by N. A. Dalbec
Another taste treat came in the form of popcorn rolled into caramel. I was introduced to this delicacy at a friend’s place. It was very messy, just the way kids like it. Hedonistic, really.
Firecracker Day
I could tell you a lot of stories about Firecracker Day, and I'd probably be spanning a period of at least ten years, if not more. It was always a very special day, and as kids we always looked forward to it. I don't know why I'm referring to one day only, because depending on how good you were at sourcing out firecrackers, it could easily stretch out to a week. Yes, those were the good old days. There were less laws and regulations. For example, you didn't have to wear a helmet when you rode a motorcycle, and you didn't have to wear seat belts, and if you had the cash, you could buy firecrackers from any store that sold them, no matter how young you were.
You could buy tiny ones that you would let off as a string. They weren't expensive, and were too small to light up one at a time. Although if you wanted to impress someone, you would light one up, and let it go off in your hand. It didn't hurt, but your fingers would really hold the smell of gunpowder. Sometimes we'd have contests to see how big a firecracker you could light off in your hand. The "barber shop" striped Rockets were very powerful, and they were about the biggest you could hold without blowing off a finger. You would get this very numb feeling in your fingers when you did that. Now the cannons were the biggest. They were also very expensive. You didn't hold one of those in your hand. They were about six inches long, and about three-quarters of an inch in diameter. If you had big boots on, you could probably hold one down as it exploded, but you'd risk the possibility of a sprained ankle, and a very numb leg.
There were often duds. Those you would break in two, and make flares with them. You could hold them in your hand, but you had to be very careful.
One of my favorite activities was to stick a Rocket firecracker in the hollow body of those great little plastic planes that you shot off into the air with an elastic slingshot. Those airplanes flew beautifully, and you could get them way up in the air before they blew up. They blew up very well, sort of like in slow motion. Blowing up tulips was also a favorite activity, as well as blowing up plastic model cars. One of my brothers had made a very neat cannon at school, and he would send large marbles across a small river that runs through the city.
We were lucky. None of our friends ever lost any body parts, although most of us probably don't hear as well as we should. We were supposed to be celebrating Queen Victoria's birthday, but I'd rather think that we were celebrating the freedom of Firecracker Day.
Not Feeling so Good
When you're a kid, you usually feel pretty good. The rule of thumb seems to be that you're in a good mood just about all the time, unless some external factor comes into play. And it also seems that mood swings are rapid and sudden. It also seems that as adults, we have a tendency to lose some of the spontaneity and general good humor that are so typical of youth. And what ever happened to getting up without an alarm clock?
I remember going to school one day in the middle of winter. It wasn't especially cold out, but the sky was filled with clouds. I walked to school, even when I was in kindergarten. There may have been school buses, but as far as we knew, school buses were for kids who lived in the country. We didn't live in the country. I don't remember ever minding the walk. It wasn't that far to school.
But one day, I think I was in grade one, things were different. Going to school was okay, but as the day wore on, I wore out. I seemed to grow more and more tired. As the school day ended, I felt a greater than usual urge to get home. I put on my winter clothes and boots, and started walking home. For some reason or another, I walked home alone that afternoon. The walk felt like it was taking forever. It felt like one of those dreams where your feet are stuck in molasses, and everywhere you want to go just seems to get farther and farther away from you...a little bit like going up the endless stairway. I really thought that I would never make it. I had never fainted, but that day, I was sure that I could, if I were to let myself go. On the edge. If I were to compare it, it would be like swinging yourself in a circle until you got so dizzy that falling down wouldn't even matter to you.
Well, I made it home. My mother could see something was wrong. She took my temperature, and sure enough, it was through the roof. Turns out I had contracted chicken pox. Just another youthful rite of passage that lots of chicken noodle soup would no doubt fix.
Just Desserts
I never met a kid who didn't like to eat. But a lot depends on what you want to feed a kid. Broccoli, Brussels sprouts, cabbage, not likely. Gum, candy, chocolate...now you're talking.
I remember being particular about some foods, but at particular stages in life. For example, I couldn't stand green Iceberg lettuce. For years, I wouldn't touch the stuff. Then, all of a sudden, I was asked to try it again, and lo and behold, I was converted. I've liked it ever since.
Now one thing that I always loved, and probably always will, is strawberry shortcake. Although I don't have it often, it's still a big favorite. It's also a desert that I will never forget!
We were now living closer to the center of the city. The house was enormous. It sat on an elm-lined street with a whole bunch of other enormous houses. It was also a very old house, with lots of beautiful woodwork inside. There were all the requisite rooms from another era: foyer, boudoir, sitting room, dining room, etc. You actually had to go through two or three doors, just to get inside the house. This house had tons of windows, stretching over three storeys. There were probably fifty or more windows. In the fall, fifty or so additional windows would go up, and in the spring, they would come down. I was fortunate enough to be too young to help put up those storm windows. One handy thing about these was that they went on from the inside, which was quite innovative, considering most of the neighboring houses did not enjoy this feature. I remember one fine Fall evening, after all the windows had been put up by my father and older brothers, Mom had decided to treat the family to strawberry shortcake for dessert.
This followed a great dinner, whatever it was. I was having a second serving of dessert, when all of a sudden, a great crashing sound occurred. It was deafening. I opened my eyes only to find that I was surrounded by broken glass. It was everywhere! The storm window in the kitchen had fallen from its anchors onto the kitchen table. No one else was hit, and apart from the surprising shock, I seemed to be all right. My mother was more worried about all of this than I. She was also not very happy with my father, to say the least.
It was off to the hospital we went, so that I could get checked out. Got my first ride in a wheelchair. I thought that was pretty neat. They took X-rays, and bandaged up my head. I felt like a mummy. The doctor told my parents to check for dizzy spells, vomiting, or fainting. The nurse wheeled me out, and my parents brought me home. As it turns out, I didn't get any dizzy spells, I didn't vomit, and I didn't faint. I guess my head was okay. I did get a day off from school, and the other kids thought the bandages were neat looking.
As far as I know, my head is still okay, and I still like strawberry shortcake.
More Things to Eat
It's a darn good thing that we get two sets of teeth, when you think about it. It's one of the rare second chances in life. With teeth, you get the opportunity to ruin the first set, if you're not careful, and by the time you come to your senses, the second set comes along.
I had an incredibly bad thing for candy when I was a kid. It was more than a passion, it was a way of life. There was no better way to spend money. Money was probably created for candy. The next best thing to candy was toys. But as a kid. you rarely could afford to buy toys. You got those at Christmas, and your birthday anyway. But if you happened to get a nickel, dime or quarter, it was time to go to the corner store.
In those days, a penny would get you three blackballs, or three blackbabies, or three jube-jubes. A penny could get you Bazooka gum, or any other type of "a la carte" gum. Although a nickel would g
et you a pack of Thrills. Back to pennies for a moment. A penny could get you a Pixie Stick, or a package of Lick-Maid. There was no difference between a Pixie Stick and a Lick-Maid. It all depended on how you liked to eat the stuff that was inside. It was rather sand-like and tart. It also came in a rainbow of colors, and supposedly, flavors, but I get the feeling it was the same stuff in a whole bunch of different colors. For a few cents more, there were jawbreakers, a gum shaped into a ball, and covered with sparklies, a form of candy on candy if you wish.
A nickel got you a pack of gum with collector cards, your pick of hockey, baseball, football, Civil War scenes with cannonballs flying through soldiers' bodies, and of course, monster and horror cards. Same gum, different reading material. You could also get a roll of Bazooka gum. If you ate all the pieces at once, you could make enormous balloons that would blow up in your face and get into your hair.
Now all of this stuff went on top of the nutritious stuff you were being fed at home, including whatever desserts were being offered. It would be an understatement to say I had cavities as a kid. The dentist could actually look into my mouth and count the good teeth as opposed to the bad teeth. Even if his math was bad, he only needed the fingers on one hand to count the good teeth. I learned my lesson when the second one was pulled out. It was an adult tooth. The sound of it coming out was horrible. It sounded like a branch cracking off a tree. I also didn't like what the dentist had to do just to get that sucker out. I didn't like the instruments, I didn't like the smell.
Soon after that experience, I decided to quit being a candy junkie. and I actually managed to curtail most desires for sweet stuff. What control! It was after all, quite a number of years before I would discover beer.
Flights of Fancy on the Reservoir
The second house we lived in was in a rather unique setting. If you can imagine a house lying at the base of a tall L-shaped cliff. The cliff surface was climbable, and forested. Part of the cliff had been eaten up by a quarry operation. This exposed area showed a rather thick layer of sedimentary rock.
At one point or another, the part that remained at the base of the L had been transformed into an underground municipal water reservoir. The top of the reservoir had been turned into a park that overlooked the city. It was an interesting place to go to, as a kid, and a lot of neat things went on there.
I remember playing outside one day. and hearing these strange buzzing sounds coming from the top of the reservoir. I decided to investigate. As I climbed the side of the reservoir, the sounds became louder and more distinct. I still didn't know what was creating the noise, but I certainly wanted to find out.
A few moments later, I reached the top, and noticed to my great surprise and delight, a collection of remote control airplanes of all shapes and sizes. There were beautiful replicas of all types of military and civilian aircraft. And some had wingspans of three feet and more. I was simply mesmerized by the beauty and detail of these flying machines. The owners were quite skilled at maneuvering their planes through the sky. There would sometimes be five or six of them in the air at the same time. Most were using remote control panels, but a few were flying "by wire", which was not as exciting to watch. There seemed to be a lot more freedom involved with the remote control planes. For one thing, they didn't have to fly in a circle. They could fly straight up, and dive, or fly away to a point where you could hardly see them any more.
I remember seeing one of them flying so gracefully, and all of a sudden, falling from the sky at an alarming rate, only to bury itself, nose first, into the soft ground. The plane must have sunk about ten inches into the ground. I remember the look on the owner's face. He was rather despondent. I did not realize at the time the cost or work that went into building and maintaining one of these little planes. I did realize, however, that these were not the types of toys that kids received for Christmas, although I'm sure some richer kids would probably get one of the fly-by-wire ones on occasion. This was more of an adult thing, and I was quite surprised to see grown-ups entertaining themselves this way. I did find it refreshing though, to see that there was something great to look forward to when I grew up.
The Big Race
The park was nearby, and I used to go there all the time. It's not what you'd call a pretty sort of park. It was rather flat, had very few trees, and no particular charm. But it did have a wading pool, and some pretty big swings, the kind that could give you a real thrill, if you had a strong armed person to push you. In the winter, they would put up a hockey rink, with a skating rink around the hockey rink. Good planning. You could increase your chances of getting a puck in the head from someone's slapshot just by pleasure-skating around the hockey rink.
One summer day, I found out that there would be a series of competitions at the park. One of those competitions was a tricycle race. There would be prizes, and everything! Well it didn't take me long to sign up for the tricycle race. I was a confident rider, and I knew I was fast.
In preparation for the race, I found out what the circuit would be, and began practicing. The circuit was to be run around one city block. There were no sidewalks in this part of the city, but there also wasn't much traffic either. I must have run that circuit a thousand times. I really wanted to win, and I knew I could. I also had a pretty good idea of who would be competing.
Race day came. It was a warm summer day, quite beautiful really. My trike was oiled, and I was ready to go. A new feeling came over me, one of nervousness. Quite natural of course, but new, nonetheless. My confidence level was still high.
The race began. I pedaled like a little devil, giving no quarter to my tricycle, or to my body. The sweat started pouring off my body, and I remember neither the other competitors, nor those who were cheering us on.
All of a sudden, something inconceivable happened! As I rounded a corner, I felt my trike tipping. The whole balance of things was falling apart before my very eyes. I could not believe what was happening. The trike continued its unwieldy trajectory sideways and downward, taking me along with it. My body scraped along the chipseal surface causing me pain. The pain was secondary to the humiliation that I felt, knowing that I had lost control of my trike. Injustice was the thought that was filling my mind. How could this happen?
I was not one to lose control of my trike, and I was livid, thinking that if I were to lose control of my trike, that it would happen on this day of all days. Not much philosophy was going through my mind that day. My ego was bruised in a big way. Not only did I fail to win the race that I was sure of winning, I didn't even finish the race. No prize, no glory.
Life is like that, sometimes. When you feel most confident, it seems to be a good idea to remain somewhat humble, just in case...
Close Shave
She wasn't the girl next door. She was the girl across the street. She liked animals a lot, and I remember her once giving me a chick. I don't remember the chick lasting too long, but I appreciated the thought. She also had rabbits, but she never gave me one.
One summer evening, she came over to play. My parents were tied up with either her parents, or with some other adults. The push-mower was sitting there, and I wanted to show my equally young friend how this machine worked. I loved playing with the mower, mostly because it had so many moving parts. It was also a very interesting orange color. The push-mower could also be pulled, and that was just a bit more fun, because it was easier to move this way.
The game we devised was rather simple. One person would pull the mower as fast as they could, and the other person would chase the mower all over the place, and try to throw things that could be cut by the rotating blades. I would be the puller for a while, then she would be the puller for a while. It was very entertaining, to say the least.
It was my turn to pull again, and I started off in a great flurry. She ran behind, laughing and giggling, as playing kids do. The lawn had recently been mown, and grass clippings were flying into the air. My young friend ran behind the mower, throwing things into the path of t
he whirling blades. Somewhere along the line, one of her fingers came too close to the blades. The cacophonous action of the blade assembly covered her scream, and I continued to run with the mower. When I looked back, she was no longer chasing the mower. She was just standing there, holding her hand with the other. I let go the mower, and went to her to see what was happening. The adults were not far behind, and you could sense great concern from everyone. I started feeling pretty bad about the whole thing. It had been such a neat game.
You can imagine that the game was no longer to be played...ever again. Thank goodness the wound to the young girl's finger was superficial. Nonetheless, the feelings of guilt were disproportionately strong. I realized at that point the potential severity of the situation.
A Moving Experience
I don't remember our first move as a family. I was quite young at the time. So the transition was for all intents and purposes, very smooth. I don't know how my brothers and sister felt, but I'm sure it was more difficult for them. They had developed friendships, of course, and they had to let them go, moving on to new ones. I developed my first series of friendships in the bigger city. There were lots of other kids around. Seems that everyone was making kids at that time. I learned that people were unique in many ways, and that they had their own particular talents. I developed my own set of friendships, and was quite taken aback when I discovered that we were moving to another part of the city, a part of the city that was far enough to make it difficult for a kid to continue those established friendships. Not impossible, but difficult.
