My sister Danielle

Danielle was kind of the middle child in our family. I have few memories of Danielle in our childhood. I remember she was always tomboyish. We used to tease her until she got mad and wrestled us. She was stronger then us and 2 years older then me. There was a neighbor who took a liking to her and asks my parents if she could come over and visit on weekends. Today you would never even consider this but he was married and had one daughter of his own so I guess my parents didn`t mind. I remember he once came to pick her up on his Harley and she would come back on Sunday night. He used to take pictures of her and dress her like Shirley Temple. I envied her she often came home with gifts. One day I remember clearly is a weekend that Danielle didn`t go with him to Toronto along with his family. That weekend he drove under a truck trailer and was decapitated in the accident. His wife and girl also died in the accident. As I got older and learn more about life I realize that there were things going on that time that went unnoticed. My oldest brother told me that he caught him molesting Danielle one time but when he told Mom and Dad they didn`t believe him. You hear these days when speaking to a gay person things like ``I always new I was gay ‘or Ì was born this way`. In Danielle’s case you have wonder was she born a lesbian or did some of her childhood trauma direct there. For years we suspected she was a lesbian but only ten years ago did she make it official. She did have a relationship with a man years before and got pregnant but that didn`t work out. She did have a daughter from this relationship called Natasha. Although I didn`t always agree with how Danielle raised Natasha She grew up to be a very nice women and a good mother I am told. Natasha married a man in the American military and had had a daughter of there own name Keniesha. Over the years Danielle and I were never the closes and we`ve had a few falling out. It is regrettable what happens to families who come from dysfunctional homes. Everyone deals with the pain in the only way they know and sometime that means distancing them self from anything that reminds them of it. All I know is that in a recent visit to Ottawa I came to see how so full of hate she is for Me and all men it seems.

My sister Carole Part#2

Once we moved into the city down town Carole’s life didn’t improve. Early on she was assaulted by girls in a street gang .She started skipping school and her relationship with Dad only got worst. One time she stayed out all night and came home with a story of abduction that my Dad didn’t care to hear. No sooner was she in the house that my Dad started hitting her. Carole would plead him to stop but that just made him hit longer. Later on social service got involve and Carole was removed from our home. My parent had to go to court but they denied every accusation and Carole was put in a reform school for girls in Gult Ontario. There she attempted to commit suicide just a month before I arrive to visit her. She told me at that time that the girl inmates were being abused by guards regularly. Some time after she was put in a foster home where her foster dad sexually assaulted he. I had a chance to visit her there in Toronto . I will talk about that more later. Soon she was 16 and ran away from there where she was transient from place to place like Vancouver and Winnipeg .She told me stories of her life on the streets and more of her tragic incidence like gang raped. Her boyfriend beat her so bad she had a lot of her teeth broken and removed. Eventually she met a good man and settled down and had a family. She had one son name Collin and a daughter name kailey. Life has improved to some extent. WE had a falling out around Christmas when I was emotionally drained from going through a divorce and I haven’t made contact with her since. I love my sister Carole but by this time in my life I had also become a product of my own past that I will talk about more as I go on.

My sister Carole Part#1

As I mention earlier Carole and I are 1 year apart. I remember that as a child Carole was always instigating something.
In a family of eight parental attention is hard to even out. Add to this alcohol addiction and a child can quickly get lost in the flock. Carole is a good example of a child who will accept negative attention rather then none. I have some found memories of Carole and I going on exploring adventures together, picking apples, picking bottles and many others. Her need for attention made her very competitive with everyone else. She would always be the one who would tattle one the others. My sisters and I didn’t help this scenario by reacting with names calling like “devil”. After my brother was remanded to a reform school for constantly running away and getting in trouble I guess the abuse from my Dad got directed at Carole. If we were both in trouble for the same thing Carole would get the brunt of the punishment. Carole idolized my sister Francine but Francine was closer to me. I have always been able to divine my love equally with people I cared for so even t. Carole often made me mad by doing things like jumping on my back when I was turn and put chock holds on me we were very forgiving to each other and often played together. She was often the one to slack off when we had chores to do and lying came easy for her which made us mad. I believe all this was driven by a need for love and attention. If there’s such a thing as bad Karma I would point to Carole. When we were babies I have been told that social service took some of us away from our parents and were put in foster homes. I was told that Carole was one of the children taken and as bad luck would have it the foster parent would beat her. She was only one year old. I say one year old because I don’t have any memories before two years old and she was one year younger then me. I’m guessing that her being that close after me that she was “an accident”. She was the bravest when it came to challenge parental rules and sometime she paid a high price. For example one day she was climbing up on the cupboard and fell down straddling the bottom cupboard door. I can only imagine how painful that was. My Dad had no patience for her I have memories of him screaming at her to eat her oatmeal. She hated oat meal and refused to eat it. My Dad would force feed her to the point she would be chocking .One time he was beating her after school and when my Mom came in he was trying to justify his beating blaming Carole for everything. I was doing my home work at the time and he tried to get me to confirm his story. I was scared of my father so I would muffle a yes that he could barely hear so he slapped me so hard I broke my pencil. That was a mistake my Mom jumped in to protect me as she always did and I ran to my room crying.

Lets go pick some bottles! The lost of inocence?

As a child you quickly realize that adults are in charge! You adapt and you do what you’re told even if it seems wrong. One of the things me and my sisters did when we were bored was go pick bottles. We would walk in ditches along the side of the road picking discarded bottles. Our Mom would later exchange and give us the money. I was usually the one to initiate this due mostly to my need to be away from home. Often Carole my sister would come .Me and Carole were one year apart so we did a lot together .In a perfect world which is what every kid wants’ to believe he lives in ,spicking bottles should be somewhat uneventful. In the real world however there are always dangers. Carole and I would walk 2 mile to the turn off road at Wakley road and she would work one side and me the other. One time within the first ten minutes of our bottle picking Carole stepped on something sharp and cut her foot. It was bleeding very badly so I helped her walk back home therefore ending our bottle picking that day. I was disappointed for that day but I reason that it could have been me and that it’s a danger that can happen again so I was careful the rest of the times I went out. Lesson learned! Some time in the future we again went for a bottle picking adventure. This time we brought Jocelyne one of my other sister. All was going well I thought but the girls got tired early and separated as they headed back home .I should mention that me and Carole were very competitive on who would find the most bottles. When I got home they weren’t there! My Mom asked me where they were and I answered I didn’t know. Then we got a phone call from someone who lived on Walkley road .My parents and I drove there as I new which house they were at. What had happen is a man pulled up to them in a car and asked them what they were doing. When they answered “were picking bottles” he offered to take them where there were a lot of bottles. They then got into the car with him and no sooner were they driving away he pulled his pants down and proceeded to grab my sisters Cariole’s hand and force her to touch him . I guess they were screaming and crying so loud that he let them off at that house we found them. When they told me the story I was scared and for a while I watched every truck that would go by as I walk home from school after that day. For a while after that we were forbidden to go pick bottles. This incident is still vivid in my sister’s memory to this day. As for me it was the day that even though I realized adults are not only wrong some time ,but some adults are also dangerous!

My sister Micheline

Micheline is the oldest in our family! There are a few versions about how Micheline became mentally handicapped. My aunt who doesn’t like my father much says it was my Dad’s fault! She claims that Micheline fell off a swing as a child and my Dad was to drunk to take her to the hospital .When she was brought to the hospital it was too late she was already brain damaged .Another story I herd is she had a fever as a baby that left her brain damaged . As far back as I can remember she has been this way .I heard once that she has the mind of a 7 years old. Micheline likes music a lot. She could often be found standing in one spot signing and rocking her head from side to side. I grew up around her so to me it was “just Micheline” .The funniest memories I have about Micheline was in later years when I was about 18 .A good old friend of my Dad was visiting and he had brought with him his daughters . When we were young we often visited Gary’s family and play with them .Now these kids I used to play with had evolved into very pretty ladies. Micheline loved Gary and I think that’s because Gary sang and played guitar when we got together as families. One of Michelines habitual behavior was she would often repeat something that a person would say out of the blue. A few years before that visit Gary had lost his foot in an accident that seem to have changed him and on this day he didn’t want to play guitar .I took charge and tried to see if I could remember a tune and maybe impress one of his daughters . Well as luck would have it I was so nervous I couldn’t think of a song to play and sing. I would start a few cords then stop and make excuses .Then try another then stop and make excuses. Suddenly Micheline says” shut up and play” and the whole room started laughing! I got so embarrass! I covered it up by laughing as well but after that I was more lost so I put the guitar down .I of course lost interest in Gary’s daughters completely. When the conversation changed I slowly wandered away. My Mom tried to enter Micheline into the school system, but in those days special needs children did not attend school. As Micheline came into her teens My Dad was still going from Job to Job so my Mom decided to go back to work. Since Micheline needed attending this was impossible so my parents decided to have her committed to an institution in Smith Falls Ontario. We visited a few times and she would be allowed to come home on holidays. One day someone from a group’s home for challenged people found Micheline at the institution and offered to take her. Group homes have about 10 people where as institutions have 300. She has been there since and is very happy there. In fact if she visits us to long she gets disoriented and starts crying. I still believe that she was so lucky they noticed her and took her under there wing.

Injury prone?

I have come to realize that my mind never rests until I sleep. I remember as a child I was constantly gone into fantasy land even during school class. My adventuress spirit was not without incidents. The batman incedent was only one of many of my adventures that ended wrong .One day I was exploring around in the barn hay loft when I fell through the floor boards. Luckily for me I grabbed a beam and was hanging on for dear life. The drop was about 15 feet I think and I was clinging with all my strength. I could hear my sister Micheline outside singing away. I screamed and screamed but she couldn’t hear me I could feel my self loosing my grip! Finally I could n't hold anymore so I let go and dropped to the main floor. I was shaken up but suffered no injuries in the fall except psychologically. I think I can attribute my fear of height that plagued me to this day from that day. Another incident was with my school class. We had been taking lessons as a class once a week and I was feeling confident to an extent. When class was over we had free swim time which I took advantage of and jumped into the pool. Unfortunately for me the area I jumped in was over my head and I was panicking to the point where just as I was about to sink I screamed out "HELP!”. At that very moment I manage to grab the edge and when a life guard came close and ask " who screamed " I just got quiet and pretended it wasn’t me . Needless to say I now had a new fear that plagued me until late in my life. Some accidents were driven by my curiosity. One day I was playing with the old wringers washer touching the wringer rollers as they rolled. Suddenly my hand got caught in the rollers and it was pulling me through .If not for the quick actions of my sister Danielle who unplugged the washer I don’t know what would of happen. As it was I had a sprained arm and had to ware a sling for a week at school .As you can imagine my Dad was furious! Another time I was playing with a baby rattle that had a large suction cup on it. I would lick it and stick it to my head but missed and stuck it to my eye. I quickly realize it was stuck and ran into the house crying. My Mom managed to pull it off after a few tries but my eyes got badly blood shot. My parents were often furious at my ability to injure myself so frequently. The good side of this was I got a lot of attention at school when I had these injuries.

TV is bad?or Good?

You often hear since the invention of TV that it’s bad for children! I can only speak for my life. There were a few incidents in my life that may agree with this. Television in my house was primarily an adult privilege which made it more alluring to an inquisitive child like me. I remember sneaking down stairs and peeking around the corner as Batman played every week. Sometime I would get caught and other times I wouldn’t. I was intrigue and amassed with the way he climbed walls, the way he beat up bad guys, the Bat mobile and the weapons he used. One weapon in particular was shaped like a bat and a rope would be tied to it. He would lasso this to a pole and swing from it. I was hooked! I wanted to jump high like him, fight like him, and have all his neat toys. My friends at school were also hooked but they had money so they got all the latest Batman toys. I remember at recess we would play fighting games like in batman. There were days at the farm when I would climb up to the hay loft and jump down to the pile of hay below warring a homemade cape. I stop doing that when I herd stories of a boy who hung himself doing just that. One day I found a boomerang shaped brake pad and got the idea to make my own lasso. I tied a rope to it and tried to lasso it around one of the barn beam. I missed a few time then on the third time it went strait up and landed on my head. I remember thinking “this is no fun “as I wipe the sweat of my brow. The sweat wasn’t sweat it was actually blood running down my face I ran home screaming and crying. My Mom was frantic screaming “what did you do " but I was crying too hard to speak. She cleaned up my head and stops the bleeding. That was the last time I played Batman.

Jokes on me!

When my Dad built a beam structure to change motors on his cars he would tie a tire swing for us on there if he wasn’t using it. We spent a lot of time on that swing. My Dad had taken it off to work on one of his cars and it had been off for a long time. That summer I had made a tire swing that we played with a lot on the North side of the farm. Under the swing we put old car seats for cushioning in case we fell off. One day I was mad at my sisters for some for a reason I don’t remember. I came up with a plan for my revenge that at that time seems a good one. . The day I was mad I climbed the tree and cut the rope through just enough so it will break when they us it. Well days went by and no one used it maybe even weeks. Now during one of my exploring day I came by our tire swing and it wasn’t long before I was on it swinging as high as I could on it. High was never high enough so I went higher and higher. Suddenly I heard a noise and found myself flying in the air over shooting the car seats and on to the ground still sitting in the tire. Once I recovered from the sudden shock I realized what had happen. I remember feeling stupid that I had been caught in my own trap. I guess you could say that was my first act of revenge and one that thought me a good lesson. Through out my life I would come to a conclusion that if I do something wrong it will back fire on me so its best to stay on the path of good and I’m sure that was one of the incident that convinced me of this .

" Thow shall not kill"

As I mentioned my life at home when I grew up was not ideal. My way of dealing with this was to wander off and explore. One rainy day I was playing on the top level of our machinery shed. This was a vast area with one sliding door to the North West side and another to the east side. When I got there I notice a swallow flying around the place. Every once in a while he would come low enough for me to catch it. I tried hard but couldn’t catch it. At one point he stops on a ledge for a minute to rest from all that flying. I picked up a stick and threw it at it hitting him dead on! He fell to the floor and wasn’t moving. I picked it up and held it up for a while but it was clear I had killed it! I cried for a while then I remembered one of God's commandments “You shall not kill and I was overcome with fear and guilt. I think I can understand now how Cain felt when he killed Abel. I open the sliding door and threw it outside in the rain and ran home to hide in my room. I thought I was going to go to jail for sure but after a few days my crime seemed to have gone unnoticed to my relief! That was my first experience with death my second was the death of a baby rabbit I had found in the grass behind the barn. My sister Danielle was with me. I took it home and put it in an open box. I was so exited about this bunny he was so tiny and cute. Two days later I took to school in a box but later that day Danielle came to borrow it so she could show it to her classmates. I was reluctant but she assured me it would be safe. That afternoon at the bus stop I was told Bunny had died. I was so angry at my sister for killing it which was my conclusion. I decided I should bury Bunny. I wrapped it in a rag and dug a hole with my hands and buried it. I even said a prayer for Bunny as I cried. This death so deeply affected me that I cried for a few days when I was alone. A week later I went back and unburied it. When I open the wrapping up I saw Bunny was still dead but now ants were all over it. I quickly discarded it and reburied it. I thought about it a few times after but I wasn’t as attached anymore. I resented Danielle for a long time after that for some reason .

My Mom was Mother Teresa ? Part#2

Life with an alcoolic was not easy for my Mom or the children . You might say I was her favorite in all the children . When i was a teenager I openly critisied her for staying with my Dad during all those years . She still defended him then but I think I realy hurt her that day . A few years later they would both quit drinking and smoking in one try and they never looked back . Family visits were alot more pleasant then . They began to have things like new furniture , car and later, a camper and more . Raising eight children in poverty was very hard for my Mom but the one thing I resented her for was using my Dad as a threath to make use behave ourselves when she deemed it . No one knew more how scared we were of Dad so to this I think that was wrong . Holding on to this would be foolish when you balance it with everything else she did good . These days my Mom and Dad are still together . My Mom listens to her music and my Dad watches his TV shows . Once my Dad stop drinking he wasn't such a bad person but unfortunately his children have never forgiven him for the past. When we all hated our Dad it seems we were a close family but when he stop drinking and change it seems that we all drifted apart and to this day we rarely keep intouch . I have alot of found memories of my Mom and I will touch on those as we go on .

My Mom was Mother Teresa ? Part#1

Every man wants to believe that his Mom is a saint like Mother Teresa! You may remember the TV moms like Happy Days or Leave it to Beaver or Walton. Well that wasn’t my Mom. Her maiden name was Jacqueline Lalonde and what she lacked in classy lady like behavior she made up in loyalty, dedication and enduring personality. Life with an alcoholic requires this. When the teachers miss treated her children it was my Mom who came to the school to fight for there respect. For the first few years we had to walk two miles from the bus stop to our home. It was my Mom who held us from school in protest to finally getting a school bus to come and pick us up every day. My Mom was proud and she was not ashamed to make a stand when injustice was being directed at her family. For some time she kept a garden on our farm but my fondest memories are of her staying up all night baking bread for her family. She had perfected her bread recipe to an art. She would walk four miles a day to catch a bus to her house cleaning part time job. On payday she would carry her groceries the two mile distance from the bus stop to our house. Sometime caring as much as 4 bags full. She is to this day my inspiration to living a life with pride and honor. To this day I think of her when ever I make a stance against injustice. She had another side that wasn't what we would conceder lady like. She was a devout fan of Wrestling. Once a week you could find her at the edge of her sofa screaming at the wrestling show. Then there was her Hockey! I don’t think I've met any hockey fan louder during a game yet! Looking through her old photos with her one day she would name off some of the autograph pictures of wrestlers with out any sign of shame in her face. As a teenager I was embarrass of this part of her pass but now as an adult I respect her personal passions . I remember on summer weekends we would sit outside at the picnic table and I would machine role cigarettes for her a she sipped on her lemon lime drink. It was only later in life that I discovered her lemon lime drink was spiked with Gin all that time. My Mom had a good sense of humor considering the first 20 years of her marriage. She did her best to create special moments for us despite the fact we had no money most of the time. I especially remember our annual visit to the fair, her combing my hair for school and her picking strawberries with us annually that she would convert into a reserve of winter jams. My Mom was loyal to her family but she was also loyal to her husband which caused her to have to cover up allot of embarrassing moments during the years.

Honor Thy Father and Thy Mother! Part #3

Due to familly protest this chapter was removed and will remain confidential until aprouval.

Honor Thy Father and Thy Mother! Part #2

Due to familly protest this chapter was removed and will remain confidential until aprouval.

Honour thy father and mother ! Part#1

Due to familly protest this chapter was removed and will remain confidential until aprouval.

Culture shock!

You probably notice I didn't talk about the bath room in my house description. One day I was invited to my friend’s house to spend the night. I was maybe in grade 3 .After walking to his house I needed to go pee badly! I looked to his back yard as we pass to see where his out house was. It wasn't there? I didn't say anything until I got into his house. I couldn't hold on any longer so I said “can I use your bath room as it had learned it was called. He directed me there and opens the door. “You have a toilet"! I exclaimed. "Yes! Of course! “He said.”Don't you?"Quickly I responded "of course” and I shut the door behind me. You see, up until this moment had come to except certain things as normal. School had toilets and urinals and running water everyone else had pails that they do there busyness in and out house for the summer. When I got home I asked my Mom about this and she confirmed that all the city houses have toilets and running water. We had a room that we called "the bath room”. In it was a pail that we squatted over and use news paper you wipe our bums. It was to be emptied every day but that often didn't happened. In the summer we used the out house more. We had no running water! We carried water from our well to the house. On "bath night" we would fill a large bin with water and heat the water with an electric coil heater. We did have electricity. Being the only boy I got to be the first to take a bath. My sisters had to use my bath water sometime. In the later years MY uncle Paul installed a pump from the well to the slaughter kitchen sink and we invested in a toilet with a pail insert and a "real' toilet seat. That was pretty exiting! Unfortunately a bigger toilet pail meant it got emptied less often. One day the pail was filled to the edge and when my Mom emptied it she fell down the stairs with it. She was injured for a long time. Why my dad didn't do it we will talk about later.

The farm part#2

Our house was big! It was an old red brick house that would be the envies of many nostalgic buyers today. There was a living room connected to a dinning room with a window facing east. To the south of the dinning room was a large kitchen separated by 2 doors with glass windows and glass door knobs. This kitchen had an east side window and a south side window and the usual counter and cupboards above the counters. In the fall we would install storm windows on all the house windows except for the top floor because we couldn't reach them. To the west of this kitchen separated by another door was the south entrance hall which also led to the living room. It was also separated by a door. In that hall was the stairs with wooden banisters rails leading to upstairs. All our floors where hardwood! Now if we went west from the dinning room through yet another set of doors we had what I would call today “a slaughter kitchen" or "employee kitchen" .I am guessing that at one time this was a rich family farm . There was a 10 foot table in that room a sink, and a large wood stove .A south exit led to "the wood shed” as we called it This would become our regular eating area because of the stove . We also had a coal furnace in the living room. That was our source of heat so chopping wood was a regular chore. From that kitchen was another stairway leading to the west side of the second level. The second level was divided into to sides. The east side of the house had 4 bedrooms and a Hall and of course the hard wood stairs. The coal furnace pipe came through one of those room which heated that side. The second floor was separated by yet another door. On the other side of this door was an open area partially divided off about 30 by 16 feet? As best as I understand it now that would have been the employee living area.

The farm! part#1

It’s impossible to understand my life unless I talk about "the farm”. The farm was about 3 miles outside Ottawa on the south east side. In order to get to our road (Hawthorn rd.) we had to cross a bridge build over a railroad then turn right to Hawthorn. At the intersection of Walkley rd. and Russell rd located before the bridge the government eventually build low rent town houses. That is where "the Crepe" family and allot of the poor kids were from. If you’ll remember "the Crepes” were the family that the teacher and the student turn there attention to instead of me in class. About 1/2 mile down the hill on Wakley rd pass that intersection was a farm on the left where a family called "Periard" lived. They would become good friends with our family so from that intersection I would say it was 3 miles to our driveway. As we drove up Hawthorn a 1/4 mile the first house we would encounter was a farm on the right. It was owned by a family last name "Sheffield's " I think .We never new much about them in the years we lived on the farm One quarter Mile further was a small creek that I will talk about in my exploring adventure chapter. At about 1/4 mile after the top of the hill there was another farm. Years later my cousins would live there for a while. Then the house became a favorite dumping ground for people after it was abandoned. One quarter mile further to the right again a white house owned by "the Cordons”. That's how we referred to neighbors by there last names. Finally our farm! A long driveway about 300 feet would lead us from Hawthorn road to our farm with hay fields on both sides of the driveway.(See slide show) As we arrive in the farm area there were trees on both side . Looking strait ahead you would see what a machinery shop was probably once. The behind there was our barn which ran from south to North. To my right was our red brick house that I later learned was over 100 years old. As we walk pass the house there was a long building attached to the rear door of the house .we would later refer that to "the wood shed" .About 3/4 way into that shed was a well, complete with an old hand pump. That was the extent of "inside water” for our farm. We didn't have running water! (Continue part#2)

Disappointment!

There's no shortage of disappointment in my life but this one was personal I thought. It was during the fair that comes at the end of every august month. My sisters and I (mostly me) would pick bottles all years to save for the "Fair Day" .I think this year in question we didn't go. I was very sad about that but I made the best of my day and went to play outside. Living on the farm of 160 acres there's no shortage of adventures. I will touch on adventures later. I was looking at the field when I notice something red far off in the middle of the field. I wasn't sure but I concluded to my excitement that it was a balloon! Its was late August and the hay had not yet been cut. The hay must have been 1 foot above my head and by now's estimate I would say the balloon was 1/2 a mile. Off I went! I had to go over to the east side of the farm through a cow pasture because that field was on the other side of a creek and the bridge was on the other side of the pasture. Dodging the cows was a challenge but I made it to the bridge. Once across now I was on the east side of the field. I lined myself of with my target and off I went! Pushing forward through the long hay was difficult and once in a while I would jump up to make sure I was still on target. Finally I made it! It was indeed a red balloon! It still had a string. I grabbed its string and began my quest back home through the high straw field. I was almost at the edge when the balloon busted. I continued home busted balloon in my hands crying to myself. Later in the 80's a song came out about red balloons that always reminded me of that day.

Im the best!

As I mention before my friend Daniel and Paul were middle class. They had every toy a boy could want and more that I will hit on later .Living on a farm and being poor I missed out on learning certain boy skills like catching a ball with a glove, but more importantly I had nothing to show off. Daniel was the strongest of us. Paul was the best in school but me I felt I had nothing special. At recess time we used to play on these high swings where there was always a competition of who would swing the highest. I discovered early that I was good at that. Someone dared me to jump off when it’s high! So I did! A new game was born. I didn't hurt myself but the others saw that and the competitions was on. Every recess I went strait to the swing to show off my skills. Always watching the others I would challenge the best in the group. Thanks to an invention we came up with called "under duck" where the pusher would pass under your swing as he pushed you higher and higher and when I thought I had exceeded the last record of I jumped .I always landed on my feet , sometime rolled a little . The kids would cheer! “I’m the best I thought to myself “! My 15 minute of fame kind of faded quickly because Paul was overweight and Daniel always lost interests in things he wasn't the best at. No one could take that away from me because “I was the best"!

First feelings of achievements

My sister Francine hung around with my friend Daniel's sister. Her name escapes my memory but I remember she use to take her bicycle to school. She was older so she had a big girl’s bike. Girls bike were made different there wasn't the bar across the center. I had already learned to ride a bike at home on the farm on a 10 inch wheel bicycle. This day I ask if I could go park her bike. She agreed so I straddled it lifting my short leg up on the high pedal I pushed and off I went. The bike was huge to me I remember thinking it was a giant bike. There I was pedaling toward the bike rack through the school yard. I was so proud and exited! I was hoping everyone was watching! "Look at me” I thought to my self. Well I don't remember if everyone else saw but a teacher did! He rush over grabbed the bicycle and stop me in my track. “You can't ride your bike in the school yard “he yields! So I walked it the rest of the way. I was mad at that teacher for stopping me but quickly refocused on my achievement. That was an awesome day!

Elementry and social norms

As I mention before I grew up mostly with my 5 sisters. Many of the games I hard learn were primarily games like playing with dolls, skipping rope, Hop scotch. You get the point. Needless to say in my first years in elementary I was drawn to playing with girls games in school as well .Except dolls of course! I already had been corrected on that social norm. Fortunately my new friend Guy Laroque didn't seem to mind those games. Guy and I had this same attraction to girls in our class or maybe he was just copping me. Early on I developed an attraction to girls. For some reason we seem to want the same girl. I remember my first crush her name was Francine Lamar . My second crush was Renee. Guy and I had this competition going who they loved more. It got to the point where we would compete by who coat was closer to the girls. We went as far as intertwining the girls coat arm with ours. Francine had blond hair that's all I remember about her. Renee Had dark hair .I don't think either girls had any clue what we were up to. I quickly got over Francine but Renee I had a crush on until I began to make more guy friends. Playing with girls was quickly phased out as guy games was my new interest. I guess that was my first conforming to social norms. I never played with girls after that except for Joanne Joannis. In today's standard she would have been a Tomboy I guess. I did how ever continue my pattern of having of having crushes on girls. Needless to say I had a crush on Joanne that lasted right to grade 5. To my misfortune she had a crush on Daniel my friend. (I will touch on my obsession with girls later). I think it's very significant to who I am.

I found a diamond mine!

My friends were middle class. A few times I had been to there home. Paul was an only child and his parents were already midlife when he was born. He had every latest toys and comics. In fact that's when I got introduced to reading comics. I quickly realize that I was poor! (More about that later) I had a good imagination that's for sure! So I came up with this story that made me very popular with my friends. "I found a diamond mine” I said to them one day. I learned about diamonds reading one of Paul's books one day as he showed me his shinny rock collection. "Yes” I said! "I was walking in the field and fell into this hole ".”There was a tunnel and I followed it and found these shinny rocks “!”I think they are diamonds”. I showed Paul the ones I was talking about in his book that he took to school every day. In actuality it wasn't all a lie! The city was installing new sour lines under ground for future development. The pipes were large enough for me to walk in standing up. One day I explored them. I went probably 30 feet but it was dark and I ran back. So now my friends were making plans to come over to my house to see the diamond mine on the weekend. That night I didn't sleep well. I was scared of being exposed and that they wouldn't be my friend anymore. The next morning I told them the hole had caved in and we couldn't get to it anymore. From that day I resolved that I would never lie again. Later in life I was to, learn that honesty is not the best policy

Tho shall no talk to english kids!

I I was born French! I! My first 3 elementary school years was in a French Catholic school. Across our school was the English Protestant School. We shared a school yard. Thanks to my religious Christian upbringing I learn that we should love our neighbors. I remember clearly the voice of the principal over the intercom as he addresses the school on morning. "All French students are not to associate or play with English children during recess!" Any student caught playing with English kids will be punish severely!” This instruction confused me! Even though I was probably only 7 at the time it conflicted with what I had learned about being a good Christian. I guess if I was going to point at a moment in time when I first made a stance against an adult that would be it. I like the French kids! They talked funny! At lease it was funny to me. Join by my 2 friends Paul and Guy we defied this new rule and played with the English kids every opportunity we could. Daniel didn't want to break the rule so he never joined in. Needless to say that by the time Paul and me reach grade 5 we were both already fluent in English. I never saw this rule being enforce but when I think of it now I guess that was my first introduction to religious segregation.

Religion

My elementary school years were spent in a French Catholic school. During this time I learned about God who is our creator and Jesus his son who was sent from heaven for our sins. I learn God's rules the Ten Commandments. Even as a child these rules made allot of sense to me .You might say I became a fan of Jesus and Gods rules. They became my measuring stick for all other rules that didn't agree with these 10 rules. I was thought that you pray to God for help and protection. For some reason the message I got from reading about Jesus is he was my friend and I could talk to him when I want to just like I would talk to a friend I played with .Of course I never talked out loud to Jesus when there were people around because as best I was told " you don't talk to Jesus " "you pray to him". When an adult would recite a rule to me that conflicted with the 10 commandments I would question that adult. This was the beginning of my tenacity in my faith. Later on in life I left that faith and became a Jehovah's Witness. There also I came to realize that organize religion makes its own rules. My continuing to question there interpretation of the Bible eventually led to my being shun from this organization. My faith is what kept me strong through a bad marriage when I lost all faith my marriage followed not long after.

whats wrong with me Part#2

Despite the way I was treated by my teacher and students in school I still managed to make 3 close friends (Paul Paquette, Guy Laroque and Daniel Richer). The harassment stop when a new family came to our school (last name Crepe) .Even I as child did not find there facial appearance pleasing. From that time on all the negative attention from both teacher and student was directed to that family. I was aware that what they were doing was wrong but I was just glad they left me alone now. I was still a very happy kid through out elementary. I remember another incident that left me feeling ashamed. First a little back ground. I'm from a family of 3 boys and 5 sisters. I'm the middle boy and somewhere in the middle child too. My oldest brother was in reform school allot (I will talk about that later) and my other brother was a baby. My sisters were my playmates but girls play with girl toys like "Barby Dolls”. Until my uncle who was visiting pointed out that I was a "sissy" I didn't think there was anything wrong with me playing dolls with them. I was so ashamed that I never did after that .The shame was greater because this was an Uncle I idolized."Whets wrong with me “is a question that haunts me to this day.

Whats wrong with me?part#1

.You hear allot these days about troubled teenagers that the problem lays at home. I will talk later about what home life was like. My family was the only family in my school that lived on a farm and we were poor. The school was in Ottawa and we were bused in every morning. I'm telling you this because I first became aware that there was something wrong with me not at home but in school. For some reason my elementary teacher did a cleanness inspection on my and few other kids from the low rent projects daily. This was done in front of the class and criticism was clear and unrestrained. Once all my filthiness (according to my teacher) was found my daily routine was a visit to the boy’s room to clean my self. Needless to say that when we had to read in front of the class I was terrified. I always failed anything that involved a class presentation from then on until I quit school. (That will come later).I has experience allot of moments of shame in my life brought on by the comments of adults at me as a child. The damage created by that teacher followed me for years in the school yard where children would taunt my whole family daily. We were treated to insult daily by fellow students, beaten up, and shun. Despite all this I still was a cheerful child and look forward to school

First day at school

My first day of school didn't turn out the way my parents wanted it I'm sure . I remember walking down halls with high cellings heading for what I later understood to be Kindergarten . I remember a women greeted us . She was so tall to me . She smiled at me friendly but I started crying . I remember being so scared as my Mom walked away . Some children tried to talk to me but I couldn't stop crying . My Mom came and got me . That was my first and last day in kindergarten .I later learned that my parents were told that I was to young for kindergarten. My parents didnt hide from me the fact that it was because I cried . ( maybe they should of !)

My first memory

I often hear that women remember the past better then men . When I speak to my sisters about our growing up its clear to me that this is true . I was born February 01/1958 . My first memory how ever is to me my first day of life . I woke up to the sound of a car engine running .It was dark outside and I didn't know where we were going .I know now that this is when we moved to a farm house outside of Ottawa . I remember the Eco's of all the voices of everyone being loud as they all seem to be speaking at the same time . I remember looking up to someone maybe my Mom feeling completely lost and scared . I'm guessing I was 2 years old . Nothing befor that and nothing after until I was 5 years old.