Stop me if you've heard this one before.

A woman walks into a bar with a poodle under one arm and a salami under the other. The bartender looks at her and says-

No, wait; that's not it.

OK. A man owns two sections of land. One is on one side of a highway, nearby one of the area's largest housing developments, a survey of a patch of land that when viewed from the air, one would assume got halted for some unknown reason, and that its name was 'Unfinished'.

Anyway, this man owns this section of land, but on the other side of the highway, he owns another one of a decidedly different nature. This one sits right next to a National Historic Site. Across the railway tracks to the south is a naturally wooded area, a section of an escarpment that runs for hundreds of kilometers, something so beautiful that it was declared a 'World Biosphere Region' by UNESCO. Now, to the east, his property actually includes land where one of the local creeks runs through, a creek whose name is synonymous with the cherished history of the town. It extends right past the creek, going over as far as where local residents' lots are, high up from the ravine.

But few people actually know that he owns this land. Everyone assumes that the National Historic Site does. Because there's a winding creekside path on the one edge of all this, and an open pathway on the other, the highway side, and they hike through it all, as they have for decades, assuming that it is, in effect, 'public land'.

So.

One day, this man, our landowner, he decides he wants to do something with this land. 'Which land?' you ask? 'The piece on the 'Unfinished' side, or on the 'National Historic Site' side?' That's a very good question. Hold that thought.

He decides he wants to do something with the land, so be begins preparing it. He hires someone to clear-cut it. You know, raze it to the ground.

Because he has a plan.

Some people aren't happy. The ones who hike through the 'National Historic Site' bit. Homeowners on the 'Unfinished' bit.

But he has a plan.

What was this plan? A pretty simple one, but one that made sense in a way, given the mindset and habits of what goes on in this town. You know, 'the way the world works'.

He used the 'National Historic Site' bit of what he owned as leverage.

Everyone made a big fuss in the local paper and in blogs and on the street over how this gorgeous bit of land had been ravaged. Everyone got incensed. Then, once the discussion reached a suitably passionate point, when everyone was riled, when enough of a 'scene' had been caused, the man said "I'll tell you what; I won't build what I wanted to build there. I won't build the bridge across that creek that I'd need in order to access the land. I won't change what you've all come to believe is part of your National Historic Site (even though it's old farmland that my family has owned for decades and decades), I'll sell it to you. For a 'reasonable' price. And in return for this gesture on my part, I'm going to ask you to-"

Now, this part isn't important, not really, the details of his 'request' aren't that interesting. But what it came down to was being able to do what he wanted to on the other side of the highway. On the 'Unfinished' side. So he could build houses and sell these houses, houses that were maybe a lot nicer than the cookie-cut ones that had been built throughout the 'Unfinished' survey. So he could make the most of his plans, his investment, his ambitions.

In the end, he got what he wanted, the freedom to develop property he probably wouldn't otherwise have been able to, simply because he approached everything in the way that he did, in this 'bait-and-switch' sort of way. According to his plan.

And the other bit of land? On the other side of the highway? The one that most everyone had always assumed was part of the National Historic Site? Well, some good things, some bad. The 'bad' was that a sizable chunk of money was spent to make all of this happen, make this potential nightmare go away. The good was that what they did to restore the land was very special; the appropriate parties all got together and came up with a plan. (Yes, another plan. But that's the way Life is, yes?) The parcel of land was re-planted with trees and bushes and undergrowth that actually reflected the heritage of the area, its history, so in a way, it became its own 'memory path', its own 'interpretive centre', albeit in an arboreal sense. It became a certifiable gem in this National Historic Site's crown.

Now, I know what you're asking: 'What's the punch-line?'

Hmm...

Honestly, there isn't one.

Mostly because I'm sure you'll agree that none of this could possibly lead to anything 'funny'. Except that-

Well, except that I do have a sortakinda punch-line. And it goes something like this:

On another timeline, in an alternate version to ours, our landowner never attempted this gambit. He never perpetrated the clear-cut, never got people upset, never caused a fuss by his bullying and disrespectful ways. On this particular timeline, he took an entirely different tack. Once again, I won't bore you with the details, but I will tell you this: he donated the land, he gave it to the National Historic Site. And because of his largesse, he was able to move ahead with his dream, and he built the houses he so badly wanted to build. Granted, I can't tell you that everyone was happy, because not everyone can be happy when so many things are contributing to a situation as in this one. But I can tell you that because respect and consideration and kindness and being a good neighbour were part of this timeline's makeup, words like 'ravaged' and 'massacred' and 'raped' were never used to describe what happened on that section of land that sat between a National Historic Site, a World Biosphere Region and -after crossing a creek- a sleepy neighbourhood. In that alternate universe, where people are guided by other codes of conduct, everything worked out in a much nicer way.

And that's no joke.

(The requisite disclaimer: I want to make it perfectly clear that even before the 'On another timeline, in an alternate version to ours...' bit, what's presented is fantasy. Wholly made up. 'Inspired by real events', sure. But the product of my own -admittedly 'usually right'- observational abilities in concert with a powerfully creative mind. So when I write 'The parcel of land was re-planted with trees and bushes and undergrowth that actually reflected the heritage of the area, its history, so in a way, it became its own 'memory path', its own 'interpretive centre', albeit in an arboreal sense. It became a certifiable gem in this National Historic Site's crown,' I'm making that suggestion myself.

To wit: if Battlefield Park eventually gains ownership of Merlo's Clear-cut (I have my own firm convictions about what 'should' happen with that reclaimed parcel of land, what more-than-likely-will-happen there in terms of ownership, but I'm obligated to show at least a little restraint here, yes...?), I believe that something akin to what I've suggested be initiated. That it be replanted, but done so in a way that accomplishes more than just blandly returning it to what it was; this would be an opportunity to enrich and enhance this tract, actually turning a pretty upsetting scenario into a lovely migration to embracing all the more, this critical part of Stoney Creek's history.

That's all.)