Day: May 24, 2013

May 24, 1917

I am drunk. Dead drunk. I didn’t make it back to my room tonight. I am sprawled out on the verandah in front of Mowat Lodge.

As I felt yesterday, I knew today was going to be the perfect storm, and it was. When you sketch the weather and landscape, day-by-day, you get the feelings into your bones and you know that’s something going to happen next. It’s not really prediction; you just know when something in the present will be no longer and never again.

So it was tonight.

Let me back up and describe the day. It started off well enough. The weather was good, but soon the clouds rolled in and it began to rain. The temperature dropped like a rock and it was in the low forties. To add to the disbelief, a few snowflakes were sighted early in the morning. Spring should not give away to Summer this way.

Despite the weather, I was pretty excited about my exhibition. It was going to be the biggest event that the village of Mowat had seen for a while. Shannon cancelled his canoe regatta/race because of the rain and wind. It would be too treacherous for the women in their dresses and he didn’t want to be ressponsible for fishing people out of the lake. People could still die from hypothermia in a matter of minutes.

We spent the afternoon preparing the dining room. Before Annie went off to start cooking, she dusted and swept to the place to the level it would pass the white-glove treatment. Mowat Lodge might be considered rustic, but because of Annie, it was clean as a whistle.

Mark Robinson dropped by too. He had to have a word with the Blechers. Martin Jr., specifically He was flying the US flag on his flagpole. Regulations stipulate that the US Flag cannot be on its own but must be flown with the Dominion or Provincial flag, and the be lower flag. Martin was a repeat offender on flag-flying and Mark said in passing that he thinks that Martin is a German sympathiser or worse yet, a spy or an espionage agent.

Shannon and I hung the boards on the wall. There were well over fifty and it was quite a sight. I made sure that they were arranged in chronological order so I could should the transition of the season. Every once in awhile a guest would wander into the dining room and we would shoo them out. The dinner and art exhibit was to begin at 6pm. Dr. MacCallum came in despite the shooing and looked over the sketches. He said he wanted to have the two sketches of the Northern Lights and he picked out a couple that he would put on consignment.

To mark the day, Shannon brought out some more whisky and by the latter part of the afternoon we were both in the soup.

When the arrangements were finished around 5, I cleaned myself up and went down to the Trainor cottage to get Winnie. I wasn’t sure how to deal with what had transpired last night, but I would try to navigate the situation with an air of normalcy. When I arrived, Winnie open the door and let me in. She gave a smile that betrayed the knot she had in her stomach. Her parents were in the kitchen, and greeted us. I returned the greeting and said we should be getting up to the lodge as the dinner started at six.

As soon as we were out the door, Winnie grabbed my hand and said we had to get married. And it had to be soon. Then it dawned on me, and the knot appeared in my stomach too. If I were to state the situation obliquely, married men with young children or an expecting wife would be excused from the draft. The realization hit me like a brick and if it weren’t for the whisky, I’m not sure how I would have reacted.

I looked back at Winnie. I didn’t say anything, but my look communicated the exact understanding of the situation. What I said next, I’ve come to regret, ‘You don’t know for sure. It takes a month.” She could barely contain herself, but she knew I was right. And she knew I wouldn’t commit unless there was a duty-bound obligation and neither of us knew that yet.

The dinner started at six and there was quite the crowd. The Ed and Molly Colson came over and so did Annie. I sat with Dr. MacCallum and his son (and with Winnie, of course) and Daphne Crombie and her husband Robin.

Lots more happened tonight but I haven’t the wherewithal to finish this journal entry tonight. I’ll finish it tomorrow. I’ll try to make it up to my room.