October 16, 2006
Curious George curious of local history.
What's some local history from your neck of the woods?
Last week, we had a highway renamed after local hero Sir Isaac Brock, a general from the War of 1812 who saved Canada a couple of times and died in the process. Renaming a short, crappy highway seems inadequate, as there's no lack of better, more significant tributes around. But, he saved Canada from U.S. invasion (most likely with his death serving as a rallying call than any impact on the battle itself, but still) and it's the big event in our local history. So what's the main bit of local history in your neighbourhood?
boardingwhorehouses, built for politicians to stay in while Congress was in session. And the whoresons are still there! Pallas, I know you wanted to have that correction made. You're welcome.CockRooster: A True Tale of Loss and Mystery A few mornings ago, while having breakfast, we looked out the kitchen window and saw our elderly Australian shepherd had something dangling from his jaws. Much to my dismay, I was appointed to investigate the matter. Going outside, I discovered the something was a cockerel that had apparently flown into the dogpen where the dogs were taking their usual post-breakfast exercise. The bird was dead. The shepherd reluctantly surrendered it to me. Apart from some saliva on its head, there was no visible damage. So ... a politely apologetic note was written (over my objections). Hindsight tells me I should have stayed in bed. The upshot was I went to the neighbour's house with the note and the dead bird in a brown paper bag. No one answered when I rang the bell. Nor when I knocked. The bag had a handle most conveniently placed for hanging on the doorknob of the neighbour's porch (that's why I chose it). I left the bag and its contents dangling, and hoped fervently that was the end of the matter. But it wasn't. The following day the brown paper bag and its contents were still hanging from the front doorknob, quite visible from the road. An addition of discarded furniture and some trash bags at the foot of the drive looked like the folk were moving out. Or had done so. And the day after that the bag still dangled. Well, 'twas warm for this time of year. Dead birds don't keep well. I decided I didn't want to give it another day. So I retrieved the bag with its contents and the note. The End (I hope)