― Margaret Atwood
Hernando's
So far my back to the land project isn't faring much better than my dad's―about the best that could be said for my plan is that I started it―took the plunge and bought the land. But I always had the dream of building a log cabin and I've got to admit, at the moment I don't see that happening.
It's one thing to sit in my house in the city and watch Youtube vids about My Self Reliance―it's quite another thing to invest the money and time and try to make it a reality.
That's the thing about dreams―sometimes they're just pleasant fantasies. A dream isn't always a vision―with me it's mostly a diversion or sometimes a meditation that allows me to fall asleep distracted from my problems.
Truth is, I was scared, trembling with fear out there on my own land.
Yeah, it was dark and there was a storm―so what? Should I be frightened in my own world?
It was bad in Afghanistan. There, the fear was palpable, but everyone felt it. Everyone had the same hollow stare, uncertain of what lay out in the darkness.
I have no idea why I signed up and why I went in the first place. Young men fight old men's wars and end up scarred for ever more.
I was sitting in Hernando's the town's sole coffee bistro mulling over my mocha caramel latte when I heard a woman's voice behind me.
"So, is this the dark secluded place where you get away?"
I looked up into Ella's smiling face.
"Guilty as charged, Your Honour."
"Oh, I'm not judging you―I don't always drink my own coffee. We all need a hideaway."
"But it's nice to see a familiar face―won't you join me?"
She sat down opposite me at my window table.
"I'm not good at hiding anyway," I laughed, "I had to pick the window on Main Street."
"Oh, but you do get to observe the passing parade―for example, that charlatan over there handing out coupons for free coffee. He's Harold Franklin. He'd sell you anything."
"We've met," I smiled. "Luckily for me he didn't have the listing for the land I bought."
"No, he didn't have it because that's all he did―he's just a listing agent―won't spend a dime on advertising. Randall's heirs got tired of waiting, fired him and hired a decent realtor and voilà-―you came along and bought it."
"Yep, lucky me."
"So, you're not feeling the love for old Harold either...what did he do, complain about losing the commission on the sale of your property?"
"Naw, nothing like that. Guy just struck me as being really nosey. Asked a dozen questions about me and told me nothing about him."
"Believe me, that's not a bad thing. The man is boring and full of himself too―even puts a title after his name."
"What? Some kind of professional degree?"
"No. It's a hereditary title―United Empire Loyalists can use the letters "UE" after their name."
I shook my head. "But this is Canada―not Britain. I don't get it."
"Back in the Revolutionary War, American colonists who remained loyal to Britain left the States and settled in Canada. The Franklin family trace their roots back to those original settlers here in the region."
I frowned. "It's amazing what some people boast about. I guess hearing about that constantly would get tiring."
"He actually is the head of the local United Empire Loyalists Association. They even fly their own flag―it looks like the Union Jack. It's similar to but wider than the flag of Great Britain."
"Well, I'm sure that's one association I won't be joining."
Ella smirked. "Watch out Jack―that just might hold you back."
I stared at her in open-mouthed surprise. "You've got to be kidding! This is some kind of local spoils system?"
"Wouldn't be the first time in our history. You grew up in Toronto―back in the day the Family Compact were a group of rich Anglicans that controlled everything in the city. We're out in the sticks here, but this is Tory country―suspicious of outsiders and uber conservative."
"Well, on my land I won't be flying any flags. I've had enough of wars and partisanship. I just want space to call my own where I don't have to answer to anybody."
"Hold that thought, Scott―that might work outside the town, but when you come in here, it's a different story."
What Ella said confirmed my observations. The locals were a tight-knit group and now I could see they had their own elite.
I was beginning to see my dream of an idyllic retreat fade in the harsh light of reality.