On her way out she paused only long enough to introduce her latest romantic conquest, a weak-chinned chap named Palmer who always followed ten steps behind Sturdy, and invariably began trembling when she came any closer. Palmer seems like a nice enough chap, but I really don't see a lengthy future for the relationship because I suspect that Palmer cannot withstand an uupercut to the chin, and that happens to be Sturdy's favorite way of showing affection.

It is a well known fact within our little group that she really likes you if you have been knocked cold by one of her wallops, but she gets cross if you are unconscious for longer than 15 minutes. It is not because of the time and effort involved in getting the loser back on his feet, she explained to me, it’s the expense.

Sturdy pointed out that the cost of smelling salts keeps increasing, and she really can't afford to keep running around reviving her victims before they become entombed in the snow banks that dot the landscape when winter arrives.

By the way, I happened to glance out the shop window just in time to see Palmer being carted off to the train station, and I fear that he did not measure up to Sturdy's code of conduct. He seemed like a nice enough sort of chap, and I am sure he will get right back in the middle of the social scene just as soon as his facial wounds heal.

Now that those matters have been cleared up, the time has come for me to tell you that Sturdy and I and all the other social miscreants that you have encountered in this column are calling it quits. Speaking for myself, it has been a joyous run and one that has been made so thanks to the editorial freedom I have been accorded by Sheila Blinoff, the big boss at Beach Metro, and Carole Stimmell, the editorial chief with whom I worked so closely through the years. I learned a great deal from both of them and I hope their patient tutelage has been reflected in the offerings that I have produced over the years.

And before I leave I wish to thank all the other members of the Beach Metro staff who always treated me with unfailing politeness whenever I came to them with my inane problems. Thanks to all of you, and my best wishes to Carole's successor, the well-travelled Jon Muldoon. All the best Jon and welcome back to the fold.

I remember one January day when I was still a reporter with CTV, and the cameraman and I were checking into a hotel in one of the southern states. The pleasant woman behind the desk asked the person ahead of me where she was from, and when she was told it was Wisconsin, the clerk recoiled in horror and said, "it gets really cold there in the winter." Then she asked me where I was from. When I replied "Canada," the two women looked at me with a mixture of fear and respect on their faces and I must admit the entire hotel staff treated the cameraman and I with a measure of high regard that we did not encounter during the course of our normal work day.

Those memories used to be all that we had to carry us through those seemingly endless days of winter and as I recall, we took a perverse delight in standing at a location that had a high level of pedestrian traffic, nonchalantly chomping away on a popsicle while passersby watched in awe at our devil-may-care disregard for the wintry conditions that swirled around us. Nowadays of course such behavior wouldn't merit so much as a passing glance, and that is because so far we have not experienced what I would describe as a normal winter day.

By normal, I mean a day when you would pass a life-long friend on the street without recognizing him or her because of the layers of clothing that Mother swaddled you in to fend off the piercing temperatures and bone-chilling winds that once prevailed from early November until mid April. But the kind of weather we have been experiencing so far is damaging our reputation as a polar nation. If this keeps up Floridians armed with beach towels and swim suits will be inundating our shores and pestering us with questions about directions to the closest beaches and the location of the nearest hot dog stand.

Well, I don't know about you, but I miss being frost-bitten for half the year, and I fear that if these warming conditions prevail, we will lose our identity as hardy, frost-bitten folks who like nothing better than a backyard wiener roast on a balmy 10 degrees below zero Sunday afternoon.

Let us face the facts folks, we have a much-deserved reputation as a cold country and I am positive we could mount a well-reasoned defence of that opinion if we could just get our teeth to stop chattering.

At this point I feel it is my duty to inform you that Sturdy Gert McCurdy will be returning to these pages after something of an absence. Sturdy has been keeping something of a low profile recently ever since she had a run-in with local interests over an alleged insult she is said to have hurled at the mayor during the course of the annual euchre tournament and fish fry which was held at the town hall. Apparently the incident occurred in front of several witnesses and authorities are prepared to take the matter to court as soon as they manage to flush the witnesses out of hiding.

As is her custom, Sturdy listened patiently to the customer’s explanation for his behavior, then she turned him upside down and shook all the money from his pockets and turned over the proper amount to the staff before sweeping out of the premises amid the admiring cries of the bar patrons.

But that’s Sturdy for you. She assesses a situation, decides who is right and who is wrong, delivers a mighty wallop to the miscreant then retires for an evening of whist playing in Rotund Rollie’s sandwich shop.

On a personal note I can confirm that Sturdy has resumed her friendship with Big Tall Walter. The happy couple is frequently seen roller skating at the family-owned business, which is called Walter’ Wheels and Whiplash Emporium. Those of us who love Sturdy are more than pleased that she has found a reliable companion with whom she can share her leisure hours. Other than that, matters are quiet in Sturdy’s world, apart from the night she was called to quell a disturbance at Ed’s bar caused when a customer foolishly expected change when he proffered a $20-dollar bill for a draught beer. Sturdy came into the premises, weighed the facts then felled the customer with a forearm blow to the head and let me tell you, that put an end to that nonsense. Then, after the excitement died down, she stayed behind and helped clean up the broken glass and busted chairs. It’s not just anybody who would take the time to do that, but that’s just the kind of girl that Sturdy is.

On a social note, I am pleased to report that Sturdy has forged a friendship with Big Mave Battersby and the two women have launched a campaign to make our little home town an even better place in which to live. The two women met several years ago when they were finalists in an open competition held to find out for the last time the identity of the toughest hombre in our little community.

Left to my own devices, I would not have used the term hombre but that word was favored by the organizer of the event. It may have been influenced by the fact that he had recently acquired a boxcar of Stetsons from the estate of a local entrepreneur who had disappeared suddenly after a dispute with Shady Arty Witherspoon over the ownership of a pool table. Unfortunately for him, the arrangement did not sit at all well for Sturdy and she marched down to his office, felled him with an overhand right to the forehead and arranged things to her satisfaction.

Apart from that Sturdy’s latest stay in her old home town has been relatively peaceful except for the night she chanced upon a set-to in Dunkin’s Park right next to the Mayflower Wax Museum. She was enjoying a night on the town with Big Mave Battersby when the two friends happened upon a dispute involving the ownership of a 1936 steam calliope. Unfortunately the opposing sides could not agree on a peaceful resolution to the dispute so the two ladies resolved matters by knocking everybody unconscious before moving on for their evening treat of a hamburg and milkshake at Big Eddy’s Bar and Grill right next to the dog pound. While there they enrolled in a mud wrestling competition and I will bring you details in a later communication.

It is a warm and wonderful symbol of this blessed part of Toronto and over the years it has served us well.  I believe it is high time we acknowledged its contribution to the life and the lore of this area. Having said that, I know there are many people who share this sentiment.

I suggest that some formal recognition be given to that modest assemblage of wooden planks that is the personification of all that is good and unique to the Beach. I do not mean anything fancy or formal, because I believe such ostentation would only embarrass that humble asset that has served us so uncomplainingly over the decades. But perhaps there could be a Boardwalk day during the summer when its contributions to the community would be formally acknowledged.

I leave it to nimbler minds than mine to advance this thought if indeed it strikes a responsive chord.

Sturdy Gert
I get a lot of inquiries about Sturdy Gert McCurdy and can only tell you that I will have some news about everybody’s sweetheart very shortly.

I can tell you that her knuckles have been declared to be dangerous weapons, and there is talk in legal circles to render them inoperable. This suggestion has been widely approved in some circles but opposition quickly fades when the Sturdy one starts waving them under the noses of those who favour the idea.

I will have more on the subject when the hospital’s fracture ward resumes the practice of allowing visitors in to see their loved ones.

Just one last note on Sturdy before I pass on to other matters. I have long thought that the full moniker for that young super star on the Pittsburgh Penguins was Sidney the Kidney. In fact I used that term during the course of a recent chat with Sturdy. So imagine my surprise when she delivered a forearm wallop to my ear in the course of pointing out that in fact the proper name is Sid the Kid. I plan on using that term as soon as the swelling in my head permits me to talk normally.

Christmas decorations
But on to matters of a local nature and once again I am hoping to see Queen Street merchants getting into the spirit of the season and start decorating their front windows with all manner of Christmas decorations. It’s good for the streetscape and it is also good for the business people because I believe that is the sort of thing that attracts passersby into their premises.

And speaking of that sort of thing, what do you get in the way of a Christmas present for my daughter and her husband Glenn who have recently acquired a handsome puppy that they have named Ginger?

They already have a dog and as far as I know their household menagerie also includes at least one cat and several fish, all of which are named Eddie as near as I can tell. It sounds like a hectic household but the couple seems to have everything under control so I am not going to worry. Which is just as well because they never pay me any heed under the best of circumstances.
That is pretty well it for now but I will be doing an in-depth examination of Sturdy Gert in my next column.

Usually I steer clear of any fracas involving Sturdy but I'm on her side in this one because she does not drink. However I am still going cautiously, on the grounds that, if she should happen to change her mind, this would automatically place me in the enemy camp thus incurring her wrath. If that occurs, I will have to begin looking for a new place to live as soon as my wounds heal.

However there is a gentle side to my old friend and it was on display recently when she was guest of honor at the annual flower show. She was at her charming best, saying nice things about the flowers she liked and quietly trashing the ones that did not meet her high standards.

At the end of the event, Sturdy was guest of honor at Eddie's Bar and Grill which in truth is not the classiest joint in town, but it is the only establishment in town with enough chairs to accommodate the large crowd attracted by the opportunity to chat with my popular friend.

The chair shortage, by the way, was caused during celebrations observing the epic triumph by the lightly-regarded Munro Park Minstrels over an overwhelming squad from Buffalo which, according to rumors which persist to this day, was stocked with 14 well-paid professional ringers.

In any event, the local squad carried the day and the triumph is observed by proud inhabitants to this very day. Unfortunately, with every action there is a reaction, and in this case, the reaction has been a severe shortage of chairback rungs, which means that visitors, unaware of the rich traditions we all enjoy, tend to fall over backwards when they first sit down.

I have tried posting a sign which read “Beware of backless chairs” but people pay them no heed and the end result is that any public gathering is quite often disrupted by the sound of people sitting down, then suddenly toppling over backwards. For some reason people seem to find this funny, but as a proud resident I am distressed by the situation, and I am currently pressing Sturdy Gert to take up the cause. If this should occur, I can guarantee that change will indeed happen.

But getting back to the Sturdy one, I am pleased  to report that she is happy and recovering quite nicely from injuries suffered when a Malamute attacked her. The owner was very apologetic and offered to pay for any expenses she incurred as a result of the incident, but Sturdy waved him off saying it was only a dog and didn't know any better. The dog's owner took exception to this, and started to scuffle with Sturdy, and that's when the dog sprung into action. I believe it is incidents like this that lead to the uncertain tenor of our times.

Events then unfolded in lightning fashion. First, Sturdy threw a three-pound steak which she found in her purse to the dog, then she squared off against the owner and delivered a thunderous blow to the jaw which rendered him unconscious.

Once the dust had settled, Sturdy led a group of admirers to the nearest bar and stood them all to a round of milk shakes, but that's just the kind of girl that Sturdy is. She is generous to her friends and you can always tell her enemies, because they are the ones sporting shiners and with their arms in casts.
Sturdy is going to be around in these parts for a while, something about a warrant for her arrest up north, so I shall be filing more information as it becomes available.

There was a time in this country when we knew exactly what to expect of winter; it was cold with lots of snow. Thanks to our mothers, when we left the house in the morning, we were prepared for the worst – warm woolen mittens, thick scarves knitted by good old Mom, long johns, and sturdy boots and jackets all of them designed to keep old man Winter at bay. But that was then, and this is now, and to tell the truth, I don’t really care about this version of now. Back in the days of my youth winters were truly cold, we all wore about 20 pounds of cold weather clothing and one’s nose didn’t fully thaw until the middle of May.

If I am making it sound like the season was just something to be suffered through please don’t get that impression because it was a wonderful time for a kid. There was no shortage of ice to skate on. and lots of snow to build forts on and make snowballs with. Which, of course, were used to pelt friend and foe alike until it began to get dark. At which point you raced home before Mom had to go looking for you, and you really didn’t want that to happen.

Unfortunately those days didn’t last forever, and before I knew what happened it was time to buy a new suit and a second-hand car and get a job.  About those second-hand cars, you could always be sure of two things. One, that the salesman was lying when he said the car you purchased had only 10,000 original miles on it and second, the machine would suffer a breakdown six weeks after you proudly drove it off the lot. There were many life lessons to be learned when trying to cope with used car dealers but unfortunately with the passage of time I have forgotten most of them.

But, getting back to the snowball fights I mentioned earlier, I believe there are lessons to be learned from those long-ago battles. For one thing, they were battles with no casualties, and there is a simple explanation for that. For some reason, whether by accident or design, the opposing forts were always built about five yards beyond the range of even the strongest-armed among us so even though the air was filled with blood-curdling cries there were never any casualties because nobody ever got hit and that leads me to another thought.

As peace-loving Canadians, I believe we should promote the use of snowballs as the weapon of choice whenever countries start making belligerent noises towards one another. Apart from the occasional shiner or bruised noggin nobody ever gets hurt, but aside from the humanitarian aspect, but there is another avenue to explore, and that’s where Canada enters the picture.

Every winter thousands of acres of farmland lie dormant while farmers wait for spring and the arrival of the growing season. Why can’t they make snowballs from all that white stuff that just lies around all winter and ship them to Toronto where they would be carefully packed and redirected to countries that are cross with one another for whatever reason? This would be applauded by peace-loving countries everywhere, and especially Canada, which could charge a small fee to cover shipping and handling costs, plus a reasonable amount that would take care of minor items such as a markup designed to compensate them for any inconvenience.

As usual I am not charging a fee for this worthy suggestion.

I see by the papers that a Montreal store is refusing to have anything to do with the one cent coin. Store management refuses to give out the humble coin in change and will not accept them when they are offered in payment.

In my opinion this is discrimination in its crassest form and it should be vigorously stamped out by authorities, and I will tell you why. Familiar old phrases such as a penny for your thoughts will disappear from popular use because it won't mean anything to a generation that will grow up in a penniless society.

And here's another thing. In my lifetime I have worked with many women with the first name Penny and without exception they have all been intelligent and very attractive.

But getting back to the penny for your thoughts argument, what will replace it? A nickel for your notions doesn't have the same ring to it. There is a very real chance that, if the anti-penny forces succeed in getting rid of the unassuming coin, I believe they will turn their dark attentions to getting rid of the five cent piece and eventually the eradication of coins altogether and what kind of a world will that leave us? The merry jingle of coins in one's possession will be replaced with the dour rustle of paper money and to me this does not represent an improvement in our lives.

Speaking of improvements in our lives, I and The Wife were delighted with the resounding success of the first annual Gardeners’ Cottage croquet tournament which was held recently on the pristine playing grounds in Kew Gardens. Lawyer Don Snider, an avid croqeteer, was a great help when it came to explaining the rules of the game and other niceties, and it is our hope that the game will become an important part of the sporting events in the Beach. It was part of a fundraiser organized by the local Advisory Board for Kew Cottage (aka. the Gardener’s Cottage), and the profits went to the continued upkeep and restoration of the Gardener's Cottage which has stood at the foot of Leuty Avenue for more than a century.

Unfortunately I and The Wife were unable to attend due to a previous commitment, but reports from witnesses brought back memories of the croquet matches we used to hold at our various residences in this great part of the city. They were hotly contested affairs replete with accusations of sandbagging and other deliberate attempts to throw opponents off their game, but despite these allegations, all of them unproven, I am pleased to say, the games were conducted in an atmosphere of good fellowship and keen sportsmanship.

There were a few flair ups to be true but at the end of the day these outbursts were forgotten, and all contestants received a prize, none of them worth more than $1.25. I know that sounds a little chintzy, but our expenses were high because every year we had to replace croquet mallets that were broken over the heads of competitors and croquet balls that were split in half by the swings of frustrated competitors. I was very pleased to learn that there were no reports of similar behavior at this year's inaugural event.

I am sure that pattern of behavior will be continued in the years to come when I am confident the croquet tournament will become an established part of the Beach athletic scene.

The food is okay, but the big draw for those brawny chaps is Sturdy’s offer of a free meal for anyone who can beat her in an arm-wrestling competition. If they lose, they pay double, and so far Sturdy has gone undefeated ever since the competition started five years ago. The best showing was two years past when a sledgehammer manufacturer from Woodstock, Ontario went three minutes before collapsing in a pool of pain. His brave display caused Sturdy to set his arm for free but she recovered most of that by selling him pain killers that she mixes herself in the back room.

Those of you who have read this far may have concluded that Sturdy is an opportunist who prospers at the expense of others but such is not the case. Just last year she organized a fund raiser for a local chap who was down on his luck and raised a total of $5,000. Due to circumstances beyond her control after expenses she was only able to give the poor fellow, known locally as Big Ed, a total of $62.20 which he declined to accept and, in fact, forked over $100 of his own dough just to show his appreciation. Bless her heart Sturdy took that money, threw in $500 of her own and donated it to the Town Contingency Fund which donated it to Big Ed at the conclusion of an emotional ceremony held in the town square.

That’s the way we do things in these parts and we don’t apologize none for that either. At the conclusion of the event a large crowd gathered at Popcorn Billy Langway’s Bar and Grill to celebrate the event and all present agreed that the gathering had been a success. Later, a large group visited the fracture ward at the local hospital and serenaded the sufferers with a medley of jolly tunes. The visit was organized by Sturdy which was only fair when you consider that she was responsible for putting most of them there in the first place.

The next day Sturdy was back at work dreaming up support for the project which brought her to town in the first place. It is her dream to establish a chain of igloos up north to house visitors to the area, and initially the business community resisted her appeal for funds. Then word began to circulate that those who resisted her approach received a good clout to the head and after that things went swimmingly for our favorite girl which goes to show the value of a solid sales appeal. Sturdy is heading back north shortly accompanied by her business partner Figurina Humphreys and I shall pass along details as they become available.

Striking another note, I have always believed that a man is a work in progress who is not fully assembled until he is married. Until then he is unable to properly respond to commands such as “Get your elbow off the table” and “Don’t try to eat your pate de foie gras with a tuning fork.”

Both of those rules are simple to perform once they are learned and I believe it is a tribute to the patience and clarity of expression on the part of our loved ones that we leave for work in the morning with a self-confidence that we might not otherwise possess. And that is why I believe we should sit down with them on a regular basis at a nice restaurant and listen to what they have to say.

And then, in the deepest manifestation of equality of the sexes, I believe we should allow them to pick up the cheque.

In the days of my youth, they were also attached to the woollen caps worn by young girls in the school I attended, and many’s the time my young buddies and I would snatch the caps off their heads and throw them into the nearest snowbank. The irate young ladies would retrieve the items and then proceed to throw us into the snowbanks, but this is a fact that is never discussed at school reunions.

Now you may be wondering where this is heading, and indeed on many occasions so do I, but after rummaging about in my notes, here is the connector. Just about the only place one sees tassels nowadays is on the corn sold at food stores near the family home on Queen Street. Imagine my dismay when I discovered on a recent shopping trip in the Queen and Lee area, two food stores with bins of de-tasseled corn for sale.

I’m not sure if de-tasseled is a word but I kind of like the look of it.

One does not shear the flowing mane of a horse, one does not shave the flowing beards of our ancestors and I say one does not shear the tassels from corn and subject them to ridicule from customers as they pass by the bins in the food section. Corn helped build this country and the least we can do is leave it properly clad when it is seen in public.

If this trend continues are shopkeepers going to paint our good Canadian red cherries different colors in a bid to lure passersby onto their premises? Will celery stalks be tricked up with circles and dots, or will carrots be made to look like barber poles?

These are questions that need to be addressed, and by ginger, Mrs. Cochrane’s little boy is just the guy to ask them.
Meanwhile, as I wait for answers to bubble to the surface, other matters have arisen, and it is time to focus my attention on them.

In a move that I am sure will positively transfix music lovers everywhere, I am pleased to announce that I am learning to play the ukulele. Or ukelele, take your pick, but leave me out of the argument, that is all I ask.

There doesn’t seem much to the actual playing, you just sit there and strum, near as I can tell. But what do you call the person who is playing the instrument? Ukeleleist, ukelelezer, somehow don’t sound quite right, but I am willing to consider any suggestions.

I would like to point out, however, that submissions such as “throw the thing out of the window and take up knitting” will not be seriously considered, and besides, The Wife has already put that one forward.

Speaking of wife-related matters, I wish to point out that a man is not fully assembled until he is married. There are rough spots to be knocked off, and we must be trained to respond to specific commands such as “get your head out of the fridge, you’re spoiling your dinner.”

And that leads me to one of the truly great mysteries of life. How can a wife who is toiling away in the attic know with absolute certainty the very moment that the husband has, in truth, just stuck his head in the fridge?

If your circle of friends happens to include a behavioral scientist, don’t bother asking him that one, because he doesn’t know either. The fact is, chaps, we will never understand our wives and other opponents, and when everything is considered, it is probably just as well.

It doesn’t have the smash-mouth reputation of three-down football or six-person hockey, but on the other hand participants need clear eyes, steady hands and a willingness to take a gamble. I am talking generally about the sport of lawn croquet and specifically about the tournament which is being held Sept. 17 on the landscaped grounds surrounding the Gardener’s Cottage, which is located at the foot of Lee Avenue.

The setting is appropriate because all profits created by the event will be directed to a fund established to raise money for the general upkeep of the building. More information on this wonderful event is available on Page 24, so keep that date open because it promises to be a fun happening for the entire family.

And speaking of fun happenings, Sturdy Gert McCurdy is back in town with her latest love interest, a man of confused countenance named Baloney Bob Pickersgill.

Baloney Bob was not at his best during the visit mainly because Sturdy had rendered him unconscious with a blow to the forehead during the course of a friendly game of whist at the local Legion Hall. As a result he was quite content to sit quietly in the corner while Sturdy regaled us with details of her latest foray to the far north where she had been invited to adjudicate an icicle-throwing contest in the town of Knuckles.

She arrived smack in the middle of a scandal involving the mysterious disappearance of 500 pounds of blubber from the town freezer and naturally, she was invited to spearhead the investigation.

“It was the easiest case I ever solved,” she told us later. “I took the principal suspect into a secluded part of the forest and pummelled him with a series of left and rights to the rib cage and I got a confession in no time at all.”

This set off a wild celebration and Sturdy was guest of honor at a bonfire held in the town square. Unfortunately the bonfire was set next to the pile of icicles intended for use in the icicles-throwing contest, and this led to another dust-up. The icicles melted, of course, and organizers told Sturdy there was no money to pay her and she was free to go home whenever she wanted.

She was vexed no end by this turn of events, but she solved her problem by taking the treasurer into a secluded area and launching a series of rights and lefts to his abdomen. This caused the poor man to see the error of his ways, and as a result, she received her money plus a handsome performance bonus which he paid out of his own pocket.

Sturdy always did have a convincing way about her.

Once back in town, Sturdy took Baloney Bob on a tour of the town, showing him architectural highlights, such as the horse trough and Bailey’s Saloon, where the town council meets very second Wednesday rain or shine. She also introduced him to her many local friends, and he does seem like a pleasant fellow, although you can’t make much sense of what he says until his jaw heals. It seems it was broken during the course of a discussion with Sturdy. He also seems to be missing a tooth to two which has left him with a slight lisp which the townsfolk find quite appealing so I guess everything works out for the best.

Sturdy and her new best friend are embarking on a world tour soon and I hope to have some great stories to pass along when they return.