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.