June 5, 2010

Head of the class Katey Potter and Joe Pavkeje were named students of the year at the SHDHS prom Friday night.

June 4, 2010

Sweet Cynthia Actress Cynthia Dale is Charity Hope Valentine in Sweet Charity at Huron Country Playhouse from June 9 to 26. For tickets, visit http://www.huroncountryplayhouse.com.

Black Snappers 2010

Angela's ball hockey team in Forest, Ontario.

Cutting Jessica's Dreads

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[youtube www.youtube.com/watch?v=rqMcIcX2wKc]

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Friends and family gathered Sunday at the home of Jessica Michielsen to help her cut her dreadlocks for a Haiti earthquake fundraiser. Jessica cut her hair for The House That Jack Built, the charity named in honour of her late father, the builder Jack Michielsen of Arkona, who died in 2005 of cancer. The House that Jack Built builds homes for needy families in Haiti. In the wake of last month’s earthquake, the fund needs to be filled to help as many families as possible.

Jessica has been growing the dreadlocks since 2005 as part of the process of grieving their father. Each dreadlock was worth $100, and with 50 dreadlocks available, Jessica exceeded her $5000 goal, raising $8000 for the fund.

Jessica invites interested donors to make a long-term commitment, and says fund managers, registered charity Baptist Haiti Mission Canada, will be on hand to discuss monthly withdrawals; any sized commitment is welcome.

Since the earthquake of January 12, Jessica says donations The House that Jack Built fund have exceeded $16,000. Donations are collected by registered charity Baptist Haiti Mission Canada and donations over $10 are receiptable.

The House that Jack Built Baptist Haiti Mission Canada P.O. Box 11 602 Wellington Ave. Wallaceburg, ON. N8A 4L5

The ballad of Slim Gordon

Some of you may recognize the name Murray “Slim” Gordon Lewis from his long and storied career as a musician in Ontario and across North America. For others, like the editor’s parents, he was your insurance salesman.Slim Gordon, as he was called, was born in 1926 in Yarmouth County, Nova Scotia. Today, he lives alone in an apartment in Exeter. In December, he was diagnosed with cancer. A fellow reader, Diane Lovie thought you might like to hear his story.

As told to Casey Lessard Portraits by Casey Lessard WSM images courtesy Slim Gordon

I had my own radio program when I was six years old in Yarmouth, Nova Scotia. I had been performing with other kids on a children’s program every Saturday afternoon, and the Rawleigh man came to the house one day. He was so used to our place that he just walked in. My mother played the pump organ and she was teaching me a new song I was going to learn for the program on Saturday. When we were done, my brother came into the parlour room to tell us that he was out there, so we went into the kitchen. He had been listening to the rehearsal. I was a boy soprano and he said to my mother, “The radio station is looking for someone to star in a program, and my wife plays piano for them.” He said, “Why don’t you bring your son down some evening and let my wife hear him?” She took me down and I got the program. I did that for two years. The announcer was also the announcer for the show with the children. He retired to Newfoundland, so they didn’t have an announcer to do the kid’s shows. He was very good at it. I remember they didn’t have an adjustable microphone. It was a set height. If they stood me on a chair, I was too tall. If they didn’t stand me on a chair, I was too short. They had to sit me on the announcer’s lap to do the program. He was adjustable.

Boston-bound When I was 15, I decided to start my own band. I rented a country hall for $5 per night, and we made our own posters. We had a full house. We charged 25 cents admission, and made $7 each. Farmer’s helpers were working a whole month for $10. This was 1941. We didn’t have electric instruments. Everything was acoustic. It was a rousing success. When I was 17, we had a dairy farm and a milk route and delivered milk by the bottle. I met a customer one Sunday, and his wife told him I sang cowboy music. There was no such thing as country music at the time. John lived in Boston, Massachusetts. He said I ought to go to the radio station and get a program on the radio. I stayed with my uncle, who lived in Boston. While there, John took me to a country outfitters. My father gave me $100 to buy western pants, a western shirt, belt and boots, and a new guitar. John took me to a photographer and I had my picture taken. He took my picture around to the different nightclubs and tried to book me. Damned if he didn’t! I played a different nightclub every night. I was 17 and too young to drink, but that didn’t matter. He took me to WMEX radio, and a fellow named Gene LaVerne had a country band and did a country show every day at noon. He listened to me sing and told me he didn’t have any work for me, but he got me some bookings. John got me booked on the Boston Barn Dance, which was broadcast from the Armories every Wednesday night. I did one show and then the next week. We were leaving to come back to the house, and there were three girls standing in the lobby. One girl came over, shook my hand, and said her name was Betty Lee. “I’m going to be doing a tour of Nova Scotia,” she said. “We’re going to be doing a radio show there and we’re looking for a boy who can sing, play guitar and act as straight man for our comedian.” How much do you pay?, I asked. “You get $25 a week, even if you don’t work the whole six days. And you won’t have to worry about the fare back to Yarmouth because we have our own car.” So I had a job. The next year, she was planning a U.S. tour, but I couldn’t get a work permit to work in the U.S. because they were still under wartime rules. The company I was working for offered me a position in Hamilton, and I took the chance. I worked for Cosmos Imperial Mills and I ran a loom that wove felt that was 40’ wide by 200’. It was used in paper mills.

The move to Ontario I came to Hamilton in 1948 and started my band in 1949. We were doing a Saturday night show with three other bands at CKPC radio in Brantford. The Cockshutt plow company was hosting a show and they wanted a country band. The plowing match was coming up in Paris, and the announcer thought it would be fair to run a contest for the four bands to do the job. The audience chose. We got the job. We had sporadic work. We rehearsed in case something came up. Then the band started pestering me. “We’ve been rehearsing two to three nights a week for two years. Are we ever going to go out and get jobs working nightclubs or something?” So I thought, well, we have a big enough repertoire – I could do 500 songs myself – maybe I should go see what I can do. We had an audition at Hanrahan’s Tavern, and we got our first job. I told him what our price was and he accepted it. We didn’t have an argument. We had a two-week gig, which was normal. The first week, I noticed a guy came in and sat at the bar. He looked like a businessman. He came again the next night. He said, “I’m Harold Kudlutz, I book bands.” He became our agent. He booked us for quite a long time. I had a good paying job because not a lot of people can weave felt. Now I had a problem. Halfway through the second week at Hanrahan’s, I was bushed. I went to my factory manager and explained the situation. I asked for Wednesday mornings off to get a day that I could sleep in and catch up. I didn’t want to quit what I was doing because I had been working toward it for a long time. He agreed to it. Then, by golly, we started getting bookings in Toronto. So I went back to him. “Now what do you need,” he says. “Well,” I told him, “I’ll make it short and to the point. Can I get a six-month leave of absence?” It’s quite a question to ask someone. He said, “I suppose if I don’t give it to you, you’re going to quit.” I told him, “I guess you’re right.” He gave it to me. That was the end of working in a factory. I never went back. By this point, I had been married a long time. Since 1950. We met when I was trying to start a show in Hamilton at a supper club with a dance floor. I was hoping it would be a success, but it bombed. We ran it for four nights. My best friend was putting up the money for it, and he wasn’t a rich man. Rita Muir was a girlfriend of my competitor, Mike Patoma. He came to one of the shows, and brought her and her girlfriend. He took me down and introduced me to her. It was a mistake on his part, if he was serious. But then, it was a big mistake on my part because I married her. We were married for 12 years. Twelve years of pure hell. We had three daughters, but the last one, Leslie, wasn’t mine. That was the end of the marriage. That didn’t stop me from loving the little girl. She had nothing to do with it. When we broke up, Rita took Leslie with her. Last January, one of my daughters died of cancer. The night of her memorial, some of the family came and Leslie came, too. I said, “The last time I saw you, you were 10 years old.” She said, “I remember the last time I saw you.” I asked how old she was, and she said 52. I said, “I haven’t seen you for 40 years.” She looked the same. I couldn’t believe it. Forty years. And she still felt like my daughter. She threw her arms around my neck and stood there and cried. It had to be 20 minutes. I haven’t seen her since.

Hit the road, Slim (After my marriage ended,) I did a tour with George Jones and one with Hank Snow, each for a month. I’m still playing nightclubs, but now I play Toronto a lot. We didn’t have a holiday for two years, so I went back to Oshawa, where I bought a house. I gave Rita the house in Hamilton to take care of the girls. I used to run Saturday night shows in the Red Barn. In the fall of ’64, a fellow came who owned a dude ranch north of Kirkland Lake. He wanted to know whether the band and I would do a TV show from the ranch as a form of advertising. We settled on a price for Sunday night. The guy was going to try to pull a fast one on me. If you’re in this business long enough, you get wise to this stuff. He wrote me a cheque that night when the show was finished. I was up the next morning when the bank opened and I went into the bank. The teller told me they couldn’t honour any more cheques from him. I could see his idea of the TV show, but not with my money. Back to the ranch. I pull into the yard of the ranch, and he’d just come out of the ranch house with a metal cash box in his hand, heading for the bank. He said, “Where’ve you been?” I said, “To the bank, they wouldn’t honour your cheque.” He told me to come back into the ranch house and he’d give me cash. All smiles, I told him that would suit me just dandy. His wife stood there gritting her teeth.

We wound up in Hearst, the last jumping off point in Ontario. You either have to turn east or west; you can’t go north, no highway. I met a guy who came and asked if he could play banjo on my show. His name was Smiley Bates. Not too many guys running around playing the five-string banjo. Hard to play. He said, “I play everything. If it’s got strings on it, I play it.” And he did. He played them all equally well. I needed a smaller band to play nightclubs, so I thought I’d hire him. Before I left Hearst, I had a booking at the Franklin Hotel in Kirkland Lake. I had two weeks off and I was in Oshawa. My agent called and said the band playing the Queen’s Hotel in Seaforth was from the United States and their banjo player ruptured his appendix. They can’t play a show without him. He asked if we would fill in. And here I thought we’d have two weeks off. We had a ball. The second night we were there, Smiley said to me, “Did you see the blonde that came in here?” I said, “I’m not bothered with women, I just came through a bad marriage.” He said, “She’s really something. She’s got blonde hair she can sit on.” And she did. I like long hair. He said he’d take me down and introduce me during the break. That was his mistake. I sat and talked to her until my break was over. She had a good head, and she was real pretty. Her name was Lydia Roelofs. Dutch. She was a dandy. When we got married, she was 20 and I was 40. They told me I was robbing the cradle. We were married for 34 years. Had two kids that made us proud. Their mother, I give the credit for that because I was on the road all the time. I took three weeks off, and thought, I can’t subject Lydia to life on the road. If I take her to Oshawa and dump her in my apartment, I don’t know when I’m going to get back and that wouldn’t be fair to her. I thought if she could stay in Exeter, that would work out because she has friends here, went to high school here.

End of the line In 1970, I got booked in Vietnam, so I took it. The money was damn good. I was going to be entertaining American troops. It was busy. You flew somewhere every day of the week. If you couldn’t fly, you took a train or a van. I was by myself, no road band. A lot of clubs had house bands. You want to talk about bands? Get a Japanese or Filipino country band; as good as anything in Nashville. Couldn’t speak a word of English. Well, there was always one guy who could speak enough that you could get by, but other than that, no. Did that for 17 weeks. The closest I came to being in danger that I know of, I was flying from Manila in the Philippines to Taipei, Taiwan. When we got there, my road manager came running as I came down the gangplank. He said, “We were really worried. We didn’t know if you were going to get here or not.” I said, why? He said, “What time did you leave Manila?” Quarter past twelve. He said, “Well, they blew up the airport at 12:30.” I was over there in 1970 over Christmas, New Year’s, and my birthday, December 30. I missed my family, and I thought this is a stupid damn job. I’m 10,000 miles away from my family at Christmastime. I should start doing something else. I don’t think I’m ever going to be a big star. Just a little star. This is after 31 years in the business. I came home and didn’t do anything for a month. I told my wife I wasn’t going to do anything for a year. I was going back to college for woodworking. I’ve always loved woodworking all my life. I took a course in fine carpentry and cabinet making. I loved it. Made loads of stuff. I built my own house. I knew how to do that because we did it at school. I worked in insurance for 18 years until I retired. I lived in that house for 25 years.

A sudden change In 1999, Lydia died. Heart stopped. She hadn’t been sick. Doctor didn’t know there was anything wrong with her. It was two days before Christmas. Twenty-third of December. She was laying out her pies because we were going to have both of the children with their families. She said to me, “When you have your sandwich, could you go uptown and get the Christmas turkey?” Holtzmann’s had called and told us our fresh turkey had arrived from Hayter’s. It was 2:20 because I looked at my watch. I went uptown, got the turkey, came back home, and my wife was dead on the floor. That’s all the warning we had. The end of a happy marriage. I couldn’t believe it. It was days before I could think it wasn’t happening. A bad dream; I couldn’t wake up. Phoned the kids and told them. Thursday. Thursday afternoon. Couldn’t believe it. Thought I was safe. I’m going to die first, for sure, because there’s 20 years between us. I lived eight years in the house by myself. I was lonely there. The house had everything we wanted. Took me six and a half years to build it because I was working in the insurance office. All beams in the ceiling. A huge backyard. Four thousand square feet. Five bedrooms, pool room, a bar with more booze than some of the clubs I played in. But it became too much for me. I never thought I’d wind up like this (living in an apartment). I thought my wife and I would live in our house.

A new battle In December, I wasn’t feeling that well. I had trouble with my throat, and I went to the doctor. They decided to run some tests. First, they did an ultrasound. Then they found something. They did an x-ray and a CAT scan. The CAT scan nailed it down. She said, “You’ve got cancer.” In my kidney. I thought, you can haul one out and leave the other one. I went to the surgeon in London, Dr. Chin. He’s the top surgeon in London. I told him I’m a Jehovah’s Witness, so I don’t take blood. He said, “Just a moment. You don’t have to worry about the blood because I’m not going to operate. You’re 83 years old. Most people don’t realize how complex a kidney operation is. It’s a hell of a shock to your system. I think the shock would kill you.” Shit.

So here I sit. I’m looking at alternative medicine. Conventional medicine won’t look at that at all. It’s a hell of an attitude. They’re killing people doing that. It’s a pain in the ass, no, the kidney. When it comes to alternative health, you can control it through what you eat. The guy I’m dealing with now is Dr. Julian Whittaker in California. He’s been using this system for 30 years and never had a failure yet. I could be number one. I’m not cryin’. I’m a Jehovah’s Witness. I’m not afraid of dying anymore. I was apprehensive before, but I’m not afraid now. There’s no such thing as hell. I’ve got nothing to complain about. I’m happy I lived in the time that I lived. From 1926 to 2010, that’s a hell of a long time. Look at the changes I’ve seen. I think I’m pretty lucky.

Pinnacle of a career In 1962, I was running shows at the Red Barn in Oshawa Sunday nights in the wintertime. I was bringing in talent from Nashville and Wheeling; both had 50,000-Watt stations. I had booked Skeeter Davis, who had about five gold hits by then. She was going to be flying in Saturday evening. I couldn’t go pick her up because I was doing the radio show, so I sent my wife down to pick her up at the airport. She brought her up to the station, so she was there when I signed off. I had written and rewritten the signoff about five or six times. “Mama, put the kettle on, I’m coming home.” Thanked the people for listening. Skeeter is listening to this, and when I got finished, I looked at her and she had tears in her eyes. She said, “That’s the most beautiful close I’d ever heard. Could you do that again on a tape not going out on the air?” I did it. She took it home to Ralph, her husband, an all-night DJ at WSM Nashville. She played it for the board of directors. They said, that’s our next DJ. I got a telegram from WSM at the end of October asking me to come to Nashville September 2, 1962. Nashville voted me Mr. DJ USA. I’m the only Canadian that ever got that award. I did a one-hour broadcast as a DJ from Nashville. We had five or six Opry stars lined up for my show. Later, I walked out on the stage to perform at the Grand Ole Opry. In the floor of the stage at the Grand Ole Opry, there’s a circle there about 8’ to 10’ in diameter, where it’s new wood. That’s where all the stars perform because that’s centre stage. Walking out there, when you see that circle and you know you’re going to stand there, it gives me teardrops. You feel about two inches high. Really humble. I did a song, “I’ll Pretend There Was No Yesterday”. That was the pinnacle.

April 10, 2010

Slim

Country musician Slim Gordon. Also known as Murray Lewis, he once performed at the Grand Ole Opry. He is now dying of kidney cancer.

Camera: Canon EOS 7D Lens: Canon EF 50mm f1.4 Light: Existing ISO: 500 Exposure: f2 @ 1/500 sec.

April 2, 2010

Hot, hot heat

The temperature hit the mid-twenties on Good Friday, April 2, 2010. That's beach weather.

Camera: Canon EOS 7D Lens: Canon EF 100mm f2 Light: Existing ISO: 200 Exposure: f5.6 @ 1/800 sec.

March 27, 2010

He shoots, he scores

In this co-ed game, one of the men on Team Unwin scores against the London Devilettes women's team. The two teams play an annual game in honour of Jolene Unwin, killed three years ago in a car crash.

Camera: Canon EOS 7D Lens: Canon EF 100 mm f2 Light: Existing ISO: 1000 Exposure: f2 @ 1/125 sec.

March 25, 2010

A FINE Evening

Men serve the women at a cancer fundraiser at FINE A Restaurant in Grand Bend.

Camera: Canon EOS 7D Lens: Canon EF 16-35mm f2.8 Light: Speedlite with ambient ISO: 1000 Exposure: f2 @ 1/125 sec.

We’re all in this together

High School MusicalPresented by Drayton Entertainment Huron Country Playhouse May 19 to 30 Tickets: $39 for adults, $20 for under 18 Box office: 1-888-449-4463

Photos and story by Casey Lessard

Aiming for fame, more than 100 teenagers joined auditions in Exeter and Guelph for Drayton Entertainment’s summer presentation of Disney’s High School Musical, which runs at the Huron Country Playhouse May 19 to 30. After a weekend of auditions, including a full Sunday at South Huron District High School, 80 actors were chosen to join the P.E.P. Squad, the play’s chorus. “I saw it in the paper and right away I knew that it was something I had to do,” said Alicia Veens, 16, a student at North Lambton Secondary School in Forest. “I love the play a lot, and I love to sing. I love to dance, even though I’m not very good.” Veens and the rest of the teens had to show their abilities in both areas. Director and choreographer David Connolly and dance captain Michelle Black taught the audition attendees one of the routines those selected will be performing in the play, “We’re All In This Together”. “It was nerve-wracking,” said Viktor Coletta, a South Huron student from Parkhill. “I was scared out of my mind. I wasn’t expecting what they did. I felt better when we were in groups, but I think I did pretty good.” The Drayton team acknowledges the fear auditionees have. After all, for some, this is their first time trying out for a professional role. “We had kids coming to the door, still not convinced of whether they were going to do it at all,” Michelle Black said. “Still thinking it over and they got here. The fact is, they got the courage to learn the material and present at the end.” The process is not new for Grand Bend’s Meaghan Forrester. She was in the chorus of last season’s Oliver! “With my Oliver! audition, I screwed up, too, and let my performance suffer,” Forrester said. “This one I screwed up, but I felt my performance was better. You miss a step or have to catch up. “I hope I get in, but if I don’t, I’m applying to university and those auditions need work,” she added. “If I do get in, I plan to work a lot harder than I did on Oliver!, because we had a lot more time and it was less complicated. This will be less time and more complicated.” It seems Forrester impressed Connolly and Black; she was among those chosen to join the squad for eight performances this summer. But Connolly understands the pressure the audition process puts on a new performer. “These kids are making courageous choices to be here,” he said. “For some, it’s an obvious choice; their parents support them and they drove them and it was a no-brainer. There are others who moved mountains to get into that room. When you know what an audition is, it’s scary enough, but they don’t even know what an audition is and they’re walking into a room to put it all on the line.” Alicia Bradley, 17, of London put it on the line. The Central Secondary School student, who spends summers at a cottage in Grand Bend, has experience at the Grand Theatre in London, where she was a pianist. She was hoping to move from the orchestra pit to the stage. “I love to dance and sing, Bradley said. “I want to go into theatre at university, but I didn’t realize that until last year, so I’m trying to get my show experience now. I have a couple of auditions at Ryerson, York and U of T. I’m a dancer, so I thought this would be a good chance to get on stage.” Unfortunately, Bradley is not among those who will be on the Playhouse stage this summer. Neither will Beth Smallman, a South Huron student new to professional theatre. “I want to go into acting after high school,” Smallman said. “This was my first audition. I’ve been in a lot of drama things through school. I wanted to see what an audition is like and see whether I get it.” No matter, though. It was a worthy experience for the teen. “It went really well,” she said. “I learned a lot. I tried my hardest and it was a lot of fun.” That’s the kind of attitude David Connolly was looking for, even if it didn’t translate into a position with the cast. The overwhelming desire to succeed reminds Connolly of his early theatre years. “My first big audition was for Alan Lund at Kitchener-Waterloo Musical Productions. I had done some dancing with dance studios and competed a little, but Alan Lund was standing in front of me with Cynthia Toushan Brnjas, who was his assistant, and I didn’t even know that choreographers had assistants. I remember being in awe of that. I must have been so bad and awkward. But we’re looking for passion, someone who can’t think of anything else they’d rather do, and I must have had that.” It’s all about perspective, Michelle Black said. “If they did it again, it’s less of an audition and more of a workshop on life. Every time I spend time with David, I learn a little more about myself. Today, if they don’t get the show, the confidence they’ll get from being in the room with him is huge.” And it’s not for everyone. “We had a girl yesterday break down in the middle and say, ‘I can’t do this,’” Black said. “You can see that, for some of them, it’s terrifying.” It wasn’t a problem for Virginia Iredale of Exeter, who earned a spot on the squad. “The hardest part is keeping it all together,” the Grade 10 student said. “I don’t get embarrassed on stage. The easiest part was coming. I just decided, I’m going, my mom will bring me. Then it’s like, I’m here, guess I get to do it now.” Family support is important, and makes the process easier. “My mom made me (audition),” said Viktor Coletta. “I did this in London with Original Kids. I was Zeke Baylor, the cook. It’s a fun show, a lot of energetic people.” Alicia Veens came wearing a shirt that reads Born to be Famous. “My grandma bought me this shirt,” Veens said. “She loves what I do and hopes for the best for me. I want to be famous really bad.” And she knows what it takes to get there. “If you have it, you have it. You don’t have to be good looking, as long as you have the talent and believe in yourself.” Words David Connolly might argue were taken right out of his mouth. He hopes some kids discovered this about themselves during the audition process. “You can tell somebody they’re great, but that will never replace them feeling that they did it themselves,” he said. “That moment of doing it for themselves will stay with them.” Veens walked away wanting the moment to last. “I would love to get a letter in the mail saying I’ve made it. I’ve always wanted to be in a play like this.” “I’d like to see all the good people get it,” added Virginia Iredale. “I will definitely go see it now because it looks like fun.” No need to buy a ticket, Virginia, because you and Alicia are in it. Veens and Iredale were both added to the P.E.P. Squad roster. And yes, High School Musical looks like fun. To see it for yourself, visit http://www.draytonentertainment.com

Strip leads at OCNA awards

The Grand Bend Strip leads all community newspapers in Ontario with eight nominations for this year’s Ontario Community Newspaper Awards, including best overall paper (a first for the paper) and photographer of the year for Casey Lessard, a two-time runner-up for this award. The paper also recently won two national awards, first prize ad design and third for photo essay in the Canadian Community Newspapers Association Better Newspapers Competition.The top three OCNA entrants were announced March 1. The Parry Sound North Star has the second most nominations with seven. Winners will be announced at the OCNA’s annual conference in Toronto May 14. CCNA winners were announced March 15 and will receive their awards May 13 at the CCNA conference. To learn more about the Grand Bend Strip’s history of awards since its first publication in May 2007, visit http://grandbendstrip.com/about/awards.

The Grand Bend Strip and publisher Casey Lessard are nominated in the following categories:

Canadian Community Newspapers Association

Best Ad Design (circulation up to 3,999) 1st place – Casey365.com – ad promoting website Runners-up: The Chief (Squamish, BC), Wainwright Review (Wainwright, AB)

Best Photo Essay (circulation up to 3,999) 3rd place – Five days of good, clean fun – Parkhill Five Fun Days Winner: The Provost News (Provost, AB)

Ontario Community Newspapers Association

General Excellence (best overall) Class 1 [under 2,000 circulation] Other nominees: Cobden Sun, Manotick Messenger

Photographer of the Year Casey Lessard Other nominees: Belleville EMC and Peterborough This Week

Education Writing Chicago! – SHDHS music trip Other nominees: Parry Sound Beacon Star and Richmond Hill/Thornhill Liberal

Best Photo Layout Five days of good, clean fun – Parkhill Five Fun Days Other nominees: Ajax/Pickering News Advertiser and North York Mirror

Best Feature Photo (circ under 9,999) Best Seat in the House – Dashwood soap box derby cover photo Other nominees: Aylmer Express and Bracebridge Examiner

Best Sports Photo Hockey Night in Zurich – Mark Buruma in dressing room Other nominees: Brampton Guardian and Mount Forest Confederate

Best Rural Story (circ under 9,999) Fields of Gold – Marcus Koenig, potato farmer Other nominees: Listowel Banner and New Hamburg Independent

Best Creative Advertising (circ under 9,999) Casey365.com – ad promoting website Other nominees: Mount Forest Confederate and Nunavut News/North

March 1, 2010

The Patriots

Skaters at the Parkhill Silver Blades skating carnival.

Camera: Canon EOS 7D Lens: Canon EF 100mm f2 Light: Existing ISO: 1000 Exposure: f2 @ 1/125 sec.

February 28, 2010

The Dreaded Cut

Jessica Michielsen cut her dreads to raise money for The House that Jack Built.

Camera: Canon EOS 7D Lens: Canon EF 50mm f1.4 Light: Existing ISO: 1250 Exposure: f2 @ 1/160 sec. and f1.8 @ 1/320 sec.`

The art of animal conversation

Crediton area rancher Julie Forrest is an animal communicator, which means she speaks with animals, expressing their thoughts to the people who take care of them. Forrest speaks to the animals – large or small – telepathically, and says they have a lot to say. She has used this skill to train the many horses and cattle on her farm, which are used as professional athletes on rodeo tours across Eastern Canada. Casey Lessard sat down with Julie Forrest, and invites you to sit back, open your mind and hear what she has to say about her work. As told to Casey Lessard Photos by Casey Lessard

I have communicated with animals since I was a kid, and I always thought everyone did. I didn’t realize it was a special gift or that I was different from anyone else. I always heard their voices. I’ve always heard them talk. People would say, I wonder what they’re saying and I’d say what they were saying. Everyone would laugh and I thought they heard it too, that it was no big deal. Then a friend of mine and I went away for the weekend to a course about 16 years ago, and it ended up being a telepathy course. I thought, I do that, but I didn’t know that was what it was called. I had always done it for family and friends, but from there I started doing it for other people. I came out of the closet. It was a very big social issue. People asked me, what makes you so special that you think you can talk to animals. But what I get from the conversations, it’s definitely a validation to the owners that that is their animal. They say one in 10 people can talk telepathically if they choose to focus. I can do people, but I choose not to for the simple fact that people are so hung up on themselves and the social or religious whatever. People are more critical. Animals say what they need to say. They don’t sugarcoat anything and they tell you like you need to hear it. End of subject. It’s not usually opinionated things. They’re telling the truth because animals show our truths. I always ask the animals to describe their essence, to tell me something that the owner knows they always do. It’s not like I go and tell them that they like to roll over and have their bellies scratched. Every animal’s different. Their response validates to the owner that it is their animal. Then we ask them their problems and what’s going on.

An ongoing conversation They can hear you all the time. Animals speak telepathically, so whatever you picture, they’re also able to pick that up. People say dogs can always sense when you’re afraid of them. Chances are pretty good that when you walk away from that dog that you’re thinking in your mind, please don’t bite me. You’re picturing this dog coming from behind and grabbing you, so you have actually given that dog permission to do that. You’re giving him that visual image. The level of a conversation from an animal is so much higher than we can imagine. They have so much more knowledge of the universe than we do. Some can be extremely deep. The owners will write up a list of questions they want to ask the animal and I sit down and write out the conversation so they have a copy of it and I always have a copy. I’ll read it back to the person and see if there are any other questions from that. It’s important that the animal is able to convey what they want their owner/guardian to know or understand about their problems. I always read it back first to be sure it’s explained on that proper level, the way they want it. You could put out a piece of paper and 10 different people could read it 10 different ways. That’s why I always want to interpret it the way it is meant to be interpreted. Every animal has its own voice. Some have accents. I did a horse that had a really strong English accent with ye and thee, and it’s important to put that in the conversation as I hear it because it means something to the owner. He ended up being shipped here from England. They all have different personalities the same as we do, so of course, they’re going to have different voices the same as we do. They speak English. I’ve done some from Quebec that are raised French and I ask them to come to me in a universal language that I can understand. There may still be the odd French word in there and I write it down as it sounds because I don’t understand French, but the owner will know what it means. There’s none that are ever too shy to talk. As soon as you’ve given them that opportunity, it’s like, ‘Oh my God, I can finally be heard. Yes! They’re getting it. I can convey what I want them to know.’ Animals all already speak on that level, and that’s why we have so much more to learn from them than from each other. The only animals that are really hard to work with are chickens and emus. I’ve done every other animal and they’re thrilled to be able to talk. I’ve done seven or eight pages of a conversation. Small animals like a cat or dog can take anywhere from 30 or 45 minutes to an hour. Some conversations with horses and dogs can take from two to four hours. I did a conversation with one horse that had hopes of being a Pan-Am horse racer and heading to the Olympics, and we talked for four and a half hours. That was almost a whole notebook. We wanted to make sure everything was covered.

Communication and rodeo I’ve been riding since I was three and showing competitively since I was seven. When Ed and I got together, he decided he wanted to do a more manly thing, so that was the rodeo and we’ve been together for 16 years now. We started off just competing in steer wrestling, barrel racing, and roping events, and it’s been about nine or 10 years now that we’ve been the stock contractors for the rodeos for Eastern Canada. We supply the stock (steers and calves) for the rodeos for steer wrestling, team roping, breakaway roping, tie-down roping and junior steer riding. That covers five of the seven mandatory events. We have always integrated the two businesses, communicating and rodeo. With the average calf-roping horse, it typically takes a full two years to train them to do that. I can do it in three to six months because I can talk to them and tell them, “This is what I want you to do. This is your job. Do you understand?” If I can’t explain what I want verbally, I show them a picture. I show them an image of, for example, “I want you to do a sliding stop when the rope becomes tight on that calf, and you have to face up to that calf and be in control.” Then I’ll ask them, “What’s the best time for your rider to get off? When you’re squatted or just as you go to stop? That rider has to come off and you’ve got to help send him off. Do you like the rope where we have it positioned on your face? ‘No, I don’t like it there, I want it lower.’” Then it hooks underneath instead of coming by his eye. Different things like that. We can really tell him, “When the gate cracks, you’ve got to follow that calf out.” Other people have to keep drilling it and drilling it, whereas I can talk to him and tell him what we need him to do, “Now what do you need us to do to make it better for you?” It makes for a better relationship and a faster training process. It makes everyone happier. Not all horses want to do that type of job. You could spend a full two years on a horse and it’d never be able to step up to the plate to be that champion horse or do the job to the best of its ability because it doesn’t want to do that. We’ve had some like that. That’s fine. We change their career or we sell them to somebody who’s going to be compatible with that animal. All our stock has to be trained prior to going to the rodeo. You can’t just pull a cow out of the field and say, you’re going to go and do this, so they’re trained so their muscles are stretched equally as well to ensure they don’t get hurt. It’s inevitable that at some point, some of them may get hurt, but we’ve had a really good record of not many getting hurt. You lose more from a sickness in a barn; we look after our rodeo stock very well. It’s our livelihood. It’s mandatory that they are looked after; it’s no different than our horses. They are athletes, so they need the best care and upkeep because we’re traveling. It’s nothing for us to travel 2100 km in a weekend. We leave on a Thursday, go to Quebec for an 18 hour drive, show there, travel all night another 12 hours to another rodeo, and from there another 10 hours home. I get lots of emails saying, “If you’re an animal communicator, how come you’re promoting the sport of rodeo? That’s cruelty to animals.” It’s not. It gives them a career. It’s no different than us having a career or the horses having a career. If those cattle are not used for rodeo, their only other option in life is to be in our freezer. These animals have a career for two or three – and some even four or five – years depending on what they’re doing. They follow the ranks up, starting with calf tie-down, then breakaway, then steer wrestling and team roping, and then to junior steer riding. If they’re good and like what they’re doing, they keep on going. Otherwise, most of them are butchered before they’re two years of age. Now they have a career. Being longhorns, they’re extremely smart animals.

We can learn so much I don’t believe there’s any such thing as a stupid animal. Animals are the same as people. You can be an old soul or a young soul. If you get a dog that doesn’t listen, it’s because their either don’t associate with their name, or because they’re a very young soul and it’s your job to teach them the ways of the world. You get some, that old soul that picks up things so quickly and is so intelligent and that’s because they’ve been here many times. An animal’s purpose in life is to be taught and to teach. To help us along the way. There’s so much that animals have to offer. Beavers build a dam that we have to blow up with dynamite. Why couldn’t we learn how to build something that strong? Birds build nests that can withstand tornadoes. Spiders’ webs are the strongest substance in the world. Ants build colonies that don’t destroy our land. People are destroying our natural resources and destroying different animal species for our own selfish, ignorant purposes. People are using monkeys for their gall bladders and eating their brains for a delicacy. They show us so much, like unconditional love, responsibility, not to be so endeavoured into ourselves and to think of others. Animals are a huge part of our lives. Our kids can grow up and move out, but our animals are still here. I’ve always been the type of person who gets along better with animals than I do with people. I always believe that animals have so much more to share with us than the average person does with each other. They’ve proven that a lot of animals – for example, gorillas – can speak by hand language. Animals whose owners are hearing or speech impaired learn those hand signals and know what they mean. Most people only use eight to 10 per cent of our brains. A lot of people are so caught up in our social and cultural structures that we’re not open enough to accept other forms of communication. Telepathy can be done through audio, pictures, feelings, or colours. When I first started, there were a lot of skeptics. People would say, ‘I’m going to let you talk to my horse just to prove that you’re wrong.’ And I did that in the beginning to prove that I was talking to their animal. I did that for the first two years, but now I don’t have to prove myself to anybody. If you want my services, you’ll ask for it. These days, there are a lot of people who do believe in it, and are looking for methods to help their animals other than pharmaceuticals.

Lessons from furry friends It’s just kept me very humble and not judgmental. Through the eyes of the beholder, it has made me realize that I’m equal with everybody. I don’t ever think I’m better than any one else. We’re all equal, and we have to be equal to coincide with everybody. I am not my dogs’ master. I may be their guardian and I am looking after them, but we are all equal. We have to learn from each other and teach each other. Every conversation with an animal is new and fresh. It never gets old. I love my life and I love what I’m doing.

Julie Forrest offers animal communication sessions for $75 for small animals (cats/dogs, etc.) and $125 for large animals (horses/cows, etc.). To learn more, visit http://www.julieforrest.com or call 519-234-6130.

February 21, 2010

Make Me Famous

Auditions for High School Musical, showing in the summer of 2010 at Huron Country Playhouse.

Camera: Canon EOS 7D Lens: Canon EF 100mm f2 Light: Existing ISO: 800 and 1250 Exposure: f3.2 @ 1/100 sec. and f2.5 @ 1/320 sec.

February 20, 2010

Cute Cut

Ashlan Hollingsworth cuts her hair to raise money for The House that Jack Built, a charity that builds homes in Haiti. It was started in honour of hairdresser Rachel Michielsen's late father.

Camera: Canon EOS 7D Lens: Canon EF 50mm f1.4 and 100mm f2 Light: Existing ISO: 200 Exposure: f3.2 @ 1/200 sec. and f3.2 @ 1/100 sec.

February 14, 2010

Moment of Truth

Waiters' race at Colonial as part of Grand Bend Winter Carnival.

Camera: Canon EOS 7D Lens: Canon EF 100mm f2 Light: Existing ISO: 200 Exposure: f5.6 @ 1/500 sec.

February 9, 2010

The Conversation

Julie Forrest is an animal communicator: she talks to animals, and they talk back.

Camera: Canon EOS 7D Lens: Canon EF 16-35mm f2.8 Light: Existing ISO: 400 Exposure: f10 @ 1/400 sec.

February 7, 2010

Fore!

Snow golf at Oakwood Inn during Grand Bend Winter Carnival

Camera: Canon EOS 7D Lens: Canon EF 16-35mm f2.8 Light: Existing ISO: 200 Exposure: f5.6 @ 1/400 sec.