CANADA
Stratford, Ontario
It doesn’t get better than this.
Summertime and the living is easy in the tiny, perfect town that is home to the Stratford Shakespeare Festival. We spend the season sitting at ease on the verandah watching the world go by.
Those iconic Norman Rockwell illustrations of happy family life back in the day are not a patch on what we have here. While it’s social central, it’s also a viewing platform from which to keep an eye on the great and the near-great, i.e. the Festival actors, writers and directors.
“Omigod, there’s Johnny Goad,” you’ll hear as the star of The Music Man whips by on his rollerblades. Here in town, he’s Johnny; it’s only the visitors who refer to him as Jonathan.
Stratford, Ontario
It doesn’t get better than this.
Summertime and the living is easy in the tiny, perfect town that is home to the Stratford Shakespeare Festival. We spend the season sitting at ease on the verandah watching the world go by.
Those iconic Norman Rockwell illustrations of happy family life back in the day are not a patch on what we have here. While it’s social central, it’s also a viewing platform from which to keep an eye on the great and the near-great, i.e. the Festival actors, writers and directors.
“Omigod, there’s Johnny Goad,” you’ll hear as the star of The Music Man whips by on his rollerblades. Here in town, he’s Johnny; it’s only the visitors who refer to him as Jonathan.
Once upon a time – last year – it could have been “Hi, Gorgeous.” That would be for the cyclist Dion Johnson, who played Edmund in King Lear and Tom Robinson in To Kill a Mockingbird. The elegant Sara Topham eschews both blades and bike but walks – shoulders back, head up – to the theatre where this year she plays Laurenica in Fuente Ovejuna.
Sadly, we no longer see William Hutt’s white Cadillac rounding the corner after each performance of The Tempest. (Hutt died in June last year at the age of 87 after a long, illustrious career.)
When we first moved to Stratford and sat on the veranda, white wine in hand, to admire the view, many a theatre-goer stared at us. Why, we didn’t know, until a friend and neighbour said, “They’re checking to see if you’re famous.” Nope. We considered a brass plaque that would read “No One Famous Lives Here” but decided against it. Who knows? Maybe one day we will be famous.
Sadly, we no longer see William Hutt’s white Cadillac rounding the corner after each performance of The Tempest. (Hutt died in June last year at the age of 87 after a long, illustrious career.)
When we first moved to Stratford and sat on the veranda, white wine in hand, to admire the view, many a theatre-goer stared at us. Why, we didn’t know, until a friend and neighbour said, “They’re checking to see if you’re famous.” Nope. We considered a brass plaque that would read “No One Famous Lives Here” but decided against it. Who knows? Maybe one day we will be famous.
Of course, it is not just the famous people players who stroll by – or sit on their verandahs watching others stroll by. “Ordinary folk” are popular here, too. That’s what makes it social central – and how we met most of our neighbours – actors or teachers, librarians or artists or engineers.
It’s that kind of town, a wonderful town, where we can watch the children grow up: Owen is two years old now and loves his little red fire truck; his brother, Lachlan, is one year, and loves the blue wagon. Lia is six months and still travels in the stroller, smiling beatifically at any who stop to admire her. Nina is four and loves to dress like a princess, complete with tiara. Her little brother – another Owen – is nearly two and delights in his recently discovered walking skill.
It’s that kind of town, a wonderful town, where we can watch the children grow up: Owen is two years old now and loves his little red fire truck; his brother, Lachlan, is one year, and loves the blue wagon. Lia is six months and still travels in the stroller, smiling beatifically at any who stop to admire her. Nina is four and loves to dress like a princess, complete with tiara. Her little brother – another Owen – is nearly two and delights in his recently discovered walking skill.
Indigo, the Bouvier, lives with Nina and Owen around the corner. He’s a fixture on the veranda and a popular subject for tourists with cameras. He used to watch the passing parade but he’s blind now so he just listens to the sound of strangers or friends.
Sometimes we are the people strolling as others sit watching. Blake Pincoe and Lynn Davidson, for example, live on the verandah during spring, summer and fall, any day it’s warm or hot. And sometimes when it’s not. That’s how we met.
“I live outdoors in the summer,” says Pincoe. “I need to do that after being cooped up inside all winter.”
Davidson loves the verandah, too – theirs or others. “It’s great just to walk across the street with your drink to chat with the neighbours,” she says. “No risk of drinking and driving,” she adds with a laugh.
Sometimes we are the people strolling as others sit watching. Blake Pincoe and Lynn Davidson, for example, live on the verandah during spring, summer and fall, any day it’s warm or hot. And sometimes when it’s not. That’s how we met.
“I live outdoors in the summer,” says Pincoe. “I need to do that after being cooped up inside all winter.”
Davidson loves the verandah, too – theirs or others. “It’s great just to walk across the street with your drink to chat with the neighbours,” she says. “No risk of drinking and driving,” she adds with a laugh.
Nicole Langlois and her husband, Keith Hagerman, have a prime viewing spot just a block from the Festival Theatre. During the day, Langlois, a freelance editor, often sets up her computer there or relaxes with a novel; in the evening, they dine al fresco.
“There’s no better way to become acquainted with your neighbours,” says Langlois. “I love the (verandah) because I’m a gregarious person, but I also think there’s something natural and healthy about being connected to those who live near us.”
As I said earlier, some of the famous haunt the neighbourhood, too. On the street where we live, David Keeley, lives. His phenomenal portrayal of Jud Fry in Oklahoma was the talk of the town last year; this year he’s Poseidon in The Trojan Women. “He’s a god this year,” laughs his wife, Laura Burton, the Festival’s associate music director. In his loose shirt and shorts, he could fool you, though, as he cycles to the Tom Patterson Theatre.
“There’s no better way to become acquainted with your neighbours,” says Langlois. “I love the (verandah) because I’m a gregarious person, but I also think there’s something natural and healthy about being connected to those who live near us.”
As I said earlier, some of the famous haunt the neighbourhood, too. On the street where we live, David Keeley, lives. His phenomenal portrayal of Jud Fry in Oklahoma was the talk of the town last year; this year he’s Poseidon in The Trojan Women. “He’s a god this year,” laughs his wife, Laura Burton, the Festival’s associate music director. In his loose shirt and shorts, he could fool you, though, as he cycles to the Tom Patterson Theatre.
Songstress and actor Barbara Fulton, whose lovely, lovely voice is heard in The Taming of the Shrew – and at good-cause fundraisers, too – is close by, as are Phillip Hughes (actor and assistant director of Cabaret) and Darcy Evans, actor and assistant director of Music Man.
James Blendick, the Ghost in Hamlet and Esteban in Fuente, and his wife, Mary, are also part of our “street gang.” Jimmy (he’s Jimmy to us townies) also has a favourite mode of transportation – his green Cadillac, though once in a while he surprises us and walks to the theatre.
James Blendick, the Ghost in Hamlet and Esteban in Fuente, and his wife, Mary, are also part of our “street gang.” Jimmy (he’s Jimmy to us townies) also has a favourite mode of transportation – his green Cadillac, though once in a while he surprises us and walks to the theatre.
The people parade to which we all look forward, though, arrives via the Festival’s fundraiser Stratford Express, the Toronto-Stratford train that brings the rich, if not the famous, to the theatre each spring. We call if the “penguin parade” as it’s a dressy affair, men in tuxedos and women in lovely evening gowns. In previous years, we have provided the welcoming committee from our own verandah; this year it’s someone else’s turn because the route has changed – and we are ticked about that.
With the musicals being presented at the Avon Theatre this year, we miss out. “I still think they should go to the Festival Theatre,” one townie opines. “It’s more suitable; it’s more elegant.” (Antoni Cimolino, please note).
Whatever, summertime in Stratford is a kind of continual neighbourhood watch. And all of us agree, we wish summer would go on and on.
© Vivian Macdonald, 2008.
With the musicals being presented at the Avon Theatre this year, we miss out. “I still think they should go to the Festival Theatre,” one townie opines. “It’s more suitable; it’s more elegant.” (Antoni Cimolino, please note).
Whatever, summertime in Stratford is a kind of continual neighbourhood watch. And all of us agree, we wish summer would go on and on.
© Vivian Macdonald, 2008.
