My Dad’s Stories: “London District”

In the last installment of the short story “Where are you, Gracie Purvis?” I quote from one of the last stories my father wrote for his local paper, the Norwich Gazette. I reprint the story in its entirety below.

 [Gordon Douglas Harrison

Sept. 6, 1920 - Feb. 6, 2003]

LONDON DISTRICT

Every Sunday I get taken for a ride, sorry, my son guides me around the London area in his car.

[“Looking north toward London on Yarmouth-Centre Line”]

The London area is quite like Norwich area, there are many things to see. I am quite attracted to the old red brick and white brick farm houses. I argue with my son that the old homes are our monuments, not the silos back by the barn.

The homes, probably 125 - 150 years old, with maintenance will last a long again. Stately, sturdy buildings are those red and white brick homes.

This time of the year we watch for the white flowering elderberries. My son Gordon maps them and we know exactly where to go when they ripen. The maps are available, at a price of course.

[“Write to Gord for more details. Enclose 20 Bucks”]

One Sunday afternoon I saw something crash to earth a short distance ahead of the car. Gordon sped the car to the spot in time to see a Red Tailed hawk lift off on powerful wings with a green coloured snake in his beak. Nature in the raw.

The farmers (at least some) have gone big with buildings of very great size.

I believe it’s near Sparta, there is a well-maintained Quaker Church. The Church was built in 1865 and the Quakers established Yarmouth in 1819. (A sign reveals the church was moved to its current site, one km. north of Sparta, from Yarmouth Centre. GH) It was open the day we were there and we were invited in by a man painting. The pews were stepped and there was an old iron stove.

Down the middle of the church there was a heavy wall forty feet long made of wood (partition may be a better word than wall). The painter worked a chain attached to sprockets in the attic and raised the partition from the floor five feet, revealing tables, more pews, and an iron stove.

No, I do not pick elderberries. I just tumble head over heels into the stinging nettles, and gad they smart. I know stinging nettles and they know me.

Doug Harrison, Parkwood

P.S. The painter said there were 20,068 Quakers left.

***

Have you seen the church north of Sparta? It is worth a good look.

Please click here to read (PG. 4) WHERE ARE YOU, GRACIE PURVIS? Chapter 1