Who will remember?

My mother sometimes recalled a signature line of patter from the late Robert Jones, a Prince Edward County auctioneer of her day. When no bids were forthcoming he would tell the crowd, “I’m like the graveyard, I’ll take anything.” My husband would have liked Mr. Jones a lot for he, too, would happily accept whatever books or paper ephemera came his way, regardless of what might be included.

Once, when he spotted a local advertisement offering a large collection of books free to the taker, he immediately agreed to accept it sight unseen. The only stipulation was that the entire collection must go. Consequently, he inherited perhaps a dozen books of some interest—and a mountain of textbooks intended for instruction in psychiatric nursing.

On another occasion, he volunteered to home a deceased friend’s collection of County memorabilia, which he discovered also came complete with a huge number of ancient National Geographic magazines. My spouse was first and foremost a keeper of all things historical, even if it meant cramming his den with books, papers and assorted items sometimes of questionable value. At the time, I had little patience with his willingness to turn our home into a depository for what seemed worthless accumulations of paper . I was still smarting from the National Geographics fiasco. In later years, I developed a different perspective. While many of his hodgepodge collections came complete with unwanted books, papers and once a golf trophy belonging to a deceased Picton photographer, every item had its story.

I grew to realize that Alan R. Capon was a gatherer and conservator of local history. Scrolling through microfilms when doing research for one of his books, if he chanced on an old County obituary he would painstakingly copy it in longhand. This habit lead to the creation of a large ring binder filled with the stories of colourful locals from yesteryear. If he chanced to find a news item with a local connection, while viewing microfilms of the Trenton Courier Adovcate, he wrote it out and filed it for future use in one of his books or newspaper columns.

Through the years, my impatience with my husband’s enthusiasm for all things vintage lessened, with the realization that he numbered among the keepers of our past. Others like him, including Phil Dodds, 42 years editor of the Picton Gazette, David R. Taylor, Steve Campbell of County Magazine, author Phil Ainsworth, marine historian Willis Metcalfe and songwriter Suzanne Pasternak, told the stories bygone days. Now deceased, their work continues through story tellers and collectors such as Terry Ellsworth, John Lyons, Janet Kellough and Terry Sprague, among others. Ellsworth, who is a familiar face at every County yard sale, is a collector of all things Prince Edward County. Postcards from his outstanding collection have been featured in many local books. The man whose determined efforts made a commemorative postage stamp celebrating Miss Supertest a reality, Lyons keeps memories of Thunder on the Reach alive. He is keenly interested in all things County and constantly involved in one research project or another. Janet Kellough is the County’s storyteller who brings history to life for her audiences. She is also a noted author. Naturalist Terry Sprague writes of Big island as it was in his boyhood days and sparks childhood memories for all of his generation. Through the efforts of these local historians the stories of Picton and Prince Edward County and its people are being passed down and preserved.

In today’s world, with its sharp focus on the “now”, it sometimes seems there is a lessening concern for the “then.” Too often, old buildings with a past, such as Picton’s Old Brick Church, are torn down to become vacant lots, or to make way for modern, box-like structures devoid of character. Frequently, the old is considered irrelevant. The interest once shown in the stories of those who built our community appears to have waned and is typified to a degree by the name that the late Judge George Inrig of Picton chose for his book. He titled this chronicle of his days and times Who Cares, prompting the question of whom, indeed, will one day care when our present becomes the past. Few members of the younger generation keep diaries or scrapbooks today. Obituaries and stories of local interest rarely are clipped from the newspapers now, for many papers no longer have print editions. Those that do no longer publish the social columns and snippets of information once carried by the local press. Who will be our storytellers when our voices fall silent?