Little Girlfriends

That's me on the left.

Heather is in the middle and Wendy is on the right.

They lived 2 doors down and were my earliest friends.

As I was working on this picture I started to smell their house.

It smelled friendly and comfortable, like toast.

Other memories of three little girls who were loved and protected

surfaced as I sat at my drawing table.

But I was also aware of the shadow that was looming over us that day.

It got into bed with me later and I tossed and turned for hours reliving ugly

events that I still don't like to think about.

 

In those days divorce was illegal and very rare in Canada.

Their father took his new wife to Ohio in the USA and raised a second

family. 

 

The girls and their mother eventually moved away from Merritton

when I was about 10.

 

It was the beginning of the end of my childhood.

White and Protestant

So here we are.

My brother and I were fighting all the time in those days.  I mean we still don't understand each other and have little contact  but in those days it was an out and out physical war.

We have a huge bench upon which to park our bottoms but for some reason we have chosen to sit as if we had to share a stool at kresge's lunch counter. I am purposely taking up more space than I should have and am smiling at the camera enjoying my brother's discomfort. 

My mother who is far better educated than my father and secretly longs to be on the stage, looks dowdy and heavy, her fist is clenched in her lap, her legs pinkish with varicose veins.  She stares grimly over our heads as if she is looking for an escape route.

Her next pregnancy probably isn't the escape route she is dreaming of, but at least it will give her something to do.

It is 1956.

 

My world is white, Protestant and traditional working class.

 

Like that was going to last.

End Days

When I left the hospital last night my father  whispered,

"I heard you crying.  Don't be upset when I die. I've had a good life, a good wife, a good family. Who could have asked for more?"

We were called back to the hospital at midnight but by 1 a.m. he had stabilized.

We left about 1:30.

I woke up at 5:30 and puttered around, so tired now, I'm never really sure why I'm in whatever room I'm in - but always waiting for the phone to ring.

About 9, I went out for groceries.

A lady was ahead of me at the checkout line talking to her red-haired three year old son.

I guess it was the hair.

I suddenly remembered my red-headed Dad telling me how humiliating it was during the Depression to have to go to school in a shirt made out of a sack.

The worst thing, he said with a look that always made me laugh, was the fact that every button was a different shape and colour.

I suppose some day the story will be funny again but not today.

Today I had to put my sunglasses on and hurry out of the store.

Uncouth in the Country

Image via Wikipedia

This morning I was trying to get my elderly father out the door and to the dentist's office to get his few remaining choppers cleaned.

Going to town is a change in his routine, and therefore an occasion of great distress for him.

His  life is generally very quiet.

Oh we get visits from neighbours and relatives and the odd politician happens by during an election - but very few strangers turn up on our doorstep.  We don't even get Hallowe'en candy seekers.

So it was a surprise to hear a knock at about 9:30 this morning.

I was in the bathroom but I heard Flynn the dog start her 'stranger danger' barking and her  'stranger danger' house cat chasing.

I emerged from the bathroom with a mouthful of toothpaste and bumped noses with Dad who was waiting for me to come out and deal with the crisis.

Wielding my electric toothbrush with the extra soft bristles as a weapon, I headed for the front door. 

Struggling to keep Flynn back with one hand  I lurched through the door and found two righteous looking ladies standing on my porch.

One of the women waved a pamphlet under my nose that bore the words, "Are Humans Destroying the World" printed against a background of Hellish looking flames.

"Why yes," I put a hand on one hip and tapped my chin thoughtfully with my toothbrush.

 "I believe they are." 


I leaned over and studied the pamphlet  to make sure they weren't from the Green Party and accidentally drooled toothpaste on it.

Just then my father who was wearing his boxers but wasn't wearing his false teeth, started banging at the window, shaking his cane and gumming at me to hurry.

Without saying a single word, the Righteous nervously retreated from the porch and down the driveway.

"Thanks for dropping by," I called out to them.

But they never even turned around.

Jeesh.

Only the couth get saved I guess.