Living with the ghost of Miles Gilbert Horton . . .

Although Michigan has allowed me to explore everything hockey, it has been lacking in the other interests that I will commonly pursue when in uncharted terrain.  Simply put, there's not an interesting dead person to be found and because of this I have avoided making the standard stop at the local cemetery. 

Oh sure, Henry Ford and Rosa Parks can be found moldering in the area, but I require something more . . . well, exotic, or maybe just kitschy.  I nearly bit at the thought of seeing George Peppard, but was distracted by yet another bright and shiny object that caught my eye along the highway through Canton.

Miles Gilbert Horton, better known by the nickname Tim, was a Canadian hockey player during one of the numerous heydays of our great frozen sport.  Tim's majority of time spent in the show was during the 1950's and 1960's, when he patrolled the blue line for the Toronto Maple Leafs, and generally scared the crap out of everyone except for perhaps Bobby Hull.  Even more appealing to me is that it was rumored that he was a tremendously good natured fellow, whose immense physical presence overshadowed any need for immature nastiness.  Are you listening, Chris Pronger?

Anyway, Tim Horton would go on to become even better known as a restaurateur, co-founding a family oriented donut shop that has since become the largest franchised restaurant chain in all of Canada. 

Sadly, Horton was killed in an automobile accident in 1974, but his legacy lives on today in the form of overweight Canadian Americans and the ubiquitous roadside sign advertising the distance to the next Tim Horton restaurant. 

I first became acquainted with the Tim Horton franchise after the boy of mine decided to immerse the family in hockey and force us to cross the border into British Columbia countless times.  The Tim Horton restaurant, I was to learn, was as much a part of Canada as Paris Hilton is to the U.S.

Primarily known for being a donut shop, Tim Horton's seems to have branched out in modern times and now serves soups, sandwiches, and most other comforts of home.  Think of it as a high-end Dunkin' Donuts, but with all the extras and without the usual freaks clinging to the counters.

Of course I had to stop.  Dead people could wait, but it's not every day that one has the opportunity to visit such a venerated monument to donuts and dead hockey players.

Faced with a dozen or more decisions of what to have for my early lunch, I found a most curious meal combo that really defies any explanation.  I can only offer this photo:

Tim's been gone several years now, but I can only assume he had some sort of thing for the chili and donuts . . . together.  It's nothing that I would consider as a proper pairing, but who am I to say?  Some people might find it strange that I like me some banana bread and lutefisk.

Yes.  I did the combo meal.  Kind of a Mount Everest thing, you know?

Sadly, Miles Gilbert Horton is buried in Toronto, Canada, and was unavailable for comment due to death, an expanse of perhaps two hundred miles, and one of those pesky border crossings. 

As previous readers know, I don't do very well at international borders . . .