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"I never was city Life..."
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| On a mild February afternoon, we piled into the pick- up and headed out to Joe's. The truck slogged along the old muddy logging road, until we reached a serene little lake, tucked away just north of the Ottawa River. After loading our gear in our packs, we had a slushy walk across the frozen lake. Sadie, Joe's faithful companion met us with her welcoming bark... Joe Briscoe met us at the shoreline with a grin from ear to ear. 'Come on in lads', he boomed, as we were lead into his cozy little cabin. In the center of the room there sat a large wood stove, and next to it sat a small wooden table. To the right a mattress on a homemade frame overlooked a large picture window, and to the left, next to the propane fridge, was a hand-pump for his well | 
Joe Briscoe, with a good catch of trout. | |
water. We sat down at the table, while Joe
eased into his old antique rocker. He glanced up at both of us, paused,
then said, 'Little drops of water, little grains of sand, make a mighty
ocean, pleasant as land. Little deeds of kindness, little words of love,
make a mighty ocean and the heaven above.'
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| "I delivered advertisers, eh? 35 cents a week. The rich people didn't give me nothin', the poor people give me ten cents or a quarter, and the medium class too. It shows the difference. I bought my first bicycle, a wooden rim for three dollars and a quarter, and I paid the guy back 25 cents a week. I was born in 1920, 50 that'd be about 1929 or so. August Werrukey was the mayor. We used to help him plant cabbage. Then we'd go around selling cabbage for 25 cents a head around Pembroke. He had two horses and a big hay wagon. We had hundreds, and hundreds of heads of | cabbage in there. They had a little colt, that run with
the mayor. The people used to get mad, because the little colt would go
and leave tracks in the lawn. That's years ago, eh?
I'd be like a little coal miner, and she'd have to wash me. My dad was an adopted boy - he came from Opeongo. All of our relations are Briscoe's, around North Cote and Opeongo. My dad was a husky guy. I used to go workin' with him in Pembroke, painting roofs, digging wells, and cleaning chimneys. I used |
to come back and my mother would be so mad. I'd be like a little coal miner, and she'd have to wash me. But that's how my dad made his money He'd charge poor people nothing, medium class five bucks and rich people ten dollars. That's the way my dad was. He never looked for fights, and he always taught us - like how to flip a canoe and get back in. He taught us lot's of things, eh? He was a good dad, raising a family like that. I remember one time I had a collie, he was a good dog. My dad came home pretty drunk. He looked at the dog, and he said, 'No god-damn liberal is |