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Cultural Musings on Chatham-Kent
The old have a responsibility to bring the past to life for the young
Tuesday, May 6, 2003
His name was "Bucky". I cannot for the life of me recall whether that was a moniker for a first name or last but during the long, hot summer of 1968, when the outside world was full of turmoil and rebellion, he gave me my first real lesson in local history.During my teenage years, I had the distinct pleasure of working summer and Christmas vacations at Thamesview Lodge. Working on a ward of over thirty older gentlemen, in all states of physical and mental existence, I quickly got to know them and they, in turn, got to know me.
Some saw me as the shallow, self-centered youth of eighteen that I was while others looked past my superficiality and valiantly sought out a latent maturity, sensitivity and insight that they sensed I was capable of developing. To some, I am sure I reflected their own youth long since spent. One such perceptive gentleman was a man of eighty some years called "Bucky".
He had been a Road Superintendent for Kent County, I think, and as a result knew Kent County and especially the area around Highgate and Ridgetown very well. He never tired of regaling me with tales of the area's roads, homes, people, places and its rich history. He breathed such life into these stories that I became, for the first time in my life, enraptured and genuinely excited by my area's history and began to ask him questions about the area.
One day, as we were speaking of things "lost and found", an older gentlemen was wheeled by in a wheel chair. I knew the man, called "Goldie", as a stately-looking gentleman who, due to a stroke, could communicate very little and was not in possession of all of his faculties.
"You see that man there, Jim? He was once one of the most powerful and influential men in Southern Ontario. When Goldwyn Russell spoke, everybody listened! Isn"t it funny how time and age can alter a man's fortunes? Does that name mean anything to you?" I gave him the same blank stare and slightly embarrassed, quizzical frown that, ironically enough, I was to be the recipient of hundreds of times in the future when I asked similar questions of students not yet born. "Well, you SHOULD know something about him. In fact, that's your assignment for the weekend! Research some things about that man whom you so casually wash and feed every day and then report back to me on Monday and then weíll talk!"
A youth of eighteen, in any generation, has countless things luring and enticing him on hot summer nights and I was no different. However, I still found time that weekend to uncover, at the Chatham Public Library, enough information on Goldwyn Russell to give me a whole new respect for this man ( ie. Reeve of Raleigh in the 20s and 30s, Warden of Kent in 1929 and an influential political kingpin in federal and provincial politics) and enough information, I thought, for me to impress "Bucky".
I arrived early at Thamesview Lodge early for work on Monday morning full of questions I wanted to ask "Bucky" about Mr. Russell, politics and a host of other things that my research had prompted.
I breezed by the nurse's desk, politely avoiding her slightly plaintive plea to speak with me and headed directly to Bucky's room. I rushed in without knocking and virtually burst out with "Well, Bucky, I've done my homework ...." and then, in mid-sentence, I stopped short. The room usually so full of warmth and life was cold and stark. It smelled of disinfectant and a crisp set of new white sheets lay at the foot of the bare mattress. I stared in shock for minutes and then turned to return to the nurse's station to ask why "Bucky" had been moved. I knew why but refused to acknowledge it. The nurse met me outside the room's door. "He's dead, Jim. He died, very peacefully in his sleep, on Saturday night. I'm sorry. I know you two talked a great deal."
I wandered about the halls trying to come to terms with things and eventually found myself at Goldwyn Russell's room door looking at him staring off, in what seemed to be , deep thought. I now saw him in a completely different light. He had a past, an exciting past, that gave him substance, dignity and a renewed personality. I suddenly realized that there must be hundreds of other local people as well as places, buildings and events that also had interesting pasts just waiting to be uncovered and explored if only one were to take the time. Why hadn't I seen my own area as an exciting place before?
I learned many things that summer of 1968 that were to stick with me for the rest of my life. Things about the past, the future as well as about life and death. If only everyone could be so lucky as to have a "Bucky" when they are shallow youths of eighteen summers.
Jim and Lisa Gilbert are local, national and international award winning educators and historians.
