A delightfully abnormal person called me
Delightfully Abnormal tonight. I have
never been referred to as “delightfully abnormal” and as ambiguous as the appellation
seems, I understand immediately and am, at the same time, slightly chagrined and
tickled pink.
What had I expected? Abnormally delightful people seem to attract
quite the number of abnormally delightful people. We’re magnets, drawing other delightfully
abnormal people into our sphere, one-by-one.
Some come reluctantly, unsure why they are there, yet unable to resist,
as others have tried before them.
Others, more willingly, ‘cause they’re more in tune with the
delightfully abnormal side of themselves.
Our whole group is delightfully
abnormal. What was I doing with this
delightfully abnormal person who has the chutzpah to describe me as such? We’re hanging in our usual Monday ‘off’-night
coffee shop, catching up, sharing, somewhat caring. The little shop echoes with laughter and camaraderie,
as sleet bounces off the two outside glass walls, with almost inaudible clicks. Condensation starts little runlets from the
fog coating the window inside, and it slowly starts slithering down the glass.
Adelheid, Addie for short, is the
perpetrator of the Delightfully Abnormal moniker. Addie is short, 5” even or so I think. Her streaked blondish hair glints with
purple, blue and an unlikely red hue in the harsh florescent coffee shop
lighting. Funky earrings, 3 in the left
and 4 in the right ear, dangle and dance with the energetic nods and nays of
her wildly coiffed head. Her passions
are all things horses and writing and I’m never sure which reigns supreme with
her. I think it’s a matter of whichever
is closer at hand. And so, since her
horses are boarded at her Mennonite parent’s farm in the greater Tavistock
area, writing gets the nod more often than not.
The world is a better place for that since I have had the pleasure of
either reading or listening to Addie’s stories and believe her to be immensely
talented. She’s definitely diverse and always
entertaining. Her almost brutally honest
writing about her life hits home because I can identify with her stories. It
comforts me to know that there are others like me (delightfully abnormal) out
there.
Even the place where Addie did her growing
up years is fascinating, although there really isn’t much to it, especially
today, where, alas and alack, the
municipality has given up putting up a place name on the highway, which jets
you past Punkeydoodle’s Corner. People keep
stealing the hamlet’s sign out by the busy roadway as fast as the county put
one up, so the powers-that-are stopped erecting one. Now Punkeydoodle’s Corner has faded into
historical obscurity, except in the memories of those who grew up there and have
since moved away for busy city lives and for the few that still call the place
home.
According to a notorious free online
encyclopaedia, Punkeydoodle’s Corner may have been named for the cheery
innkeeper who would sing Yankee Doodle so badly, tavern guests thought he was saying
Punkeydoodle’s, or so the legend grew.
Most likely, though, it sprang from a less-than-flattering description
of the local pumpkin farmer, a lazy old sot, as characterized by his not-so-loving
wife. The geography of the area has
changed somewhat over the years but way back when, in the late 1800s, the
tavern was situated at the junction of four Corners, and a hamlet was born with
this unique name and with it, somewhat later in its existence, my Delightfully
Abnormal friend.
When Addie first told me the name of the
place she sprang from, I really thought she was yanking my chain and made it a
point to look it up online when I got home.
I came across a terrific image of the place name, posted on busy Highway
6, and knew that Addie was not pulling my leg. Punkeydoodle’s Corner it proudly
proclaimed, in glistening white letters, knocked out of a vibrant blue
background.. Now, a couple (okay maybe 3
or 4 years later) I can’t find one
anywhere. I’ve put out a plea to various
web sites and my friend, Addie. I would
really like to have that image for this story.
According to local legend, THE
most prominent moment in Punkydoodle’s Corner history was Canada Day in
1982. Joe Clark,
Ontario’s illustrious, albeit shortest-tenured Premier (I think), was there in the hamlet for the festivities. It was such a
momentous occasion that a post office was opened for 6 hours out of one day to
issue commemorative stamps and a decorative pillar, with the place name, was unveiled
in his honour. I have to wonder how this
whole PR opportunity came about? Oh and
so far as I know, the pillar has yet to be stolen.
While the spelling and punctuation vary in common
usage, the version recognized by both Statistics Canada and the Canadian Geographical Names Data Base is
"Punkeydoodles Corners".
Sigh…I seem to have veered slightly off
course again, as the focus of this story is not the unusual name of this curve
in the road, but Addie and how an unusual place grew my unusual friend.
Driven from life in the Town Down Under,
back to her birth place by the harsh economic realities of hubby being
self-employed in the music recording field, which, while lucrative, needs more
clients than are available, Addie faces the changes head on and with equanimity
and courage. Reading about her
day-to-day life, and occasional death of beloved barn cats, her cherished
horses and passing on the passion of the equine world by becoming certified to
teach the complexities of how to stay on the horse’s back, I am always
entertained and awed by the never-ending tales of this Delightfully Abnormal
friend.
And, now that a few years have been tucked
up under the belt, not only am I tickled pink that this Delightfully Abnormal
person has drawn me into the fold, I am honoured.
