Chez MacArthur – part three
It was my thinking that curling rinks usually have the services of a bagpiper. Through the Bracebridge curling club, I was given the name and
contact information for their bagpiper. He lived in Huntsville, which was not too far away from our cottage. I phoned him introduced myself and explained that my request was somewhat unusual to say the least.
After discussing my father, and what we were doing, he whole heartedly agreed. He actually said he was looking forward to the occasion because, despite many years of bagpiping, he, nor any of his friends, had ever been part of a toilet opening ceremony.
We settled on a Saturday in mid August one month away to allow the plans to come together.
Attendees included my mother, and father, the four brothers, four wives, nine grandchildren, and a helpful neighbour and his kids as honoured guests.
After two days before the event, I received a call from the bagpiper. I was quite concerned about him backing out of the arrangement at the last moment.
Quite the opposite was his suggestion. He was a member of a bagpipe band consisting of three bagpipers, three snare drummers, and one big bass drummer.
They were all very interested to participate! I obviously enthusiastically agreed but worried about the cost.
He assured me that the cost, about $150 previously agreed to, would remain the same. What a bargain this was turning out to be.
The route into our property was somewhat complicated. At the junction of two of the bigger roads there was a large area with dumpsters. The cottagers would all bring their refuse here. It was also a great area to watch the Bears.
The band arrived on time. They were all fully dressed in their kilts. I suggested that they practice and do their tune-up there, instead of the lake because I wanted this to be a surprise.
The band set up and proceeded to play several tunes and to get warmed up. Much to my amazement, the cottagers that were arriving, pulled out their lawn chairs and were thoroughly enjoying the concert at the dump.
I did explain that this was simply a warm-up for a private event, and despite their objections, told them that unfortunately, they were not invited.
The plan was for the pipers to follow me in their cars and, upon arrival to be as quiet as possible until the ceremony commenced. They exited their cars, closed the doors quietly. Then they all waited patiently.
Just beyond the parking area, was a path leading out to what we called the “camping rock” which jutted out into the lake. There was a large campfire area here and we arranged for all of the grand children to gather around the site. From there, down a fairly steep grade, you came to what we called the “Beaver bridge” which was a bridge built over the remnants of a beaver dam. This led to the area with the previously mentioned Chez Mac, and also a significant beach area. Just beyond this was the brand-new location of Chez MacArthur. From the beach we had a large dock going out into the lake. My older brother John was to be the master of ceremonies.
He placed our parents in lawn chairs out on the dock turned to face the grandchildren on the camping rock.
With various hand signals we determined that all was ready.
My brother John welcomed everybody in a very loud voice proclaiming” Let the ceremonies begin “ You could’ve heard a pin drop!
Suddenly from among the trees came the unmistakeable sound of snare drums, followed shortly by the sound of bagpipes playing “Scotland the Brave”. My parents almost fell out of their chairs. They originally thought this was a recording until the parade emerged from the trees and marched in a line out onto the camping rock. They formed a semicircle around the kids at the campfire and proceeded to play a number of songs. It was fantastic!
The kids, followed by the pipe band, gingerly made their way down from the rock and across the beaver bridge. We all gathered on the beach, and several speeches were made.
Because the toilet did not have room for the entire pipe band, we elected to have one piper lead my dad my mother and the four brothers up to the toilet.
We made room as my dad entered, turned to the right climbed up the step, and placed himself on the composting toilet that he had purchased so long ago.
After playing “ Bonnie Dundee” my father arose, and we gathered together to face the kids and the rest of the pipe band down below.
I had rewritten the lyrics of Amazing Grace to “Amazing Place”. The lyrics were handed out and we all sang it with great gusto. We had officially opened the toilet!! Because it was such a huge improvement over the original Chez Mac, we christened it “Chez MacArthur”.
We all proceeded up to our new cottage. The septic tank, mentioned earlier was a large grassed in area.
Here we had another concert. The kids all danced, and my parents did their version of what they call the “Highland Fling”.
Drams of scotch whiskey were handed out to everyone. The band seemed in no hurry to leave, they admitted that it was a very special occasion and worth their considerable effort.
When it was time for them to go, they formed up, and marched proudly down the driveway away from the cottage and back towards the cars.
The sounds of the pipes and drums gradually faded as they disappeared back behind the trees.
My parents, but especially my dad, was over the moon and displayed his enjoyment and gratitude.
I would think that all of this is, and was a truly unique event.
P.S. The piper who I had originally spoken to, contacted me and expressed what a marvellous time they all had.