The Rural Voice, 1985-07, Page 20FANTASY
AND
REALITY
PART,
by Andrew Dixon
Andrew Dixon, from McGillivray Township, had a
dream of what he'd like to do and what he'd have to
do to make it a reality. It all started with 100 acres of
land ... anyhow, read his account of his plans to make
$10,000 and live happily ever after.
Without a dream, life would
be meaningless to me. All
my life I have dreamed of
what I would like to do and occa-
sionally have taken steps to make the
dream a reality. The training in
frugality which was drilled into me by
my Scottish mother has saved me
from making major blunders, yet it is
interesting to look back and wonder
what would have happened if some of
these dreams had been followed up
with determination.
As a small boy and a teen-age
youth my dreams were nebulous. For
as long as I could remember I had
wanted to have an apple orchard, and
one beautiful twenty-fourth of May I
spent a whole day, which normally
would have been spent fishing, digg-
ing and replanting seedling fruit trees
which had grown up in our calf
pasture. The calves ate the leaves off
the unprotected trees, so this day's ef-
fort was totally wasted.
In high school my ideas became
more definite. As I had been told that
after I quit school I would be given
no more monetary aid, my dream
became more certain. I would get a
job and save money, without any
lapse toward extravagance. My aim
18 THE RURAI VOIC1
was $10,000 which I would put out at
interest to net me $500 a year. At that
time, this was supposed to be enough
to live on. I would have a home in the
country and keep bees, a cow, some
chickens, and a pig. When I wanted
to work I would work, but if I didn't
want to then I would be free to follow
my whims which at that time were
fishing, hunting, and living with
nature. I would not marry but would
foster male companionship. With this
dream it is small wonder that the
following lines by W.B. Yeats should
appeal to me:
I will arise and go now, and go to
Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay
and wattles made:
Nine bean -rows will I have there, a
hive for the honey -bee,
And live alone in the bee -loud glade.
The idea of making my farm pay
for itself did not appeal to me because
that meant long hours of tedious and
monotonous labour, which I don't
like. I was a flash -in -the -pan type. I
would work and scheme and do a job
quickly and efficiently, but if I
couldn't see its completion then I
quickly became discouraged. I would
stook up two fields of five acres each
much more readily than one field of
ten acres.
I chose agriculture as my option at
the Ontario Agricultural College,
because beekeeping was a seasonal
thing. I would keep bees and have the
winter for pursuing my interests as
the whims arose. On paper at that
time, bees were giving a good income.
I could also get a part-time job as a
bee inspector. With this immature
thinking I chose my destiny for the
first time, and by my own choosing
became confined to an ever -
narrowing path. Up till then I could
have made a large choice of occupa-
tions.
I was graduated in 1929 and
already the depression was making its
first impact. The stock market had
collapsed. Men, millionaires a year
earlier, were now destitute. Com-
panies were laying off labour and
closing down entirely. The govern-
ment was still doing some hiring, but
it was a case of workers being ready
for a world that did not need them. I
was reasonably fortunate in that I
secured a job as an apiary inspector in
New York state at $11 a day with a $4
per day car allowance. This was a
fantastic wage in my eyes and with
care I could and did save $7 a day.
When my first season ended in early
August, I had about $400 in my bank
account and the assurance that next
year the job would again be available.
This was my start toward fulfilling
my dream of having $10,000.
It was while inspecting bees that a
friend and I dreamed up our first