When Jim first came to the village in the 1930's, Tavistock was a country crossroads with five streets intersecting in the centre of town. It still is, except a traffic light has been added. Back then the population was around a thousand souls and German was the dominant language---so dominant that town folk wondered how the newcomer could make a living with his funeral and furniture business. German became less popular with the outbreak of war, kids went to English language schools, and in a small community people are people.

The lodge was already established, Tavistock No. 609 having been instituted in 1922. Jim was initiated in 1942 when the lodge was 20 years old and he remembers some of the charter members. It was formed over a general store on Hope Street in heart of town, and it's still there, but you have to look for it. The door is a few paces from the intersection and is marked by a small blue sign, the type found on the entrance to a town.

The originals were a cross-section of society. The first Master was Hubert Reid, the town banker and a Past Master of Orono Lodge in Ontario District. Then there was the station agent, harness maker, family doctor and vet, the minister, printer, insurance agent, merchants and, of course, the farmers. A check of the membership list shows an even split of German and English names.

When Jim joined in 1942, the store downstairs had plumbing but the lodge upstairs didn't. Water was hauled up the long flight of stairs for tea and coffee after lodge. Dishwater was heated on the same hot-plate in the "pre-disposables" era. The supply of fuses kept dwindling, depending upon the activity of the lodge.

In 1946 the lodge made three major moves. It bought the building, put in new wiring, and installed indoor plumbing. Later they installed a chair lift up the back stairs. As well as assisting older members, it was used to bring the television set to the second storey. The building cost them $4,500. Five members took notes of $100 each for the down-payment and the rest was covered by a $4,000 mortgage at 3%. From that time, the commercial property downstairs carried the costs of the building.

Tavistock has a foot in the past and a foot in the future. Llamas graze in pastures to the south of the town and there's the faint whiff of natural fertilizer. The population is up to 2,200 now, but some things are gone, like the Zimmerman Wooden Box Factory specializing in butter boxes and cheese boxes. Gone are the creameries every two miles, the distance a horse would haul raw milk. These have been consolidated into Tavistock Union Cheese Factory, well worth a visit and a sample.

The railway's gone too, along with small area mills. Now the grain is hauled by truck to one remaining. "It makes dogfood," Jim informed me. "They specialize. Food for humans is processed further north."

"Dogfood?" I commented. "What brand?"

"All brands," he replied. "The mill custom-grinds to the right recipe."

Retirement is now the town's second largest industry. Tavistock has three nursing homes or retirement residences and is shopping for a new doctor. Young people commute to Kitchener, Woodstock, Stratford, and Baden. They still have a public school but high-school is out of town.

Visitors to Tavistock Lodge should take note of the major officers' chairs and the altar, custom-made in 1921 from native oak and stained like the Coronation Chair in Westminster. Other chairs in the east are a golden oak finish and have a shining-sun motif. They came from an Orange Lodge in Stratford. The ceiling is low and the room is intimate. Notes of appreciation are on the walls of the other rooms. Like, "Br. Jack West who generously donated, sofa, chair, organ, air conditioner, and lamps." The lodge has a sense of community and participation.

Masons preceded the local lodge. Perhaps the oldest Mason in Tavistock is Wilhelm Pimper, born in 1839. He was interred in the cemetery of the Trinity Evangelical Lutheran Church, a country cathedral amongst farm fields to the north of town.

Language and erosion make it hard to read Brother Pimper's marker. "Hier rubet in Gott" reads the script on his neighbours' stones----"Here rests in God." They all appear to be dated around 1880, three years before the cornerstone on the northeast corner of the country church. Records? None recent. But there are no Pimpers in the phone book or on the local voter's lists.

Large roots from a nearby oak tilt the tombstone slightly. It is mossy and weathered, and the surface is flaking off. Soon it will tell us nothing. But unique in this section and carved deeply into the limestone stone is the square and compasses.

It is in the eastern extremity of the churchyard.