The first four posts in this series can be found here, here, here and here.
They shot a movie once
In my hometown.
Everybody was in it
For miles around.
Out at the speedway
Some kind of Elvis thing.
Well, I ain’t no movie star
But I can get behind anything.
Yeah, I can get behind anything.
“Blow At High Dough” by The Tragically Hip.
In 1994 a movie was shot in my hometown of Glace Bay, Nova Scotia. The movie starred Helena Bonham Carter and a collection of Canadian veterans such as Clive Russell, Kate Nelligan and Kenneth Welsh. The movie was called Margaret’s Museum and was based upon a book called The Glace Bay Miners Museum by author Sheldon Currie. Margaret’s Museum explores the impact of living in a town where dangerous industries like coal mining and the fisheries are the main ways in which the men of the town could make a living and provide for their families. In particular, the movie tells of the toll coal mining takes on the minds and bodies of those who travel to the depths of the mines each day to earn their pay. Helena Bonham Carter plays Margaret, a young woman who comes from a family where generation after generation of the male members of her family all have gone to work in the coal mines. Her grandfather is already sick and dying from a disease called black lung, which is an emphysema-like condition resulting from the inhalation of coal dust over a prolonged period of time. Her father remains strong-willed and determined but with every choking fit that Grandpa has, we can all see her father’s future playing out in real time. It isn’t easy for Margaret or her mother or for any of the other women in town to watch the men they love killing themselves a little more each day with each shift they take below ground. So, when Margaret’s little teenage brother announces that he is going to start working in the pit, it all becomes too much to bear. What complicates this familial scene and yet, the thing which initially gives Margaret hope is when she meets a strong, handsome man named Neil Currie. Currie is not a coal miner. He is a bagpipe playing dishwasher in a local restaurant. The two begin a romantic relationship. What attracted Margaret to Neil in the beginning was the fact that he wasn’t a coal miner. Because of this fact, the chances of him living a long healthy, happy life with her are a very real possibility. There is no coal dust gathering in his lungs. There will be no methane gas explosions or mine shaft cave-ins to burn or crush his body. Currie represents a life path that is not dependent on the coal mining industry which controls almost all aspects of life in Glace Bay. With him beside her, Margaret has reason to be optimistic about finally achieving happiness in my hometown. Then, one day, Neil Currie loses his job as a dishwasher and with it, his ability to provide for Margaret. Like many men back in the 1950s (when the movie is set), any measure of his self-worth began and ended with his ability to provide for his family. When Currie loses his ability to do his part to provide for Margaret he becomes desperate and agrees to work in the coal mines with Margaret’s father and little brother. Margaret fills with despair. She knows how this will all play out. As she watches her lover carry his metal lunch pail and join the line of men from town all heading to the mine for their shift, she knows she is watching her future happiness slip away, too. When the inevitable mine disaster happens, the accident pushes Margaret’s mind over the breaking point. The “museum” of the movie’s title refers to a collection of, what I will kindly refer to, as “artifacts” that Margaret puts together to demonstrate the dangers of working in coal mines. Much of the story in the movie is told through a police investigation into what Margaret has allegedly done. Many people view her actions as being those of someone who has gone insane. When Margaret’s museum collection is revealed at the conclusion of the movie, the revelation is one of the more shocking movie endings many of us have seen. It is an ending that truly sets this movie apart. Margaret’s Museum won a coal car full of awards in 1995, the year it was released. For my money, it does a good job of portraying what life was like in a coal mining town, especially for those families actively involved with working in the mines.
I am going to put the link in for the movie trailer here. I want you to take a look at it now for a couple of reasons. First of all, I want you to get a sense of the story that this movie is trying to portray. Secondly, the haunting Gaelic song “Chi Mi Na Marbheanna” by The Rankin Family plays in the background, so you can hear the words and feel the mood that they evoke. But, as much as any of that, I want you to take a good look at the settings shown throughout the trailer. Those settings are real and are from my hometown of Glace Bay. When I continue this post and speak of being home and going to Glace Bay, I am going to the same place shown in the trailer. Hopefully, by having this visual reference in your mind it will add a layer of context to the remainder of my words in this post. Please take a look at the trailer for Margaret’s Museum now. Thank you.
I was born and raised in Glace Bay. I grew up with the ocean in my backyard. The foghorn’s lullaby greeted me as I awoke and helped me sleep when nightfall made the cliffs indistinguishable from the waves that crashed upon the shore. Seeing the flickering pass of the lighthouse beacon coloured my childhood days as much as the blue of the sea ever did. So when I speak of coming home to Glace Bay, I am speaking of coming home to a place where the sea has carved its presence into the geography of the land. There are no deckchairs and cabana boys serving fruity umbrella-topped drinks by the sea in my hometown. Glace Bay is not a resort. It is a real town filled with families whose lives have been touched, in one way or the other, by the good that the sea and the coal mines have provided and the happiness that the sea and the coal mines have taken away in equal measure. In such an environment as that, the people of Glace Bay have come to learn that the bonds of community and kinship are often the most important. Thus, when a ship is lost at sea or when an accident happens in a mine, everyone feels the loss. It doesn’t matter if none of your kin were directly involved. A six-degrees-of-separation type connection occurs. Chances are great that you knew someone who knew someone who knew someone involved in the accident. Sorrow ripples through a community and everyone bobs in the water as a result.
I grew up in a town where my mother never locked the front door at night. The tea kettle was always ready. A tray of sweets was standing by, ready to be served to whomever came to the door to pay a call. It was into this atmosphere that I brought my young bride-to-be almost a quarter century ago to meet my mother and to feel the salt air against her skin. We were married by the ocean at a museum ironically enough called The Glace Bay Miners Museum. We chose the restaurant located there for our meal precisely because it was decorated and arranged in a homey style that spoke of family and friendship and community. There were no crystal chandeliers or ice sculptures or seat covers at our wedding. Instead, there were the people that we loved and the sea and the history of coal mining all around us. That may not sound like the swankiest affair but it was all we needed. Love. Family. Community. That is why we were married in Glace Bay and it is why we return year after year. It is also why, unlike me, many have chosen to spend their entire lives on the island and in this town. Coming home to Glace Bay would not be the same without coming home to see my cousin Morah (with whom we always eat at the same restaurant at The Glace Bay Miners Museum in which we were married), my mother, of course, and some of my highschool friends who stayed in Glace Bay, too. The town is in my blood and the memories of friends and family remain in my heart. Thus, we return home.
On this day, we traveled to Glace Bay from our hotel in Sydney to see my mother at the nursing home in which she now lives. She is 93 years old as I write this post. She spends most days now not completely aware that she is in Glace Bay. But she is always thankful for the kindness she is shown by the staff of the nursing home. Somewhere in the fog that has enveloped her mind, she hears the foghorn’s song and sees the lighthouse aglow and senses that she is where she wants to be. She probably would have a better quality of life if she was in Ontario with me and my family or near Halifax with my sister and her husband but she has stated emphatically, in no uncertain terms, that she wishes to remain on Cape Breton Island soil until the day she dies. Thus, we travel to Glace Bay to see her while she lives out her days. On a related note, I recently attended my 40th high school reunion. It was held back home. As I sat there looking at my classmates, all of whom, like me, are old enough to qualify for the senior’s discount at most stores, I couldn’t help but realize how many of them had lost one, if not both parents already. Coming back to Glace Bay for them meant coming home and not having the same luxury that I do of being able to hug my mom and chat for a short while. It is a priceless treasure that I do not take for granted. Like my high school classmates, I know that a time will come when there will be no one to joyfully exclaim “This is my son!” whenever I enter a room. For now, I will continue to bask in the warm glow of her love and take solace in our visits, no matter how short they are becoming. On this day, we wheel her out into the warmth of the sun so that she can soak in the beauty of her two granddaughters. As much as Nanna loves her son and adores her daughter-in-law, it is her granddaughters who are her pride and joy. Knowing that her heart filled up with happiness, at least for a short while until the fog rolled back in again made the extra hours crammed together in our car on the drive to Cape Breton Island more than worth it. We will always make that drive as long as she continues to have a heart that beats. On this day, her smiles made our efforts worthwhile.
It is unfortunate that my mother, along with many of those who live in her nursing home with her, are so unaware of their surroundings because the nursing home is located right on the shoreline, with a clear view of the ocean. In real estate parlance, residents of her home have a “million dollar view”. If Glace Bay was located in Ontario, I have no doubt that some ruthless land developer would buy the nursing home, move the residents somewhere into the woods and build multi-million dollar condos on the site. Ocean views sell. Money is king and profit margins rule. But we are not in Ontario. We are in Glace Bay. Thankfully, the prevailing wisdom that says that our elders should be afforded the opportunity to live in comfortable surroundings is holding sway. I bring this up because my mother’s nursing home is located not too far away from a beach that the locals call Big Glace Bay Beach. After wheeling my mother out of the sun and back into her room where she could rest after all of her exertion during our visit, we headed off to the beach. While there, my youngest daughter tanned and hoped to be seen by some cute Glace Bay boys. The rest of us walked along the length of the beach, black coal dust sprinkled liberally among the regular grains of sand. We walked down until we were almost back at the nursing home. In the photo below, my daughter and I are waving to my mother (who never knew we were there and was likely already fast asleep in her bed) in the red building you can see in the background. Even if she couldn’t see us, in my heart I believe that she could sense the love that we were sending her way. Thus, we wave.
After the beach, we headed back to see my cousin Morah for supper at the Miners Village Restaurant, as has become our custom. Next to my mother, Morah is my last remaining link to the family that I grew up a part of as a child. Seeing her is always a good way to reconnect with my past and to catch up on what is going on in and around town at present. There was a time when Morah used to tower over my young daughters but, as Leah and Sophie grow up, they now tower over her. The times are changing. As we said goodbye to Morah and, by extension, to my mother and to Glace Bay, we headed back into Sydney and had one last stroll around the boardwalk by the harbour before settling down in our hotel for the rest of the evening. Tomorrow, we leave Cape Breton and head to Halifax. This will be a chance to touch base with my sister and her husband. It will, also, be the final stop before university move-in day is here. It is getting and feeling very real now. Family is everything. We are all soaking in every moment we can. To me, the members of my family are life’s lottery. We are truly blessed.
The link to the audio video for the song “Chi Mi Na Morbheanna” by The Rankin Family can be found here. ***The lyrics version, by a performer known as Restless Harp, can be found here.
The link to the official website for The Rankin Family can be found here.
The link to the official website for The Tragically Hip can be found here.
The link to the official website for The Glace Bay Miners Museum can be found here.
The link to a video that shows the town of Glace Bay (how close it is to the ocean, how rugged the cliffs are, etc.) can be found here.
***If you are interested, I want you to pause this drone video at exactly the 2:11 mark. If you do, you will see a large brown/red brick building on the right hand mid point of the screen. That is Glace Bay Elementary School. That used to be the site of the old Glace Bay General Hospital where my mother worked. Directly across the street, you will see a brightly coloured green/blue house. That is Shepherd’s Lane. I grew up on Shepherd’s Lane as a child. My home was the white house next to the green house on the same side of the street. The water to the left is called Renwick Brook. It leads to the harbour and on to the ocean. My friends and I got into much trouble playing down at the Brook when I was little. At 5:09 exactly, you’ll see a row of triangular shaped rocks in the water. Those “pyramids” as my girls call them, serve as a breakwater to protect the inner shore from erosion due to storms and tides. As the video plays on from that point, you can see Big Glace Bay Beach, where we went after visiting with my mother. Her nursing home, although not shown, is right beside those “pyramid” stones.
***As always, all original content contained within this post remains the sole property of the author. No portion of this post shall be reblogged, copied or shared in any manner without the express written consent of the author. ©2024 http://www.tommacinneswriter.com
Oh Tom , you are blessed , as is your mom and the rest of your beautiful family ❤️
I may not be wealthy but I do have many treasures in my life. ❤️
I enjoyed the descriptions, thoughts, and memories. Glace Bay is a larger town than I expected. Looks like a place I’d appreciate. Thanks for sharing it all. Cheers
It is a blue collar town but there is that ocean view lots of good people, too.