When it was just dad, my sister, and me, I mimicked everything dad did and wore. I had a belt very similar to his and at around age 4, I remember feeling something I could not quite identify. I recognize this emotion as shame when I revisit this memory. One morning, we were shaving in the mirror, as usual me with a comb and him with the real deal. I was barefoot, wearing my blue jeans, belt with horse buckle, and no shirt. My father looked at me and told me that I could not dress like that. Confused, I asked why? He said I needed a shirt. Still confused, I asked why. I do not remember dad responding but I do remember him putting on his white undershirt; of course, I did too. I remember dad having no idea how to style my long blonde hair, or even that part of his duties were to select my wardrobe. I remember loving that I could drag a chair over to my closet and wear whatever I wanted because he had no clue. I was less than thrilled that he could not braid hair though. Every morning he prepared breakfast for me. I remember oatmeal and/or pancakes being frequently on the menu and sometimes cream of wheat or toast, eggs and bacon.
One afternoon in either late Spring or early Summer, dad took us down to the Lakeshore for milkshakes and then up to splash around in a new fountain at a new park near (I want to say) High Park; normally we stayed down by the Lakeshore and played in the splash pad near the lake. It was also unusual that on this occasion we did not have to practice our “kidnapping drills”. In addition to kidnapping insurance, my dad had us practice literally throwing ourselves down on the ground, flat on our bellies, and screaming at the top of our lungs “KIDNAP! FIRE! RAPE!” The goal being to catch anyone’s attention or to distract the assailant long enough to allow us the chance to run away.
On this occasion, at this new park, dad forgot to pack any swimsuits or towels for us. My sister and I splashed around the cool water in the fountain (not a splash pad) while collecting the pennies from the bottom and throwing them to the other side. We splashed around for what seemed like hours. I remember noticing my dad talking to someone and him calling us over. My sister and I ran over and met daddy’s new friend, Maeve.
Maeve was giggly and I remember she had the longest hair I had ever seen. She had freckles and eyes that reminded me of a frog – they were HUGE. As the sun started hiding behind some clouds, my sister and I were getting cold from being soaking wet and without towels because dad had forgotten them along with our swimsuits, but coincidentally Maeve lived right around the corner! Maeve invited us over for dinner where she offered to dry our clothes.
My sister and I were soon out of our wet clothes and wearing a pair of Maeve’s underpants – I thought it was pretty funny that they reached up under my arm pits. While our clothes were in the dryer, I watched my father prepare dinner, in another woman’s apartment. I remember wondering how he knew where everything was, and I decided that all kitchens had everything in the same place – the innocence of children. I got bored watching them banter in the kitchen while dad made French onion soup and went back to Maeve’s bedroom. My sister and I thoroughly examined every make-up drawer in the bedroom and bathroom. I came out looking like a clown and had to wash my face before dinner. After dinner, we got dressed in our dry clothes and drove back to our bungalow.
Shortly after meeting Maeve, I remember dad mentioning that we would be moving to Northern Ontario. Now that our mother 'had left us all', dad would be forced to sell the house and we would have to move away. He further explained that he would need to stay behind until he finished selling the house and that we would be heading up North to live with his sister and my uncle. I assure you that I had no concept of time nor did I realize that this would be more than short term or temporary.
Before our trip to Northern Ontario, dad took me to the office one last time; I remember he was readying packages for shipping. I had a great time doing cartwheels in the hallway. On our way home, as was our tradition, we stopped for a bucket of KFC. On our way back to dad's black GMC 4x4, I noticed a small bird on the ground of the parking lot. I carefully approached, dad by my side, and we discovered a chickadee with a broken wing. We placed her in a box with an old shirt dad happened to have in a heap in the back seat and took her home with us.
Over the course of the next several weeks, I spent most of my time outside collecting bugs for Nathalie, my new friend. I found and collected worms, slugs, crickets, and flies for her. Some she ate some she did not care for. She became very comfortable around us. The day we released Nathalie back to nature is the day my dad moved my sister and I to Northern Ontario. I remember that dad and I had stopped at one of those automatic photo booths, popular in my youth, to take strips of photos of us together so I could keep them and look at them when I missed him while we were separated. Dad said that Nathalie followed us all the way from Southern Ontario to North Bay. She must have been so tired flying all that way. Unfortunately, we were only half way to our destination.
This concludes my posts for The Early Years: 1974 – 1979; to read my prologue and description of my parents, please visit my page titled Family.
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