Don't mange merde even from the Fascists at Facebook

Web 2.0 Fascism

By Stephen Pate

My dad taught me never to take shit from anyone. Talk about an independent streak.

That was a pretty brave thing for him to teach a little crippled boy since everyone has to mange merde most of your life.

That streak of independence, a poor man's Cool Hand Luke, has stuck with me. Cool Hand Luke combined inebriation with ne pas mange merde. He continued to act inappropriately and generally doomed himself.

Thus my variation on the theme is don't take shit but keep yourself out of trouble, sort of a high wire act.

I'm been reasonably successful at relationships, jobs, career etc. until the coup de gras at which point I walk away, fight or get even.

As you might gather, I'm not a joiner. I'd rather quit the JW's, Rotary or any other body into group-think. I'm into free think.

JW's are not into free think, free speech or anything except a free lunch. They are too retro, too much from the past waiting for God to rescue them from feeling life. Besides, they are just plain dumb on the theology side: the pride and stupidity of the unschooled.

Friends have been importuning me to re-join Facebook. I do miss the fun but I don't hang around with Fascists. While we think of Mussolini and Hitler as Fascists, the term has become synonymous with "exercise of strong autocratic or dictatorial control" (Merriam Webster Online Dictionary)

Facebook is the Web 2.0 version of Fascism. Actually, there is a lot of Fascism on Web 2.0.

Have you read those agreements you sign to get free this or that on the web. They can take your personal information, sell it to anyone or use it anyway they like and you can't do diddly.

I knew this in the back of my mind and Peter Rukavina's article reminded me that Facebook was not a nice company.

Then they started hassling me. Wrong move. I don't menge merde from anyone. First sending messages to all my friends was bad. Then sending to 500 was bad. Like true Fascists, Facebook won't let you know the limits so you have to guess if you're going too fast on the 401.

At the last 200 messages was too many. So one day I sent 1,200 and watched them panic. Disabled. Well I'm already disabled so that was no threat! I laugh at your stinkin' rules.

There is a real Fascist story below that event but I'll save that for another blog.

So all my 1,200 Facebook friends, RSS this blog or send me your email address.

Mine is stephen_pate@hotmail.com and has been since Hotmail opened. I've got tons of gmail accounts but I love Hotmail. So basic - if you're not in my email list, bingo you're spam. What could be easier?



Stay free and I will remember you.

You'll see me hanging around
Singing on a street or in a bar
Laughing with my friends
Keeping free but never far
Always there and always caring
I'll remember you oh yes I will.

@copyright 2009 Stephen Pate

The dime

By Stephen Pate

Lessons in life can come from unexpected quarters and people you wouldn't suspect. I learned honesty not from the bible as my mother wished but from a humble woman named Rose Llewellyn.

Rose Llewellyn was from Antigonish, Nova Scotia. In 2002 after she died, I discovered that her sister was married to one of my cousins.

Rose was married to Dick Llewellyn, a radio engineer on the the Baffin, a research ship with the Bedford Institute of Oceanography.

They lived in Edmonds Grounds in Armdale, Nova Scotia. Edmonds Grounds was a family estate across from the Horseshoe Island beach, at the foot of Quinpool Road.

It's called Spinnaker's today and all the old houses are gone. The anchor from the Mont Blanc flew 3 miles in the air and landed there during the Halifax Explosion. We used the anchor as first base playing scrub baseball.

Mont Blanc anchor blown to Edmunds Grounds Armdale NS by the Halifax Explosion

I knew Dick first because he was teaching me radio electronics when he was ashore.

Joe Lewin, one of my best childhood friends, came from Antigonish to live with them when his mother got sick. We chummed around for many years until Joe moved back to Antigonish.

We didn't go the the same school because Joe, Rose, Dick, and all my cousins on my Dad's side were Roman Catholic. He went the the Catholic school.

My mom was a Jehovah's Witness so we went to public school. Despite my mother's warnings about Catholics, Joe and I hung out fishing, swimming, boating, playing cowboys and Indians and all those things boys do.

I spent a lot of time sitting at Rose Llewellyn's kitchen table, eating cookies and listening to Rose talk about life. Even when Joe was back with his mom, I would visit Rose. She was my second mum. When Dick came home from sea, he would be a second dad to me teaching me all about resistors, capacitors and DC electronics. He helped me build my first radio from a kit.

One day during school lunch Rose asked me to go to the IPC Store and pick up a few things for her. I liked the job because she would tip me 5 or 10 cents, even if the walk was hard for a kid wearing a leg brace.

So off I went through our secret path in the pine woods, across the school yard and to the IPC store where the Purcell's Cove Road meets the Herring Cove Road. When I got back, Rose counted my change as she always did.

"You have ten cents too much," she said.

We counted it again and sure enough the girl at the store had given me back too much money.

"We can keep it," I said.

"No, you better take it back," she insisted.

"They will never know," I protested.

And then the final word came "Do you want ten cents to stand between you and heaven."

Now JW's believe you didn't go to heaven. My mother had also taught me that Catholics and the Pope were the next thing to the devil as in liars, thieves, fornicators and drunks.

Here I was Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes, holier than thou, JW boy being taught a lesson in honesty from a Catholic. This was a moral and religious quandary that shook me to my boots.

Gulping down my pride, I turned on my heels and trudged back through the woods, across the school yard where the kids were lining up for class, past the principal who gave me a dirty look and into the IPC store.

The girl didn't thank me or reward me and the Heaven didn't open up to angels singing on high about my honesty. I went to class late and got a detention.

I just knew that Rose Llewellyn was the most religious and honest woman I'd ever met and she was a Roman Catholic.

Rose taught me two lessons I've never forgotten.

One - right wing Protestants or any religion for that matter don't have the franchise on morality and honesty.

Two - don't let a dime get between you and heaven.

Man are they in bad mood this week

By Stephen Pate

I know why Mr. Not-Too-Bright is upset. See Kicked out of the Kingdom Hall.

You see Jehovah Witness's don't celebrate Christmas cause some mouldy old Babylonian God (1) hit his thumb with a hammer and said "Christ!" out loud.

This royal courtier who was a wise arse said "Christ my ass" and the JW's point to that as a pagan source for Christmas.

The whole thing is written on the Rosa's Stone. Marty Robbins found the stone right next Rosa's Cantina, wrote a song about Feelina cause his wife hated Rosa.

Back to Christmas... actually according to Wikipedia, Christmas comes from Chris as in Chris Farley a funny but now dead comedian and Mass from massive gifts I like to get myself.



JW's get in a bad mood around this time of year like a bear in winter. All upset no one is going to get them a Christmas gift or turkey dinner. The price you pay for putting too much stock in defective biblical research.

I was lucky. My mother is one of those rootin-shootin Jehovah's Witnesses but my dad was a good old, go to church once a year Catholic. Luckier still for me that day was Christmas.

It was so cool. Like my mother is arranging some door to door Watchtower work for Christmas morning and dad would say, "I'm taking Stephen to see mom." Out the little cripple boy would go like Tinny Tim on his dad's shoulder.

Mass was a mysterious serious of sit down, stand up, kneel and shut up. Oh well, it smelled neat and gave me a hint of what the crazy 60's would be like with girls in sarongs and incense in their apartments.

After Mass we went to grandmama who made rappi pie which is a bad translation of pati a la rapure. In West Prince they just say rapure. Sometimes, it would have rabbit for the meat - oh so good. And that's why they called us Pate.

Well JW's really are in a bad mood around Christmas. Call one up and wish them Happy Holidays. If you get that far, then say "And have a Merry Christmas too."

I, Stephen Pate, of one sound leg, swear these statements to be true for the sole purpose of pulling your leg except for the JW part. Man are they weird.


1. This is discussed further by Dr. Splenger and Winston Zeddmore

Saving money this Christmas

I'm thanking my family this Christmas for being mostly JW.

There's a recession going on and money is tight all around. If my mother say were not a bible-thumping, Jehovah's Witness, I'd have to go buy her a decent present like maybe $50 or $100 dollars. Saved!

And there's a brother and sister not to buy presents for so that's like another $12 or $17.50 saved.

Works for birthdays too. I should be a gazillionaire with the birthday cards and gifts I didn't buy. Well I'm not: spent it on myself.

I mean the savings from having a JW family are endless. It even works when they decide to pop off. They don't invite me to funerals so there's a trip to the mainland and flowers, plus a donation for the Watchtower Bible and Tract Society. Those are big savings.

Last year, I think it was last year cause I didn't get invited, my brother's second wife died of cancer. I think it was her only way out from living with him but that's another story.

I heard about it through a distant relative months later. I should have set up a Google watch for his name but then I'd be getting all kinds of stories about his love for Jehovah and the foreclosure on his house. You gotta protect yourself from that kind of emotional whiplash.

Now I figured out years ago when my dad died that my mother has a secret plan to die and not tell me. She wants to get like a service at the Kingdom Hall and they hate my guts down there. Oh yes, they are not pleasant folks despite all the parading around in public. "I love Jesus but not you if you're Catholic or Jew" is one of their songs of praise. Nasty bunch.

That kinda hurts a fella who's tried to be a good son, if not quite a faithful JW, good son. I think we can have one without the other.

She's got a faithful JW son and he's just one step ahead of the law. Surely to God being good is enough for me.

But you know, you can get used to almost anything in life. I think of myself as one of those immigrants from France 200 years ago. Not likely to ever see the old home and parents again. No phones, internet, jet planes. Just me and the black flies.

You want to be a pioneer, gotta get used to the arrows even when they are in your back.

So I'm saving money and that's the important thing.

Kicked out of the Kingdom Hall

By Stephen Pate

Tonight we were doing the MacDonald's drive-through for supper. Hey that new Angus burger almost tastes like a hamburger. My gal has catechism class and the rush was on.

"Why don't you guys skip that?" I asked. "Isn't everybody busy enough with Christmas and shopping."

Whack on the right arm. Man, there's nowhere to hide in these efficient, little cars.

We were driving down Nassau St. As we got to Queen, I pointed to a rectangular, little building.

"Did you know that used to be a Jehovah's Witness Kingdom Hall," I asked ever the font for useless information.

"You mean the daycare?" she answered.

"Yeah, used to be a Kingdom Hall back in the 60's, one of the few I got kicked out of."

"What did you get kicked out for?" she asked taking the bait. I love the stories about the past especially mine.

"Yeah, back in '64 or '65 my brother Brian and I were camping on the North Shore. We came in one Sunday night to go to the evening service."

"Why did they kick you out?" she asked. Usually I don't like to be interrupted once I get the go-ahead but I let her get that one in.

"This guy who was like an elder Don Moffat, well he was an elder, stood in the doorway and wouldn't let us in. He's still around Charlottetown cleaning windows all skinny and stooped over with his bucket and squeegee."

"I'd think two boys camping should be encouraged to go to church on a Sunday even if you didn't have a suit on," she said falling right into line. "Was your brother more religious than you or did you like church then?"

I was so good then and I'm so good now, I thought. This story is working.

"Yeah a real tight ass."

"Watch your language! Hannah's in the car." I got the look.

"Oh yeah, sorry. Sort of a mean guy wasn't he," I corrected myself. "Only time I can remember getting the boot except that time down in Harris, PA when the Pennsylvania Dutch elder didn't like my hounds-tooth pants and Beatle hair. And the time I left for the JW's for good. Man that was a great day."

"Why did you come in from the camp site? To go to church? No that's not it, you were looking for girls!" she whacked me again on the arm.

"No, my brother was looking for one of the Matheson girls from Albion Cross" I replied trying to gain the higher ground. "It's a good thing he didn't marry her because she was a real pain and married this tight assed guy from Sudbury. He was always ragging my butt."

"Watch your language" and the look came back.

You can see that look when you're driving, looking straight ahead and it's dark out. It goes straight into the windshield and reflects right back into your eyes.

"No he really was a tight ass. He had colitis real bad and when he would get upset with me in the 70's, I took special delight in knowing I was making his ass twitch," I replied laughing out loud and then into my hand when it was apparent no one else was laughing. I was still chortling as we pulled into the drive through.

"You are something else. I should have known you'd be chasing some girl not going to church. You didn't change much."

Thinking I was getting somewhere, I stepped in further. "Yeah when I left Nova Scotia for Montreal, they said it was because I'd run through every JW girl in the Province. That's not true. There were a few dogs I never dated."

Whack.

It didn't matter, I was bent over the steering wheel laughing the deep belly laugh saved for my own jokes.

Jehovah, Jehovah how can it get any worse?

I used the stoning clip in a short video I made.

I'm probably not making this better, am I?

Well my Jehovah's Witness cousin from way down Yarmouth, NS sent me a mysterious email.

TO: STEPHEN PATE

I REPEAT EMPHATICALLY - PLEASE DO NOT SEND ME ANY MORE EMAILS OR VIDEOS OR LINKS TO BLOGS OF ANY KIND! PLEASE TAKE ME OFF YOUR LIST!!!

THANK YOU ROR REPECTING MY REPEATEDLY EXPRESSED WISHES.

JIM SMITH

(see note at the end)

Now I don't know about you but I find those all caps emails sort of rude and confusing.

First it's hard to know where the sentence begins. Then there is the confusion over whether the message is an acronym, anagram or just someone really mad.

Being a Jehovah's Witness, my cousin Jim is a mild mannered man of the Lord, a paragon of self-control and closeted anger. He would never be angry with me but believe in the Lord that I might be saved and join him in paradise - no in the garden sharing my dinner with the lions and my breakfast with the lambs.

I wonder if we have to let them live inside or are we just supposed to lie down in fields of clover with lions and lambs. Then we'll be Wandering Where the Lions Are.

I got wandering not wondering and ended up at Bruce Cockburn's website which looks like a disaster hit it, so I emailed Bernie that manager of his.

Then I went myspace and listened to some more songs. "I leaned against your wheelchair....And when I was through, I filled up my shoe. I brought it to you. You loved me then And you took me in...I never asked for your crutch now don't ask for mine.



Then I left a message for Bruce on MySpace just in case Bernie gets ticked and calls him. Bear with me and here's the message to Bruce, because you can't read it on MySpace.

I found your myspace after I impetuously emailed Bernie. Aw he can take it!

Your MySpace is very cool. I just did a pre-Christmas Stephen shopping and bought myself a few of your CD's I liked. I saw you a couple of years ago with Blackie et al in Toronto...very cool night.

Stephen Pate

Email to Bernie Finkelstein

I was over at your or Bruce's site (Bruce Cockburn. com) and it’s “Under Construction”.

What are you mad at the guy and want to dump/be dumped?

You’re killing him. Nothing nada – do nothing, spit on the ground, you’re wrecking him.

Take the site down until you’re ready.

Get the receptionist to put him on Facebook: the janitor can fix MySpace.

It looks like a going out of business sale.

Cheers, Stephen Pate

PS – fire the schlemiel ( I didn't spell this right in my email (: ) who did your site. It takes over 60 seconds to load that fancy schmansy stuff. Who cares? Your relatives don’t even care. Your dog fell asleep already. If you don’t have a dog, that’s why he’s gone. 3 second load baby.

Did you see the news? This Hour Has Five & 1/2 Minutes

http://ca. youtube. com/watch?v=hmEuM_6bF78

Back to my cousin and his email

No it's not an acronym. The guys in the military intelligence like them short for obvious reasons. The people in the government of Canada like to hyphenate their acronyms like "joe_blow@cmhc-schl.gc.ca" so the French police can't tell if they are bilingual or not.

No he must have sent me an anagram. I better set to figuring it out right away.

Right after my nap.

But my question is: should I do something or nothing and if something what?

Note: NO SPELINGS WERE CHANGED INT HE ANAGRM TO PROTECT THE IUNNOCENT>

Living with a family of religious bigots

Half of my family, my mother's side, are Jehovah's Witnesses (Witnesses, JW's) and they are religious bigots. Since I decided to leave their religion in 1980 they have practiced a form of shunning that extends to almost all family contacts, including funerals.

At my father's wake and funeral, my cousin Jim Smith of Wedgeport near Yarmouth Nova Scotia would not speak to me. At the post funeral lunch at my mother's apartment he walked in the door and right out again when he saw me.

Jim is a religious bigot. He enjoys the freedom to preach his religion door to door, pretending to everyone he meets that he is a real good family guy. In reality he wants to reprove me for speaking of my own beliefs.

Jim Smith was a special cousin to me. My 5th child is named after him. He lived in Ottawa and I lived in Halifax. We got along like peas in a pod.

We both moved to Montreal, Quebec in our late teens and spent lots of time hanging out as best cousins. We played guitar and sang those great Gordon Lightfoot songs.

What Jim doesn't like is anyone having their own religious beliefs. In fact Jim is quite disdainful of other's religious beliefs as are all JW's. Freedom of speech is a one sided-affair - they like to preach at you but don't want to have a conversation.

It's an act, a con to get you interested in the religion. If you listen to Jim or millions of other highly motivated Witnesses, they are intent on separating you from your family to earn "points" with Jehovah for converts.

It's religious capitalism. Their gain with God may be your loss but that's too bad. They just want the profits from conversions.

After my dad's funeral and to ensure their religious purity, Jim took with him all of his cousins that were Jehovah's Witnesses. I heard they went to a restaurant together.

At a very emotional time for anyone, the death of one's father, Jim had to practice his weird form of religious bigotry making my day even harder than it was. He was incapable of showing comfort to my mom or me. I'm not going to preach but I do think Jesus said something about love one another. I might have mixed that up with the hatred part of his teachings. Correct me if I'm wrong.

Last month, another cousin sent me a group email. So I replied. Jim sent me an email and told me not to do it again.

-----Original Message-----

From: Smith Brothers [mailto:smithbro@ns.sympatico.ca]
Sent: October 20, 2008 2:43
To: disabilityalert@gmail.com
Subject: Re: Video

Please don''t send me any more videos or emails

Thanks,

Jim Smith

Wow! How presumptuous of me to write. After almost 30 years of being free from their weird religion, Jim still carries a torch for the old animosity of "you're different than me."

I think Jim runs a business called Smith Brothers Clean and Shine in Wedgeport outside of Yarmouth. Like many JW's he likes the cleaning business since it gives him a low profile. Most people don't get to know the cleaning guy. Also because most JW's don't get a proper education. They geneally don't get a university degree so are left with low skilled menial work.

JW's like to do business with non-Witnesses but they stay away from making friends. Apparently the money of a non-JW or "wordly person" gets laundered as it passes through their holy hands. Quite a game: I love your money but I despise you. (Smiling)

Jim is no different from all the other JW's out there to take your money for Jesus.

You are either convert material or from the devil and destined to die at Armageddon. Yeah, don't get to close but take the money and run.

Some might think from watching "Knockin on Jehovah's Witnesses" that they are just another religion, slightly different and dedicated to their faith. Far from the truth: they are religious bigots who do not believe in freedom of speech or religion except for themselves.

Being a Jehovah's Witness can be a family destroying situation. If you join, it is highly likely you will lose all contact with your non-JW family members. If you decide later to leave, all your JW family will cut you off.

My case is only one of tens of millions.

When Jim's parents, Ken and Margie Smith (deceased) retired to Yarmouth NS in the 1970's I visited them and enjoyed their hospitality.

I know that friends and relatives can grow apart through time and distance. However, this a planned course for Jim. He is just another of the many relatives on my mother's side who shun me.

If I was an convicted felon, axe murder or other no-good I would accept it. However, I'm just a guy living his life the best he can.

Somethings are just impossible to fix when religious bigotry is in the picture. Western countries like to point the finger at Moslems for being religious bigots. Don't bother: we have them in our own backyard.

I always liked Jim. I just don't like his attitude for the past 28 years. He should learn to act more like the Christian he pretends to be. It's people like Jim who give religion a bad name, makes you now want to hear about any religion.

50,000 videos 9 million viewers

October 16th, 2008

Thursday we passed our 50,000th viewer on YouTube.

The Disability Alert story has been seen by 9 million readers and viewers.

That doesn't even touch the secondary sites that re-publish the videos and articles.

Those are both phenomenal achievements measured only in your interest and enjoyment. Thank you very much for your support for returning again and again to these pages.

Thanks to Michael LeClair and Trish Clarkin who help so much with the videos and many other things. Thanks to all the volunteers and those unnamed and unsung heroes, to the media who cover our stories and to my family for putting up with me writing so much.

There is so much more to do and we'll have fun doing it.

I am humbled and encouraged by your support. Thanks again.

Note: counts refer to story counts, clicks, and views not unique viewers and readers since many people return to our sites.

Six degrees of separation

Note: at the end of this article I'll list the people who would no longer speak to me because I'm not a Jehovah's Witness and more.

Relationship chart, Vue software see note below - click on chart to see full view

Is it six degrees of separation or only two? Whatever the number we are connected to each other in this world.

Googling another topic, I came across stories about Red Shea’s death in June 2008 from cancer. (Toronto Star)

Red Shea, Gordon Lightfoot's guitarist dead at 70

Somehow I became connected to Red Shea so I put the theory to the test. Looks like I'm only 2 degrees from Red Shea a great artist I never met and 3 degrees from Gordon Lightfoot.

Red, who hails from Saskatchewan, was Lightfoot’s lead guitarist through most of the 60’s. He also recorded with him during the 70s. Red is credited with much of Gord’s sound. You can find him on the early albums. He mainly played acoustic lead although I saw him try to play the kitchen sink once on Tommy Hunter.

In the early 70s at a Lightfoot concert in Montreal, I met Rick Haynes backstage, saw Lightfoot and was suitably thrilled. Rick was and still is Gord's bassist. You have to be cool or so I thought. No screaming, no autographs, just a tip of the hat and a wave.

My grandmother, Winnifred (Camp) Peardon, loved Tommy Hunter. She liked to make me watch him on Friday night, even when I was a teenager. I actually went to see him at Confederation Centre once.

Red was a fun loving guy, a jokester and prankster. On Tommy Hunter he did quite a few silly gags which relieved some of the show’s predictable character. Tommy would introduce the smiling red-headed guy as a special segment after he found the audience loved Red.

Being an unabashed Canadian folkie from the 60s, I knew who Red was and how good he was. Red had a tasty style that we envied and some tried to emulate. If you listen to the early Lightfoot albums the sound is unmistakable.

My cousin Jim Smith from Ottawa and now in Yarmouth, NS and I both were both Lightfoot fans and played all the songs. We are the same age and were inseparable back then. I remember many nights in Montreal playing Lightfoot songs turn about until the Mrs. Ianno, the landlady, told us to be quiet.

Gordon Lightfoot, Red Shea and John Stockfish going on stage in 1969

We went to Lightfoot concerts and dreamed about seeing him at his annual and legendary Massey Hall appearances.

As an up-and-coming musician, Red kicked around Toronto in the 50s. One of his friends was fellow guitarist Russ Townsend, a big follower of Chet Atkins.

Russ was from the Annapolis Valley, Nova Scotia. According to Russ, he and Red shared many adventurous nights in Toronto. Rowdy would be the word that aptly describes their fun. Red was a dare devil country boy who liked to shock people with his antics.

Russ left Toronto in the 60s, returning to Halifax to play and teach guitar. Red of course became well known through Lightfoot, Ian and Sylvia and Tommy Hunter.

The strange thread here is both of them became Jehovah’s Witnesses (JW), a cultish end-of-the-world sect that frowns on the rowdy ways of musicians. I vaguely remember Russ telling me he introduced Red to the religion.

It was natural for Russ since his family was JW. For Red I suppose it was reaching out for religion after an irreligious period in his life.

Russ’s family was JW’s. Edwin Barkhouse, his cousin, taught me Industrial Arts at Armdale Junior High. Townsend’s and Barkhouse’s are nice gentle people. I met their parents once on a visit to the Valley. Back then I was a JW so we got around in that little circle.

A mutual JW friend (can’t remember every name!) introduced us. Rick had converted to the JW’s by then. He shared that Red quit the touring band to stay away from the road life with its many temptations. Red settled down. His career centered on studio and TV work in the Toronto area.

When I met Lightfoot he was drinking heavily and bearing a grudge against the JW’s. First he had lost his favourite guitarist to them. Second they were always preaching to him about the end of the world. Then the guys had the nerve to stop partying after the shows. JW’s were a drag on Lightfoot’s life. Tell me about it.

Lightfoot made rules that they were not allowed to talk religion and especially JW religion while working for him. That meant on the road, in the dressing room and before and after performances. He rightly saw their preaching as a threat to his career. It wouldn’t stop JWs though: I heard they were secretly trying to convert Terry Clements, Red’s replacement.

Rick stayed with Lightfoot until today along with Clements who is also an excellent guitarist. After being ill for many years, Lightfoot has been touring again since 2005. I saw Gord perform several times during the 60s and 70s it would be interesting to see him again, although I'll get the video unless he comes east.

Speaking of Lightfoot, SCTV did a crazy send-up of Gord years ago. His dreamy style is parodied perfectly on some inane material. I fell off the coach laughing one Friday night watching that on TV in Murray Harbour North.

Could the voice of the Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald work for Mary Poppin’s Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious?

For the crazy among us, here it is again with Dave Thomas doing the frantic announcer.



My sons James and Will watched the re-runs in the 90s on cable. They were both SCTV cult fans but I doubt they got the joke of the Lightfoot sketch.

Moving back to Nova Scotia in 1973, I ran into Russ Townsend at a music store and took guitar lessons from him for two years until I moved to PEI in 75. He had an amazing ability to play perfect renderings of Chet Atkins picking.

Russ opened up an understanding of what was possible on the guitar. The only Chet song I play today is “I Still Can’t Say Goodbye” an honest and slow tearjerker.

I left the JW’s in 1979 which disconnected me from Russ. They don’t like it if you quit and practice shunning on ex-members. Weird people.

Fast forward three decades, my daughter Laura Pottie marries James Quinn a local guitarist of renown. They move to Toronto. She is taking Law at U of T and James is teaching at a music store in the Beaches and playing in several bands.

Up on a Toronto vacation during 2002, I met James Quinn one day at the store and he introduced me to Barry Keane, Lightfoot’s long time drummer who also taught at the store.

Barry brought me up to speed on Red who was quite ill and not playing due to arthritis and other ailments. The was a sad end for a guitarist with hands from God. Rick was living the middle class live north of Toronto. Lightfoot was just out of a months long coma.

Back in Nova Scotia one day, I was talking to Harland Suttis the Nova Scotian luthier who I met in the 90s while he was with MusicStop. Suttis knew Red and Russ since he had played country music in Toronto during the 50’s.

Apparently arthritis had taken guitar playing away from Russ as well. Russ parted with his coveted Gretsch Country Gentleman with deep regrets.

Red is dead. He stayed JW: they did the service at a Kingdom Hall. The JWs like plugs when celebrity members get mentioned in the press. Almost makes them seem normal.

Rick, Russ, Gordon and many others are still around. I keep bumping into various people connected to them. I think it’s less than six degrees of separation, more like two.

The following people in this story would not talk to me today since I have left the Jehovah's Witness religion for that simple reason:

Red Shea - deceased
Winnifred Peardon, grandmother - deceased
Lucy Pottie, mother
Jim Smith, cousin
Rick Hynes, bassist
Russ Townsend, guitarist and teacher
Edwin Barkhouse, teacher

Truly weird.

Note: the relationship chart was made with a free program called Vue from Tufts University. Very cool.