I’ve slowly been working on a series of photographs from around Orillia – just places and things I think have interest.

The most recent batch were taken from up on Harvie Settlement Road, just at the edge of ridge. Autumn is a wonderful time to shoot this scene, since it looks out over Orillia towards Lake Simcoe and the islands and points beyond. In the large print of this (18″ X 12″) you can see in the far distance silos and communications towers amid the thick layer of tree tops.

Over Orillia

The midground has a view of the Huronia Regional Centre, hugging the shore of Lake Simcoe. My husband worked there for almost 30 years. Looking at the details and seeing the HRC brings back memories of those times. In the early years when we were first married he worked shifts. The early shift (from 6:00am to 3:00pm) I used to love, because we still had some time together during day hours.

When I first moved to Orillia, there were almost no stores open at night – 5:30pm or 6:00pm were just about the latest you could find.

The afternoon shift wasn’t bad either (11:00am to 7:00pm) because we could sleep in (when the baby let us) a little.

I dreaded the “midnights” (11:00pm to 7:00am) – alone in a new town at night, all night, in a house. Up until then, I’d spent almost my entire life living in an aparment…if you needed help you could bang on a wall, the ceiling, or the floor and help was right there at hand. Here, I spent most of those nights awake, in front of the TV, shaking at every sound that came to my ears.

Well, I was young (just 20) and had never really been on my own. I went from my parents safe home to the safe arms of my husband…there wasn’t a chance for me to learn to live by myself.

These days, of course, I am a lot wiser and more than able to be alone.

The HRC provided us with a life…not a life that held a lot of luxuries, but a good enough life. We had a home (eventually we bought our own), we had food in the pantry and on the table; while we didn’t have luxury, we had comfort. During his years there we had some of the “kids” home…I don’t remember all the names, but I remember them…one who came to rake the leaves in our backyard, and ate almost an entire package of hot dogs at lunch because I didn’t know enough to stop him. At the HRC I often met my husband with some of his residents: a small little girl, sweet and quiet who seemed to having nothing wrong with her at all; another girl who hit herself all the time and whose rocking back forth saddened me; another who always wanted my sunglasses, and one boy who constantly took my purse. Then there were the twins…we saw them every year on Halloween dressed in costumes. They never spoke to me, but waited expectantly for me to guess who they were. There was Oddie, who always washed our car and “The Sherrif” – whenever we travelled my husband would go to the police department in the cities we visited and come home with a complimentary badge (some of them were even like a Sherrif’s star); and “Popeye” who loved his pipe. So many more bits and pieces float into my mind…the staff I got to know over the years; the co-op students who used to populate the rec. department; the kitchen staff. I clearly remember when my husband came home from a shift very early, and terribly upset. His friend and boss had been killed in a car accident sometime during the night, and he was beside himself with disbelief. That was sad for everyone, and he left behind a wife and very young children.

I remember the workshops, where residents made ceramics in all forms; some learned shoe repair, others woodworking. They had classrooms and an infirmary too. There was a farm where they raised vegetables, and pigs and rabbits, and the residents had a home. There were apartments, and houses on the grounds, and eventually a pool. They had a summer camp, and the big beach, where most of the summer was spent.

I used to walk out to the grounds from “in town” to have a picnic lunch with my husband; the grounds were (and are) so beautiful…back then, even though there were many people on the grounds, it was mostly peaceful. I remember the smell of the breeze off the lake, the sun dappled shade under the great huge trees, the pathways…and the feeling of peace.

Life was simpler, even then.

The Huronia Regional Centre is expected to close in 2009; over the last few years residents have been moved to groups within the community. For some, it was a good move. For others, it has been difficult. There are very few left in the HRC now, and the large staff contingent has dwindled to almost a skeleton crew.

Now, some of the empty buildings are used by the OPP, and the Orillia Courthouse, the Credit Union and other services are here too.

Before long, all the buildings will be empty; a warren of empty, echoing tunnels and hallways with nothing but memories.

I suppose eventually new tenants will be found, but it will never be the same. Some think the HRC was just an institution…a place to lock up those the community didn’t want or couldn’t look after.

Those who worked there know it wasn’t…they know it was a community; the residents called it home. What more does it take for people to understand that it was a good place?

Isn’t it funny the memories one photo can bring to mind?

Postcard is available at Zazzle

Over Orillia Postcard

Matted, Laminated or Mounted Prints & Cards available at my gallery here.

Contact me directly for canvas prints.