The McCleave Bowling Team...

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Originally uploaded by McCleave Gallery of Fine Art.

Way back in Guelph, Timmy talked about starting up a McCleave Gallery of Fine Art bowling team.

Bowling with McCleave

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Originally uploaded by McCleave Gallery of Fine Art.

The rainy weather may of kept the McCleave Gallery off the streets, but not the shopping malls and the bowling alleys!

The suburbs of Galway

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Originally uploaded by McCleave Gallery of Fine Art.

Our wonderful host Caitlin, whom I met in Dingle a couple weeks earlier offered us a place to stay in the suburbs outside of Galway.

LAWNMOWERS MOTORCYCLES CHAINSAWS: The suburbs of Galway.

As I walk through the empty parking lots of the suburbs of Galway, I notice a sign in bright yellow neon flashing the three words that say it all: LAWNMOWERS MOTORCYCLES CHAINSAWS. For a moment I could’ve sworn that I was in North America again, with the strip malls, and the cookie cutter houses all around me, I noticed for the first time since I was in Rotterdam, the parts of this world that are far too similar despite their geographical differences.

Robbie, The McCleave Gallery and I managed to find a free place to stay while in Galway through the generosity of our newest dear friend Caitlin who was staying in a ‘luxury student housing’ condo in the suburbs of Galway. Unlike many larger cities though, these suburbs were very close to the downtown Galway, which had a population of only about 70,000 people (a fair size for Ireland). All in all, Galway was probably one of our best visits. Merely staying with someone who was hospitable, and knew the city fairly well helped immensely. There were plenty of live street performers and buskers which made the streets very lively, and the people very receptive to any public performance or intervention. Unfortunately, the weather was a little off for most of our stay which left the gallery little opportunities to present itself without the risk of the books being destroyed by water damage. The raincoat that I had made seemed a little dodgy as well, which left me to using a rain cover that I had bought at MEC back in Canada about a year ago during the last tour across Canada. There were however a few ways around this, like taking the Gallery bowling, and to the local shopping malls, which may not have been quite as exciting, but a cultural experience in itself nonetheless.

During our last night, we discovered that Broken Social Scene was playing a free concert in a small local hotel near the Atlantic Ocean. Excited and curious to see a Canadian band in Ireland, Robbie, Caitlin, Marco and I ran through the pouring rain to find tickets to this rare event in Galway. Being a free show and all, you would’ve thought that it would be easy to get in, however, discovering that the show was being sponsored by Heinekin, meant that there had the be a catch which was in this case signing up online beforehand and completing some online questionnaire about what is your favorite beer etc. Almost giving up completely, on our way out, Caitlin somehow found us a way in. The show was great, although not quite as good as other times I’ve seen them. A little bit more loose and playful though, but musically a little messier as a result. Mostly, I adore a loose, messy appeal, but in the case of Broken Social Scene, unfortunately I’m not sure that it suits their style, being a 14-piece band and all.

So despite our suburban surroundings, the stay in Galway was magnificent. The people were very friendly, and the town seemed to be alive with culture and beautiful seascape and landscape surrounding it. So we’re off now to the Northern regions of this island, which I’m told is very different. I’m sure it will be, as we will see very soon indeed.

Ruben fixing his flat...

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Originally uploaded by McCleave Gallery of Fine Art.

About 25 killometers outside Killarney....Ruben pops a tire!

Gap of Dunloe

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Originally uploaded by McCleave Gallery of Fine Art.

The Gap of Dunloe

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Originally uploaded by McCleave Gallery of Fine Art.

Robbie towards the Gap of Dunloe...

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Originally uploaded by McCleave Gallery of Fine Art.

Cork and Kilarney: "MURRRDERRR!"

The itinerary in Cork was set to be a very eventful one, including a visit to the Tigh Fili Art Gallery Café and a convoy of suitcase galleries that were to simultaneously roam the streets of the city for two days. However, unfortunately nothing seemed to work out as planned and luck was in fact, not on our side for this part of the tour. The day that we arrived, I received word that the suitcases galleries from Brighton in fact could not arrive in Cork, followed by a flu that I seemed to pick up along the way leaving me with no option but to cancel the event at the Tigh Fili Café. Our hostel was a rather large one, packed to the gills with a team of 44 rugby players from Newfoundland who shook the hostel like an earthquake as they endlessly trampled up and down the stairs to and from their rooms.

Cork was a beautiful city though, built mostly on a hill overlooking a canal that channeled into the oceanfront. The weather was a bit warmer than in Dublin, and the streets were lively and full of people and activities. Unlike many cities it’s size in Canada, Cork seemed to act as a cultural and commercial hub with a busy downtown still in tact. Having already been to the Dingle peninsula, and not having a specific event planned for a while, we decided to move on to Killarney for our next stop on the tour, a small town in the heart of South-western Ireland, next to the famous Killarney National Park.
A short stop in Killarney was by far worthwhile…perhaps less for the McCleave Gallery than for Robbie and I who decided to book a day off to go biking through ‘The Gap of Dunloe’ in Killarney National Park, an insanely exhausting yet rewarding trek to fit into a single day (at least for our legs!). Robbie and I managed to convince our new friend Ruben from Spain to join us for the day. After explaining to the owner of the bike rental place where we were going, his immediate reaction was a wide-eyed expression and a single word ‘MURDER!’ trickled seemed to fall out of his mouth in his mud-thick Irish accent. He told us it COULD be done though, and busy with a swarm of customers around him, he managed to hand me a spare inner tube, pump and a sarcastic ‘good luck!’

Of course, like a bad Scooby-doo episode, Ruben, Robbie and I all agreed to go ahead with the voyage despite the warning from our old friend at the bicycle shop, all of us childishly muttering ‘murrrrderrrr’ under our breaths as we passed each other on our bicycles. The scenery was fantastic. Intense, lush forests in some parts, waterfalls, sheep that roamed the mountainsides and crossed the roads in front of us freely, views that I never knew still existed in Ireland, which of course meant plenty of hills and pllllenty of exercise! So as you can imagine, as the day moved on, our sarcastic ‘murrrrerrrrrs’ changed their tones to more exhausted and defeated ones, imagining the man’s laughter when we returned with rubber legs and all. Almost as if it were meant to happen, Ruben’s rear inner tube went flat about two third’s way through the trip, further enforcing the old man’s promises. It was quite perfect really, a worth while day off indeed, and quite an adventure to go with it!

dublinpub

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Originally uploaded by McCleave Gallery of Fine Art.

A group of folks including my brother Robbie (left) viewing the galery at a dublin pub.

book of kells poster

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Originally uploaded by McCleave Gallery of Fine Art.

Graffiti in Dublin

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Originally uploaded by McCleave Gallery of Fine Art.

Graffiti in Dublin...

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Originally uploaded by McCleave Gallery of Fine Art.

Dublin, Irelands Largest and capital city:

“The term ‘celtic art’ is commonly used to describe the decoration of the Book of Kells and the Book of Durrow. The Irish monks who decorated these manuscripts in the 7th to 9th centuries were drawing on a much older pagan artistic tradition, that of the Celts. That ancient people, at the height of their geographical expansion (4th – 3rd century BC), occupied a vast area which stretched from Ireland to Spain in the West to Eastern Europe.”
-From the Walls of the Book of Kells Museum at Trinity College in Dublin.

I must admit that like many larger cities, I found Dublin hard to adjust to as well. I suppose that I had easily become accustomed to the pace of the country life in Annascaul and Dingle and was not expecting such a shock when I arrived in Dublin. There is a different kind of lonely that lures in the city life, a loneliness that constantly is interrupting your ability to digest the massive amount of information that is out there in every direction that you look. The interruptions can be useful at times, distracting you from dwelling and contemplation that can last forever when it isn’t tame. My lovesickness for Yolanda had also reached its peak in Dublin after leaving behind all of the friends that I had so quickly made while in Dingle.

Besides wandering around the city with the suitcase, things were relatively uneventful in Dublin. Even the suitcase had only a few visitors as the people in Dublin seemed socially busier and preoccupied making it more challenging to get through to their more goal oriented personalities. This was of course a little disappointing for a gallery that depends so largely on socialization to successfully serve it’s purpose. Like many other large cities, from afar Dublin seemed to hold many promises for opportunists afar that are not always well kept upon their arrival.

In Dublin though, even these opportunists seemed friendly, harboring pretentiousness in another form altogether which was very well hidden, or perhaps less existent altogether. Eye contact and acknowledgement seemed to be especially important all over Ireland, along with trust being some of the major ingredients in the social infrastructure of daily life. Even compared to some of Canada’s urban centers such as Montréal, Toronto or Vancouver, the social behavior of Dubliner’s seems less divided from it’s neighboring townships and country communities.

A few days after arriving in Dublin, my brother Robbie joined us for a few weeks of traveling after he was finished school for the year in Halifax. After his arrival we spent a few days in Dublin together exploring the streets and some museums, one being The Book of Kells museum in the famous Trinity College Library which also held much of Samuel Beckets original manuscripts and letters. It was extremely appropriate to visit this museum, and although the McCleave Gallery could not see for itself, The Book of Kells was in itself a worth while reason to be in Dublin and provided the tour with a glimpse of the history of Celtic bookmaking.

Cliffs

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Originally uploaded by McCleave Gallery of Fine Art.

Dramatic Cliffs facing the North Atlantic towards Canada.

Ancient fortresses...

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Originally uploaded by McCleave Gallery of Fine Art.

This ancient fortress is over 2600 years old and still standing overlooking the cliffs facing the North Atlantic.

Outside of Dingle

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Originally uploaded by McCleave Gallery of Fine Art.

Catholicism is deeply embedded into even the most remote landscapes of South-western Ireland.

Donkey outside of Dingle

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Originally uploaded by McCleave Gallery of Fine Art.

Most of the local farms would have fences right next to the narrow mountain roads with farm lands stretching over tthe peaks of small mountains.

Suitcase in the Hostel

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Originally uploaded by McCleave Gallery of Fine Art.

Sebastian was one of many hostellers in Dingle who visited the suitcase.

Dingle Town

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Originally uploaded by McCleave Gallery of Fine Art.

Arriving in Ireland:Dingle and Annascaul:

After only visiting larger cities since we had arrived on European soil, I must admit that my homesickness for vast open spaces in the country and the wilderness were well missed (not to mention my lovesickness as well). To arrive in yet another crowded foreign place packed to the gills with people made me feel exhausted and crowded.

It only took one night in a Dublin hostel to decide to begin the tour somewhere in the country for a few days before returning to Dublin a little more refreshed and prepared. Judging only by the road map in the bus station, I looked for any random coastal town or village that perhaps I could have landed to if I were to sail to Ireland form Halifax. The bus took the McCleave Gallery and I across the country, through about eight hours of winding roads and farmlands, and about 900,000 roundabouts (weeeeeee!), before we were dropped off on the side of the winding road about 60 km east of Dingle outside of a place called Annascaul.

The sun was setting at this point, and besides the company of endless flocks of sheep that roamed the mountainsides, the McCleave Gallery and I found ourselves alone and immediately I knew that this had been probably the best thing we could have done. Leaving the city and throwing caution to the wind for a while had indeed done us nothing but good.

Annascaul is a quiet village still in touch with a traditional Irish farming lifestyle that kept everything at a slower pace which was very refreshing after so much urban traveling. Even though there were only a few visitors to the McCleave Gallery, there were enthusiastic responses and surprised reactions to the mobile venue, often questioning what the heck we were doing in Annascaul. This was a treat just as much for me to experience showing the gallery in a more rural setting, further emphasizing the portability and advantages that a portable venue can have in terms of outreach to communities that are often sheltered from pubic intervention art practices.

After a few days in Annascaul, we hitched a ride with some very friendly folks from the US to Dingle who were also in Ireland to ‘find their roots’. They kindly dropped us off right at the doorstep of a hostel called ‘The Grapevine Hostel’, where I was greeted by the lovely Serpil, who set us up with accommodation for the next few nights. It was a simple and very cozy hostel with a fireplace and a kitchen, and was located right in downtown Dingel. While strolling around town I noticed only a few galleries, all of which were commercially based and filled mostly with tourist related materials and ‘saleeable’ artwork. The hostel was full which provided many opportunities for spontaneous openings to audiences from France, Spain, the US, Australia and Germany. There was one night where I was recognized at the local pub and asked ‘where is your suitcase?’, so while swallowing my hesitations to bring it to a pub, I went back to the hostel and brought it out on the request of the folks at the pub. I figured it would be rather mean of me to bring the gallery this far and not expose it to Irish pub culture that seemed to dominate every corner of the island.

So after a week in the country, I felt refreshed and ready to return to Dublin to find some more galleries, and perhaps amongst the masses of buildings, cars and people, stumble upon a few surprise viewings.

Amsterdam construction sites

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Originally uploaded by McCleave Gallery of Fine Art.

Construction is constant in most Dutch cities which are always being rebuilt and renovated.

View of windmill and cityscape

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Originally uploaded by McCleave Gallery of Fine Art.

Behind the scenes in Amsterdam

Windmills in Amsterdam

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Originally uploaded by McCleave Gallery of Fine Art.

The windmills are neccessary to ventilate the smog and smoke from the crowded tourist filled streets.

Amsterdam: Underneath the windmills, and amongst the stoners and the construction sites.

Once sifting through the massive amounts of tourists and clouds of smoke, Amsterdam is unique from most other cities in Holland in it’s rich history and architecture (both old and new). The canals and the bicycles play dominant roles in how the urban planning works, although like many popular cities, the gentrification is evident by the fields of cranes that seem to occupy the background of almost every direction that you look. I must admit that I felt rather claustrophobic about being there as I do in most larger cities, however Amsterdam seemed much more condensed and bigger than it actually is in population.

It was especially fantastic to see Adair again. 2005 had been a year of intense changes for us, both personally and professionally, which made it great to spend some time sorting everything out and moving on while continuing to be supportive of each other. We also tossed around the idea of extending the tour, leaving the suitcase with her if we could get a couple of more shows or events scheduled in even after I leave Europe.

I had managed to book an appointment with Yvette’s friend Alexandra at a local bookstore that specialized in artists’ books, which bared the incredibly adorable title ‘Boekie Woekie’. Boekie Woekie is a gold mine for any lover of artists’ books, or independent publications. After talking to one of the owners while showing him the books in the suitcase I noticed that I knew very little of the names on the shelves and was impressed to learn that they held very little discrepancy about how ‘well known’ each of the artists were. Many of the books were by emerging artists, yet were not segregated as ‘emerging artists’ works in any way. This made the whole experience of being in the space an adventure, taking the time to notice the little details along the way, which was extremely refreshing in a place that seemed to be surrounded by a very goal driven society and culture. I ended up recognizing a few books by Jo Cook and a few other Canadian artists, and couldn’t resist purchasing a few items that were there, leaving the store running on adrenalin and satisfaction, knowing that this viewing alone was plenty of reason to include Amsterdam in the tour. Otherwise Amsterdam was a little milder than Rotterdam, although one surprise viewing was particularly fantastic when a group of four construction workers took a smoke break to spend a few moments with the suitcase.

So the McCleave and I were off again to London and to Dublin in one day. I received and email from Meredith Carruthers letting me know that ‘repro #2 of 3’ was doing fine but is a little nervous for the big show coming up in Lennoxville at the Foreman Art Gallery of Bishops University along side with the ‘mobilelivre’ project as well as many others.

outdoor malls

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Originally uploaded by McCleave Gallery of Fine Art.

Some of the most interesting parts of the city to infiltrate with a mobile gallery were the abundance of outdoor malls and shopping areas.

The eastern most tip of Canada

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Originally uploaded by McCleave Gallery of Fine Art.

These young Canadian trees offered company and inspiration in the eastern most point of Canada in Yvettes back yard in Rotterdam.

Raincoat with luggage straps

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Originally uploaded by McCleave Gallery of Fine Art.

The McCleave Gallery is now fully equipped for the severest of Irish weather with a raincoat, luggage straps, and a first-aid kit donated by Yvette poorter.

PolitieGalerie

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Originally uploaded by McCleave Gallery of Fine Art.

Although it mainly exhibits the equivilant to Toronto 'Moose Art' and Wassily Kandinsky look-alikes, I was nonetheless impressed to find a gallery that was sponsored by the local police.

Antoine reading Jerry Ropson's book.

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Originally uploaded by McCleave Gallery of Fine Art.

In the basement of a cafe in Rotterdam, Toine directs exhibitions of projected art onto the wall on the way to the bathrooms.

Waiting for Leonard

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Originally uploaded by McCleave Gallery of Fine Art.

It became a morning ritual to wait for Leonard Cohen after he was sited the day before the first official viewings in Rotterdam.

This Neck of the Woods Residency in Rotterdam:

This Neck of the Woods Residency in Rotterdam:

After a couple of weeks traveling around western Europe and couch surfing in various friends apartments, it was a relief to settle into a place for more than a few days and I was eager to get started on the preparations for the tour. Situated in a small cabin in Yvette Poorter’s backyard amongst the company of a few Canadian trees, I felt at home almost immediately. My hosts Yvette and Johannes set me up with a bicycle, cooking facilities, and plenty of extra blankets for the cooler spring nights. Their hospitality was extremely generous and I was impressed by how it didn’t seem crowded for a moment during the whole two-week stay.

The combination of the cool weather and being amongst some young Canadian trees successfully constructed a sort of sanctuary, making me feel like I was actually far off into the Canadian wilderness despite the fact that I was in the middle of a major European city. I also felt mildly mischievous and child-like being in the back yard, as if Yvette and Johannes were my parents and we got in a fight or disagreement so I decided to run away to the tree-house pledging never to return. I though a lot about Peter Pan, Narnia, and especially Calvin and Hobbs and became aware of the emphasis that the residency places on imagination and adventurous living in a resourceful sort of DIY fashion. During the residency I found myself particularly interested in the intersection between the business of an artistic career and this very genuine, subtle, and intimate scene that I was in. Through the This Neck of The Woods residency program, Yvette has constructed a very sacred mental space, allowing room to slow down for a short time, while focusing on the more raw, grass roots part of your work, which in many cases is buried beneath the distractions of the over-stimulating urban lifestyle that many artists feel dependant on to maintain a working relationship amongst peers.

The first week was spent mainly on organizing and collecting an itinerary for the upcoming tour as well as renovating the interior of the suitcase for more durability and making accessories such as custom fitting luggage straps and a clear raincoat carefully tailored to fit the suitcase. Yvette also contributed a first aid kit for the suitcase consisting of a small canvas container with needle and thread, and some casting bandages in case any repairs needed to be made on the spot. For Easter weekend Adair visited for a couple of days to spend some time at the residency and read through the books with me. It was great for Adair to meet Yvette and Johannes and to see the residency and experience it first hand. It was also the first time that the two of us got to spend some quality time together with the books since the project began which was very necessary and refreshing to exchange ideas and discuss the project thoroughly.

On Easter Sunday I took the bike out for a long ride to get a feel for Rotterdam. I rode down to the river past a large communication tower where there was a wooden escallator that led to an old underground tunnel that had been there since before the war. This escallator and tunnel were some of the only remaining structures that survived the intense bombing that devastated the city of Rotterdam during World War Two. Due to the long Easter holiday, it was extremely quiet and deserted on the industrial side of the river that consisted of the largest port in Western Europe. It was very eerie and beautiful to bike through the deserted dockyards with cranes like still fragile dinosaur bones and crates that were deserted by workers that had scurried away for the long weekend, scurrying away towards the sun, the beer and the barbecues. Amazing really how one man’s death has continued to delay such a powerful industry to over 8000 days collective vacation over the span of 2000 years. I also felt a very strong connection between Rotterdam and Halifax, both port cities that have been demolished by the activities and outcome of war, and rebuilt with strata of a more modern time period.

During the final week the days were spent exhibiting the suitcase around Rotterdam. The day before the last week started I was finally tempted to try a Turkish pizza at the corner in front of station centraal just a block away from the residency. I was sitting on a bench in front of the canal with pizza sauce dribbling down my chin as I looked up and noticed a familiar man glance away as he walked by. It was that moment that I realized that Leonard Cohen had just witnessed me at my best. Glamorously drooling and with my mouth stuffed with pizza dough, sauce and cheese, my social competence was about as impotent as it could be, so there went my chance to meet one of my favorite Canadian celebrities on a park bench on a beautiful sunny day in Rotterdam of all places. I decided then to start a ritual for may stay in Rotterdam to start a ritual every morning to sit on that bench and wait for Leonard Cohen to come by so I could show him the suitcase. I would usually just wait about twenty minutes or half an hour or so, but that was enough to ease into each day while remembering a lost chance that was actually quite beautiful and romantic in all of its fallibility. I usually averaged about 5-10 visitors a day in the public, and sometimes more when I would bring the suitcase into galleries and museums. Yvette and I went out together one day so that she could show mw a few spots and introduce the gallery to a few folks that she thought would enjoy it. We ended up with a few appointments, one with her friend Toine in his basement film and video exhibition space underneath a café who was particularly enthusiastic and generously thorough about his input. On one of the last nights, Yvette and Johannes hosted a barbecue in their back yard with a few friends where we had a sort of ‘open house’ showing of the suitcase inside the shed.

So Rotterdam was over, and I was off to Amsterdam before I knew it, well rested and equipped for many more adventures ahead to unfold. It had been fantastic to meet Yvette and discuss art with someone again who had an understanding of Canadian Art as well as its compatibility with the European landscape that is so different from our own.

A special thanks again to Yvette and Johannus. The ‘TNOTW’ residency definitely gets many stars!

History of Veith House.

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Originally uploaded by McCleave Gallery of Fine Art.

Posters and photo's on the walls documented the history of Veith House which used to be an orphan's home, and the only in the area to survive the Halifax explosion.

Our last Halifax appointment.

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Originally uploaded by McCleave Gallery of Fine Art.

Visiting the Veith Street Gallery:

What was thought to be a quick visit to the Veith Street Gallery two days before the flight left for London, turned into an immeasurably rewarding experience. The building was probably one of the oldest in Halifax’s North End, just bursting at the seams with stories to tell. It stood waiting there at the edge of the hill overlooking the dockyards and warehouses of the East Coast Navy as I was dropped off by a very chatty and angry cab driver. There was an opening happening of a group show on the top floor of a place that was appropriately named ‘Veith House’. The stairs were talkative, and when I reached the top I was kindly greeted by a number of people who were eager to show me their work and to see the books in the suitcase. I was soon introduced to Michael Searey, the gallery director who’s dream it was to start the Veith Street Gallery since the 70’s. It was inspiring and refreshing to meet someone who remained in touch with his playful side for so long which made me happy to leave with such encouraging memories.

Veith House had previously been an orphanage run by protestant nuns until the 1960’s when it was transformed into a home and a centre for people with disabilities. There were some photo’s on the wall of the orphans and blurbs about the history of the building. The ceilings were high, the floors would creek and the rooms seemed drafty which gave the building a calm, beautiful and wise character. Someone there told me a story about when the Halifax explosion happened, a nun who heard the boom quickly led the children down to the sheltered basement thinking that it was an aviation attack because of the war. In doing this she ended up saving the lives of most of the children but not her own, leaving the survivors as some of the only in that part of Halifax as the explosion just happened to take place right in front of the orphanage. Miraculously, this building was left standing and the city decided to move it up the hill further away from the harbor to shelter it from further activities that were feared to happen in that area at the time.

Visiting Blanche McCleave in Halifax:

My research on the McCleave family name in Halifax at the Public Archives and the Regional Public Library was almost complete and it turns out that word of mouth came through to the end. I had so far learned that according to the phonebooks there were seven eight separate addresses in mainland Nova Scotia that bared the McCleave family name, one being a medical building in Digby, and another being that of the former Conservative MP of Halifax county Robert J. McCleave which the Nova Scotia Public Archives had plenty of information on.

A man named Spence McCleave had been in contact with me from the beginning of this research after stumbling upon the McCleave Gallery website some months back. Spence had lived in Halifax since he was a child and had recently moved to the mid-western United States with his wife Joan. Spence and I had a few email exchanges, which led to him putting me in touch with his sister Janet who still lived in Halifax. During my research in Halifax I received an email from Janet saying that her brother Spence had told her that I had a gallery named after the McCleave family and that the suitcase that she saw on the website looked like it may have been her mother’s at one point.

I eventually collected the courage to call Janet up to see if this was really true as I couldn’t believe how easily and quickly this was falling into place. Janet and I then set up an appointment for me to visit her mother Blanche in her apartment downtown just a ten-minute walk away from where I lived. I brought the suitcase with me so that she could identify it along with a few other documents about the McCleave Gallery and our previous projects.

The visit was a lovely experience, and we sat down for a cup of tea and a glass of water too discuss family stories and coincidental occurrences in general. It turned out that the suitcase was indeed hers and in fact she had a matching smaller version of it under her bed where she kept all of her most precious old photographs and trinkets as a sort of memory box. She told me that the suitcase had been discarded after a yard sale several years ago by her old house on Vernon Street which is precisely where my brother and his friend Dani had found it shortly after. It was truly an amazing situation and a huge piece of the puzzle had finally been found to piece together the past of the McCleave suitcase, not to mention a pleasure to meet both Janet and Blanche who were so kind and generous to take the time to meet me.