I stumbled across a website dedicated to the tiny grease spot of a town my mom and aunt were born in. Their mother was a bush farmer's wife in southern Ontario in the 1920s.
My grandmother had an affair with a migrant farm worker, my grandfather. It was all very scandalous and to this day my aunt, who is in her nineties, rarely talks about it.
I imagine Canada back then was as empty and gaping as a giant hole. Sort of like rural Nevada, where I grew up. I wonder if geography pushes people to wild excesses of passion or madness?
