Glenn Kulka Documentary Journal

Crossing the Canadian shield, that hulking turtleback of stone, the anchor point of our continent, is something we did as a family when I was seven years old.  All I can remember from that time was the musty smell of the flannel sleeping bag, worn and familiar, that I used for a pillow in the back of our station wagon.  That and the occasional whack on the ass my Dad gave us when my brothers and I got too exuberant in our quest for stretching out leg space.  I was the youngest… I learned to sit small.

This time around, driving the shield is a journey of wonder, a familiar path with unfamiliar sights, and a drive that has me damning the current recession.

The glory of this vast slab of rock is in it’s scars, and the springtime growth across the praries and plains states that make up the shield’s apron of giving, with new topsoil and ancient alluvial deposits feeding the crops that feed a great portion of our world.  Our most recent techtonic history is written in the thousand lakes that stretch across Ontario, many of them untouched for most of the year.  Deer step lightly across winter ice intuitively knowing if the depth is safe, like European settlers scrabbling over the stone, looking for sound footholds and industry.  The deer knew when to step off, but men hung onto the shield with it’s dotting of hearty vegetation, and somehow got the idea to drill into the rock, too lazy to break out west in search of yellow gold… like the other fools.

Canadians thrive here now, a sumo wrestlers share of our population jammed into a horseshoe connected by the 1, the 401 and the other rich arteries and veins that surround this beating rock heart.  It’s a hard life, lived by good people… good people who have known depression, recession, and survived fortified, some say, by the pure mineral rich waters that run here.

The Twin Spot Restaurant in Schreiber is named for the 28 sets of twins that once populated the town.  I imagine all those matching sweaters as Brian and Ruth Ann Birch tell me how the town’s population has been decimated by the the current economics.  Like a lot of small towns, each of the businesses in Scheiber tend to survive by depending on each other’s commerce, if one breaks down they all tend to suffer.  Some businesses, like the Twin Spot, depend on tourism or other imported trade.  But when the bus companies shave their schedules, and appointed Grey Hound stops at at the Twin Spot drop from three a day to two, the entire town has to tighten it’s belt.

In spite of that, and a particularly cold eastern wind that lifted the shingles that day, Brian and Ruth Ann welcomed me with with eye wrinkling smiles, good home cooked food, and wonderful stories of a town getting by.

Stories of ice fishing, snow machines and Canadian boxing legend Dominic Filane swirl around the diner like warm soup.  When I told Brian of the film I am making and a bit about Glenn’s journey, his eyes lit up.  Dominic Filane it seems has become a light of pride for the area and folks here know the fight game by necessity.  Filane has retired from the fighting but still pulls on the gloves to teach the sweet science to the local youth in the back of his custom embroidery shop.  And he doesn’t stop there, Dom has become an embassador for the region and boxing, attending tournaments, giving clinics, and stopping to correct a stance or show how to turn over the right cross for any child who will listen.

Women and men of industry survive, women and men of community, I am happy to say, thrive.

I will stop at the Twin Spot on my trip home… I hope they have soup.

This entry was posted on Thursday, March 19th, 2009 at 7:38 AM and is filed under The Trip. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.