Monday Memoirs: I chased my dad as fast as my little legs would carry me

Rhonda Wettlaufer, my first girlfriend and an only child, may have had more toys than I did so we often played at her house after we returned from Kindergarten or after our grade one lessons were finished.

One bright and cheery afternoon, while playing together in her backyard I noticed a coal truck leave the Burgessville Co-op and stop at the nearby corner.

My father (about 35-years old at the time) was driving the truck and didn’t hear me when I yelled at him.

I must have hollered something like, “I want to go with you” because I enjoyed being his passenger on coal runs, and without saying good-bye to Rhonda or telling her mother where I was going I ran after the truck as it crossed highway 59 on its way to heaven knows where.

I ran to the other side of the road and gave chase as fast as my little legs would carry me.


[Two runners: Kim and Gord. Kim is in a harness with rope attached. He also has a pointy head.]

Within just a few minutes I was on the south edge of the tiny village and was delighted to see the truck turning into a laneway only one-half or three-quarters of a mile ahead.

So I began to walk.

It was then I noticed the ditches were quite deep and the fields seemed very lonely. I also imagined that several of the dark, brooding trees that stood on the wooded fence line were moving toward me and were preparing to chase me down the road.

So I began to run again.

I was relieved to draw even with a roadside barn because it blocked my view of the troublesome trees and still more relieved to see my father’s truck parked in the next farmer’s lane.

I can’t recall dad’s reaction when he saw me but I can remember mother’s when I arrived safely home.

She was almost in tears from fright and joy.

After hearing I had disappeared from the Wettlaufer’s backyard mother had sent out a small search party and was now considering to tie me in place for the rest of (what was likely going to be) my very short life.

Family history and several black and white photos inform me that she later tried and failed.

P.S. Dear Ma,

Now that I have the Boston Marathon out of my system I don’t run far or fast anymore.