A Glimmer Of Light In The Storm

There are many Brenda and Philip Gallaughers out there and they do "nice" things everyday....nothing world shattering just a little thing that brightens up one person's day.

The little eatery that saved lives
Crossroads Diner south of Collingwood shelters almost 100 people during storm
February 24, 2007
Curtis Rush
Staff Reporter

A tiny diner in Cashtown Corners (the locals call it Crashtown Corners), just south of Collingwood, served as a shelter to close to 100 people, including yours truly, Thursday night.

It began as a harrowing experience, but turned out to be a 12-hour testament to the patience and kindness of strangers.

Brenda Gallaugher and her husband Philip had closed the Crossroads Diner at 3 p.m. Thursday and headed home to Creemore, a stone's throw away.

Unbeknownst to them, a blinding snowstorm, whipped up by 75 km/h winds, was beginning to form and the skiers and business people trying to make their way to Collingwood, Meaford and Wasaga Beach would be caught completely off guard.

As I approached Cashtown Corners, at Country Rd. 9 and Airport Rd., around 5:30 p.m., about half an hour short of Collingwood and a rendezvous with my old Western Mustang teammates, my timing turned bad.

The OPP reported that just north of the intersection, a multi-vehicle crash had made Airport Rd. impassable. The police closed the highway, and nervous motorists inched their way into a gas bar next to the Crossroads Diner, seeking refuge.

When I entered the restaurant at 5:45 p.m., three men sitting at a table conducting business looked up and announced politely that it was closed. There were no other restaurants, or even a motel, in the area.

When it became clear that more highways in the area were about to close, a local fire official phoned the Gallaughers. They returned to the diner and jumped into action.

Soon, 10 people inside the restaurant became 20, and 20 soon became 50.

We were told the legion hall in Creemore was going to open for us, but who would risk it?

Some tried and failed. When they trudged back to the diner, their faces reddened by the wind, we all saluted their effort.

By 8 p.m., the 800-square-foot diner, with seating for less than 24, was packed.

There were mostly adults, a few adolescents, some dogs and cats, too. We all got along, with nary a whine nor a whimper.

A woman and her mother, who had just finished a round of chemotherapy treatments, chose the quieter comfort of their warm car idling in the parking lot.

A pony-tailed man from Wasaga Beach named Pierre, who was the chief cheerleader (he passed around written jokes, all of them tame), kept going outside to check on them.

Meanwhile, Brenda and Philip fired up the grills.

Brenda brought in sister Heather White to take orders, while her brother Wayne Joslin handled the dishes. Brenda's sister-in-law, Sharon Joslin, helped her and Philip cook.

When we turned on the news at 11 p.m., a Barrie announcer told us that sanders and salters were being taken off the highways until morning. A chorus of groans resounded; we realized we had better hunker down for the night.

The options weren't great: Sleeping on a chair or sitting on the floor with your back against the wall. Men gave up chairs to the women and children.

Some children played with the pets before their parents put down makeshift sleeping bags and tucked them into bed under old vinyl chairs and tables. Amazingly, they drifted off easily.

I stood for much of the night, tossing back coffee after coffee and peering outside as we tried to predict when the winds would die down.

Finally, Philip gave me an empty milk crate and that was my stool – and bed – for the night.

Some people returned to their vehicles, warmed them up, and slept inside.

There were no stories of heroism, just a story of five local family members, humble as apple pie, who stayed up and cooked for us as if we were their own kin.

Through the night, we showed our appreciation by filling up their tip jar. Finally, as morning broke about 6 a.m. and the windstorm died, an OPP officer came in and gave us the all-clear.

We will never forget the night, called by many the area's worst series of road closings in decades.

Nor will we forget the people who opened their hearts and their humble little diner, possibly saving dozens of lives.

"Let's show these folks how grateful we are for everything they did for us!" a man shouted. We broke into applause.

And Brenda and Philip Gallaugher and their helpers smiled and started the cleanup. For them, there was no sleep. They were getting their grills fired up again for yesterday's business.