How Did We Get From There to Here and Wasn't That A Crazy Whack of History That Brought Antiques and Music Together

Birch Hollow Photo by Suzanne Currie

     It's not as if I don't have page of editorial copy about the precise history of our family's initial foray into the antique trade, and full coverage of Andrew and Robert's introduction to the music business in both retail, service (repairs and technical sound work on-stage), and performance which goes well back into their years at Gravenhurst Public School and then next door at Gravenhurst High School. As soon as they could become part of the Pure Gold talent showcase at the school, or battle of the bands each year, they were totally and emotionally embedded. As son Robert, with our old friend, Pooh Bear in his arms, and I, had a few moments today to wax historic, about our business pasts, we didn't dwell on the facts, the dates, the periods of expansion, or the financial milestones and companion failures, especially during the past fifteen years at our present business location on the main street of Gravenhurst.

     As the self appointed business historian, yes indeed, I felt compelled a number of years back, to write down all the relevant details about how it all began, and how their newly generated businesses, launched early in this new century, merged with our longstanding family business, to then move from our home occupation set-up at Birch Hollow, our jammed-up residence, to the former Muskoka Theatre building on Muskoka Road, across from the Gravenhurst Opera House. I could have offered up about twenty-thousand words of what now to me seems like minutia, being a lot less important to contemporary times than any historian should admit in a public domain. I should be loyal to the historian's oath to tell it the way it was, and be proud that I used up such a significant amount of your time and patience trying to trudge through the almost absurd clutter of what amounts to a personnel matter, not being of much public interest.

     So how the heck did I get from the shore of Burlington's Ramble Creek, and the daily soakers I got in the shallow waters of the sparkling wee water course, to this beat-up old armchair in son Robert's recording studio, where I officiate on the daily affairs of our four businesses working together under one roof. Suzanne ponders the same. How did she get from her home village of Windermere, on Lake Rosseau, where her family once operated the Windermere Marina and the Skipper Snack Bar, and the livery boat, the still magnificent Ditchburn,  "Shirl-Evon," evolving through an entire teaching career, having married the knucklehead "me"? To the arrive at this place in Gravenhurst where she operates Suzanne Currie's Cookery Nookery, and is lead hand to Birch Hollow Antiques, knits socks and makes kitchen aprons in between customers; and is the accountant for all the family enterprises when she has a few extra moments in a typically busy day. How did to lads who played with Hot Wheels, Lego, built models, and collected hockey cards and pogs, morph into the vintage vinyl business, a recording studio in downtown Gravenhurst, actively buy and sell vintage musical instruments, and co-operative (when not arguing with each other over the damnedest things) operate two successful (on paper and otherwise) businesses now moving into year sixteen. I am impressed as is their mother, but hard as I tried today to talk to Robert about the details of our chronology, of how we got from there to here, the facts seemed so ridiculous to what the conversation was really about. It was about the social / cultural realities of the building itself, after a decade and a half. How we got here was quite irrelevant, to what has happened here in these precious years.

    The fuzzy old dog in the photograph with this post, is a rescue dog we adopted a number of years ago, just before the Christmas holiday. She had been abused and has had a difficult time adjusting to owners who love her dearly. She has a cataract and the vision in her other eye is failing, and it means we have to be very careful not to let her run without a tether, or she'd hurt herself with our many obstacles. She is an important part of the amalgamated soul of our family enterprise, as is our other mutt, Muffin, who also had a rough beginning at a regional puppy mill. She was dumped rather unceremoniously on Christmas Eve one year, at the local animal shelter in Bracebridge. Thankfully she was placed in an open room at the shelter, established to avoid having animals freeze to death when dropped off after hours. While we can opine for hours and hours about our respective businesses, and find ways of bragging about our successes, we can't in all honesty find anything all that interesting about the nitty gritty of our pretty normal foray into main street retail. There is an exception, and that involves all the curious and inspiring personal interactions we've had here during these past fifteen years. Stuff notched in the business and family chronicle that isn't all that historical, but it is the reason we get a positive feeling each morning when we arrive to prepare for the day, and then the very real sensation of satisfaction, when we close up at five o'clock. The feeling of satisfaction is a fifty fifty split. Sure, we look at the receipts for the day, and the bills we have to cover to stay in operation, and then we judge the value of all the neat encounters, events and conversations we've enjoyed through the day, and seldom if ever feel short-changed by our social / cultural adventures. Sure, we have days with a plethora of strange encounters and a few unruly, and unpleasant customers. But we almost always round out our experiences, each day, feeling that we learned something we didn't previously know, and had the opportunity, even rare situation, to connect with long lost friends, and business colleagues, not to mention having met some truly interesting and accomplished folks who stopped in for a visit.

     We have a lot of friendly ghosts in this place. Not ones that would frighten anyone, or be the perfect apparitions to copy for purposes of a Hollywood fright film. They are the spirits we always considered to be kindred to us, and the way we have thought about our purpose in this mortal coil; that we are brought together in circumstance and situation for a good reason, and it's not necessary to over analyze why, or "what's in it for us." It has been the unfortunate case that quite a few of our good friends and colleagues, met over the past decade and a half, who used to shop and commune here with us Curries, and other mates who hang around to drink-in the ambience of what we proudly consider a small, unpretentious Muskoka shop; have passed on.  Their contributions to our social and cultural history can never be dismissed, and even though their presence in our shop wasn't of a particular historical nature, the joyful lilt of the song they sang, the friendship of their conversations, and often the assistance they provided to our day to day operations, gave them an unofficial cornerstone status. It's when we recall all the interactions we've had in fifteen years, in this former entertainment hub of the Muskoka Theatre, where we still occasionally think we hear the ghostly voices of children, with the most sentimental sweetness of candy and popcorn scented air, enjoying a long ago matinee.....that our own eyes might well up with the tears inspired by the good and not the bad. I suppose we are far more of the folk historian ilk, than formal chroniclers, because as much as we might need the established structure of history, to truly understand the finances and administrative realities of getting from there to here, we could never be so foolish as to misunderstand, that without the human and even pet infusion of life and shared dreams, the electricity of old spirits and young, we would be able to recount only a hollow enterprise of nothing more remarkable that the daily earnings and the soundless locking of the doors at nightfall. We would be denied the "remarkable" and the "endearing" qualities of our own devoted life and times, friends and confidants, who when mixed with the normalcy of retail commerce, infuses a sense of accomplishment that reminds one that there really is a purpose in life beyond the mechanics and accounting of business protocol.

      We can't imagine working in an environs that isn't haunted by history. Associating with any place that doesn't have its resident spirits. Not to scare us, but to remind us of all the wonderful times past, that still are relevant entities to the present.