When I was little, we lived in an old farm house, on the edge of a small Indian Reservation in south east Ontario.. the old farmhouse sat at the top of a great hill.. There were two 'crick's' that ran at the base of the hill.. one big and one small...and two old wooden bridges carried us over the water.. the old wooden logs rumbling and giving us warning of company coming long before we saw anyone approaching. We called it the 'Indian's Doorbell' tho none of us had ever seen a real door bell.

At that time, the early 1960's, there was no running water or electricity, not for miles around.. .. the well was about 25 feet from the kitchen door.. and many trips each day supplied the household with water..

The outhouse was.. well.. an outhouse.. too far away in the dark of night and MUCH too close in the warm weather of summer.. fortunately, in Canada, there wasn't very much 'warm'..

But every Saturday night, we'd get out the old crank radio .. now for you young whipper snappers.. who aren't old enough to have such wonderful memories.. you are invited to sit, read and listen with me.. turn your imaginations loose.. imagine...

The crank radio was a battery operated radio, sorta like the one you see on the Walton's.. beautiful wood cabinet.. hand carved with roses and lines and circles...inside it was full of tubes and wires and such..... with big old dials..and needles that waved back and forth in the glass covered dials on the front of it..... you had to crank the danged thing for about two hours to store an half hour of 'juice'.. bout wore off my arm, it did!

I was the eldest of six children and the only girl.. so I got the biggest portion of the work.. at least until my brothers got a bit older.. or if my Grandmother had a male caller who wanted to show off his muscles and strength..

My parents drank too much on most weekends..and my dear old Grandmother (the local 'witch' and midwife) would look after us.. all us children would take turns cranking the thing until we thought it was 'full'.. and we had to really guess as it didn't have any gauge to tell us.

Then we'd anxiously wait till 8 PM.. turn on the radio (in the light of a coal oil lantern) and mess with the dial until we heard the most wonderful and majickal words in the world "Live, (pause) from (pause) the (pause) GRAND (longer pause) OLE (longer pause again) O'PRY", the voice escalating in volume with each word.

Then we'd be quiet as church mice and listen, not a small feat for us as we really were 'wild Indians'!.. Cousin Minnie Pearl with her 'HOWDEEEEE!", Little Jimmy Dickens, Chet Atkins, Stringbean, Mother MayBelle and the Carter Sisters, the White Family, and who ever was the 'up and coming' artist of the time..

I remember the first time Patsy Cline sang 'your cheating heart.'

The voices of Wilf Carter.. or Bill Morgan, or Flat & Scrugs, with their foot tapping Blue Grass music.. tapping our fingers on the wooden floor of Grandmother's old 'summer kitchen' which sat at the side of the house.. The summer kitchen was really just a screened in Porch.. all worn and no paint left.. with an old wood stove that I first learned to cook on.. we used it all summer.. and moved inside to the real kitchen when it got too cold..

Our minds would weave beautiful images of the stories, told in music, that we heard on the radio.. wondering at the beauty of this Majickal Place.. the Grand Ole O'Pry..

The sound of crickets and bullfrogs from the 'crick' at the bottom of the hill adding harmony to the music through the screen windows we put up for summer.. the smells of the seasons adding to the beauty of our night.. sit quiet for a minute.. maybe you'll smell it too.. can you smell them? choke cherries and apple blossoms in spring time..Peonies and lilacs in early summer.. the smell of lilacs wafting through the night air.. the first crisp winds of autumn rustling the rainbow colors of the fallen maple leaves..

In winter, we'd be all bundled up in quilts and blankets, with huge, hot cups of cocoa (with little marsh mellows floating on top) sweetened with our home made maple syrup.. We made the cocoa from ground up chocolate, adding thick creme from our big eyed, brown eyed Jersey cows, that we could sometimes hear mooing in the night.. ..

In summer, swatting at the 'skitters' that loved to chew on us, or building a big old smoky fire outside to chase them away...... and the smell of the campfire.. embers glowing brightly in the night.. sometimes with buckets of fresh made popcorn, or homemade ice cream with wild raspberries picked under the hot summer sun earlier in the day.. sometimes fighting with Gran's pet racoon, Lefty.. for the leftovers..

The coal oil lamp added flickering images... of the massive Maple, Oak and Elm trees that ringed the house like some old time Gaelic gathering place.... can you see them? doesn't it look like a cat? no? you say it looks like a bird? well, okay..

Their massive limbs waving and creating shadows of the walls and floor.. or the 'hoot owls' whoosing through the night, hunting the mice..sometimes wolves or coyotes howling in the stillness of the night, under the glow of Grandmother Moon, who was showing the many sides of her face to us as we watched.. fun when Gran was there.. scary when we were alone without her..

If it was a really nice night and no 'skitters, or other creatures' as my Gran would say, we'd listen to the majickal music in the 'great outdoors', sitting on a fragrant carpet of grass, or on one of Gran's old goose down 'ticks'... (mattress)...can you hear the crickets?

Waiting under the velvet darkness of the star filled night sky.. look up.. there's the Big Dipper.. and over their Orion's Belt.. can you see them? how bright they shine.. viewed through the limbs and leaves of the maple trees or the oak trees.. and bird calls would join in the music at all the right times as if the birds were part of the back up music..

Except for this dumb old pet crow named "Blackie' of my brothers that would be too loud and noisy for us on this majickal night.... making lots of rude noises, until one of us would jump up and run shouting at him to "watch out or he'd be cat food if he wouldn't be quiet"..then return to flop down and listen intently....

Did you know Crows can be talk to imitate speech? My brothers had great fun teaching him to cuss when the local Minister, Reverend Findlay, came to call.. but that's another story..

The youngest baby would usually fall asleep before the end of the program, usually on my lap or my Gran's.. to be carried into bed when the battery ran down.. none of us would miss a second of the majickal music!

Occasionally there was enough 'juice' in the battery and we got to listen to the 'Ole Time Gospel Hour' with Kitty Wells or Mother May Belle Carter singing some old time Gospel song like Power in the Blood, What a Friend, I've Seen the Light, or my favorite Amazing Grace.. we were allowed to sing along with the Gospel music if we sang softly.. can you hear it? 'amazzzzinnng Graaace... How sweet the soundddddddddddddd....that saved a wretch likkkkke meeeee....

Once in a great while, Gran would tell us stories after the music was gone.. stories of the First Peoples..and how things were 'In the Time of the Beginning'.. "How the Bear lost his Tail" or "How Grandfather Turtle got his Shell Cracked".. or "the Tale of the Thunderbird Twins"..

We'd do our best to stay awake well into the wee hours..afraid to miss a word of her stories.. only to fall asleep to the sound of her gravelly voice anyway.. and wake when Grandfather Sun rose first thing in the morning.. to find Gran still sitting beside the now glowing fire.. a smile on her deeply lined, leathery skinned face, and a twinkle in her deep, brown eyes, as she called us "slug a beds and lazy souls"..

That's more than forty years ago.. exactly how many is a deep, dark secret.... and on some really quiet nights.. my mind slips back in time.. I turn off the lights in my living room, light a candle or too... find the country music channel.. and sit with my wee boys on my lap.. .and listen to the Grand Ole O'Pry..

My husband just doesn't understand how majickal it was............and still is..

Listen, can you hear it???

Deedee