More Tales of Lindsay--The Angry Years (Part 1 of 3)

Every town has its famous person, the local nurtured in its bosom, who rose to greatness. Waukegan has Jack Benny. Parsons, Kansas, has Zazu Pitts. Bangor Maine has Stephen King.

Guelph, Ontario, as I mentioned in an earlier post, has John Galt.

And Port Perry has Daniel David Palmer, the father of Chiropractic. Not that he invented Chiropractic medicine in Port Perry, that was something he discovered in Buffalo New York. But Buffalo has had more than its share of famous people and he tends to get lost in the crowd.

In Port Perry, where he grew up, population 8500, he gets the respect he is due.

Now Daniel David died in 1913 and you may be wondering how he and Lindsay connect since she was born in 1999 and he had been dead for 86 years by then. I can only warn you not to put anything past Lindsay.

It was in the summer of 2004 when Linda and I decided a drive in the country would be refreshing. Port Perry with its trendy boutique stores is a popular destination for those hankering to get out of the city on a day trip.

For reasons that escape me at this time, we decided bringing Lindsay along would be a good idea.

I really don't know how that decision came about. In retrospect it seems uncharacteristicly reckless. But, there you have it. That's what we decided.

Lindsay was, of course, delighted. Everything delights her. She drank in the passing countryside with tail wagging joy.

In Port Perry we strolled the main street with all of Toronto's trendy refuges. You know the type. Couples wandering together, identical sweaters hanging down their back, sweater arms tied loosely around their necks, sun glasses pushed up on top of their heads. Both the man and woman, blond and fit. The streets were alive with their clones, And a farmer or two, looking very out of place in their own village.

I would sit with Lindsay and watch the passing parade while Linda shopped.

Eventually even the refined shopping experience of Port Perry became tiring and Linda suggested we relax in the park beside the lake at the end of the main street.



The beautiful little park rests on the shores of Lake Scugog where we could sit under the shade of a tree and watch the excursion boats filling with passengers.

Lindsay pranced along happily beside us, enjoying the fresh country air, her long ears blowing in the wind, delighting to all the novel scents flowing her way.

Until she suddenly turned into a an enraged watchdog, barking furiously at something high above her.

We looked up with unbelieving eyes. It seemed the good burgers of Port Perry had impaled the head of Karl Marx on a cement shaft and had mounted it in the public park.

What ever could they have been thinking?

Lindsay barked. Linda read the inscription on the base of the monument. "Daniel David Palmer," she read.

"Who?"

"The father of Chiropractic."

"What?"

Lindsay continued to bark. Daniel David looked down from his impalement with considerable annoyance.

"I thought it was Karl Marx," I said.

"His beard is whiter," Linda reminded me.

Lindsay was now drawing a crowd. They could see she was assuming the Father of Chiropractic was lurking far above us with obviously evil intent. The crowd thought this was hilarious.

We pulled her away but she kept looking back, growling or leaving threatening barks.

Daniel David just loomed.

In fact he is looming still.

As for us, we got out of town.