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Triangle of munificence

The Fall issue of Le Tour and its calendar of events are usually well filled. That isn't surprising since everybody would like to prolong summer pleasures beyond the beginning of the school year. The shorter days compress the time afforded to outdoor activities and force a quickening of pace that draws one out of the vacation rhythm. A last sigh prior to winter...

This edition highlights the end of months of labour: the grape and crops harvest, the winding down of events, the show presentations... All require as much preparation as attention to detail, as much rigour to respect tradition as flexibility to modify a plan to reach the goal.

Knowledge, resources and crowning glory form the triangle of success. This paper is an example of it. The knowledge is supplied by the articles supplied by numerous contributors that take the time to explain perspectives, elucidate concepts and shed light upon a facet of one's realm of competence. Everyone spends a formidable amount of time thinking, searching, vulgarizing, writing and polishing-up an article that is submitted to an unbeknownst reader. A gesture of munificence!

The resource, beyond that supplied by the contri-butors, lies in the financial support of businesses that contribute to publishing and distributing this knowledge. Not all do it to promote themselves; many participate out of generosity or duty without expectation of direct gain, but simply to shoulder culture and community growth. A gesture of munificence!

The crowning glory lies in the sense of accomplishment: helping to discover, helping to appre-ciate, helping to advance... not necessarily for one's own behalf, even though it isn't excluded. Munificence! Success will follow in due time. Of course, this is insured by the readers' participation in activities and by the their unflagging local purchases.

A Fall brightened by culture, activities and great events: Festiv'Art, Brome Fair, the Tournée des 20, the Jazz Festival, Sutton en blues, the first Farm Tour, Panoramaduod'lacôte, the Ça marche à Sutton exhibit, the Parc d'environnement naturel de Sutton's anniversary, the « 5 Peaks » stage, Ecosphere, the Université du troisième âge session, the grape harvest and a multitude of shows and exhibitions that count on you to close the triangle of munificence.

Happy reading!

Denis Boulanger

Going to Joginder Nagar? Here's a Tip

Have you ever wondered what makes us generous? I mean, when we are munificent, why are we? Why do we sometimes feel quite moved to give and at other times are quite resentful of it? Travel in a poor country like India and you will think a lot about it. In India there are manifold opportunities to be generous: beggars with birth defects abound, homeless children are ubiquitous, and life-altering injuries are seen at every turn. So what makes the difference? Sure you're moved to give, but there are limits. Otherwise, your funds would be dispersed within hours, and you'd have to catch the first flight home.

We use “munificence” mostly for large amounts of money. It comes from the Latin munus, meaning a service, office, post, employ-ment, function, duty, and so from it logically flows the implication of institutions, bequests and endowments, all quite planned and considered. But what role does spontaneity play in our giving?

One night about a year ago I was in McLeod Ganj, the backpacker hill-town just up-slope from the Dalai Lama's temple in NW India. Heading back to my room in the dark, I was about to stop for a beer, something to drink while preparing the next day's English lessons for my Tibetan students. A 16-ounce Kingfisher or Fosters can be had for 50 to 70 Rupees. But there's no way to keep it cold, so you buy it last, and only what you will drink right away. But first, a stop.

I'd had a last-minute desire to ride the old narrow-gauge railroad from Joginder Nagar to Pathankot, so I stopped at the bus station to investigate. The bus station is just a ticket booth in a waiting room open to the street, this just off an old flood-prone square where six streets come together. The ticket window would be closed at this hour, but I hoped for a posted schedule and I had my flashlight out to read it by. But there was no schedule. As I paused to ponder my next move, a disembodied voice emanated from the darkness. “Where going?” I paused, then answered, “Joginder Nagar,” and waited. My eyes detected a form throwing off a cover and hoisting itself onto a series of molded plastic seats attached to a frame against the wall. It was a man of indeterminable age, his legs misshapen and withered, completely useless to him. His strong arms were his main source of enfeebled propulsion.

“Joginder Nagar,” he corrected my pronunciation and, shaking the sleep from his eyes, recited the schedule from memory, along with prices. I would take an early bus and need to change in Dharamsala. I'd buy separate tickets, but there would be seats on the second bus. “Bus starting Dharamsala. No pro-blem.” He was pathetic in every way, with a twitch that would have prevented eye contact had the darkness not already done so. He was friendly and non-threatening, and sure of his information. His amiability seemed painfully incongruous with his life and I can now confirm his information to have been flawless. He asked for nothing but he was due his baksheesh. I bid him to stay where he was (which I felt instantly foolish for saying), that I would be right back. His face fell slightly, and then smiled. He didn't expect to see me again.

I had only 100 Rs notes but I would break one buying a beer. Twenty rupees would be more than sufficient, enough for a cycle-rickshaw ride in many places. All the change from my beer would be an even better tip. Then, I thought, why not break another 100 Rs note so I can give him a 50 Rs note? Having done so, I returned to the bus stop, paused, and for some reason put away the 50 Rs note and instead gave him another of my 100 Rs notes. I seemed guided by something wordless; it was as though I had no choice.

But why? Why so much? Why him? Was it because he demanded nothing (in itself refreshing in India) and I could feel the full credit of my largess? Or was it because I pitied him? If that, why him more than so many others? God only knows. One Hundred rupees were half a night's lodging where I'd been sleeping, but it was still less than $3.00. To him, though, it was a fortune, and he looked at me quizzically, thrilled but figuring there must be a catch. Reconsidering, I held out two 50 Rs notes saying, “Take these instead, it's safer.” We traded notes and he whispered, “Better. Thank you,” suddenly more relaxed.

Saturday morning came and I saw him again, propped there on the plastic chair, looking out at the square. “Namaste,” I said. “Good morning, kind sir,” he replied. I thanked him again, bought my ticket and departed for Joginder Nagar. I never saw him again. But I have thought of him. It is as though, through my tip, he became someone unique and particular, no longer one of the countless multitude. I think about the accidental trajectories of our two lives, which brought us together briefly late one rainy night in McLeod Ganj. I suppose neither of us deserves our lot; a dice-roll by a fickle universe is all that really separates us. Perhaps my tip, his baksheesh, was a random act, or maybe it was somehow meant to be. I wish I knew.

Jay Sames
jay.sames@gmail.com

Introducing the Munificent Seraph Morgan

by Heather Darch
Missisquoi Museum

“In Bedford Quebec on November 9th 1919, Mrs. Seraph A.C. Morgan, wife of the late Edward J. Morgan, quietly finished her earthly work for her Master and received that heavenly home where the Crown for which she had so long striven awaited her.“

The obituary notice for Seraph Morgan was impressive even by the standards of the time. So too was the woman who was des-cribed as “a person of retiring disposition and of unaffected personal piety; firm in the support of right; unshrinking in her quiet and gentle rebuke of wrong; unassuming and unself-ish in her relations with others; tender and delicate in her consideration of others' feelings, thoughtful and painstaking in making others happy.”

Seraph Amanda Comstock Morgan (nee Thomas) was the daughter of Hiram J. Thomas and his wife Emily Rice. She was born in 1838 at a time of great anxiety in her family as well as the community. Her father was affiliated with the Patriot cause of Louis Joseph Papineau in the 1830s and he was co-editor of the pro-Patriot newspaper “The Missisquoi Post” which was situated in Stanbridge East. The paper was considered to be the “organ of the Radicals and Rebels” and in 1838, British troops were called in to quell the voice of the radicals by destroying the office of the newspaper and throwing the press into the millpond next to the Cornell Mill. To avoid arrest, Hiram Thomas slipped across the border into Vermont and left behind his ailing wife and newborn daughter. He returned briefly to his wife's bedside but to avoid being captured, he escaped dressed as a woman and once again crossed the line. Emily Rice died shortly after and an aunt adopted Seraph.

In 1853 at the age of 15, Seraph taught “pencil drawing” in the community of Riceburg. Most notable among her pupils was the famous Eastern Townships' artist Allan Edson. Later that same year she worked at Verchères, Quebec where she taught French and in 1854 she became a teacher of French at the newly built Academy in Stanbridge East. In 1864, in delicate health and mourning the loss of her aunt, Seraph left the Academy but soon after accepted a teaching post at the Yarmouth Seminary in Nova Scotia. Again illness forced her to return to Riceburg after only two years, but in time she took charge of a church school in Arlington, Vermont. For the sake of her health, Seraph travelled to San Francisco in 1868 and taught at a “young ladies college” and at a public school in San Jose. After 5 years she returned home to care for her stepsister and accepted the position of principal at the Stanbridge Academy- a position she filled with marked success. Her varied experiences as a teacher combined with her natural abilities as a communicator gave her a respected position in the community and “she found herself honoured and beloved in her own country.”

Not satisfied with the state of education in the Townships, Seraph began writing to the “Cowansville Observer” about the need for the establishment of a superior school for girls in the Eastern Townships. The lack of a quality education aimed specifically at young middle-classed women concerned Seraph and her letters became the driving force behind the movement to properly educate young women in this region. She believed that sound intellectual training in a cultured environment would ensure a certain degree of independence for women and would provide a new model for the public roles women were being called upon to fill. In 1878 the “Dunham Ladies College” (St. Helen's School) was inaugurated largely through the support of independent entrepreneurs from the community who had rallied behind Seraph's call for action. Soon after she was asked to accept the position of principal at the “Compton Ladies College” (King's College) which was also established around this time but the state of her health restricted her from accepting the position. In 1877 she opened a young ladies school in Bedford where she worked as the principal for three years.

At the age of 42, Seraph accepted a proposal of marriage from a local farmer Edward Morgan and, as was the custom of the day, she retired from teaching to become a home-maker. She continued to write and voice her opinions about the state of education in the province and she volunteered her time in many chartable community organizations especially those directed to the welfare of children and the quality of life of the poor and elderly in the community. In 1906 she published a booklet of poems called “The Voice of the River” and the proceeds were directed to the Missisquoi Historical Society. She left a munificent sum towards the endowment of St. James Anglican Church in Bedford for the “relief of the sick and needy” as well as to St. James the Apostle in Stanbridge East and the Bishop Stewart Memorial Church in Frelighsburg.

Notwithstanding her tumultuous family history and her feeble health, which marred her life, Seraph Morgan was remembered as an earnest and generous woman who was “unconscious of her talent” and who was devoted to her community and the children she taught. A friend and colleague said of her, “Seraph's work speaks for her…and it is suffice to keep her memory bright in old Missisquoi.”

Sources: Academy Days in Old Missisquoi by J.H. Bugeia & T. Cornell-Moore 1910; Seventh Annual Report of the Missisquoi Historical Society 1961; “Cowansville Observer” March 1873; Negotiating Identities in 19th and 20th Century Montreal by Bettina Bradbury & T. Myers 2005.

Musée Missisquoi Museum
2, rue River, Stanbridge East, Qc J0J 2H0
(450) 248-3153
info@museemissisquoi.ca
www.missisquoimuseum.ca

A new passion?

I've recently joined a running club. I had no intention of doing so. I was looking for a piano teacher, actually, and had heard that he had his studio in the new Harmony Center, at 50, Principal N. in Sutton. There is a gym there as well which is called Sports Sutton - a small gym by gym standard these days, but a gym nevertheless. I never found the piano teacher, but as I walked down to the gym to ask if they knew where I could find his studio, I was greeted so nicely by the new owner that I decided to have a look around. On the bulletin board I noticed an ad for a running club they were starting up. Hmmmm, well, I did always want to run a marathon. Ok, I did always wish that I could have the body of someone who could run a marathon. Close enough. It never occurred to me that I could actually do it. Reluctantly I gave my forty dollars and signed up. We get t-shirts and a card! And I get to say I'm a member of the Club Les Radars. Certainly worth forty bucks! I had no idea what a deal I was actually getting...

So every Wednesday and Saturday we would meet and run. Walk. Run. No one pressured me to keep up. Everybody encouraged everybody. The faster runners would slow down and jog with the beginners to encourage them. There was (is) no competition at all... just an odd little group of all ages that wanted to run and have fun, meet people, and get in shape. There was always the goal of getting ready for the Tour du Lac Brome, a yearly race around the town of Knowlton. We were training for the 5 k race, a few of us for the 10 k and even the 20. 5 kilometres doesn't sound like a lot, but believe me, when you've been sitting on the couch for months, it might as well be a marathon.

Every Wednesday and Saturday we met. And even when I was running and thinking, what the hell am I doing this for? The smiles and encou-ragement of the Radars kept me coming back. And race day loomed ahead of us... a goal to reach. A beginning of a passion that is quite frankly, addictive. Every week we upped our time, ran farther, faster.

The leaders of our group are experienced runners, marathoners - real athletes. They gave us the training we needed to run a race. They instilled in us a belief that there was no reason to think that we couldn't run a real race. Slowly we all began to believe that we could. Somewhere deep inside all of us is an inner warrior, that little voice that tells us to keep on going when we don't think we can.

It comes in all forms. Sometimes it really does come from inside ourselves, or as I discovered it could come from the collective cheers of an eclectic group of small town runners at the Tour du Lac Brome, cheering on the stragglers, giving each one that extra bit of strength they need to reach the finish. The best moment of the race for me was waiting for the last of our members to finish, wondering if he was OK, whispers of where is he? Do you think he made it? Do you think he's all right? And then, around the corner, running, not walking.... his daughter who had noticed his struggles, running right beside him (in her flip flops), encouraging,

giving him the strength to go on one step at a time. That was the most beautiful finish I have ever witnessed. The time didn't matter nor that we didn't win the race. It mattered only that we did it, that we didn't give up and that each of us, from the experienced runners of the group to us beginners did what we set out to do.

It mattered that as I struggled to reach the finish line, I looked up and saw those who had finished before me waving me on, cheering, calling my name, a small sea of red t-shirts giving me that last bit of energy, that boost of power I so desperately needed for that last burst of speed to the finish.

So who would have thought that the search for a piano teacher would see me running my very first race with thoughts of actually placing in the next one? The best forty dollars I have ever spent. So here's to the little group of runners that could.

And what's next? Well the Montreal marathon is coming up in September and after that who knows?

Marla Rudner

Five Architectural Gifts That Keep On Giving

"We shape our dwellings; thereafter they shape us..." Winston Churchill's famous maxim comes to mind when pondering this season's theme of "munificence". Let's focus on its positive implications by contemplating the potential for generosity, bounty and inspiration to spill into our daily lives based on the decisions we make as we shape our home designs. Think of them as five architectural gifts that keep on giving:

LIGHT. Generous light is fundamental and inspirational. Large and thoughtfully positioned windows and skylights bring illumination and joy all year round, especially in the winter. Fortunately, modern windows have been significantly improved in terms of heat loss and durability, making larger glass surfaces practical.

Using Google Sketchup, you can preview with scientific precision the shadow and light in every space inside and around your future house. You'll see exactly how far the sun's rays reach across your living room at any time on any day and you can adjust the design until each space gets the light it needs.

SHADE. As much as you need generous light, you also need to modulate the light. The classic outdoor shade device is the pergola, a framework of columns and beams covered by trellis or vines. No space is more relaxing and seductive than a sun-dappled summer patio under a broad pergola. The Romans understood the special gifts of the pergola and, in this regard, nothing has changed in two millennia.

HEIGHT. If the ground plane of your life is analogous to the X-Y plane of Cartesian geometry, you may need a little more Z-axis in your life. The vertical lift from even a small area of double-height ceiling can transform a living space. Tall spaces are uplifting due to the extra light, air and sense of three-dimensional freedom and drama that they deliver. Treat yourself and your house to some height.

NATURAL MATERIALS. There is daily joy in living with natural materials such as stone and wood. Cedar shingles, for example, are a beautiful and functional siding that can literally last a lifetime if they are without knots and imperfections and are installed correctly. The genius of shingles is that by following simple nailing and spacing rules, a surface of fascinating randomness can be achieved that, at the same time, has an overall uniformity.

Shingles form a weatherproof "skin" that can adapt to any surface geometry whether it is a curving wall or an ornamental gable. With careful planning you can achieve the pinnacle of shingle beauty, the silvery-gray Nantucket sheen of cedar shingles weathering naturally.

PORCHES. Covered porches have always been an essential component of country living. They provide a protected entry and a shaded seating area and they change the way you relate to hot or rainy weather. On a country porch you can wait out a summer shower or heat wave in complete comfort. If the porch is deep you can almost live outdoors, just a step away from the garden.

Light, shade, height, natural materials, porches... These are just five of a multitude of architectural devices and design decisions that have a direct influence on our quality of life. Over many decades we will receive satisfaction and inspiration, as well as convenience, comfort, ambiance and visual stimulation from these architectural gifts that keep on giving. If Churchill was right, we take on the qualities of the dwellings we inhabit - what better reason to pay attention to the spaces that we shape.

Eden Greig Muir
Architect Atelier Muir
450-298-1212
www.ateliermuir.ca

“What is truly ours, and ours only, is that which we have given to others.” Somebody

The first thing the editor said, when he gave me the theme for this edition of LE TOUR, was, “Are you seated?” So I got myself a chair and then he let it out,

“The word is ‘MUNIFICENCE'.” How the #@!?&!!! am I supposed to find out what people think about this word? “That's your job! I've done mine!” he replied. I sincerely suspect that he sees himself as being munificent.

Christine Poirier is a charming lady. She's a freelance interior-designer and please, never make the mistake of calling her an interior decorator - huge difference. She and her hubby both stem from NDG. “No Damn Good”, as she puts it. Christine is a very intense and passionate person, so am I. No complaints there, but I did start the interview by trying to make some small talk in reference to MUNIFICENCE - big mistake. The fireworks went off and the festivities went on and on and… When two intense human beings meet to discuss any topic, behold how munificent they become when sharing their thoughts and ideas.

We must have spent a good 2 hours fixing the problems of the «present moment » in today's world. I can hardly wait for the «next moment» in tomorrow's world. We went back to the original purpose of this discussion. Christine expressed that there can be many different takes on the subject. - She had actually composed a sentence to back this up and it goes like this, “ When Laura decided to host the next gathering, her munificence made us question her veracity.” I'll let you think about that one.

If you think Tim Horton is a big operation, wait till you meet Tim Wisdom. Not only is he a big fellow (understatement) but he also has a lot of Wisdom in him and of course a big heart. So what comes to Tim's mind when he hears the word Munificence? “Say what?” he replied. I then realized that I had not given him the word in advance like I had done with everyone else. It had taken us 10 days and 3 postponed appointments to come to this moment. “ No problem ” he said. “ I'll look it up on the net ”. Tim is now 28 years of age. He and his family left London, England, when he was 4 years old. He was raised on a country farm near Cowansville and at 18 he moved to Montreal, alone, no money, no furniture and no job. He completed his CEGEP at Dawson College. This coming autumn he shall obtain his BA in Psychology by driving every day to Bishop's University in Lennoxville. Sometimes, I wish I were young again.

But I was still waiting for his answer. This was it,

“Munificence!” Oh yeh! That word reminds me of my mother. ”

The great mysteries in life are truly enshrined in complete simplicity.

Peter Nicks is a sparkling and bright young college boy from Strathroy, Ontario. He is presently in Sutton via a student exchange program in French immersion. No stress on his part, because he's been around. He sings in a men's choir that has performed in England, Austria, Germany, the Czech Republic and all across Canada. At 17 you may state that he has a lot of mileage. And that life has been munificent to him.

Michel Desjardins is Peter's host while he is in Quebec so we met at his home.

“ Well Peter, what is your take on the word Munificence? I humbly asked.

“ I thought you said ‘magnificence' ” was his reply. Instinctively, I thought: “God give me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change…” In all honesty, someone else had given Peter the message and this someone else's name is surely not Michel-ange! (hint).

So we found a dictionary (French, of course). Peter paused for a minute and then his verbal geyser spurted out dozens of images and examples - too many to write down. His Munificence was quite evident. Peter wanted to make sure that he was giving me enough info to write my article.

How can I describe Joan Matthews? Easy, all that is needed are two words: amazing and intriguing (very). This lady is one of those persons that everyone in town will instantly recognize, yet not that many people really know her. She carries an aura of mys-tery, enlightenment and a touch of genuine joy.

Joan has been teaching the unity of body, mind and soul for over 35 years. Her training, her studies and her experience have resulted from her numerous stays in India, New Zealand, Australia, Poland, and the United States and across Canada. I intuitively sensed that her success has a direct link to her own Munificence.

She had previously agreed to help me out with this article so I phoned her up to set an appointment. A great window of time had just appeared on her busy schedule, a last minute cancellation. That sounded like my cue so I gave her the theme-word and we were to meet at a café in Sutton in half an hour. Of course I muffed it, I showed up late and at her place instead. Where was my head? And there stood Joan. She had had enough time to write down 2 full pages of notes. With her permission I shall summarize.

“I love the meanings expressed in some of the «M» words, such as marvelous, multitude, magnificent, millions, and now, munificence. I think of Mother-earth, GAELA. She is splendidly generous. In our little town, generosity of spirit and action are prevalent.”

Rolland Potvin

Munificence – The Driving Force of our Cycling Community

If I were to describe the cycling community in Sutton, I would have to use the word ‘munificence'. Why? Because, first of all, I believe that it includes the most devoted volunteers I have ever met. During the Coupe des Amériques, they put in so many hours, forfeiting time on their own saddles, to make sure that the weekend is a safe and successful one for all the participating racers from far and wide.

But their munificence doesn't stop there. Every weekend during the spring and summer months,, they meet in the parking lot in the heart of the village from where they set out on various rides. With a smile on their faces, they are ready to ride and to welcome new people who have recently discovered cycling and are intrigued by riding in a pack. As some of you may know, this activity may be highly intimidating for someone new to the sport and can be scary the first few times.

As this group rides, it is quite common to see them giving advice to new-comers on how to take a pull or how to draft when in need of a break, how to climb a hill or how to shift properly to maximize speed and efficiency.

I remember getting some great advice over the past twenty-five years from André, Denis, Pierre, Guy and Norm. I owe a lot to these guys who basically taught me to ride a bike. These cyclists, to me, say ‘munificence'.

Just a few weeks ago while Norm and I were out riding, he suddenly got a flat. As I changed his tire, my rear rim ripped, leaving me stranded. As Norm rode to my house to ask my wife to pick me up, five or six different local motorists offered to drive me home and even a few riders offered me their spare tubes which unfortunately I couldn't really use.

As I sat on the guardrail looking at Mont Sutton, I was reminded once again, of the great and kind peolpe you can always count on that makes this area so special.

By Stephan Marcoux
VELO-ZOOM

The kindness of a stranger

On a very rainy day last week, a mother and daughter rang the doorbell here at Vert Le Mont B&B. They explained that they were hiking the full length of the Sentier de l'Estrie which starts in Sutton on Scenic Road and finishes 150 kilometers away near Richmond in the Saumon river valley. They were equipped with tents and food and were self-sufficient but today, on their very first day, they had gotten soaked to the skin, as had everything they had with them. On reaching the Round Top they decided to come down into the village to dry off and spend the night. When they arrived at chemin Réal, a local driver stopped to give them a lift and hearing their story immediately offered to put them up for the night! The women could hardly believe the stranger's kindness but, rather than impose, explained to the driver that they were looking for an inn or B&B whereupon they were driven down into the village, thus ending up at my door. Remarkably this is not a lone incident - time and again I hear similar stories from my clients about being the recipients of acts of kindness and generosity and the value that has in marking our community as warm, accepting and genuine is incalculable.

So often we think of generosity as an exchange or barter, for example a generous tip in return for good service, but it seems to me that true generosity is more about giving time or effort for or to others with no expectations or reward in return. The wonderful thing about generosity is you don't need a huge bank balance, but instead, a willingness to give from the heart. We all know those generous people here in Sutton: the ones who will bake or arrange a fund raising event for a good cause or who give of their skills or time for the benefit of others. This genero-sity is crucial not only for charities but also for tourism, the lynch pin of our local economy - the Coupe des Amériques cycling event, our tourism web site infoSutton.com and the Fireman's festival all rely on the generosity of volunteers' time for the direct benefits they bring in tourist dollars and local jobs.

My guess is that generous people give without thinking about it, generosity is the air they breathe but I hope they also take pleasure from it because it sure feels great to be on the receiving end. When my Mum was taken unexpectedly and fatally ill in November,

I had to rush to England and stay there for nearly 2 months yet the busiest of people found the time to take care of my house, manage bookings for the B&B and send me thoughtful notes so, if I haven't said it before, “Thank you one and all.”

Lynda Graham

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