August, 1993
The Summer of 1993 afforded me many
treats. I saw thunderstorms in The Yukon. I saw a huge, fuzzy grey wolf in Alaska. I
watched the stars glisten in the deep dark Eastern Washington night and dozens of deer
come out the next morning. I watched the sun slowly set over the Pacific Ocean from
British Columbia and sat watching my friend peacefully sleep late that evening. There was
a lot of time to think, to evaluate, to dream, and to rest this summer and I am grateful
to unemployment insurance for every minute of it.
But no time in the summer had the punch, the giddy anticipation of arrival, and the satisfaction that only a long trek to the absurd can garner as rolling into Springfield, Nova Scotia and seeing The Anne Murray Centre.
Unfortunately, or perhaps not, it had closed early for "the season." I will have to go to Nova Scotia during Anne Murray season.
It was about one in the afternoon, I think, when we pulled up to the ferry slip to float over to Nova Scotia. Simon and I agreed that post cards were necessary, but first we went into the Visitors' Centre to see what we could do in Nova Scotia. It is dubbed Canada's Ocean Playland or something similar. We wanted to make the most of our trip.
Once inside the Visitors' Centre we split
up. When we reconnoitered we both held copies of the flier for The Anne Murray Centre. So
there was no coersion on either of our parts, we both knew that no trip to Nova Scotia
would be complete without a trip to The Anne Murray Centre.
Lest you think this frivolous, I must inform you that The Anne Murray Centre is not just to memorialize the stellar career of Anne Murray -- oh no, no, no ... it also memorializes The Singing Miners of Springfield who were caught in a cave-in and sang until someone found them.
Anne Murray is a true legend. In keeping with this, I came back and told everyone who would sit still that I went to The Anne Murray Centre and they all sang a different Anne Murray song! Try it yourself, I swear it works, just walk up to ten random people who were alive during the reign of Anne Murray and say, "Hey, Anne Murray" and I bet you dollars to donuts they will never repeat the same Anne Murray song -- although a few will get confused and maybe do a Helen Reddy or a Crystal Gayle.
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