Grayson Chronicles: Part III

Written by Harold McNeill on September 23rd, 2012. Posted in Adventure

Grayson on Hay Bale

Photo: Our first stop in Saskatchewan is at the farm of two of Grandpa’s cousins, Leonard and Helen Pylypow in Glaslyn. Helen is one of the daughers of Denny and Hazel Dewan (McNeill), (one of grandpa’s dad’s sisters).
Here you see me sitting atop one of the bales of hay in Uncle Leonard’s field. We were only there a few days but we did so many things I have no idea where to begin. Well, actually, I do know, I just need a little bit of Grandpa’s help to get me going. My story involves ‘love’, and love, as I once heard someone at playschool explain, is unfathomable.

20. A Young Man Falls in Love (by Grandpa)

Nothing can warm a grandfather’s heart more than seeing his five year old, well, almost six, grandchild fall in love before your very eyes.  About mid-way through our prairie adventure, we were hunkered down on a cousin’s farm in Northwestern Saskatchewan in the small community of Glaslyn. After a day of baling hay, target shooting and feeding the buffalo on the farm of another of another cousin, we were just getting ready for dinner and it was at that moment — love struck.

Of course, the love about which I speak is not love for a family pet or something as mundane as a kid’s toy, a new game or some article of clothing, or even for his parents and grandparents. It was something more visceral, more personal and more heart retching – a young man falling in love with a young woman.

While this is something young Grayson will likely repeat many times over the first two or three decades of life, it will never carry as much emotional impact as those solitary moments in his young life, say from now through his mid-teens. Even seven decades into my life, I can still remember those moments when I was struck by love that pierced to the very core of my being. One of those singular moments is referenced in Chapter 12 of these Chronicles I and another in the LacLaBiche Story (Link Here and go to Chapter 7)

The present day ‘love story’ began, rather suddenly, late one afternoon just before dinner when the twenty-one year old granddaughter of my cousin walked in.  Grayson and I were seated at the table munching on some veggies and chatting with ‘Auntie’ as she prepared dinner. When I looked at Grayson, he had suddenly become very quiet (something usual for that talkative young man) and watched as he stared with great intensity at the young woman standing at the door. His eyes grew wide, he sat absolutely spellbound for ten, perhaps fifteen seconds as the young woman first greeted her grandmother with a big hug, then looked around the room.  She and Grayson suddenly locked eyes…

21. Be Still my Beating Heart (Grayson) 

This is amazing.  I never knew my heart could make such a flip. The moment she walked through the door, all I could see were those penetrating, deep, brown eyes and her long dark hair.  I guessed she was about twenty and she reminded me so much of my first real love, well, my first real love besides my mother, a girl from Victoria named Sammi Fernnado. Was that less than a year ago? Hard to believe and now here I go again. What is it about me that propels me along these emotional roller coasters? Be still my beating heart!

Photo: Krista’s Grad Photo. I ask you, what young man could resist that perfect smile.

When I regained my composure, I jumped from my chair, walked over, stuck out my hand and said: “Hi, I’m Grayson, I’m so pleased to meet you.”  An amazingly soft, warm and tender smile radiated from her face as she took my hand and said: “Hi Grayson, my name is Krista and I am very am pleased to meet you.”

Her voice and the warmth of her hand penetrated to the very depths of my soul. I knew at that moment she also felt the electricity and for an awkward moment we just stood there, looking deeply into each others eyes until we suddenly realized we were still holding hands and quickly pulled them apart. Then spell was broken when Auntie Helen again called Uncle Leonard for dinner. When he was nowhere to be found was no where to be found, she went to the phone. You must understand, this is a very hectic farm home during the spring, summer and then fall and the harvest season. For that matter, it is likely little different in the winter – it is always hectic, just like Auntie Louis’s home.

If I recall correctly it must have been the umpteenth time Aunt Helen called Leonard – by phone and then by hollering out the front door: “Leonnnnard…..Leonnnnnnarddd.” After about ten minutes of phoning and calling, Leonard finally showed up at the house. Boy, after all those years of being married, those two must really love each other as they are constantly chattering about something. For example, when Leonard finally arrived for dinner, Aunt Helen really gave him the ‘what-ever’ as she told him he was keeping everyone waiting. Uncle Leonard, of course, was never inclined to just let things lie…

I walked to the table beside Krista making sure I was able to catch the corner chair next to her. It was only then I noticed some guy, I don’t remember his name. He literally grabbed the other chair next to her. I guess the poor guy did not have the sense to know that being on the girls ‘right’ is always best when trying to win her attention.  Ah, I’ll just let him work that out for himself – he’s still pretty young.

It was a warm, wonderful country dinner with lively conversation about life, the crops, cattle and weather during which time my attention seldom strayed from Krista. I engaged her attention by telling her about my home in Kamloops, our trip across the prairies and asked her about her life. I could see Grandpa occasionally smiling as he cast a glance my way and gave me a wink. My face flushed and I just smiled back and nodded my head. Grandpa knew what is happening.

Although we spent a couple of hours over dinner and dessert, it seemed that far to early the evening came to an close as everyone had to get up early the next morning. Krista said goodnight to her grandparents, smiled at me and with ‘that’ young man close by her side, left the house. I must say I was a little more than irritated as he gave the impression that he had some kind of proprietary right to Krista’s attentions.  Oh well, I’m sure it won’t take him long to figure it out that he now has some stiff competition. As Krista left, she smiled and agreed to meet the next day at Little Loon Lake for a family BBQ.

As I settled down that night, I began think about Krista and one of the songs my dad’s band used to play: “Be Still my Beating Heart” by the “Sting”. The first few lines seemed to best describe my feelings:

Be still my beating heart
It would be better to be cool
It’s not time to be open just yet
A lesson once learned is so hard to forget

Be still my beating heart
Or I’ll be taken for a fool
It’s not healthy to run at this pace
The blood runs so red to my face
I’ve been to every single book I know
To soothe the thoughts that plague me so

I sink like a stone that’s  been thrown in the ocean
My logic has drowned in a sea of emotion
Stop before you start
Be still my beating heart…

22. Safe on the Firing Line (Grayson)

“Safe on the Firing Line” were the final words we had to repeat to each other before we could walk to check our targets.  Grandpa had borrowed a Cooey .22 single shot from Uncle Leonard and we had set up several pop cans in front of three large, round bales of hay that Uncle Leonard had piled in the corner of farm yard.

Grandpa then began teaching me how to safely handle the gun. How to hold it when walking, never to point it at anyone even if I though it was not loaded and to always make sure it is safe to fire.

After the safety instructions, we tried a few ‘dry fires’ (meaning the gun was not loaded), then placed a shell in the barrel and Grandpa fired a single shot at the pop cans.  They went flying and after calling to each other “safe on the firing line”, we checked the cans – a clean hit.  Grandpa is pretty good for an old guy. I can’t wait to show him what I can do.

After setting the cans back in place, Grandpa let me load the gun.  He then showed me how to get in a prone position on the ground with the gun resting on a small log and my knee bent to help give balance. Although the gun was not big, it was too heavy for me to hold while standing up.  He also had to help me close the ‘breech’ and ‘cock’ the gun as the springs were very stiff and I did not yet have the strength.

When I fired, the cans never moved. Oh well, I bet I hit the bales of hay. On my third try, I managed to knock the cans over and after checking to make sure it was ‘safe on the firing line’, we checked and found I had made a clean hit on one of the bottom cans. Grandpa seemed surprised but was pleased with my progress, especially with my willingness to follow his specific instructions about safety.

After a half hour more of practice, during which time I occasionally hit a can, Grandpa and I talked about whether to go gopher hunting as Uncle Leonard stated their were thousands of gophers in the fields around the farm. We talked whether killing things just for ‘sport’ without any intention of using the meat, fur, feathers or other parts of the animal or bird for some necessary purpose or for protection from attack, was something we wanted to do.

Grandpa then told me about a time when he was about twelve years old and had killed an innocent little Chick-a-Dee with a .22 rifle his dad had given him. Grandpa said he never forgot that poor little Chick-a-Dee laying dead in the snow.  He explained that he had never meant to kill that innocent little bird, but had, on impulse, pulled the gun up and fired from his hip.  He said he could have tried that shot a 100 or a 1000 times and would never have hit that bird, but this time it just happened and the bird was dead. That was how dangerous guns could be.  He told me he knew people who made the same mistake and somebody had accidentally ended up seriously wounded or dead.  Guns were not toys.

We both decided we preferred not to kill gophers just for as for the sake of target practice as pop cans would do just as well. Grandpa said he wrote an story once about some crows in Saskatchewan that had attacked him and another cousin as they were climbing an old tree while trying to get at the crows nest. He liked crows because they were feisty and would work together to beat back anyone who threatened their home and family.  Grandpa asked it if might work our better if animals were allowed to have guns and could fight back. The thought that maybe then people would be less inclined to go out and try to kill them.

Photo (Web): This gopher is equiped with a machine gun. He and a few others similarly equiped, could probably put up a pretty good defence of their gopher holes.

We hung around, fired several more shots at the cans, then walked back to the house for lunch as that afternoon Uncle Leonard was taking us out to visit the buffalo.

Link here to pictures: Safe on the Firing Line

23. Truck Smashed in Buffalo Hunt (Grayson)

Right after lunch, Uncle Leonard said he was going pick up some salt blocks and take them over to the buffalo. I remembered that Mom and Dad once took me to place called “Head Smashed in Buffalo Jump” and that was really neat, but I don’t recall ever seeing a live buffalo near that sight.

Photo: Look at this guy! Let’s hope he is in a happy mood because if he isn’t, the truck in which we are reiding will look like it has been through a demolition derby.

After loading salt blocks in the storage barn, we hit out along some back roads that in the normal world would not be called roads.  Also, Uncle Leonard threw in the gun we had been using that morning “just in case he spied the Fox that had been harassing the dog and animals around the farm yard.” I only hoped that he had no intention of trying to protect us from a charging buffalo with that gun as it could barely kill a pop can!

Heading through the back roads, Grandpa told me that when he was about 12 years old he and his cousins Joan and Jimmy, twins and lived on this farm with their parents, used to walk these very same trails as they explored the hidden secrets of the forests and farm lands.

After about a half hour we arrived at a giant steal gate and as soon as I looked toward the end of the fence I saw some of the largest animals I have ever seen. Large shaggy mains covered their broad shoulders and their slim hind quarters suggested they could gain considerable speed if they decided to charge.  No way was I going to get out of the truck when Grandpa asked if I wanted to walk up on the other side of the fence and have a closer look.  In my opinion those buffalo could simply walk through the fence if they so decided.

Photo: When Uncle Leonard was out unlocking the gate to the field in which the buffalo were kept, Bjorn pulled out the gun, laughed and said: “Do you think this will help protect us.”  Not very likely, I thought.

Once Uncle Leonard had the gate open and the truck was moved into the field the buffalo took off and headed for open space away from the shelter of the trees.  Grandpa told me he would climb in the back of the truck so I could get in the front seat to have a better look.

As we pulled into the field the buffalo eyed us with suspicious interest, but seemed satisfied that we meant them no hard.  As we pulled closer, the herd spread apart and we drove through the middle.  Many of the cows with calves by their side, stayed back while the bulls moved a bit closer to determine our interest. As we drove slowly along and Grandpa started throwing out the sale blocks, the herd, including some very big bulls moved in closer.

At less than 5 meters from the truck the bulls were so large that if they charged they could run right over the truck and crush it without even working up a sweat. I only hoped the salt that Grandpa was throwing out was going to be to their liking.  Talking about the ‘Head Smashed in Buffalo Jump’ at Fort McLeod, this would be ‘Truck Smashed in Buffalo Romp” at Glaslyn.   I am not sure how may Grandpa would explain the whole thing to my mom and dad if they had to pick me up from the hospital.

As it turned out those massive buffalo were completely satisfied with the azure blue salt blocks and, for today at least, decided to give us a free pass.  After a few minutes of circling our truck, herd cleared a path as we slowly drove away out of the field toward the gate.  It was a truly amazing experience that I shall not soon forget.

Thank you Uncle Leonard.

Link here for pictures: Truck Smashed in Buffalo Hunt

24. Learning about being a farmer (Grayson)

Everyone teases me about being this little energizer battery, but once you meet Uncle Leonard you will soon learn that he invented the energizer battery concept.  I don’t know how old he is, but Grandpa told me he and Leonard are about the same age.  Uncle Leonard always moves as if yesterday was the last his last day on earth and he needed to make sure he could finish everything that needed to get done in the next twenty years within the next five minutes.

Photo: Uncle Leonard and I headed out to fix a gate in the buffalo field fence.

Haying was on, the weather was good, the fields fairly dry and Leonard was trying to juggle three tractors, two balers, one hay rake and an old pick-up truck on which something always seemed to be in need repair.  At one point we drove by a dealership and Uncle Leonard saw a new tractor and bailer that was so modern you could probably run it from your living room like the Global Hawk drone the German Air Force was testing at Cold Lake Airbase.

Even with all the equipment working, keeping track of the various farm hands no easy task. At one point Uncle Leonard and Bjorn took off to check the local watering holes and coffee shops to see if they could find the tractor guys so he could finish baling a field he had started.  An hour later the men were back with the guy tied up in the back truck having found him in the coffee shop just getting ready to take off fishing.  You see, farmer owners like to make hay while the sun shines, while some of the farm hands, apparently, would rather go fishing.

A little while later I was in one of the tractors with Uncle Leonard heading out to another field so he could showed me how the tractor and baler worked.  At the same field we also met another of Grandpa’s cousins whom Grandpa had not seen for nearly perhaps 50 years, one Denis David, the brother of his Victoria cousin Darlene David.  Denis was busy turning the hay windrow so it was dry and ready for the baler.

After a few turns of the field and with everything working OK, Uncle Leonard was off to another field to fix a steel gate so the buffalo would not roam, then it was back to the farm to fix another piece of equipment that needed some sort of repair.  As far as I can tell, a farmer needs to know more about everything than any other occupation you can name and if they don’t know, they call someone on anther farm that can help them or lend them the equipment they needed yesterday.

Link here for pictures: Learning about being a Farmer

25. The Pea Pod Path (Grayson)

Now, if Uncle Leonard stays busy, Auntie Helen is also ‘busier than a one armed paper hanger’. She has this amazing garden where she grows most of her own vegetables and as the meat also comes from the farm or from the times Uncle Leonard goes hunting in the fall, the family is pretty much self-sufficient. The others things Auntie Helen grows are massive flowers that almost reach the sky (well taller than me at least)

Photo: Aunt Helen works in her garden.

Grandpa and I would go out and pick lettuce, Swiss chard, carrots and pick peas as we walked along the 20 meter rows.  My mom, who also loves to garden, would go nuts if she had a garden like this. Perhaps, one day she will and can grow everything she would ever want to eat.

The day we left to meet a few other Aunties at the Battleford Campground, Auntie Helen packed up bunch of fresh veggies and some really good home made soup that would last us for a couple of days.  There are sure a lot of things about life on the farm that are really neat.

Thank you for all the fine food Auntie Helen.

Link here for pictures: The Pea Pod Path

26. Family BBQ at Little Loon Lake (Grayson)

Auntie Helen was rushing around packing food and putting stuff together for the family BBQ at Little Loon Lake.  It seemed that everytime she wanted to ask Uncle Leonard to do some he had up and disappeared. Uncle Leonard seem’s to do that with great regularity. Well, as it turned out he was just rumaging around trying to find the pair of pants he wanted to wear to the lake.

Photo: Uncle Leonard came out with the clothes basket, quickly finished his pop (I think it was pop) and asked: “Helen, were did you put my pants?”  Oooh, did Auntie Helen ever give him the ‘what-ever’. Grandpa says that Uncle Leonard is a kindred spirit.

Finally. everything was packed and in the car, we were ready to go.  I knew Krista would be coming so I wanted to make sure I was there in plenty of time.  When we arrived in the late afternoon, Grandpa walked with me over to the playground to check it out.  It was certainly to my liking as it was filled with kids and dozens of pieces of playground equipment.  When I had settled in Grandpa said he was heading back to the campsite for a beer with Leonard and Bjorn.

Boy, I was glad this playground was filled with all kinds of neat things and lots of kids, as that would help me take my mind off Krista until she arrived for dinner.

27. The Love Story Continues (Grandpa)

About 5:30 I wandered up the playground to check on Grayson and as I was walking down the road I saw Grayson high tailing it toward the exit.  I knew he had not yet seen me as he almost ran right over me while concentrating on the road. I hollered and he stopped. I asked where he was headed in such a hurry, thinking he might have postponed a bathroom trip a little too long.

He pointed across toward the road and hollered back: “I just saw Krista’s jeep drive by and I want to get back to the campsite and say Hi”.  He continued on his mission without another word.

With all the entertainment and kids in the playground I was surprised he had even noticed just one of the many cars that drove by.  It just goes to show how focused he was while waiting for that one special car.  When I arrived back he was snuggled in close to Krista and again chatting her ear off.

All through dinner, Krista had this little buddy snuggled up close with the full intent of cutting out the young man on the other side.  Good luck Grayson, let’s see what happens later this evening.

Link here for pictures: Little Loon Lake

28. Driving Uncle Leonard’s Pontoon Boat (Grayson)

Besides, tractors, bailers, swathers, hay rakes, old trucks, new trucks and a dozen other pieces of equipment, Uncle Leonard has this neat pontoon boat, that, contrary to it’s cumbersome looks can travel at a pretty good speed.  It was a great evening on Little Loon Lake, so Uncle Leonard uncovered the boat and we all went for a ride.

Photo: “Uncle Leonard, do you mind if I open the throtle a bit?” (I was sure if I had a little more speed, the wake would be enough to wash that other guy away and I could rescue Krista)

Now that was good news, but the bad was…Krista, for some unfathomable reason, chose to go in small speedboat with that ‘guy’ who was clearly trying to win her affections back from me.  True, I was a bit sullen when we left, but when Uncle Leonard asked if I wanted to drive the boat, I quickly worked out a new plan.

As the boat I was now driving was much bigger and let a good sized wake, perhaps, just perhaps, I could send a little wake that would wash that guy off her boat.  Oh be still my jealous heart!

Well, the opportunity did not arise, but I still had a lot of fun skimming along on that pontoon craft hoping that Krista would be getting bored with that other guy.

All to soon we were back to camp and Uncle Leonard let me drive the boat right up to the shore. As we were pulling out early the next morning, I never did get a chance to see Krista or to say goodbye.  Oh well, one day she may come to realize the error of her ways, but I am beginning to think that playing with guns, tractors, hail balers, chasing buffalo, riding Brahma bulls or a wild horse, is much less dangerous than playing around with love…

Photo: Standing by the campfire feeling lonesome and rejected, I try hard to console myself. When I look up, even the stars in the prairie sky look lonely. Perhaps when we move on tomorrow…oh, be still my beating heart…

Link here for pictures: Little Loon Lake

Grandpa Comment:  It is always a great pleasure to visit the many relatives and friends in Saskatchewan.  The Pylypow farm is usually the first stopping off place, a family farm on which one could not find more gracious hosts than among the extended family of the Pylypow’s.  Thank you all from Grayson, Bjorn, Jay and me.

29. Just let things happen  (Battleford Camping) (Grayson)

Photo: “Ya, that’s right officer, one is balding and the other has white hair, both about the same size and in their seventies. They are very forgetful, tend to wander and can get lost easily. I was wondering, if you find them out wandering around tonight if you would just bring them back to our campsite. My Uncle Jay and I try to keep close tabs on them, but sometimes they just slip away.”

Grandpa always says that when having an adventure too much planning can spoil everything just as much as not much as being careless about things, especially your car, trailer and equipment.

As for letting things flow, the evening before we left Uncle Leonard and Aunt Helen’s farm, it happened again.  Grandpa wanted to visit his two Aunties and an Uncle in North Battleford but had been having trouble getting in touch with of them. Finally, that evening, he got hold of his Aunt Marsha and learned that she, his Uncle Bud as well as Aunt Helen (both women were his mothers sisters) as well as a few other cousins where heading out to the Battleford Camp Ground the next day.

It turns out the Battleford Campground is not near Battleford as one might expect, it was only about 20 minutes away from Glaslyn in the small community of Cochin on Jackfish Lake, a place where Grandpa’s dad used to fish when Grandpa was just a little boy.  Grandpa phoned the campground, which, it turned out was huge, having about 500 camp sites divided into several sections the covered many square miles along the edge of Jackfish Lake.   Grandpa booked a site he thought might be in the area where his two Aunties and Uncle were planning to camp.

When we arrived at the campground the next morning, we booked in and followed the directions to our site. Guess what? It was directly across from his Uncle Bud’s motor home.  How is that for just letting things evolve?   As there was no one around their motor home, Grandpa took all the kindling his Uncle Bud had carefully piled under a canopy as well as half the wood piled next to their fire pit. He then took me swimming.

It was not long before Grandpa met a bunch of people who also knew many people that Grandpa knew from around that area.  It is such a small world.

After we returned to the campsite, his Uncle Bud was back home and soon told Grandpa that someone had stolen all his kindling and half of his wood.  Grandpa just laughed and wondered who would do such a thing. A little later Grandpa returned all the wood and they had a good laugh.

Photo: Two of my Grandpa’s mom’s sisters, my Auntie Helen (a different Helen) and Auntie Marcia.

Later when his two Aunties arrived, we cooked up a big dinner and had a great visit. Again, guess who was the most popular guy … me of course, just look at all the pictures. Sometimes it seem’s that Grandpa never put’s the camera away.

The next morning everyone was leaving so we also packed up our camp and headed out to Prince Albert to visit Bjorn’s old stomping grounds.  Before long we were on the road again.

Link here for pictures: Battleford Campground


Link Here for Part IV of the Grayson Chronicles

Link Here for Part 1 of the Grayson Chronicles

Link Here for Part ii of the Grayson Chronicles

Link Here for Part IV of the Grayson Chronicles


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  • Mike Fedorowich

    September 1, 2023 |

    I have gone through the above noted text and have found it quite informative.
    I am a former member with several law enforcement agencies from across Canada.
    I worked in the First Nations service under the authority of the RCMP with the over sight of the OPP. My law enforcement service was conducted under the authority of the Nishnawbe – Aski Police Service in North West Ontario the Louis Bull Police Sevice in Hobbema AB, the Kitasoo Xaixais Police Service in Northern in side passage on Swindle Island, the Lac Suel Police Service North West Ontario and the Vancouver Transit Authority Sky Train Police Service. I’m presently dealing with an RCMP member for falsifying a report against me for a road rage event. Court case is finished and the charge was dropped but I have an on going complaint with the member and have forwarded to the WATCH DOGS IN OTTAWA FOR the RCMP review and consideration. I believe the said officer is in violation of his oath of office and should be held accountable for falsifying his RTCC all the while dragging me through the court system here in Nanaimo. RCMP continue to stonewall the appeal but Ottawa and the crowns office are still looking into the matter. if your able and find the time or the interest in this very brief introduction, I would very much like to speak with you and would be grateful to hear any wisdom that may come across from your end. I served with First Nations Police Services for ten years in isolation and six years with Transit Police out of New West Minster. I do value and appreciate any time you could spare to chat for a bit on this particular subject matter. Respectfully with out anger but an open mind, Mike Fedorowich Nanaimo BC 250 667 0060

  • Harold McNeill

    February 28, 2022 |

    Hi Robert, I do remember some of those folks from my early years in Cold Lake (Hazel was my aunt and our family spent many fond times with Uncle Melvin, Aunt Hazel and Family. I knew Lawrence and Adrian. Having read a half dozen accounts it is clear their were many false narratives and, perhaps, a few truths along the way. I tried my best to provide an even account from what I read. Cheers, Harold. (email:

  • Robert Martineau

    February 25, 2022 |

    Its been a long time since any post here, but its worth a shot. My Grandfather was Hazel Wheelers brother Lawrence, and son to Maggie and Adrien. Maggie Martineau (nee Delaney) is my great grandmother. The books and articles to date are based on the white mans viewpoint and the real story as passed down by the Elders in my family is much more nefarious. Some of the white men were providing food for the Indians in exchange for sexual favors performed by the Squaws. Maggie was the product of one of those encounters. Although I am extremely proud of my family and family name, I am ashamed about this part of it.

  • Julue

    January 28, 2022 |

    Good morning Harold!
    Gosh darn it, you are such a good writer. I hope you have been writing a book about your life. It could be turned into a movie.
    Thanks for this edition to your blog.
    I pray that Canadians will keep their cool this weekend and next week in Ottawa. How do you see our PM handling it? He has to do something and quick!
    Xo Julie

  • Herb Craig

    December 14, 2021 |

    As always awesome job Harold. It seems whatever you do in life the end result is always the same professional, accurate, inclusive and entertaining. You have always been a class act and a great fellow policeman to work with. We had some awesome times together my friend. I will always hold you close as a true friend. Keep up the good work. Hope to see you this summer.
    Warm regards
    Herb Craig

  • Harold McNeill

    November 26, 2021 |

    Hi Dorthy, So glad you found those stories and, yes, they hold many fond memories. Thanks to social media and the blog, I’ve been able to get in touch with many friends from back in the day. Cheers, Harold

  • Harold McNeill

    November 26, 2021 |

    Well, well. Pleased to see your name pop up. I’m in regular contact via FB with many ‘kids’ from back in our HS days (Guy, Dawna, Shirley and others). Also, a lot of Cold Lake friends through FB. Cheers, Harold

  • Harold McNeill

    November 26, 2021 |

    Oh, that is many years back and glad you found the story. I don’t have any recall of others in my class other than the Murphy sisters on whose farm my Dad and Mom worked.

  • Harold McNeill

    November 26, 2021 |

    Pleased to hear from you Howie and trust all is going well. As with you, I have a couple of sad stories of times in my police career when I crossed paths with Ross Barrington Elworthy. Just haven’t had the time to write those stories.

  • Howie Siegel

    November 25, 2021 |

    My only fight at Pagliacci’s was a late Sunday night in 1980 (?) He ripped the towel machine off the bathroom wall which brought me running. He came after me, I grabbed a chair and cracked him on the head which split his skull and dropped him. I worried about the police finding him on the floor. I had just arrived from Lasqueti Island and wasn’t convinced the police were my friends. I dragged him out to Broad and Fort and left him on the sidewalk, called the cops. They picked him up and he never saw freedom again (as far as I know). I found out it was Ross Elworthy.