A lot of things have changed over the years. Some for the good, some for the bad, and well… some things changed because they were thought outdated or unsafe.
When I look back, I am instantly filled with all kinds of emotions, and I often wonder why that is.
It’s like what I want to chat about today in regard to an old Basket Factory that once was, in the small town of Beamsville, Ontario.
It was located on Hixon Street, just south of the Number 8 Highway, which is one of the oldest provincial highways in Ontario.
It all started when a couple of fellers, Aquila W. Reid and Samuel Piott, decided to build a basket factory. They had given it a lot of thought, and after some serious negotiations, which consisted of free water and no taxes for 10 years, they decided to go ahead and build the factory. It took place in 1909.
It was a huge building, and within a few years, it was the backbone of the town, employing hundreds of people that lived there.
In my eyes, these two fellows had a vision and weren’t afraid to run with it. The main reason for building it was that the factory was in the heart of the fruit-growing district.
They did quite well too, and many a day throughout the summer months I would ride along with my old Dad picking up baskets that he ordered for our farm. Good baskets too, not like the ones today. They would last for years.
I remember a few times that my Dad came upon another farmer that was selling his old baskets. They had another name on them, but that didn’t bother Dad none, and as soon as he had them home, he had me along with a few others get to painting the name over.
Once the old name was covered, he would stamp his name on them and pile them in our barn to use when needed.
The thing was, no one said anything about it, as they were wooden and were every bit as good as a new one.
Everyone did it for years, until our Powers That Be maneuvered their way into things and stopped us from using them, saying it was unsanitary.
It brings on some strong emotions even today, thinking about it. And my old Dad sure didn’t like it, either.
Today the farmers are steered towards the paper baskets that, in my mind, are more unsanitary than the wooden ones, not to forget that every one of those paper baskets is thrown in the garbage after only one filling.
The wooden ones are still out there, but for a lot of farmers, they are too expensive to buy.
Actually, I have found a few old wooden baskets that were made back in the day now being sold for over $25.00 each.
Hmm… thinking about that, I now wish I would have kept all the old ones I had. I would probably be a millionaire today.
Then again, a million dollars to some doesn’t amount to much. Does me, though.
With that… thanks for dropping by. The stories shared here are a small sample of my work from over forty years of writing.
If you enjoy these glimpses into rural life and the “everyday philosophy” of the North, my full collection of over 2,000 stories is available across eleven published volumes. You can browse all my titles in paperback and eBook on Amazon.ca here.
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