&lt;br /&gt;She didn’t want to go out at all that day and stayed by Kevin.&lt;br /&gt;We can only speculate as to what happened to her, but the most likely thing is she got into someone truck down at the grocery store and ended up in the country someplace, was released and ran home.&lt;br /&gt;Whatever happened that day was made up for that night and Christmas Day as we were thankful for the gift of a good friend who made it home in time for Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;Gus lived to see a few more years with us. She was a good friend.&lt;br /&gt;I think of her often , especially Christmas Eve.&lt;br /&gt;MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERY ONE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-116698060951607509?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/116698060951607509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=116698060951607509&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/116698060951607509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/116698060951607509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2006/12/ill-be-home-for-christmas-just-you.html' title='I&apos;ll Be Home For Christmas, Just You Wait And See!!'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-116571108465754605</id><published>2006-12-09T19:37:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-09T19:40:29.796-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Kitty , Ged, Graham &amp; Pex</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2362/3051/1600/131865/kitty2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2362/3051/320/848921/kitty2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Early this week I arrived home to find the light on the phone flashing alerting me to a message. I picked up the phone and was delighted to hear “Hi Pex this is Allison’s Mom please call me”. &lt;br /&gt;I called her back and she asked me if I would take her to visit some friends this week. As you know Allison is “Little Ears” AKA Getz Gears.&lt;br /&gt;I arrived at Andrews Lodge and she was waiting for me looking as pretty as a picture. Getz has been dead since April 1970 and was one of my boy hood friends.&lt;br /&gt;We went down to North River Road to where Graham and Alan “Ged”  Burke are living. &lt;br /&gt;We arrived at 1:30 and stayed until 5pm.&lt;br /&gt;Kitty lost her husband Getz’s Father when she was 35 and raised the three kids alone. She shared with us how kind the Burke Family were to her over the years. She also lost Allison in 1970, and Heather a few years later. Live has not been easy for her but she has not lost the joy of living.&lt;br /&gt;I took along my Laptop and we looked over this Blog reminiscing about growing up in Parkdale. &lt;br /&gt;She shared some heartaches with us and lots of laughs. We told her stories about Getz and the fun we had. I have a few letters from him in my trunk that I will share with her. I received the last letter from him on the Friday he died, he was coming home from his basic training and was telling me all the things we were going to do.&lt;br /&gt;Graham had a stroke a few years ago so he is not able to go out to visit so Kitty came in to see him.&lt;br /&gt;We laughed and cried as we told stories. This was a special day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-116571108465754605?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/116571108465754605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=116571108465754605&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/116571108465754605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/116571108465754605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2006/12/kitty-ged-graham-pex.html' title='Kitty , Ged, Graham &amp; Pex'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-116492583554462826</id><published>2006-11-30T16:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-22T19:34:35.396-05:00</updated><title type='text'>SANTA IS NEVER WRONG !!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2362/3051/1600/371262/bobbsey.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2362/3051/320/877265/bobbsey.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;My brothers, Gordon &amp; Niall and I had paper routes when we were very young. Niall was probably the first boy to deliver the paper on Longworth Avenue. He passed it on to Gord and then on to me. I think I took over the route in 1954, when I was eight years old.&lt;br /&gt;We had to walk into the Guardian office , pick up our papers and have them delivered by 7am.&lt;br /&gt;The paper cost 30 cents a week and we got to keep 2 cents.&lt;br /&gt;Christmas was the best time to be a paper boy, because of the presents. &lt;br /&gt;Those customers who paid directly would alwasys give you a gift but some customers who paid at the office would usually forget about you. We almost never saw them, people like Mr Jordan, I would see him sitting in a big chair in his library reading, as I walked to his door. &lt;br /&gt;Mrs. Maclure, she lived in a very big house that was moved to make way for Birchwood School. Her house was set back of the road and the driveway was lined with large Elm trees. It was very mysterious and intimidating. Her doorbell was very loud and chimed like Church Bells proclaiming good news. Some times I would ring the bell just to listen to the sound. When I did ring it I could not just run away as she would see me going down her long driveway. So I would wait for her to come to the door and as she opened it I could get a look at the grand staircase.&lt;br /&gt;I would tell her I was there to get paid for the paper and he would inform me that "she paid at the office". I would apologize and walk away happy to have heard the chimes hearlding the arrival of an important visitor. &lt;br /&gt;I remember Christmas 1956, coming out the avenue, collecting my money and people giving gifts. Two I remember clearly. The Shaws were living in the "Old Hospital" on the avenue. It is now an apartment house. I walked up the stairs to get my money and Lloyd {Sonny} met me at the door and shoved a gift into my hands. I thanked him and went on my way, it turned out to be A Bobbsey Twins Book. &lt;br /&gt;The next gift I remember was from an older working man , he paid me for the paper and shoved a gift into my hands. It was flat and hard,quite thin, and made of metal. Not sox, mitts, candy or a book. It didn't rattle but it smelled familiar. I took it home and opened it and much to my suprise it was a "Flat 50" of Players Cigarettes, COOOLLL. Boy was I impressed a 10 year old kid getting a tin of cigs. The gift was probably for the mailman or milkman who probably recieved a package of candy cigarettes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2362/3051/1600/662795/cigs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2362/3051/320/551872/cigs.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mother was horrified and told me to take it back. I didn't. I gave it to my friend Roger, he was much older, he had turned 12 and he smoked.&lt;br /&gt;Sometime later that winter we had a major snowstorm. The streets were blocked, no school, no traffic , but we got up anyway. We always wore rubber boots with wool socks in them. You took two steps and the  sock dropped down your leg and bunched up around your toes. Your feet were very cold, but not to worry they soon became so numb you could not feel them. The main reason we had rubber boots was they were cheap and you could patch holes in them with a bike tire repair kit. If the the soles cracked you could take them to a tire repair shop and have them vulcanized.In the spring we would roll our boots down , usually two folds, so we would look cool. But we would end up with holes in them were they folded over and then when we wanted to play  down at "THE 36" (Only Parkdale people know what this means)  our boots would leak.&lt;br /&gt;So off we trudged in the Avenue, snow going into our boots. I started my deliveries, climbing over snow banks to each house , both sides of the road, I was only about 4 ft high myself.&lt;br /&gt;Most people could not care about the paper boy, they only wanted the paper.&lt;br /&gt;Dr Beck and his family had moved to the avenue and began to take the paper.&lt;br /&gt;When I arrived at their place, I was exhausted and soaked to the skin. I only had rubber boots which were filled with snow and "leggins". These were wool pants that you put on, they had shoulder straps and were designed to wear over your pants and take off when you got inside.&lt;br /&gt;I arrived their house Mrs. Beck took one look at me and told me to come inside.&lt;br /&gt;She was horrified at how cold and wet I was , she told me to take off mt leggins, rubber boots , socks, shirt, and coat, all drenched.&lt;br /&gt;Now the Becks were a young professional couple with a rare commodity, Disposable Income. &lt;br /&gt;They had a marvelous appliance I'd never heard of or seen, An Electric Dryer!!!&lt;br /&gt;Up to this point in my life our dryer , summer and winter was the clothes line, or if you were lucky you could hang a pair of socks on the hot water pipe at the back of the stove.&lt;br /&gt;She put my clothes in her dryer and sat me down at her table with a bowl of oatmeal, covered in brown sugar and milk mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.&lt;br /&gt;In the centre of the table was a sight that was truly amazing, a bowl containing, bananas, in the dead of winter. Mrs Beck told me to help myself so I picked out the biggest one and began to peel it not wanting to eat it too fast, but savour every bite.&lt;br /&gt;The phone rang and she answered it. The Lady next door was wondering if Mrs Beck had her paper,what was keeping that lazy paper boy.&lt;br /&gt;Mrs Beck proceeded to tell her, that I would not be leaving her place untill my clothes were dry and she would have to wait for her paper.&lt;br /&gt;There I was, sitting at her dining room table, in my underwear , feet dangling ,not reaching the floor,  eating a banana in the dead of winter and an adult sticking up  for me. The Kings of England never had it so good,I felt very special.(Another good reason to always wear clean underwear)&lt;br /&gt;When my clothes were dry I put them on, mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm so warm and dry.I thanked Mrs Beck and went on my way.&lt;br /&gt;On snowy days like this I like to pick up a banana, examine it, smell it and think of the kindness of Mrs. Beck to a cold and wet paper boy that most people couldn't bother to acknowledge his existence.&lt;br /&gt;Thankyou again Mrs Beck. I'm going to go and sit at my table , dangle my legs and  eat a banana and think of you .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2362/3051/1600/789473/spoon.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2362/3051/320/232077/spoon.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Seeing that it is the end of November, I'm going to relate a Christmas story. As will all my stories, I begin with some background. &lt;br /&gt;I began Parkdale School in 1952, and it seemed that every time you turned around we had either a substitue teacher or a student teacher. No matter which, it was always the same " Write your name on the sheet of paper and turn it in"&lt;br /&gt;I'm left handed and not the best writer, but I'd do my best and pass it in. &lt;br /&gt;The teacher would then call out the names and we would stand. When she would come to my name, she would look bewildered and always call out &lt;br /&gt;"Carol Mackay"&lt;br /&gt;Everyone would laugh and I'd be furious.&lt;br /&gt;So by 1953 you would think i'd be over it.&lt;br /&gt;As you know I'm the youngest of 8 kids and in 1953 there was no spare cash to indulge 8 kids so we weren't expecting much at Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;A couple of grades ahead of me was an only child named CAROL MACKAY. Her parents could indulge her with special treats at Christmas time.&lt;br /&gt;So it is Christmas time 1953 and our school is having their Christmas concert at the Women's Institute Hall behind the school. At this time the school ran from Grade one through to 10 and each class had a part of the program.&lt;br /&gt;Anyone who attended these will remember two things about the hall. &lt;br /&gt;One it was packed and very hot, there was no place to get a drink of water as the kitchen was locked and no taps in the washroom, then the school would sell fudge, pure sugar!!. If you were lucky to get a piece of fudge and eat it you would almost pass out from thirst.&lt;br /&gt;The bathroom!! I don't think there was a scarier place as a kid. The toilet consisted of a 500 gallon steel tank in the basement and a tube the size of a culvert coming straight up into the bathroom with a seat on it, no flush, just straight down into the dark abyss to the "honey pot".We would drop stones down there to hear them splash.&lt;br /&gt;As you approached the toilet fear would over take you , you always felt you would fall in if you got to close and YUCK!!!.&lt;br /&gt;Boys first learned how to pee from a distance and hit the target. The smell was worse than an outhouse, as 100's used this toilet and it rarely emptied.&lt;br /&gt;Back to my story, well I was at the 1953 Christmas Concert, had fudge, peed and waited for the final event.&lt;br /&gt;SANTA, Yes Santa would enter the hall , HO HO HO  all the way to the stage and open his sack of goodies. &lt;br /&gt;I was the age that most kids stop believing in Santa, but hey, it is too close to Christmas to take a chance.&lt;br /&gt;Now remember the part about 8 kids versus 1 kid.&lt;br /&gt;Well Santa starts calling out names and each kid called runs up and gets his gift.&lt;br /&gt;Deep in my heart I know that the parents gave this Santa gifts for their own kids, but hope springs eternal, like next weeks Lotto.&lt;br /&gt;Carol Mackay was prone to sickness growing up and missed alot of school and as luck would have it she was home sick again.&lt;br /&gt;Santa reaches in his bag and looks at the name  and call out&lt;br /&gt;"CARL MACKAY"&lt;br /&gt;again &lt;br /&gt;"Carl Mackay"&lt;br /&gt;and the third time&lt;br /&gt;"Carl Mackay"&lt;br /&gt;Well my young mind is processing all this info and I came to the conclusion.&lt;br /&gt;Santa never makes a mistake, he really does give gifts, not Mom and Dad.&lt;br /&gt;IT IS MINE.&lt;br /&gt;I run up front on to the stage give Santa a hug and almost pass out from the smell of booze.&lt;br /&gt;I go back to my seat knowing the gift isn't mine.&lt;br /&gt;I take it home hide it in my trunk and leave it.&lt;br /&gt;I eventually open it and find it is a Queen Elizabeth 1953 Coronation Silver Spoon.&lt;br /&gt;Here it is 2006 and I still have the spoon.&lt;br /&gt;About 10 years ago a ran into Carol Mackay and told her the story. We had a great laugh, and I told her she wasn't getting the spoon now as I had lived with the guilt for all these years.&lt;br /&gt;The spoon is 53 years old this Christmas. &lt;br /&gt;I hope our grandchild Clara enjoys it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-116492583554462826?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/116492583554462826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=116492583554462826&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/116492583554462826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/116492583554462826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2006/11/santa-is-never-wrong.html' title='SANTA IS NEVER WRONG !!!'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-116293973798156749</id><published>2006-11-07T17:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-09T11:06:05.583-05:00</updated><title type='text'>BARRY'S  SNACKBAR</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Double Click on this picture to enlarge the text.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The car parked out front belongs to either Billy Gallant or Robin Clay.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2362/3051/1600/833608/newspaper.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2362/3051/320/632094/newspaper.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/cake%20box.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/cake%20box.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;This is one Barry's Signs , the picture was taken at the reunion.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/sign.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/sign.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/barry%20and%20charlie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/barry%20and%20charlie.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;This is  Bernice Doirion standing by the BBQ steak sign. This was in the back room at Barry's. &lt;br /&gt;Barry had installed a BBQ pit in the restaurant and every night about 10 he would light the charcoal, and use an electric hairdryer to fan the coals.&lt;br /&gt;Most of the Steaks were sold late at night to guys on their way home. I don't think any restaurant was licensed at this time. Barry would throw on a big T Bone, a load of Fries and onions , put it on a wooden plate with a slice of Montreal Rye Bread.&lt;br /&gt;Then ask if you wanted a drink of pop. He would then place a big glass of Rye on the table.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/bernice%20doirion.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/bernice%20doirion.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think this is a girl named Francis&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/francis%20mcqui%20nn%20%26%20harry.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/francis%20mcqui%20nn%20%26%20harry.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Charlie Lank Dancing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/charlie%20dancing.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/charlie%20dancing.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Charlie and Friends, I think it is Gordie MacCallum, waiting for their Steak. The Rye Bread is already on the table.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/charlie%20lank.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/charlie%20lank.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blaine richard, Betty Moore, Barry And Charlie Mackinnon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/betty%20blain.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/betty%20blain.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Inside shot of the back section at night, Bernie Doirion&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/bernie%20doirion.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/bernie%20doirion.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Barry And Blaine Richard clowning around.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/barry%20and%20blaine.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/barry%20and%20blaine.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A kids party at Barry's, help me with the names.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/party.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/party.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; The back yard at Barry's, this is the old sign , used before it was called Barry's Restaurant&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/back%20yard.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/back%20yard.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/barry%20behind%20counter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/barry%20behind%20counter.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Barry's Snackbar opened in 1947. Barry opened at 7pm and stayed open untill 2am..&lt;br /&gt;Anyone who was ever there will remember all the articles he had hanging on the walls, there wasn't much Barry didn't sell.&lt;br /&gt;Late at night it could be quite rough but Barry was always up for any  trouble. I don't think anyone could pass by without stopping in. &lt;br /&gt;The front of barry's was a great place to hang around as there was always action.&lt;br /&gt;Ray Bertram and Billy gallant had a great routine that they would pull on strangers. &lt;br /&gt;when a car pulled up and the driver would walk up to the door, the guys would strat to argue and begin to fight. There timing was perfect, one would throw a punch and narrowly miss the other as he made the sound of a fist hitting, much better than any movie fight. The person would enter Barry's and tell him about the fight and then go back out and they are best friends.&lt;br /&gt;Ruby &amp; Vic Hudson ran an antique shop next to Barry's and would buy almost anything. The roads at this time we quite rough it was not uncommon for a hub cap to fall off a car driving by. We would chase it, catch it before it stopped rolling and run into see Mrs Hudson, sell it for a quarter and by the time the car got turned around she would have it hanging on her wall with a price tag of $1.00.&lt;br /&gt;It is difficult to express in words how much Barry's meant to us as we grew up.&lt;br /&gt;I doubt that there were very many nights that I didn't stop in on the way home. When I'd be walking home from Ch'town I would walk by home and up to Barry's for a Pepsi and chat. Every new car I bought I would stop by Barry's first ( wait till Dad fell asleep so he wouldn't see). As I said before, the night I bought the Hearse I took it to Barry's and he and Myron Ling checked it out.&lt;br /&gt;Velle Bugden said to me last week, if the guys were looking for me they would always go to Barry's first.&lt;br /&gt;My nephew Kevin, who lived with us would lay awake waiting for me to come home and run down stairs to see if I brought any burgers and fries. If not I'd give him some money and he'd run up to Barry's and buy them.&lt;br /&gt;One night a group of teens from Central Royalty were parked in front of Barry's in an old beater, it was cold and they had the engine running. One of the guys came and collapsed on the floor, carbon monoxide . Barry ran outside and hauled the other 5 in and lay them on the floor. Saved them all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This picture was taken when Parkdale School was still operating, what a great time we had there.&lt;br /&gt;At our school most kids had nick names. They were good names all relevant to the character of the person, eg: Pex, Little Ears, Rugged Knees, Pucker, Monl, Bull, Crow, Duck, Mouse, and many more.&lt;br /&gt;As i stated earlier Barry's opened at 7 pm, but when Rock &amp; Roll hit and Barry got a Jukebox he made an adjustment.&lt;br /&gt;He began to open at 10am to 10:30 am which happened to be recess time. &lt;br /&gt;The teens would run up the street to Barry's , someone would drop a nickle in the Jukebox, and start jiving. The little kids (Me) would also run up and watch them, WOW.&lt;br /&gt;This was shortlived as Millar Macfadygen put a stop to leaving the school property, so Barry stayed in bed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/parkdale%20school.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/parkdale%20school.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my First Principal, we were terrified of him , he was a big man and carried a strap. &lt;br /&gt;But as in all schools there was always a few guys who liked to get strapped. The Principal would line the guys up in the hall , get them to hold out their hands and strap them. But he did something else that was ahead of it's time, a move picked up by the WWF. As the strap made contact with the hand he would stomp his foot on the floor making a loud noise which added to the fear for us little kids.&lt;br /&gt;Mr MacFadygen was a great man and was well liked by the students, he was a great poet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/miller%20macf.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/miller%20macf.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-116293973798156749?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/116293973798156749/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=116293973798156749&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/116293973798156749'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/116293973798156749'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2006/11/barrys-snackbar.html' title='BARRY&apos;S  SNACKBAR'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-116233407127754776</id><published>2006-10-31T16:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-03T17:36:56.160-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Shuffling Of To Buffalo</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Before I post new stories about Parkdale, I want to tell one more Hearse adventure. I'm not sure of the year this happened but probably 1966 or 1967. The Hearse had begun it changes. We had already installed the Olds engine ,but retained the standard transmission. As you can imagine , it was impossible to find a coversion kit for an Olds standard tranmission, they were very rare. This tranny came in a car I bought from Malcolm Ross out in Uigg. I paid $125.00 for the car. I financed it at Household Finance at 8% interest. I was working at Parkdale Pharmacy and made $25.00 for 52 hours work per week. Being only a kid I needed a co-signer. Bill Ross, who worked with me signed for it.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway back to the adventure. The details are lost to time but the core remains.&lt;br /&gt;Roger and I had met two girls, who were camping with their family in Stanhope. For those who remember The Higgins Family ran a store in Stanhope just outside the National Park. We met the girls there and walked them back to their camp site. They were from Rochester New York, very exotic for two yokels. &lt;br /&gt;They gave us their address and number and lo and behold we took off for New York.&lt;br /&gt;The Hearse now had the Olds engine with the three speed manual transmission&lt;br /&gt;was alot faster now so we could make time. As i said before Hurst Shifters for this style were unavailable on little old PEI, so I had to improvise. I had two rods bolted on to the shift levers on the tranny. One was first and reverse , the other for second and third. I got quite good at shifting gears with my foot. When drag racing, I would use my right foot for the gas pedal a and use my left to shift, no cluthch. In previous postings i mentioned that the passenger seat had hinges on the back and one bolt that slid in to hold the front down. Now when we stopped and picked up a girl and put her in the front, and stopped. Then when I pulled out the pin and floored the gas the seat would flip back and she would slide into the back of the Hearse , very quickly.&lt;br /&gt; In a side trip that also is very similar to American Graffiti, we drove to Buffalo to WKBW studio. WKBW was a beacon to us in our youth and Joey Reynolds and The Royal Order of Night People was a nightly ritual for us. As it got darker and later and the airwaves would change WKBW would start to come in our radios and we would listen to all the Rock &amp; Roll hits.&lt;br /&gt;We heard that Joey was a very large man and only came out at night. So Roger and I drove the Hearse to Buffalo, found the studio  and parked ouside , we layed on the horn and a man appeared at an upstairs window, waved and left. So did we.&lt;br /&gt;The Hearse did not have sealed beam headlights, but had two bulbs covered by a lens.&lt;br /&gt;The lens had been broken leaving the bulbs exposed. This presented no problem in the daytime on night time, unless it rained.&lt;br /&gt;We were tearing along the highyway somewhere in New York and it began to rain. POP their goes one light, POP there goes the other. We are now without lights.&lt;br /&gt;Roger was prepared, he had taken two 5 cell flashlights from home, his father George always had big flashlights. We roll down the windows and stick the flashlights out and continue on our journey. I wonder if they have the death penalty for that now.&lt;br /&gt;We drove into a town and looked for a place to stay. I parked the Hearse around the corner so it could not be seen.My hair was long and golden at this time also and if I went in we could not get a room.&lt;br /&gt;Roger went it got the key , the room cost $6.00 came out and gave the key  to me.&lt;br /&gt;I was wearing shorts, cut off Jeans no doubt, and the Serape that Hickey had brought back from Mexico. I grabbed the key and the luggage , ran in the front door up the stairs and into the room avoiding eye contact with the night clerk.&lt;br /&gt;Roger came in after and we sat down and laughed about the flashlights. Then the phone rang.&lt;br /&gt;"Mr. Newman."&lt;br /&gt;"Yes"&lt;br /&gt;"Your wife didn't sign the register"&lt;br /&gt;Roger: "That's not my wife, that's my buddy"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1968, we thought it was funny.&lt;br /&gt;I don't remember meeting up with the girls but Roger said we did and then we went up to Ontario to meet George Roberts. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-116233407127754776?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/116233407127754776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=116233407127754776&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/116233407127754776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/116233407127754776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2006/10/shuffling-of-to-buffalo.html' title='Shuffling Of To Buffalo'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-116120970239787528</id><published>2006-10-18T17:37:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-31T17:36:16.363-05:00</updated><title type='text'>ST. AVARDS CORNER</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/dennis%20cash%20and%20carry.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/dennis%20cash%20and%20carry.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are a couple  of photos from the corner down by my home. &lt;br /&gt;The first is Ginger Mackay in a car he made, notice the narrow gauge of the axels. This was so he could drive in the track that sleighs made. The photo is about 1947 taken in front of the store.&lt;br /&gt;The store at this time was operated by Gilbert Frizzell and later by Albert Dennis.&lt;br /&gt;As a kid I spent alot of time down at the store. &lt;br /&gt;One summer evening , Albert was on vacation, I was engrossed reading comics. The magazine stand blocked any view from the rest of the store. Timed passed and soon it was 6:30 and the store closed at 5:30. Jean Duck and Rowan Beer were minding the store for Albert.&lt;br /&gt;After finishing a comic, Two Gun Kid, I think, I noticed it was very quiet, I looked around and found I was alone in the store, locked in and panicing. The front door needed a key to open it, no panic bars back then. I was scared and trembeling, what will I do?&lt;br /&gt;I waited  a while and made my way out through the back of the store three rooms to the back. The door there was hooked from the inside, I slowly opened it and peeked around, no one was watching, I ran out the door and slamed it behind me. The door did not have any closing device  as it hooked from the inside. Again panic set in the door was swinging open. I propped a stick against it and hopped on my bike and drove up to Rowan's home. He was outside so i stopped and said, "Hey Rowie, I was just driving by the store and saw the back door is open" Rowie yells" No Way I locked that door myself it can't be open".&lt;br /&gt;"Well man i don't know about that I saw it open" I said with guilt all over my freckled face.&lt;br /&gt;"Were you locked in the store"?&lt;br /&gt;"Noway man, not me noway" &lt;br /&gt;I avoided the store for weeks after that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/culvert%20plant.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/culvert%20plant.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This picture is taken in front of the Culvert Plant, Maritime Steel Foundries. The man on the right is Bunn Duffy, he ran the plant.&lt;br /&gt;What a great place to play as a kid. The men working there would let us inside and watch, we would get in side the big culverts as they punched holes in then , NOISY. &lt;br /&gt;Out side they had a small steel trolley that carried the culverts sround the yard it was on rode on rails similar to trains. When the plant was closed we would push that trolley back and forth for hours, and play in the culverts.&lt;br /&gt;In the process of making culverts the men would use the giant punching machine to put a hole in the culvert for the rivets.&lt;br /&gt;The punch pushed out a slug of galvenized metal the size of your small finger. We would take these by the hundreds and lay them on the rail tracks and wait for the train to run over them. When it did we would gather them up and examine them , looking for one that resembled a dime. We where hoping to get a dime to go to the movies. Only once do i recall one of the guys going up to Walter Burhoes and bought a 10ct bar with one of them. Walter probably knew it was fake but went along with it.&lt;br /&gt;Behind the men in the picture you can see a house and barn, no longer standing.&lt;br /&gt;A man named Seymour Gregory lived there by himself. Seymour looked after the cemetry, digging graves and cutting the grass , with a push mower.&lt;br /&gt;Seymour was eccentric, [not at all like me]and drank a bit. As kids when we knew he was drinking and sleeping on the sofa we would sneak up on the front veranda, bang on the window and yell "Seymour sawmore ate the lawn mower and now he's at the grass".&lt;br /&gt;Then we would run up the street laughing.&lt;br /&gt;If I tell too many more stories I might have to follow "Earl's" example and make a list.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-116120970239787528?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/116120970239787528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=116120970239787528&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/116120970239787528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/116120970239787528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2006/10/st-avards-corner.html' title='ST. AVARDS CORNER'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-115955910014051776</id><published>2006-09-29T15:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-11-03T17:24:26.906-05:00</updated><title type='text'>THE PICKLE PLANT</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/roddie%20macnevin.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/roddie%20macnevin.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;This picture is of Roddie Macnevin, he ran the pickle plant. The name was Matthew-Wells Ltd. and they picled cukes for Rose Brand. The house you see in Thompsens on Mt. Edward Road. You can see the vats they used for pickling. There were 4 rows I think and there was a wooden walkway for the men to push their wheel barrows on. they would dump the cukes in the brine. The vats were quite tall and as I said before every kid peed in them, and a few guys went swimming in the pickles.  &lt;br /&gt;We would ride our bike on the walkways and Roddie would show up and chase us.I don't think I ever saw Roddie with out a hat or cigarette. There was an old outhouse down at the back of the barrells and a pile of cull cukes. I'll tell you later what we did with them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This picture is from August 1959, I don't know who the people are but probably realatives of Roddie's. This picture shows his office from the Allen Street side as well as the back doors leading to the brine vats. You can see how high they were.&lt;br /&gt;Fred Gallant worked there many years and his sons did also, usually in the fall.&lt;br /&gt;I think every kid in Parkdale worked there for a time. It was heavy slugging. &lt;br /&gt;The cukes were dumped into the brine tanks and when pickled they were placed into smaller vats that were on railcars, the first picture shows this and shipped to Welland Ont. for packaging.&lt;br /&gt;The pickle plant was a big part of our early years in Parkdale. &lt;br /&gt;The vats are long gone and Walter Picott stands on the site today.&lt;br /&gt;Tks To Ray Bertram for the pictures.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/pickle%20plant.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/pickle%20plant.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Here is another picture taken from the front in the winter no pickles.&lt;br /&gt;Look at the roof of the building, you can just make out the name &lt;br /&gt;MATTHEW AND WELLS&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/pickle%20plant%20winter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/pickle%20plant%20winter.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-115955910014051776?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/115955910014051776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=115955910014051776&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/115955910014051776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/115955910014051776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2006/09/pickle-plant.html' title='THE PICKLE PLANT'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-115904983674133836</id><published>2006-09-23T17:53:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-25T15:16:46.406-04:00</updated><title type='text'>WALTER BURHOE'S WHITE ROSE SERVICE STATION</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/walter%20burhoe.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/walter%20burhoe.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/walter_burhoe2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/walter_burhoe2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Walter ran this service station for many years , just down the street from my home.He would always give us the waste oil so we could burn it for heat down at the car club.&lt;br /&gt;The top  photo is probably 1950. The second photo is taken after Walter moved the station back from the road and renovated the station. Thanks to the Burhoe girls for the photos.&lt;br /&gt;The Ladner family lived upstairs at this time, we had alot of fun with Stu &amp; Hal, trading comics. Charlie and Jeannie Bartel lived with them for a few years and one day disappeared. No one ever tells a kid what was going on. We always wondered what happened to them. Then in the mid 90's, after we got on line, I was able to track Charlie down in Ontario. A few weeks later he arrived on PEI with his family and i met him down at Mother's. We had a great time catching up on our lives. Mother said that after they left and hearing how well Charlie had done in life, she had her best night sleep in years.&lt;br /&gt;During the 50,s Walter had a contract to tow the cars that were involved in collisions, these mostly occured on Saturday night. &lt;br /&gt;Walter had two old Army Trucks that he used for towing. After a car had it's transmission wrecked from towing , Walter always crawled under the car and removed the drive shaft.&lt;br /&gt;As I said most of the serious accidents occured on Saturday night, this was pre seat belts, airbag, collapsable steering column, padded dash or safety glass.&lt;br /&gt;These cars were usually a mess, heads smashed into the steel dash, or through the windsheild. Lots of blood and other things.&lt;br /&gt;He would park these wrecks behind the station on Belmont Street. We would run down early Sunday morning to get alook at the mayhem that occured the night before.&lt;br /&gt;In this era most people went to Church on Sunday as a family. After Church people would head out to Walter's to look at the wrecks. If it was a bad accident with people dying the crowds would be enormous. Men would park their cars with their family inside and go to look at the carnage. Kids would be begging daddy to let them look. My brothers and I would usually be there to watch these men and listen to their commments.&lt;br /&gt;This was a Sunday ritual for many years.&lt;br /&gt;Walter was a good guy , as was his son Wen and Allison Moore.&lt;br /&gt;In the evening many men, like Juice Longaphee, Bun Duffy, George Beer, would come into to walter's to chat , have a smoke and a bottle of Pepsi.&lt;br /&gt;When we were kids Walter would let us work on our bikes there and help us to fix them and patch the tires for a penny.&lt;br /&gt;Thanks Walter.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-115904983674133836?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/115904983674133836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=115904983674133836&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/115904983674133836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/115904983674133836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2006/09/walter-burhoes-white-rose-service.html' title='WALTER BURHOE&apos;S WHITE ROSE SERVICE STATION'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-115899787398850835</id><published>2006-09-23T03:47:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-10-01T17:39:03.616-04:00</updated><title type='text'>MEET ME AT BARRY'S FOR A BURGER &amp;  FRIES</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Jack Ferguson gave me this picture of Barry's. The "A" belongs to Ralph Thompson. I'm not sure of the date but you can see the Fire hall is there, also notice the two guy's against the building. I hope to have some additional photos soon and some stories about Barry;s. Gary ( Ralph's Brother) told me that the "A" burned in N.B&gt; during a parade. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/barrys.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/barrys.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-115899787398850835?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/115899787398850835/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=115899787398850835&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/115899787398850835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/115899787398850835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2006/09/meet-me-at-barrys-for-burger-fries.html' title='MEET ME AT BARRY&apos;S FOR A BURGER &amp;  FRIES'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-115738113585963353</id><published>2006-09-04T08:32:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-04T10:57:18.010-04:00</updated><title type='text'>THE HEARSE BRINGS LIFE TO THE LABOUR MOVEMENT</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;In earlier stories I told of the first days of the Hearse and the last days. But as you may have guessed there are a few stories in between.&lt;br /&gt;I purchased the Hearse in early 1966 while I was working at Maritime Motors, I was earning $40.00 a week. The pay scale there was based on your needs, if your were married you earned more than a single guy and for each child you earned more.The married men with kids made about $70.00 per week. We were paid each friday afternoon, in cash ,always new bills. I would recieve two new $20.00 bills , the guy making $70.00 one $50.. and 0ne $20.00, hence the pay envelopes were the same thickness, hard to tell who made the most.&lt;br /&gt;In the mid 60's you also had a booklet from the Gov't to record your employment. Each pay week you would receive a stamp, yes about the size of a postage stamp, you would stick this in the book. When you had enough stamps you could collect Unemployment Insurance. Today people still refer to "stamps" without knowing the history.&lt;br /&gt;Also at this time  unions were rare,and anyone caught trying to organize one was fired. Donnie Mackay and Leo Cannon tried to organizie on at a car dealership and were caught and fired.&lt;br /&gt;The poorest off were labourers, they had seasonal employment and worked in dangerous enviroments, with no job protection.&lt;br /&gt;They began to organize and walk off construction sites in protest for a living wage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day at the shop a couple of men came in looking for the owner of the "Hearse", Charlie Currie took them down to me. One of the guys was named Rejean and he wanted to rent the Hearse for a demonstration.They had stopped by my home and Mother told them where I worked.&lt;br /&gt;Making forty bucks a week, I didn't have money to register the Hearse, at this time all veichles had to be regeistered by April 1. The office was in the old Queen Square School. Working people  could only go there on their lunch break and half the staff would be on their break. It was very difficult to not only find the money but the time to do it.&lt;br /&gt;The hearse was not registered at this time, so the men went down and paid for the registration, insurance and filled it with gas. Almost two weeks pay for me.&lt;br /&gt;Well they took the Hearse and drove around the city going to construction sites. They went by the shop, the Hearse in front a few dozen workers following behind. The owner came down and watched the parade while shooting stares at me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/hearse%20parade.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/hearse%20parade.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to Summerside one day after this for a demonstration, Paul "Buff" Connoly was laid out in back and would pull the curtains open every now and then and rise from the dead. I don't remember how much they paid us for this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rejean stooped by the house and asked if I would go to Moncton for a demonstration, the guys were excited to go, so we planned to catch th 6am boat and be there for noon. Rejean told us this one might get ugly as there was alot of opposition to unions.&lt;br /&gt;I got up early Sunday morning and found Rejeans card and $50.00 on the front seat of the Hearse and a note saying"the demonstration was off, they settled".&lt;br /&gt;I never heard from him again. &lt;br /&gt;So in retrospect the Hearse did bring life to the labour movement on PEI.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/union%20card.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/union%20card.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/union%20caption.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/union%20caption.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-115738113585963353?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/115738113585963353/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=115738113585963353&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/115738113585963353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/115738113585963353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2006/09/hearse-brings-life-to-labour-movement.html' title='THE HEARSE BRINGS LIFE TO THE LABOUR MOVEMENT'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-115533257469128559</id><published>2006-08-11T17:34:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2006-08-11T18:03:10.563-04:00</updated><title type='text'>TIMS' ACROSS FROM THE OLD PICKLE PLANT</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Ged Burke and Pex having coffee with Bob MacInnis, the original "Rugged Knees".&lt;br /&gt;The name Knees stuck with Donnie. &lt;br /&gt;This is Tim's across from "Rose Brand Dill Pickles"&lt;br /&gt;Who will admit that they peed in those old vats that contained the dill pickle brine. &lt;br /&gt;We were only kids and it was mostly water! Wasn't it?&lt;br /&gt;The conversation today never made it beyond the year 1970, even that was too recent.&lt;br /&gt;Great to see Bob again and chat. Bob looks like his father Reg.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/ged%20bob%20me.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/ged%20bob%20me.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-115533257469128559?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/115533257469128559/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=115533257469128559&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/115533257469128559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/115533257469128559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2006/08/tims-across-from-old-pickle-plant.html' title='TIMS&apos; ACROSS FROM THE OLD PICKLE PLANT'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-115394114027635045</id><published>2006-07-26T14:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-26T17:19:34.053-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Original Dairy Queen</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/2dairy%20Queen.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/2dairy%20Queen.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is that Allison Stewert standing there applying for a job? He was probably this old when he started there. Tks for the picture!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is Dairy Queen in Charlottetown when it first opened, that 55 Chev is probably new.&lt;br /&gt;When they added Braizer to the menu the place looked the samebut it sure got busier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We would back the Hearse up to the front doors and the guys in back would spill out and go in for food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The staff enjoyed watching us back in never knowing how many guys and girls would come out through the doors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of you guys may remember the plastic urinal I bought in Florida. We had it hanging at the back near the doors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who will be the first to admit dumping their food in there and eating it?&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-115394114027635045?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/115394114027635045/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=115394114027635045&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/115394114027635045'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/115394114027635045'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2006/07/original-dairy-queen.html' title='The Original Dairy Queen'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-115244977432161164</id><published>2006-07-09T08:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-25T20:57:44.050-04:00</updated><title type='text'>John Paul Kenny Drops By With Some Photos</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/crest.4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.4.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John Paul stopped by on Friday with some pictures.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E.T. Concentrators license plate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/100_0001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/100_0001.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The "38" parked behind Mrs. Kenny's Bakery&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/john%2038%20bayfield.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/john%2038%20bayfield.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John Paul "On The Line" Halifax&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/john%2038%20drags.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/john%2038%20drags.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is the "Rule Book" for the Drag Strip&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/drag%202manu.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/drag%202manu.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/jp%20camero.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/jp%20camero.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/drag%20manu.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/drag%20manu.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went to The Drags many times in our car days. Who can forget that feeling on a Sunday evening, , as we drove home, rounding the corner at Bayfield and seeing the line up for the boat.&lt;br /&gt;It would probably be another 5 hours before we got on the boat.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-115244977432161164?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/115244977432161164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/115244977432161164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2006/07/john-paul-kenny-drops-by-with-some.html' title='John Paul Kenny Drops By With Some Photos'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-115241017330817110</id><published>2006-07-08T21:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-09-15T20:18:56.673-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Pex &amp; Knees 1970  Take The  Hearse To Oregon, What An Adventure</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For Jen &amp; Amy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHAPTER ONE: HEY,LETS JUST DRIVE THE HEARSE TO OREGON : WHAT COULD GO WRONG?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Hearse as it it looked when I bought it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/Hearse.5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/Hearse.5.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little background before I start. &lt;br /&gt;The Hearse had gone through some changes in the previous summer. The old 6 cyl. had been replaced with a bored 371 Cubic Inch Olds engine. It was bored to 382 CI had Jahns Racing pistons, three two barrelled carbs, a racing cam, a four speed automatic transmission and 271 ratio gears. After saying all that the Hearse would now "go fast".&lt;br /&gt;When knees and I decided to drive out we did a few more things. Billy O'connell did some body work and Gary Macleod painted it, LIME GREEN. This was finished about midnight before we left. Graham Burke was there and he was probably quite young. He asked if he could come with us, Knees said " go and get your dad's credit card"&lt;br /&gt;We got early the next morning packed our stuff, I had alot of tools at this time as I worked at Maritime Motors.&lt;br /&gt;We said goodbye to my parents, I can only wonder what went through my dear Mother's mind as she saw us leaving in a lime green Hearse. Incidently my hair was quite long and dyed "GOLD". Thankfully there are no pictures, only the ones in my mind.&lt;br /&gt;We then went to say goodbye to Knee's mother, Ann. For years after when I'd see Ann she would say " I remember the day you and Donnie left in The Casket".&lt;br /&gt;At this time in Knee's life he was a Motocross enthusiast,so we decided to follow the racers across the USA on their racing circuit.&lt;br /&gt;We hit the highway and caught the boat at Borden, traffic was very heavy and we were hours getting to NB. We drove to Saint John and found a farmers field with an old barn and parked behind it, climbed in the back and went to sleep. Not many people go to sleep in a Hearse and wake up.&lt;br /&gt;The next day we hit the border in Maine and knees said "let me do the talking".&lt;br /&gt;The first of a few mistakes.&lt;br /&gt;Now imagine you are a border guard and see an old 38 hudson Hearse painted lime green with a golden haired kid in a serape and a short haired marine looking passenger.&lt;br /&gt;I should point out that at this time Canada was in the world news, with the FLQ kidnapping Pierre Leporte and the British diplomat James Cross. The country was very tense at this time looking for anything suspicious. I'm reminded of an episode of the old Batman series where Batman and Robin go into a Disco and Batman says "Robin, try to blend in and don't draw attention".&lt;br /&gt;So the border guard takes one look and takes us inside, "what is the purpose of your trip?" &lt;br /&gt;Knees replies "Sir we are visiting relatives in Boston Sir."&lt;br /&gt;BG " you seem to have alot of luggage and alot of tools , are you sure you aren't going down to work?"&lt;br /&gt;K: "No Sir, we are just a couple of Islanders going down to visit our poor relatives".&lt;br /&gt;BG: "Open your wallets and let me count your money"&lt;br /&gt;K: "Yes Sir" (we each had about $500.00) Knees opens his wallet and gives it to the guard to count and the guard spots his Green Card.&lt;br /&gt;BG: So you live on PEI and are just going to visit?&lt;br /&gt;K: "Yes Sir"&lt;br /&gt;BG: Then you won't need this Green Card anymore as you said you live on PEI.&lt;br /&gt;The panic that came over Knees face was clear to all in the room. The Guard took the Green Card and placed it in a safe.&lt;br /&gt;If anyone has ever tried to get a Green Card they know how very difficult it was and is to get. At this time Canadian boys wanting to get a Green Card enlisted in the Army and usually ended up in Vietman. If you survived that, you would come home with a Purple Heart and a "monkey on your back".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So with the border guards smiling and Knees almost in tears they allowed us in with a "have a nice visit" as we left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We then proceeded to head south, Knees had cousins in Mass. I think it was in Lowell, were we could get showered. We took route #9 "The Airline" which was still a winding two lane road through the woods "If they buried all them truckers lost in them wood, there'd be a Tombstone every mile" as the song goes.We were stopped for the first time by  Highway Patrol, and heard what was to become a familiar refrain" Get out of that thing" , put your hands on the roof and spread your legs"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there Amy and Jenn is how your dad lost his Greencard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that you've seen pictures of the Hearse,your Dad and me, when we were young bucks, I hope you can begin to know more about your Dad and what a great friend and unique guy he was. Jenn has heard first hand how much his friends back here loved him and remember him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Chapter Two: THE BEST LAID PLANS OF MEN AND HEARSE.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I mentioned previously, Knees was into Motocross Racing. So we decided to follow the racing circuit. &lt;br /&gt;The first race we went to was somewhere in Mass. We arrived in the morning and parked The Hearse in a field with other campers, kind of a "Woodstock' for Motocross.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.motorcyclemuseum.org/halloffame/hofbiopage.asp?id=188"&gt;TORSTEN HALLMAN&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt; was at this race along with a PE Islander  &lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.motorcyclemuseum.org/halloffame/hofbiopage.asp?id=312"&gt;JOE BOLGER&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;We stayed two days at the meet and off we went down to Boston. Somwhere along the Interstate, we felt the engine wasn't running smoothly enough so we pulled onto the median and took off the fuel pump. We disassembled it and cleaned it, made a new gasket out of cardboard, and away we went.&lt;br /&gt;The weight of the new engine caused the front end to lower, causing the headlights to reduce their range. The lights were not adjustable so we did the only thing we could think of.&lt;br /&gt;We took off for London Ont. to my sister Shirley's arriving in the early am. Kevin was looking out the front window as we pulled in. He had to go to school but made me promise I would be there when he returned.&lt;br /&gt;We jacked the Hearse up , took off the front leaf springs and hitchedhiked into central London to a spring shop. Quite a sight the two of us on the road carrying springs.&lt;br /&gt;We found a spring shop and the guy worked magic. He hammered the springs which seemed to re- spring them. Knees told him to add an extra leaf to each side. &lt;br /&gt;Wecalled the local radio station and asked the D.J. to announce over the air for Kevin Power from PEI to meet us at The Brass Rail. We did meet up with him, I think he saw us walking down Dundas Street and he drove us back to the Hearse.&lt;br /&gt;Kevin came home from school with a few of his friends to show off these crazy guys and The Lime Green Hearse. We worked all night to put the springs back. Today I'd complain about changing a tire.&lt;br /&gt;When we put the Hearse back together, the lights shone straight up illuminating the heavens and not the road. We were stuck with it.&lt;br /&gt;We left the next morning to cross over in Detroit, along the way we picked up three girls from Quebec, hitch hiking on the 401, they were heading to Vancouver.&lt;br /&gt;We arrived at U.S. customs in the early evening, remember now that the F.L.Q. crisis is in full swing and the borders are tense.&lt;br /&gt;The Customs officer takes one look and hauls us inside, checks all our I.D. ( Knees and I have our passports). He decides one of the girls doesn't have enough I.D. so no entry. We turn around and back across the bridge to Canadian Customs. They give us a hard time but let us back in. We go to the bus station and drop off the girl who doesn't have enough I.D.&lt;br /&gt;Back we go to the border. The same guy is there and he is aliitle annoyed that we came back. In side we go and he tells us the other two can't enter. Back to Canada , same thing , but we get in.&lt;br /&gt;We go back to the bus station, drop off the other two and back to the border, same guard on duty.&lt;br /&gt;He flips, they draw weapons, take us inside contact the F.B.I. by Teletype with all our info, finger print us and keep us locked up untill they get a reply.&lt;br /&gt;When it comes back negative he is even more ticked he calls for police cars they send four and escort us back across the bridge to Canada, as he turns us over to the Canadin officals he says "and don't try to get back in, don't try the tunnel I'm calling all the crossings."&lt;br /&gt;The Canadian officals by this time had changer shifts. "How long have you been in the states? do you have anything to declare?"&lt;br /&gt;Yes we tried the tunnell, and no they would not let us in.&lt;br /&gt;So far, Knees has lost his Greencard, has been denied entry 4 times into the U.S. and is begiing to wonder if he will ever get home.&lt;br /&gt;We went back to the bus stop picked up the girls, and headed back up the 401 to go around the Great Lakes.&lt;br /&gt;I drove for a few hours and then Knees took over, he pulled into the outside lane and away we went around 11 pm we got stopped for speeding 130 MPH not Kilometers, No ticket, the O.P.P. officer was impressed the car could go that fast. SLOW DOWN GUYS!&lt;br /&gt;That night the five of us slept in the Hearse it was cold and rainy and very uncomfortable. &lt;br /&gt;Our French was non existent and their English almost as bad.&lt;br /&gt;That night my E.T. Concentrators jacket fell on the batterys, there were 2 six volt batterys behind the seats. The acid ruined it and it is gone, how sad.&lt;br /&gt;We didn't sleep well that night as you could imagine, Knees and I slept sitting in the front seats.&lt;br /&gt;For all the things I remember about the trip I've forgotten many more, but it is 36 years ago.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;  CHAPTER  THREE: WAS THAT CHARLES OR GEORGE HITCH HIKING ?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;We got up the next morning, it was damp and cold. we went to a service station to use the washroom to get cleaned up. Grabbed some breakfast and back on the road.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure how long it took but it seemed like eternity. Their French and our English with no common ground.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we arrived in Sudbury we tried to look up some Islanders who were working there in the mines but to no avail. the girls were out of money and could not help with the gas so they stayed there to get work in a diner. We drove around Sudbury and then back on the road. &lt;br /&gt;Somewhere around Wawa we saw two guys hitch hiking, one on each side of the road. We stopped and a tall skinny guy said he was going to Vancouver. The guy on the opposite side said he was going to Halifax. So we told the guy heading west to get in.&lt;br /&gt;The two guys started to talk to each other and then decided to change places. The tall guy wanted to go to Halifax and the small guy with the beard wanted to go to Vancouver. Make up your minds. &lt;br /&gt;They proceeded to exchange boots and jackets. This was because the guy going East had winter boots and the one going west had sneakers.&lt;br /&gt;So we ended up with the small guy with the beard. For along time I've said he looked like Charles Manson but upon further reflection maybe it was George Lucas. If it was, he listened to lots of stories of E.T.Concentrators and the fun we had. He had to get the idea for American Graffiti from some where.HMMMMMMMMM&lt;br /&gt;My nephew Kevin who grew up in our house and is 10 years younger, tells his daughter Victoria who happens to like the movie, "Uncle Pex and all those guys lived that movie, and I got to watch it in real time"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now we are three guys in a Hearse heading for the coast. &lt;br /&gt;It began to snow and the driving got treacherous so we pulled off the road into a clearing to sleep. &lt;br /&gt;Knees and I had sleeping bags so we cralled in the back and stretched out " aw the comfort of sleeping in a Hearse in a snow storm in Wawa Ontario with a stranger trying to sleep in the front seat.&lt;br /&gt;During the night our friend had alot of bad dreams and woke up screaming. we told him to cut it out or we would make him sleep outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We survived the night and back on the road in the morning. When we would hit high speed the hearse began to shudder, we stopped and Knees got out to check the wheels but all seemed ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We drove through Ont and into Manitoba and stopped for gas at a small country station. I filled up knees checked the oil and our friend went in to use the bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;We finished got back on the road and after an hour or so he opens up his jacket and out spills chips, bars, cigarettes. What is going on??? This guy robbed the place. All four wheels lock as I apply the brakes, over to the side, Knees quickly makes up a cardboard sign that reads" B.C." We open the dorr tell him to get out with all his stuff and be on his way.&lt;br /&gt;Just what we needed.&lt;br /&gt;The rest of the day was uneventfull, except for excessive speed on those flat roads.&lt;br /&gt;We talked about trying to get into the US again but thought we should go west some more.&lt;br /&gt;The transmission rear seal began to leak and the shaking got worse, Knees checked again but nothing. Each time we stopped the leak was bigger in Saskatoon we stopped for food and left a mess of red on the parking lot. We could not find a seal so we had to wait.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure of the lenght of time it took to get to each destination but we took 10 days to complete the trip.&lt;br /&gt;We arrived in Calgary and checked into a motel, what a treat. We went to the movies, M.A.S.H.was just opening, so we went. After we went to a place called Shakey's Pizza. I still remember how good it was, very thin crust, wooden benches to sit on and very sparse decor.&lt;br /&gt;The next morning we found an AMMCO transmission shop and they had a seal. While the Hearse was up on hoist we checked the wheels, the right rear wheel nuts had been loose since Charlottetown and the rim was about to slide over the nuts.&lt;br /&gt;"I thought you checked them"? "I thought I did".&lt;br /&gt;After arriving in Calgary at night in the dark, and waking up in the bright sun to see the mountains ahead, it made me think of the early settlers arriving and looking at that site. It must have been tempting to stop and go no further.&lt;br /&gt;We toured the Rocky's , Banff, Lake Louise, went into to Golden, The Martin boys lived there many years ago. We looked for them in the phone book but no luck.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure where we stopped that night but it was dark early and it was cold.&lt;br /&gt;tomorrow we would head south and look for a small border crossing. Hopefully one that was not on the look out for two guys in a Lime Green Hearse from PEI.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CHAPTER FOUR: RUN FOR THE BORDER&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;We woke up early as usual , in a service centre parking lot, got cleaned up had some breakfast and looked over the map.&lt;br /&gt;We saw a small border town in Idaho, surely they never heard of us.&lt;br /&gt;After giving The Hearse one final check for anything that could cause trouble we drove up to the crossing.It was just after noon when we arrived, the guard came out and looked at us and said "you better get out boys, this is going to be a while. He suggested we go and get lunch. Two men proceeded to take evertying out of the Hearse, tools clothing, batterys, anything in the back they could find,even dirty laundry.&lt;br /&gt;They used mirrors to look underneath, took off the airfilter, removed the spare tire mounted on the side.&lt;br /&gt;Finally after about three hours they let us in.&lt;br /&gt;We drove about a half an hour and we were pulled over by a State Trooper, "Get out of that thing, put your hands on the roof and spread your legs. By this time we had this routine down pat.&lt;br /&gt;We  got stopped a few more time that day. About 10 pm we needed gas and we came upon a rural station where the .owner lived up stairs. We pulled in and as it was closed we sounded the horn. The upper window opened and a rifle was pointed at us. "Hey ,can we&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; get gas"?&lt;br /&gt;"you'll be filling it up, right"?&lt;br /&gt;"Yes"&lt;br /&gt;"How much will that green thing hold"?&lt;br /&gt;"$20.00"&lt;br /&gt;"Show me the cash, ok, now put it in that slot"&lt;br /&gt;"ok"&lt;br /&gt;The light came on and the pump was turned on.&lt;br /&gt;We only took $19.50, just in case.&lt;br /&gt;He held the rifle on us while we gassed up and followed us as we left his lot.&lt;br /&gt;We are not in PEI any more Dorothy.&lt;br /&gt;I don't remember where we slept, probably in a roadside park.&lt;br /&gt;The next morning Knees was excited to finally be getting back to Oregon, we followed the Colorado river. I recall how windy it was along that stretch of road, the Hearse sure was shaking.&lt;br /&gt;We pulled into Portland early evening Knees drove us to where he was staying.&lt;br /&gt;He was boarding with his brother Bob's wife mother nad her man Duke.&lt;br /&gt;She was a very kind woaman who was not upset(visibly) with a Green Hearse parked in her driveway.&lt;br /&gt;Knees was anxious to go out to his favourite hang out to introduce me to his friends.&lt;br /&gt;I don't recall their names.we visited Bob and his family, they too were gracious. They daughter used to play with that dog of theirs constantly.&lt;br /&gt;Lowell Macewen and his brother came down to Portland one weekend, they lived in Vancouver.&lt;br /&gt;A few days I went down to the Chrysler dealership Knees worked in ,he was in parts and rode a unicycle at work. Knees had just bought an Hodaka dirt bike. It was all noise and no action.&lt;br /&gt;I don't remember how long I spent in Oregon, but Knees and I had alot of fun, he showed me alot of places, I should have written this down 30 years ago, but who knew we'd get older.&lt;br /&gt;Knees cooked his own meals and I think we ate Mexican frozen dinners every night.&lt;br /&gt;We ate at a lot of pubs also, one I remember put a fried egg on your burger , one night we went to a place that served a 64oz steak.&lt;br /&gt;If you could eat it and all the fixins the meal was free. On the wall were pictures of the succesfull few, all dead now of heart failure I'm sure.&lt;br /&gt;I don't rmember the dat I left, but without a Greencard, I could not work so i took off for BC.&lt;br /&gt;When i arrived at the border the Canadian Guard said hi, looked at the Hearse, heard the engine rumble and said "Can you lay rubber"?"Of course I can"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That black strip was probably there untill they paved it over.&lt;br /&gt;I stayed with Lowell, his brother and another guy while in Vncouver. It was 1970 and a recession. I applied for a Christmas job at Canada Post, they had 100 openings I was # 10,000.&lt;br /&gt;As you may recall I mentioned Thorsten Hallman in the first chapter, a motocross rider we saw, well his ex wife lived in the apartment below Lowell.&lt;br /&gt;well I had a few odd jobs in Vancouver over December and Jan.&lt;br /&gt;It was now time to change. I placed an ad in the local paper for the Hearse and a guy named Issac showed up with $500.00. He drove away and another chapter of my life closed.&lt;br /&gt;I bought a train ticket to come back to PEI where I went back to school, Holland College, and of course I worked at Maritime Motors in my spare time.&lt;br /&gt;I only saw Knees once since then , he drove his bike to PEI and Kathy flew in to meet his relatives, she still married him.&lt;br /&gt;In 1983 I was in Vancouver staying with Paul Smitz, I called Knees and talked about taking the bus down to Portland. I also tracked down Max Martin. I had not seen him since 1963, he was in Kelowna. I went up to visit Max for a week and had a great time.&lt;br /&gt;I"ve always regretted not going to Oregon but!&lt;br /&gt;Knees and I talked many times over the years usually late night, usually cars.&lt;br /&gt;This ends this series of stories on our trip, I hope you enjoyed it.&lt;br /&gt;I may re tell a few other Hearse stories that are still in my head. &lt;br /&gt;Keep watching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pex&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-115241017330817110?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/115241017330817110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/115241017330817110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2006/07/pex-knees-1970-take-hearse-to-oregon.html' title='Pex &amp; Knees 1970  Take The  Hearse To Oregon, What An Adventure'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-115240423912774780</id><published>2006-07-08T20:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-07-25T20:49:40.156-04:00</updated><title type='text'>BBQ At Pex's With Club Members and Friends June 26, 2006</title><content type='html'>Here are Jenn And Patrick Arriving&lt;br /&gt;Jenn is Rugged knees &amp; Cathy's daughter, visiting PEI for the first time. She and Patrick got Engaged&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/arriving.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/arriving.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/100_0007.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/100_0007.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/100_0002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/100_0002.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/100_0010_2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/100_0010_2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E.T. Concentrators welcome the newest members. Jenn "Dainty Knees" MacInnis and her Fiance Patrick.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/100_0016.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/100_0016.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;There aren't too many guys from our club around. Wayne Carver is in an earlier photo but is missing from this one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/100_0015.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/100_0015.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Jenn listening to the guys as we tell her storys about her dad. Each new story better than the last.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/100_0014.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/100_0014.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt; Jenn, Pex &amp; Patrick. Thanks to Patrick for taking Jenn up to meet us. We not only got to meet them for the first time but re-connect with each other.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/100_0019.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/100_0019.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The MACKAY BOYS and The MacInnis Kid together again. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/100_0020.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/100_0020.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;The get together was so much fun, Thanks to all those who attended. Doug Macdonald, Velle Bugden, Les Mackay  Pex Mackay, Wayne Carver, Rick Taylor, Donnie Mackay, Allan Burke, Errol Perry. Thankyou To Jacquie for all her work tonight. &lt;br /&gt;She was made an Honourary Member of The E.T. Concentrators.&lt;br /&gt;This afternoon I received an Email from Cathy MacInnis. I read to everyone tonight. She wrote of looking at our BLOG and explained to us how Knees was killed. It was an emotional time as we reflected upon her and her daughters loss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jenn and Patrick leave tomorrow. We are so thankfull to have met them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amy &amp; Cathy come on up to PEI we would love to see you also.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;COMING SOON!&lt;br /&gt;IN 1970 RUGGED KNEES'S FATHER REG DIED. &lt;br /&gt;KNEES CAME HOME TO PEI FOR THE FUNERAL.&lt;br /&gt;I OFFERED TO DRIVE HIM BACK TO OREGON IN THE HEARSE.&lt;br /&gt;WHAT AN ADVENTURE WE HAD. &lt;br /&gt;I'LL SOON BEGIN POSTING THE HIGHLIGHTS OF THAT TRIP.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; PLEASE CLICK ON THE "COMMENTS" BELOW AND LEAVE FEEDBACK. IT IS APPRECIATED.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-115240423912774780?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/115240423912774780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/115240423912774780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2006/07/bbq-at-pexs-with-club-members-and.html' title='BBQ At Pex&apos;s With Club Members and Friends June 26, 2006'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28757378.post-114920713354729123</id><published>2006-06-01T20:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2006-12-12T09:20:47.746-05:00</updated><title type='text'>E.T. CONCENTRATORS CAR CLUB CIRCA 1964</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;This crest is Velle Bugden's he managed to keep it all these years, maybe there is still a jacket out there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/crest.3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.3.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doug MacDonald wearing his new jacket. We bought them at H&amp;C for $23.50.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/New%20Jacket.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/New%20Jacket.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/121_2136.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/121_2136.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If we helped a motorist in distress or any such act we left behind our card. &lt;br /&gt;Super heroes never thought of this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/Club%20Courtesy%20Card.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/Club%20Courtesy%20Card.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;This is a rare photo of the CARCLUB. That looks like Wayne Carver. Sure was alot of stuff around.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/Club%20Scene.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/Club%20Scene.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;This is Pex and the hearse probably  July 1966 some where  on the 401 in Ontario. A man named L. Meredith took the picture and sent me the negative. Notice the short hair, I had to get it cut to get a summer job at Kelvinator in London.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/Hearse.3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/Hearse.3.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; This is what it looked like before conversion.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/1938%20Hudson-Terraplane%20Panel%20Delivery.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/1938%20Hudson-Terraplane%20Panel%20Delivery.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;The Original engine. It hand an electric starter but if it was cool I had to use the crank&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/engine.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/engine.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;This is Pex at Parkdale Pharmacy, the original store in the old house. I was on my way back to work at Maritime Motors, stopped into the drug store for a pop, and Betty snapped my picture. Can't believe that was me, now the scary look is me. but!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/pex.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/pex.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Donnie Mackay , Getzgears &amp; Roger Newman on our entry in the Goldcup parade.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/Gold%20Cup%20Parade%20Entry.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/Gold%20Cup%20Parade%20Entry.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2362/3051/1600/474706/float%20coloured.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2362/3051/320/353656/float%20coloured.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2362/3051/1600/304398/Getz_JP_Hickey1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/2362/3051/320/451917/Getz_JP_Hickey1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is 1949 Olds that belonged to John Martin. He and his family moved to California in 1963 and John left the car at our house. The picture is taken in our backyard at 2 St. Peters Road.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/1949%20olds.2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/1949%20olds.2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is taken at Stanford Conn.  1964, that is Ruggedknees standing to the left&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/sanford.3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/sanford.3.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is Knees I think it was taken at their home on Mt Edward Road.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A newspaper ad we ran.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/Newspaper%20Ad%201968.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/Newspaper%20Ad%201968.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/knees.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/knees.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; This is Stanford Conn. Paul Carragher is the guy in the sun glasses.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/3sanford.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/3sanford.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dave Thompson , John Paul Kenny, &amp; Ruggedknees We had travelled down to Stanford for drag races, we set up our tents by the side of the road and a State Trooper made us move. We had travelled from PEI and it was around midnight, when we woke up in the morning we were camped in the local dump.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/4sanford.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/4sanford.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; John Paul's 38&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/john%20paul.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/john%20paul.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In front of Parkdale Fina&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/John%20Paul%27s%2039%20Ford.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/John%20Paul%27s%2039%20Ford.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 1966 Knees went back to highschool, grade 11. The principal, Frank Costello (Chief) said I could go back to school also if i arrived before a certain date.&lt;br /&gt;Knees sent this telegram to me. I was working at Kelvinator, where it arrived.&lt;br /&gt;They said if I wanted to go they would have my pay ready by the end of the day.&lt;br /&gt;This was very thoughtfull of Knees.&lt;br /&gt;It took 5 days to drive home at 40 miles per hour.I used 4 gallons of 50  WT Nugold oil as well as STP.&lt;br /&gt;The oil was so thick I could hardly get the hearse started. I had to use the crank the starter would not turn fast enough. The morning I left London, the brakes went. The Hearse was one of the first to have hydralic brakes. The technology was not fool proof so they had a back up system. When the hydralic brakes failed and the brake pedal was heading for the floor, it would pull on a cable similar to todays parking brakes. The cable would pull the rear brakes shoes out,causing an almost sensation of slowing down. The fact that I rarely exceeded 40 mph helped and a standard tranny came in handy.&lt;br /&gt;Tks Knees&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/Rugged%20knees%20Telegram.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/Rugged%20knees%20Telegram.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the "owners manual" that came with the Hearse. I bought in 1965 from Orville Phillips in Tyne Valley for $125.00. Two carloads of guys went up there that night and we pooled our money to purchase it. We drove it back to Charlottetown and met at Dairy Queen. we drove around the city for a while. I then went to Barry's Snack bar to pass time so i could sneak home without Dad seeing the Hearse. Barry and Myron Ling were there that night and got quite a kick out of the Hearse.  &lt;br /&gt;I parked it on the front lawn and quietly went to bed. Dad got up the next morning and as he was backing out he saw the Hearse parked under the front window. People going by were looking in thinking he had died. &lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/hudson%20manual.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/hudson%20manual.0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is an inspection sticker for the Hearse dated 1968, compulsary inspection came about 1966 I think.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/inspect.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/inspect.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the back of a letter that Knees sent me September 22, 1966 . The mailman got quite a suprise when he walked into the yard and saw the hearse.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/letter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/letter.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ged Burke &amp; Rugged Knees&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/knees%20ged.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/knees%20ged.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Knees &amp; Russell McKearney&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/knees1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/knees1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Knees&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/knees2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/knees2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Knees under a car at Sanford.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/2sanford.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/2sanford.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is Knees with Amy in Oregon probably 1984.&lt;br /&gt;He left P.E.I. to escape the snow!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/near_our_house_Amy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/near_our_house_Amy.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;This is Pex &amp; Gus in the living room at 2 St Peters Road, We got Gus, who was female from Ted Beer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/1600/Pex%20%26%20Gus.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/Pex%20%26%20Gus.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The name E.T. Concentrators was suggested by Wayne Carver. E.T. for "elapsed time".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;John Martin was killed in 1964 while on a motorcycle trip to Mexico.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Getzgears died in 1970 while in training for the military. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rugged Knees was killed in 1985 while riding his motorcycle in Oregon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;COMING SOON!&lt;br /&gt;IN 1970 RUGGED KNEES'S FATHER REG DIED. &lt;br /&gt;KNEES CAME HOME TO PEI FOR THE FUNERAL.&lt;br /&gt;I OFFERED TO DRIVE HIM BACK TO OREGON IN THE HEARSE.&lt;br /&gt;WHAT AN ADVENTURE WE HAD. &lt;br /&gt;I'LL SOON BEGIN POSTING THE HIGHLIGHTS OF THAT TRIP.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt; PLEASE CLICK ON THE "COMMENTS" BELOW AND LEAVE FEEDBACK. IT IS APPRECIATED.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/28757378-114920713354729123?l=etconcentrators.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/feeds/114920713354729123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=28757378&amp;postID=114920713354729123&amp;isPopup=true' title='34 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/114920713354729123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/28757378/posts/default/114920713354729123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etconcentrators.blogspot.com/2006/06/et-concentrators-car-club-circa-1964.html' title='E.T. CONCENTRATORS CAR CLUB CIRCA 1964'/><author><name>ETCONCENTRATORS</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00483461932910122682</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='31' height='20' src='http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2362/3051/320/crest.5.jpg'/></author><thr:total>34</thr:total></entry></feed>
