[Post 5]
Chapter ONE - The Early Days in Burgessville PT 3
Though I discovered at a young age my mother was wonderful, I also recall she had to be stern with me on a regular basis.
Perhaps driven by natural curiosity, I liked to run away from home whenever she wasn’t watching and explore the world around me.
["Before I learned to drive trucks, I travelled on American Bounty"]
I wouldn’t go farther than a few blocks because there were only a few of them to explore in Burgessville, but mother occasionally felt inclined to strap me into a leather harness, tie rope to it and then firmly attach the free end of the rope to a front porch railing. Houdini-like, I did escape once or twice, but I spent a lot of time - more than I wanted - looking at the spruce trees in the front yard and trying to get free.
["I handed the harness and rope set - and the pointy hat - down to my brother Kim.": circa 1954]
No wonder my favourite game was pretending to drive a truck (a doll carriage tipped on its side) way past Main St. and into the country.
No wonder, when I first went to school, I stayed there for lunch a few times even though I had no lunch and the house was less than a block away. (My definition of a stern look is the one my mom wore when she came to retrieve me.)
Perhaps driven by a mix of curiosity and boldness, I developed what is known in the criminal trade as ‘light fingers’ when I discovered the comic book shelf at Wettlaufer’s corner store.
As a five-year old, though I found it pretty easy to sneak a brand new comic out of the store, I couldn’t slip it past my mother, and, with yet another stern look on her face (a Level 5, I think) she quickly marched me right back down to the store with a rehearsed apology dancing around inside my troubled head.
Looking back on those early days, I don’t mind that Mother was stern. She was just doing her job. And I had it coming.
I wonder though if she ran out of patience with me at times and, for that reason, sent me off to work camp with my dad. Because I do remember spending a fair bit of time (And at such a tender age!) just down the street at the Burgessville Co-op, where Dad was a full-time employee.
For Dad it was work, but for me it was the best unstructured and unsupervised playtime I could imagine.
While Dad served customers and did what Co-op employees do, I explored brand new territory and went on some pretty exciting adventures.
To this day I’m no expert on what Co-op employees do for a living.
All I know is this: Dad talked to farmers that spat on the ground every two minutes, and when I tried to do it Dad told me to smarten up. Dad moved large burlap sacks of grain from here to there on a metal cart and gave me free rides on occasion. Dad took me with him on deliveries into the country and I didn’t want the truck rides to end. Dad stacked heavy bags of grain into tall piles and I got to climb to the top.
Dad’s job seemed perfect from my limited point of view, except on three particular occasions, the memories of which are locked up tighter than a drum inside my mind.
One lovely afternoon, while I was playing with Rhonda Wettlaufer in her backyard (the comic book incident had been long forgotten and I think we were planning a wedding), I saw a truck leave the nearby Co-op yard and when it drew closer I saw my dad behind the wheel.
I immediately felt a strong desire to drop the wedding plans - I wanted to be with my dad.
["I'm standing in front of Dad. Look at my sturdy legs!"]
And off I went. I left the backyard and headed for the village’s main intersection. Dad’s truck was moving slowly past a few houses and I gave chase as quickly as my sturdy little legs could carry me. The truck sped up and I fell well behind but my youthful desire pulled me toward the outskirts of Burgessville and beyond.
I ran past the last house, past empty fields and toward a barn in the distance, behind which I had seen the truck turn. On my way I tired and began to look more carefully at my surroundings. Trees on a fence line to my far right appeared to be following me down the road and their long branches looked like long, menacing hands and arms. When I slowed down, so did the movement of the trees. When I raced, so did they. Though I didn’t have enough sense to be scared witless, I was much relieved to reach my dad as he dropped off some goods.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, my mother - all in a panic - organized a search committee after Mrs. Wettlaufer was informed by her own five-year old that ‘Gordie ran away.’
Good grief. How was I to know I had to let people know what I was doing and where I was disappearing to at all times? I was just a kid who wanted to be with his dad and not miss out on anything. Like I said, his job was perfect as far as I was concerned.
["I smell supper cooking. That's perfect too!": GH w sister Lannie and Dad]
On another occasion, however, I experienced an even greater scare than trees chasing me down a country road.
***
Stay tuned. More exciting adventures will follow.
Please click here to read ‘Chapter ONE - The Early Days in Burgessville PT 2.’ [i.e., Post 4]
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2 comments:
Being the oldest I can varify that you gave mom the "most" grey hairs..You have NO idea! But look how well you turned out..any idea what dad just told me in that picture taken in the kitchen?..I am holding my glasses as I'd been crying..it was a real shocker..that should keep you guessing for a minute..love L.Dee
It took me a while to come up with an answer. How about... you put baking soda in the peas by mistake?
cheers
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