Where did the Outhouse go?

Because I left home as soon as I turned 16 (Canadian Army) I did not participate in any Halloween pranks that you would consider real bad. But it was somewhat a bragging right to be called by name in school the morning after Halloween to go around and put up the outhouses that had been pushed over. Out house tipping was just something that was expected to happen on Halloween – well I am saying that from the outlook of a 15 year old! I only participated in this prank one Halloween – and to be truthful, it was no big deal, thrill wise. But – today, I can relate that I did indeed push over some outhouses. Wow – talk about someone lacking in ‘things he did in his life that he is proud of” hehe. I do not know if it ever happened, but there was the story of a home owner moving his outhouse back from the hole, and that someone going to push it over fell in – true or not , it is a good story, don’t you think? Or would it just be a shitty story! One of the stupidest tricks  I helped out with was pulled on a relatively newcomer to our town and our country. I am not sure what country he came from, but from what I understand; most countries did/do not celebrate the night as we do in North America. I am sure he must have wondered if Canada was indeed a better place to live. He had a very small house with only one door at the front. It was located just a few yards from a bulk oil station. In those days, most farmers would buy 45 gallon drums of gas for their farm vehicles so there were many empty drums available. We stacked these barrels in front of the door to the house (2 high and about 5 deep) making it impossible to get out of his house – seemed funny at the time, but considering the chances of fire, it was rather stupid. Otherwise, most kids in my age group would just sneak into yards, and take anything that was not nailed down – tools etc. and put them in someone else’s yard. I remember some of the older kids going out to some farms and doing damage, to the extent that the police were involved. I am glad that I left home when I did – and the oil drums were they only thing that I have to tell in my old age. Not counting the shot gun – but we didn’t even have a chance to do anything, so does that really count?

Run Davie Run - Halloween

I was 14 years old when I found out that I was actually a fast runner. At that time when I played any sport, even if I did not exert myself or run very much, I would get terrible pain in my legs. As an adult, because of a couple of muscles on one side of my body having developed slightly less than the other side, doctors figured I may have had a touch of polio. Because of the pain, I did not run very often, and when I did – never ‘full out’. Hence, in any race, etc, I was usually last, and in my mind was a slow runner. I think motivation can push people to become better at most things! Visualize a house with no other homes within 100 yards in any direction, no yard lights, and the owner of the house having the reputation of ‘skinning kids alive’! I have no idea what we were planning to do to this persons property (as a trick), but being Halloween - just think of the reputation we would get for ‘being brave enough to do it".  So continuing to visualize, three of us, me, another 1 year older and the third 3 years older than I – sneaking up on this house. When we got fairly close a loud booming voice broke the silence –   'Who’s there?'  We immediately started to run, and as I had often feared, with every step I was being left further behind. Once more this voice “Stop” (panting, damn he is going to catch me – my companions are leaving me so far behind – come on legs, move). On a crisp, cool night, sound seems to be louder than normal – not sure how you visualize a sound… but try a shot gun! Remember the mention of motivation? I passed the first of my friends in about 5 seconds and the second within 10 – and from there, they were history. I am sure the person did not fire ‘at’ us, but in a way I should thank him for teaching me about motivation, and how in later years in the military, I actually ran in relay races, always with the thought of someone behind me with a shot gun shouting – Stop!



Halloween before Razor Blades

I cannot remember exactly how many houses there were in town, but on Halloween there were many that the kids considered ‘special’. I will not put names to the ‘makers’ of some of the fantastic treats – but I still remember who the ladies were that made many of these ‘oh so delicious goodies’. The popcorn balls, marshmallow creations, candied apples (with melted caramel), little bags of cookies, fudge – melt in your mouth fudge, and each maker with her special kind. We would run around in our home made costumes, or perhaps just a rubber mask (that would almost suffocate us) and as you past others - would shout, have you been to so and so’s place yet? How many cookies did she put in the bags this year? (Hurry – hurry, in case they will be all gone) A few people gave out store bought candy, which were gratefully received, but it was the ‘famous’ home made goodies that caused the furry. Some of us would try to change our appearance to go back for seconds, but alas – very seldom if ever did anyone succeed. Back to the masks – I am not sure what they were made of, but after having them over your face for two minutes you were completely covered in sweat – mix this with the often freezing temperatures on October 31st (Northern Alberta, remember) and it was not a very comfortable combination. After about 15 minutes, you would see kids with the mask just hanging around their neck – everyone knew who you were anyway! After hollering ‘tricks or treats’ something you dreaded to hear was “Sing us a song”. Then the real mean ones “Give us a little dance” (think I just described myself when the kids arrive at my door). A song I would serenade the treat giver with (wishing they had never asked, once hearing me) was “Abbadabbadabba Said the Monkey to the Chimp”. You will have to Google that one! All of this fun – without having to be escorted by an adult or worry about accepting any treats that are not wrapped, or worrying about someone being sadistic enough to put a razor blade in an apple – compare that to today - sad isn’t it? Once all the houses had been covered and you went home with the loot, it would depend on your age whether you would venture out again – to do or witness the odd prank. All at the time seeming harmless! In my next Blog you can be the judge.

Books of Knowledge

Although we, as a family were not very well off, my father was a reader. We were one of only a few, or perhaps the only family in town to have a set of ‘Books of Knowledge”. Our small home had bookcases built into pretty well any place that you could build something into. And on one prominent shelf were the set of “Books of Knowledge”. Being the studious child that I was, I actually remember using them (one time only) for a school report. I cannot remember what grade I was in, or what subject it was – but I was so proud of my report! Who else knew how the Eddy Match Company made matches? These books even had diagrams, a couple of which I traced and put into the report – wow I traced a picture of a match! I do not want to take away from anyone who may read this, but can you top that for ‘smarts’? The ‘Books of Knowledge’ are still available today, but with the world of computers, I am surprised that they are still able to survive. I do know that when I was growing up, they were a wealth of knowledge. So, why – did I not use them more? I think the answer may have been that I only ever had to do one report on the Eddy Match Company. You would think, I would remember what mark I received for my effort, but I guess it was not the top mark in the class – because that happened so seldom, I would have remembered. I had other great scholastic achievements that come to mind that do not involve the use of any books, and not much knowledge either. How is this one - I was the only one in class to get the right answer to the question, what towel is best to dry yourself with, a smooth or rough one. My arch rival (female – that could beat me up) got it wrong and (ahem) Davie got it right – Yippee!!! I remember this triumph almost every time we get new very, very rough towels! This question was on a test in Health, and part of the subject was having the teacher examine your hands and behind your ears to make sure you washed. This could be a very humiliating ordeal – makes you wonder how any of us ended up with any self respect or confidence, after being berated day after day for being dirty. Of course that female (the one who could beat me up) seems she washed – go figure! Another very vivid memory was the words of my ‘all time’ favourite teacher. I think I was in grade 8 or 9 – could not draw a straight line, but drew and painted a picture, which I was very proud of. Truly, I though I had done a great job. My “all time” favourite teacher pretty well put everything in perspective when he held my picture up in front of the class and said – the first thing that is wrong with this picture is it being signed ‘ARTIST, Davie’. Maybe I should have used the ‘Books of Knowledge’ and traced something!

Farms Scariest Creatures

When my father came home at the end of WWII, he and my mother toyed with the idea of taking advantage of a Veterans Affairs Program and buying a farm. They heard of a farmer wishing to sell, and drove out to see the property, taking me with them. At the age of 6, I was already very familiar with most farm animals, and had no fear of any of them (I had yet to deal with the two scariest). I had already learned signs of an upset animal that should be given their distance and those that were approachable. This particular farm, although a mixed farm, made most of its income from raising Turkeys! On our visit we ended up in the middle of a huge flock (gang) of huge turkeys (the majority of them came up to my shoulders - only 6 years old) I remember standing as close to my parents as possible, with these damn gobbling creatures all around me. Then all of a sudden everyone walked away, except me!!! Panic – Panic – Panic. I did, truly Panic. I was so afraid that I was going to be left at the mercy of these ugly, stupid birds. I realized later (‘realized later’ being the key) that all one had to do was run towards any of them and they would scatter, faster than I ‘wanted to’. I stood there screaming, and my Dad came to my rescue. I was never so happy to find out later that my parents had decided against purchasing that farm. Although turkeys did not hurt me, or to my knowledge hurt anyone, unless they may have gobbled someone to death – I still hate them! My other ‘scariest creatures most definitely can and could hurt me. Geese – simple word, harmless flying bird – think they own the farm yard…. No wait – they damn well do own the farm yard. Never upset a goose, especially if they have young with them – they are vicious. With the exception of the odd bull or upset mothering sow, I have never been chased by a farm animal as much as I have by geese. I am sure they knew how damn afraid I was of them – but the power they have in their wings, will knock you down, bruise you, and I am sure, if struck correctly could break bones. I hated geese, and I still hate geese. I was afraid of geese, and I am still afraid of geese (unless they are a flock of wild geese flying overhead, heading south for the winter) and even then, they damn well better not land near me.

The Sound of a Lawn Mower



 I now live in a Townhouse complex and our gardeners arrive once a week to make everything look ‘Spivey’. They do a fantastic job, with their gas powered mowers, gas powered weed trimmers AND (noisiest of all) the gas powered leaf blowers. So different from ‘back when’ most yards had the houses built close to the roads and usually had back alleys for residents to drive their vehicles down and into their garage behind the house. As well, everyone had a garden in their back yard, which left only a small front yard for a lawn. Regardless of the size of the lawn, there were no gas powered mowers, weed trimmers, edgers OR leaf blowers. In the spring, you took your push mower out of storage, sharpened the blade and oiled the wheels and away you went – no need to change a spark plug, put in fresh gas and start pulling on a cord “silently praying that it is going to start’ – and when it doesn’t start, muttering a few choice words, and every couple of minutes having to assure your wife that you are ‘not going to have a heart attack’, and then start pulling the damn cord again. You can still buy a push mower today, but I have not seen one being used for a long time. The “clatter clatter” of the push mower was so much quieter than the noise that was being made by our gardeners today, mind you being awaken from a nap (newly retired, remember) may have made these gas guzzling, noise machines sound even louder.  Again, in days of yore, once finished mowing the small patch of lawn, you would sweep (with a noiseless broom) any offending pieces of grass off the walk, use some clippers to trim the edges – and anyone in the house (perhaps newly retired) could sleep right through the whole process. When you needed a ‘weed whacker’ out would come the scythe, either a two handed version for large areas, or the one handed version for small areas. The secret of using these tools was not by brute force (that the noisy gas guzzlers can exert) but by keeping them very sharp. Normally if you saw someone using a scythe for a large area of grass and/or hay, you would see a sharpening device sticking out of their back pocket. The small hand held scythe is called a sickle, which I remember using along fence lines, etc. but I never did master the scythe. The gardeners have left the complex for this week – back to my nap (newly retired, remember).



Sythe

Sickle