Life on Marlin, The boys and the Jansons

Devoted to My Boys

My worst nightmares were that I was alone and didn’t have any children.  I would wake up to my dream. I counted my blessings every day.  They were what kept me going.  They were my source of joy. When they were tucked in bed and kissed and hugged good night, after story time, I would go downstairs and line up their little shoes and think to myself, “What a blessing that these little shoes are filled!” 

The Jansons

There were other families on the street with kids, the Dahls and the Scobbles. It was then we met our neighbours, Jay and Tamara and their three kids, Andrew, Jackie and Pieter. We became very close friends. We made time for each other and our friendship grew over the years. We fit well as couples.  I never remember having one disagreement the whole time we were friends.

One Hallowe’en Don and I got on our knees with sheets over our heads and knocked on their door. Tamara was all sweet and friendly until Don grabbed her boob.  She was speechless at the cheekiness of kids today.  She was flustered as she grabbed a handful of candies to drop in the pillow case Don was holding.  As she did so, he seized the opportunity to do it again.  I, of course was in the background trying not to laugh.  When she recognized my giggle, she fell on the floor laughing.

I remember the time my mother was visiting. After she went to bed, Jay and Tamara and Don and I partied on.  We ended up on the street having an egg race on a tricycle. They were giggling at my long white dress trailing behind the little three wheeled bike.  My mother heard the laughing in her upstairs bedroom and thought, ‘Who is making all this racket?”  When she realized it was my laugh, she thought, “Oh, that’s Christine; isn’t she having fun!”

The Jansons would come to the cottage with us on many occasions.  One winter we braved a trip with all the kids.  We left the cars on the road and skied in with our provisions. As we were leaving the car site, Don was prepared; he was packed up to the gills with a very large, heavy nap sac on his back, full of tinned food. He was wearing his Arctic down-filled coat that he wore on a survival course in the military in the Arctic somewhere. It was an over-kill as it was raining. The snow under our skis and toboggan was getting sticky. Nonetheless, Don braved on, calling, “Follow me!”  just like a great white hunter of the North.  At that very moment, the words hardly out of his mouth, that he keeled over on his back.  He couldn’t move and I was laughing so hard, I couldn’t help him.  I wondered what he was going to do for an encore.  I was hoping he had something.  That was good.

When we got to the cottage, there was a lot of commotion as we scurried to get the fire going in the wood burning stove. Brandon had done something to the dog, so he was sent upstairs to his bedroom for time out. As the fire got started in the fire place, the smoke went up the chimney, but I could smell another kind of smoke.  I tore the fire extinguisher off the wall and ran upstairs with Don, Jay and Tamara behind me.  The curtains were on fire and the mattress was smouldering.  Brandon was about 7 at the time and he was experimenting lighting the matches when things got a little out of hand.  He didn’t want to call out for fear of getting into more trouble.  We got the fire out and all of us dragged the mattress through the hall to the other bedroom and pitched it over the balcony onto the cold snow below. That was a little too close for comfort.

We spent many happy times with the Jansons, not only at the cottage but also at the farm, where we moved after Pointe Claire. We had every New Year’s together with all the kids; they always preferred to party with us than with their friends.  We smoked and drank and partied on. When they were young, we would put the clocks back an hour to celebrate New Years with them and then put them to bed and party on.  They caught on to this ruse rather early.  In the end, they stayed up with the adults until the wee hours of the morning.  I loved bringing them with us when we were with friends;  I thought it made for good memories.

It was very sad and a great loss to me that Tamara passed away from lung cancer in 2005 at the age of 56.

Brandon Birth, 1981

It was in this house that Brandon came into the family.  Super Baby. The pregnancy was text book as was the delivery.  It was the precursor that was a little unusual.

Don was in my bad books the week I was to deliver, so I called upon my mother to accompany me in the delivery room. Don ended up being present anyway, so we had quite a party going on.

When labor started, Mom and I trekked off to the hospital.  I sat up in the hospital bed with my long shiny dark hair cascading down my back, doing my nails and chatting with my mother, looking like anything but in labor. The doctor came in and announced, “You’re not in labor; you’re going home.” Well, it just so happened that the next day was Friday 13 and there was no way I was having a baby on such an unlucky day.  In my state I was figuring his/her birthday would be Friday 13 every year.  Women don’t think too clearly when they are in labor. So I argued that yes, I WAS in labor and I wasn’t going anywhere. I was going to have this baby tonight. I was going to will it to be born before midnight. The doctor said all right, but he was leaving for the night and going out for dinner because he didn’t believe me.

They gave me an enema, just in case.

There was a heart monitor next to the bed to monitor the baby’s heartbeat.  Well, my mother bores easily and when she’d had enough of listening to the baby’s heartbeat, which was strong and healthy, she asked, why not we listen to hers?  Hers was pretty good too. Then it was my turn.  First of all, we couldn’t find it.  When we did, it sounded like an old motor boat dying out, then coming back, limping its way to shore.  Baboom.  Stop. Baboom. Stop.  We started to laugh hysterically, while I tried to ask, “Am I dead?” At this point  I really wished they hadn’t given me the enema. I had to control all that while laughing so hard.  A doctor stuck his head in the door wondering what was so funny. He didn’t smile, but wrote something on his clip board. (two nut bars?)

Mom was getting worried now. She ran out of the room looking for a cardiologist.  How does one get a cardiologist just by wanting one? but she did, she got one. Mom wanted my heart checked NOW. He came with his chart; didn’t say anything but kept writing notes on his clipboard, in between darting glances at me.

It wasn’t too much longer that labor really started to get serious.  Mom panicked. She ran up and down the halls calling for a doctor.  Seems they were all in the delivery room delivering babies. She approached a janitor and asked him to come and help deliver my baby.  He informed her, “I’m just the janitor.”  Understandable error on her part, since he wore a familiar blue outfit, like a doctor.  The broom should have given her a clue, however.

They had a delivery room for us when the moment came. Brandon popped out screaming. Doctors were called from every corner of the hospital to see his amazing lung capacity.  He had the body of a football player.  He was magnificent. 

Marlin Crescent 1978-1988

When we moved to our new multi-split house on Marlin Crescent, it was the beginning of a new era. Maybe we could start over.  Maybe things would work out better in this nicer house. It was very exciting and full of promise.

Farewell Prince Charles

The people across the street on Prince Charles had four teen aged boys. They lived in a house about the same size as ours.  

It was the day Don said to me that we could live in this $17,000 house forever because the mortgage would be paid off and it’d be cheap living, that I realized he really thought we could be like those people across the street.

Three weeks later the house was sold and we bought a much larger house in a much nicer area.  It was a five story house in ‘Priests’ Farm’ in Pointe Claire.  We paid $52,000 for it. This move opened the way for opportunities that were yet to come.

Chapter 12

Saying goodbye to Elvis

Elvis Presley died in August of 1977 when we were still living in this little house on Prince Charles.This was the same year Tyson was born so he was only five months old and Damon was a year and a half. I was an ardent fan of Elvis, and when I heard this news, it was as if I heard that a dear friend had passed away.  I never did see Elvis in the flesh and I felt I owed it to him, or at least to myself, to pay my respects.

So off I went to Dorval airport to catch a plane to Memphis,Tennessee, leaving Don with the two babies.  

When I got to the airport, I picked up a newspaper.  It had the news of Elvis all over the front page.  When I settled in my seat in the airplane, I glanced at the headlines, “One hundred thousand people crowd the gates of Graceland.” Maybe I forgot to mention along the way that I was suffering from mild case of claustrophobia. The doors of the plane were shut and the plane was backing up.  The flight attendants were giving the safety spiel when it hit.  I could just imagine being squeezed in a riotous crowd with no way out. One hundred thousand fans, pushing, making an escape impossible.  

I had to get off the plane.  I waved to the stewardess and explained I was having a complete meltdown and I had to get off.  She whipped up to the cock pit.  The plane stopped and returned to the bay.  She escorted me to the door making sure I was all right.

What a relief to get off that plane.  As I entered the gate room, two girls ran into the gate room, crying. I asked them, “What’s wrong?” “Oh, we just missed the plane to Elvis’ funeral!” I heard myself reply confidently and with vigour, “Oh, no, you didn’t.  Its right here.”  And with that, we all three of us raced to the closing air craft door.  I felt completely different now that they were in the picture. This did a 180 on my claustrophobia.

The stewardess looked at me in a puzzled way, as if to say, “What? You again?” I had some convincing to do to get back on the airplane, answering as positively as I could to her “Are you sure?” questions. She actually acquiesced and the three of us sat down. I behaved myself for the rest of the trip.

A large crowd stood outside of ‘Graceland’  singing ‘Love Me Tender’ as the white limousines slowly curled from the driveway up the Avenue taking Elvis to his final resting place.  The crowds weren’t as bad as the newspaper portrayed; people were dispersed all along the road for miles.

I felt satisfied that I was able to say my good-byes to Elvis.  Fate had a part to play that day for me and for the two girls.

Ghosts at Prince Charles

Ghosts

I believe that house had ghosts.

One night we were having a family dinner with Don’s sister Barbara and her husband Dick and Don’s parents, Joy and Claude,   Before dinner we had invited Carmen to come over with her baby, Ryan as Wayne was away and we thought she’d enjoy getting out of the house.  

Half way through dinner, we all heard someone whistling a tune.  We all stopped eating and listened.  We thought it was Carmen and Ryan as the timing was perfect. We got up from the table and searched the house.  We didn’t find her.  Somewhat satisfied that the noise didn’t come from her, we sat down and finished our dinner.  We were all pretty perplexed about it.

The most traumatic experience I had with ghosts in that house happened one night when I was alone in bed. Don was away, which wasn’t unusual.  The kids were just a twinkle in their father’s eye. I was totally alone.  I had the bedside light on and the phone  was right there on the bedside table. The bedroom door was slightly  open.  Outside the bedroom was darkness.

I thought I heard someone coming up the stairs. I heard one step creak, and then another.  I stopped reading and held my breath to see if I’d hear it again. There it was again. With each step, it got nearer. I froze. My blood stopped flowing in my veins. I was afraid to breath that they might hear it.  The steps kept coming. But slowly.   I thought of calling the operator (as this was before 911), but I couldn’t move. I was literally frozen with fear.  The steps came to my bedroom door and then started to recede. They creaked all the way back down the stairs.  And that was it. Gives me the creeps to this day even just talking about it.