Sending the Kids to Camp with Marijuana

The church I was taking the kids to for Sunday School was offering a summer camp program. We enrolled Damon and Tyson thinking this would be a good experience for them.  We hastily threw together the things they were required to bring for the week away.  We added our old camera that had been hanging around for  years. We put a new film in the case and packed it up.

Weren’t we to get a call a few days later from a beleaguered Damon. “The camp councillor found marijuana in the camera case!” I gasped.  Friends had given us a small amount of pot when we got married and we never used it.  We had hidden it away carefully in the camera case and totally forgot about it.  It came flooding back to me but I couldn’t tell Damon that.  “Tell them its oregano; its oregano, Honey!”  I don’t know exactly what happened when we got off the phone, but I’m pretty sure the councillor took care of it as we never saw it again! 

Fire Ball

There was a terrific thunder storm outside, with lightening and thunder.  I knelt on the couch with the kids and watched through the picture window. Suddenly, a huge ball of fire leapt through the window, across the room and out the back patio doors.  How could anyone ever film this?  It was a phenomenon recorded in books, but I don’t think it was ever photographed.  Amazing! A good reason not to sit next to a window in a thunder storm.

Lights Out

It was dusk, a time that necessitated turning on the lights.  Well, none of the lights worked.   It wasn’t unusual to have a power failure in Pointe Claire.  We thought it was just another power outage in the area.  We got wood in for the wood burner, got the kerosene lamps ready and extra blankets for everyone’s bed for the cold night ahead. We tentatively expected the neighbors to come to huddle around our wood stove. As it got darker and darker, we noticed the neighbours in the back still had their power. I went out on the street to investigate who lost their power and noticed everyone but us had power.  This was a mystery.  We had paid our hydro bill?

Slowly the recollections of the day came back to me.  I was working in the garage and rolling up the garden hose. I recklessly threw it over the hook on the wall, and went on my  business.  It turned out that ‘hook’ on the wall was the main power lever for the house and by throwing the hose over it, I inadvertently switched it off.  Power problem solv-ed.

"Where's My Bugs?"

One of my endearing memories of Brandon!

I was buzzing around the kitchen finishing up making crunchy granola.  I hurriedly filled three bowls and gave them to the boys who were playing in the back yard.  I continued with my business until dinner time when I summoned the boys in with their empty bowls.  Brandon still had quite a bit of his granola left.  I placed his bowl on the counter and absentmindedly nibbled on it as I prepared dinner. I hadn’t had a taste and this was my opportunity to sample the results of my cuisine.  

Dinner ready, I call the boys. Brandon takes one look at his bowl and yells, “Where’s my bugs?” I scrutinized the bowl only to see ants on their backs, beetles without legs, flies wing and legless.  Allch!  Just the thought I’d eaten them made me retch.  I yelled back, “What are you mad at …?  … I’m the one that ate them!”

Choking

Brandon was about 14 months old and still learning to chew on a hard diet. This day he was having difficulty swallowing on an apple. He always managed to succeed; but this was different. He was choking. I grabbed him and put him over the sink. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t do the Hiemlick method hard enough to clear the apple out of his throat.  

A few days previously, Don had rented a video from the library for our 16 mm projector about the services of the Fire Department.  Much to our surprise, they did First Responder calls.  Don put their phone number on all the phones. When time was running out, I grabbed the phone to call them. It was only for the fact that the number was on the phone that I was able to call them.  I could never have looked up the number in the phone book in this state of panic.

I called the Fire Department, explaining the situation and I swear they were in the front door before I hung up the phone.  Fireman Tottle, [which I understood as his name Firemantottle] snatched Brandon up, now blue, over his knee, hit him on the back and stuck  his little finger in his mouth. Out popped the obstructive piece of apple.  Brandon immediately turned pink.  They took him into their fireman truck and transported him to the hospital for an Xray.  He was just fine. Every year after we would go and thank Fireman Tottle for saving my son.  One year we went and heard the sad news that he had passed away.  I had a plaque made for him, acknowledging his heroic deed, and presented it to the Fire Department. That was the end of our connection with Firemantottle.

The Buick

The Buick

My Great Aunt Franny [my mom’s dad’s sister] owned a super powerful Buick Skylark. an 8 HP…  It seemed out of context for her.  She would take it to the garage and the attendant would drive it to the bay and when he stepped on the gas, the gar would hit 80.  Well, it went shockingly zesty anyway. When the car got old, Franny gave it  to Mom.  Mom loved that car and when it started to have problems, she teased that she wanted to bronze it and make it into a guest house at the cottage. Much to Don and my surprise, we came out of the house one day to see Mom’s old Buick with a big ribbon wrapped around it. She was giving us her Buick Skylark. We much appreciated the gift, as any young family would love to have a car given to them.

I remember yet the day we took the kids to Toronto from Pointe Claire in that old Buick.  Once in Toronto, it started to make unusual noises and I suspected it was in it’s death throws.  We were stopped by a police officer who asked appropriate questions like, who were we, where were we going and what was wrong with our car.  We answered we were on our way to the scrap heap and we were planning to purchase a new car imminently. He was satisfied with that and let us go on our way.  We did just that.  We were sad to see the old car go, but the new Oldsmobile ’88 adequately assuaged our grief.

Nonna's Visits

The Boa

Mom would visit wherever we lived and she often came to Pointe Claire with her Nonna gene. 

One time Mom came to babysit Tyson when he was about five months old.  Tyson’s kind and sensitive character came through even at this age.  He rarely cried, but he cooed. He was such a good baby.  I was sure Mom could handle him and he wouldn’t give her any grief.

She took him to Ottawa to visit her good friend Lois Langevin.  Robert, Lois’ son, lived at home, but had left for a few days, leaving his Mom in charge of his boa constrictor in the basement.  Lois worried that it would get out, but Robert assured her that this was impossible.

When Mom arrived, she put Tyson down in the upstairs bedroom for a nap.  Since she didn’t want him to fall off the bed, she put him comfortably on the floor and left the door open. She then joined Lois in the bright and sunny den that looked out onto the back yard and pool.  There they sipped on a glass of white wine and got caught up on their news.

After a couple of hours, Lois invited Mom to have a look at the boa in the basement.  Mom was nervous just thinking about it.  Needless to explain their horror when they saw the cage was empty. 

They raced up stairs, dreading what they might find.  Much to their relief, Tyson was all in one piece, still sleeping on the floor. But where was the boa and what were they going to do with it?

They found it in the next room slithering up on the curtains.  They closed the door, picked up Tyson and gingerly went back to the den.  Mom neglected to tell me about this until  years later.

The Police and the Fire Department

Another visit entailed the Fire Department and the Police when Brandon went missing.

Brandon was two.  I had brought him for a long walk that day to the shopping centre about one kilometer away.  That evening, he didn’t want to go to bed, but we insisted he stay in bed anyway.  Mom had gone to bed earlier and was sleeping in Damon’s room.  When we turned in at ten, Brandon was no where to be found.  We woke Damon and Tyson up to help search the house, but to no avail.  I was worried he left the house and went back to the shopping centre.  I started my search on our street, checking each car, thinking he may have crawled in and fallen asleep. The air was still and mist hung around the street lights.  It was errie. 

Feeling that time was of the essence for my missing child, I called the Fire Department and they started a search on the main roads. The police were alerted and came and checked our street out.  They searched the house and even looked in the cupboards with their flash lights in the room where Mom was sleeping.  I was desperate.

One of the policemen saw a lump at the foot of Mom’s bed, under the covers.  He didn’t want to wake her up, so he asked if we would check it out.  Well, guess who had fallen asleep under the covers!  There Brandon was, fast asleep. 

Forgetting Damon

We had arranged a rendezvous point in Ottawa where Mom was to pick up Damon and take him back home to Thornbury with her.  Well she forgot.  When Mom got home, we asked her how Damon was doing.  There was this long breathless pause as the synapses struggled to connect. “Oh no. Did I forget?”  she said in a very guilty tone. We teased, “You didn’t forget him, did you?  Do you think he’s still waiting for you on the street?”  She had a hard time living that one down.  Damon was about 12.