Goose Bay Summer '65

Goose Bay Summer ’65

This summer, I was 17.  This time my trip to Goose Bay left from Montreal.

My father drove me from Ottawa, where I was living with Pat and Shaun, to Montreal to catch the scheduled military flight to Goose Bay. The only trouble with the plan was that we went a day early, which gave him lots of time to catch up with his drinking buddies, his cousins, whom he visited often, in Westmount.

The night before, I had gone to bed early, having total confidence that my father would set his alarm and wake me up to get to the flight at six a.m. This was pretty important to me, so when I woke up in the mid-morning light to find him sleeping in the living room in an arm chair still in his suit, I was livid.

Not thinking of the outcome of my actions, as if by reflex, I got a glass of ice water and pitched it at him.  Needless to say, he woke up. Looking at his face with that shocked expression, I wasn’t sure what would happen next.  Was he going to ‘knock me into next week?’ as he so often promised, or would it just be, ‘I’ll knock your block off’?

It was a great reprieve for me that he did neither.  He felt quite guilty about sleeping in  actually.  My Uncle Jeff ameliorated the situation by taking me with him that day on a business trip to New York City.  That’s a trip I’ll never forget, as we went on every means of transportation available at the time: an airplane, a hydrofoil, a helicopter, a train, a subway, a taxi.  Whoosh!  

That evening when we got back, my heels had cooled considerably and my father had booked another flight to Goose Bay for the next day. He was redeemed.

The summer was to solidify my ties with Deirdre which would softened up over the years.

Bell High School, Ottawa, 1965-66

Bell High School, Ottawa 1965-66

I had finished grade 11 in Quebec in Bagotville. This was equivalent to grade 12 in Ontario.  Being the last year of school in Quebec, I was headed back to Ottawa that fall to finish grade 13 at Bell High School, and to live with my dad’s brother and his wife, Shaun and Pat and their little ones, Brett and Judson. Pat and Shaun were wonderful parents. My IQ went up 20 points just living with them and getting away from my punitive father.   

Judson was on the shy side of two and he had an admirable set of chompers. He was going through a biting stage, unfortunately for him.  One day I was sitting reading him a story.  He was all curled up on my lap and we were cuddling away when all of a sudden he caught sight of my arm that apparently was a little to close to his choppers. He couldn’t resist the temptation to sink them into my arm. It hurt! Without thinking I swiftly bit into his soft, smooth, tender forearm.  He was speechless and breathless until he could let the scream out.  I did feel rather bad, biting a baby, but I didn’t have much time to assess the situation. It was a crime of passion. Even though it cured him of biting, I was forever sorry.

Around Christmas I remember the principal calling me to his office to discuss my courses.  The 36 in physics must have been a clue that I was in over my head taking sciences: biology, chemistry, physics, languages, English and French.  All this changing schools and provinces didn’t help.

I left his office with a new course outline: Latin, French, Biology and English, each worth 2 credits.  If I could pull this off, I’d get to University. I suspect Pat and Shaun were behind this change.  I had to work hard but I did it.

And, I got to see more of Art.

We wanted to get married at the end of high school but my father wouldn’t hear of it. I had to get educated.  Ironically, as I found out years later, they always thought Karen would be the one to go on to University. They were actually quite surprised when it was me. So their argument was hollow.  

I went on to Carleton and Art went away to Western and our relationship disintegrated. I was to miss him for years, even after I got married.

Goose Bay '64

Goose Bay Summer ’64

The summer of ’64 was the first summer I was to go to the air force base at Goose Bay to visit my friend Deirdre.  I flew up there on an airforce scheduled flight from Ottawa, for free.  You just had to buy your lunch for ten dollars and everyone was happy.

Deirdre’s Dad was in the military and held a high position on the base.  Her parents, Joey and Eric Kenny, were good friends of my parents.  I believe they sailed through the post war years playing bridge and drinking Scotch. As I mentioned, Eric was my god father.

Deirdre and I went to the pool in exactly the same bathing suits.  It was totally serendipitous, but no one believed us. It is hard to believe, actually. 

Deirdre had a couple of friends who had a little motor boat and one day they took us out on the ocean.  A storm came up and since we had no way to communicate with those on shore, we were considered missing.  Well, we did make it back to shore and home. When we walked in the front door, Deirdre’s mother said, ‘It’s so nice to see your smiling face.’  I’m standing there feeling invisible and thinking, ‘Shouldn’t that be ‘faces’?’

They had  fighter jets on the Base that would take off and break the sound barrier.  ‘BOOM’! The earth would tremble; the walls would shake and things would fall onto the floor.  Windows would even shatter.  In later years it became illegal to fly that fast.

Once attaining a good speed, these fighter jets would come back at a low level and shoot their after burners. These gave the jets an extra boost but they sounded like canons blasting through your bedroom or living room.  They scared the b-jezus out of me. I thought a war had started.   By the time I left Goose, in a couple of weeks, I got so used to them, I hardly paid any attention.  That’s hard to believe too, but its true.

That was the year I noticed Deirdre’s brother, Dixon. He was really smart and going somewhere in this life. I really admired him.  He was studying at the Royal Military College in Kingston.  When I was going to Carleton we saw a bit of each other. But, as much as our parents would have liked it, it didn’t work out.  

That summer in Goose Bay I also met a fellow named Garry Gibson. He became a life long friend. 

Garry and I went window shopping one day in Ottawa.  We passed a men’s store and there were shiny black shoes in the window.  I said I didn’t like shiny black shoes on men.  Well, there was Garry all decked out in a handsome outfit, wearing those exact shiny black shoes. We stayed friends in spite of my insult.

He married a pretty French Canadian girl, Nicky.  His mother won the lotto, so Garry and Nicky always had beautiful homes.

Bagotville

Bagotville, 1964-65

The best thing about Bagotville was Chicoutimi.  This was a small town that was a fashion tryout centre for the big clothing companies.  The sales were phenomenal.  We had fun with Mom going shopping and stocking up on everything that wasn’t on our list.  It didn’t matter how we prepared ourselves, or how dressed up we got, we always felt like country bumpkins compared to those gorgeous French girls in Chicoutimi. Mom bought some cute mini dresses and she, however, looked like a million dollars in them. She was so beautiful.