Today's
flashback. Sixteen and taking driver's ed. Driving a Kcar. The instructor was
Dutch with a heavy accent. Difficult to understand. He would take us out on the
401 and yell "Flur it!". Driving in a town called Ingersoll. My twin
brother and a girl called Chris Mooney in the back seat. I'm making a wide left
turn at a city intersection. The instructor thinks I'm too wide and grabs the
wheel. For whatever reason, I "flur it" with the gas pedal. We veer
and head across the lawn of the Catholic Church. I manage to take out the glass
and steel sign with the lettering. I mean out of the ground. Then I hit the
corner of the church. Bang. We are all okay, but the car is wrecked. First
words? Chris Mooney in the back seat saying "holy shit" over and
over. They never let me forget that one at school.
Wednesday, December 16, 2015
Monday, December 7, 2015
playing cards seriously
My Mom came from a very large family in Cape Breton. They were
particularly enamored of two things. Liquor and playing card games. We learned
early. As soon as we could hold a full hand, we were in the game. But Mom
insisted that you gamble with your own money. And if you tried to reneg on a
card, the hand came down swiftly. Also, if you started saying something
inappropriate, there was a quick kick to your shin delivered under the table.
One time, she went to deliver one of those to me. She struck out. And my ten
year old cousin Wayne yelled out "Ow!". She then began to laugh
hysterically, until she put her head on the table and peed herself a little.
Saturday, December 5, 2015
Mom
My mom loved to dance. She said that my dad was such an expert partner
and they danced to real orchestras, with Glenn Miller, Tommy Dorsey, and Guy
Lombardo. I took dance lessons when I was young. Tap, latin american and
ballroom. By the time that I was in my late teens, my father had stopped going
to any event. So I remember a wedding of a family friend. Of course, I didn't
want to dance with my mom. That was embarrassing. But I could see her tapping
her toe, and dying to dance. So I sucked it up, and we went out on the floor
and did a cha-cha and a waltz. The floor cleared. She followed my lead
perfectly. And we got such a round of applause. And for the first time, I saw a
shining 18 year old girl, excited and proud. I never regretted that.
Friday, December 4, 2015
Accidental Me
Next.
I'm 16 and I desperately want to be one of the cool kids. So I go to the night
devoted to our school at the local ski resort. On the lifts, my cool friends
give me drinks from a flask. The irony is that I DON'T KNOW HOW TO SKI. I just
find myself speeding on sticks straight down the runs. So far, so good. But a
blizzard comes up and the resort turns out the lights to indicate that it is
closing. I take my last run in the dark. I don't know how to turn. And somehow,
between the cut off, I hit a ski jump. I'm 40 feet in the air. I land on my
face, breaking my nose, my left ski jams into the icy crust, but I keep
rolling. Instant tortion break of my tibia. I'm unconscious for a while. I wake
up in a deep, dark valley and realize that I'm in trouble. My face is bloody
and my leg is at a really peculiar angle and there is a bulge in my leg with a
bone sticking out. After about 20 minutes, convinced that I would die, the ski
patrol arrives. They access the situation. They give we a bar with rubber to
hold and bite and tell me that they are going to set my leg. They pull down and
twist with my foot. Put it in a splint. Excruciating. Get down to the lodge and
find out that the ambulance can't make it for at least an hour in the storm.
Not good enough for my mom who was drinking hot toddies in the lodge. She can
drive through anything. So she takes me on a 40 minute drive to the hospital.
Once they cut off my pants. I see the bone sticking out and I pass out.
Stitches and a hip cast. I spend the night under a dryer tent for the plaster
cast. Mom deals.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)