Tag Archives: childhood

IF I TELL IT

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November the 10th and day 10 of the Ultimate Blog Challenge. No snow but it must have rained overnight. The ground is wet and the sky is grey. It would be a good day for California dreaming. Winter is on the way. What story can I tell today. I’m hoping like the farmer in Field of Dreams, that if I tell it people will read it.

I had dreams of writing even in grade school. I have memories of huddling with a couple of friends at recess to start a story. I bet we gave our teachers a smile and maybe a chuckle or two. Nothing much came out of these gab sessions. How productive or creative can kids get in 15-20 minutes? I know that it’s ample enough time for them to get into trouble. But I was never that kind of a child. I was rather boring. I never got into trouble. I got ran over by a boy on a bike once. I was in my Brownie uniform going to a meeting. My face got smashed into the dirt. I got a lip full of gravel. Still, I worried about getting into trouble.

In grade 8 the principal overheard me talking with another student about not having to study. We were walking back into the school from recess. We were still on our own time. He came to my class and called me out to talk. The other kids in the class thought he was going to praise me or something. They thought I was his pet. Instead he gave me supreme shit. Something like ‘Don’t you dare be a bad influence. Now get back inside!’ I was crushed and shocked for I was sort of his pet. It was rather harsh.

Looking back now, I think maybe it was around the time his wife was sick. She had cancer and died but I don’t know the time frame. But I was still a tender child. I must have gotten over it because I babysat his young daughter on evenings when he had meetings. Then he taught me how to dance for my grade 12 graduation. He was always proper with me. After high school when I was in Saskatoon going to university, he called our house. I answered the phone. I thought he would want to talk to my father eventually but no. He invited me out for supper.

We went to the Marigold on Third Avenue. They had a delicous barbecue chicken. He asked me if I wanted a drink. I ordered a margarita. I don’t know what we talked about. I do remember he told me I should be careful about drinking when I am out with a man. I already thought it a bit improper that he asked me out. But he was my teacher and principal from Maidstone. His advice gave me great pause. But we were in public and nothing improper happened. I am the original Miss Innocent but I have good instincts. I have heard stories that he like young blond girls. Well! I am not blond at all but I was young and supple.



TRIPS, THE GOOD, THE BAD AND THE UGLY

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August 26 and day 26 of the Ultimate Blog Challenge. It is another beautiful sunny morning. I wonder whether it is safe to say that the dog days of summer are over. This is the summer when you have to turn on the AC one day and the furnace the next. In a way I do miss the heat. I did acclimatized after awhile so when the temperature drops, I really felt it. It’s been a roller coaster summer.

Haven’t life always been a hilly ride? It’s a journey of the good, the bad and the ugly trips. I’ve had many of each. In the end, when I look back, it was the bad and ugly that were the most memorable. With time and distance, the bad and ugly were mellowed. I was left with a sense of nostalgia for the times past. All the experiences taught me something but it takes time for me to realize that.

My first trip was my birth. Of that I have no memory. I was told I was a home birth and a difficult one, requiring a midwife. There is no kept record for I was born in a village in China. I have a cousin who is 3 years older. Her birth was a snap. Her mother gave birth to her on the side of a road. She was walking to her mother’s village, felt contractions, squatted and had my cousin. That is the story anyways.

My childhood in China was a fairly happy and secure journey though my father left for Canada when I was 2. I was raised in a matriach family, most of the men being overseas in Gold Mountain (Canada). I had a terrible 2 in that my left arm had a nasty burn that would not heal. I don’t remember the accident at all but I remembered playing and chasing the chickens in our courtyard just before. And I remembered my mother taking me to the hospital after they’ve tried all the home remedies. We had to go by a hired bicycle and it was our luck that we got the same bad driver every time. He could not stay on the road very well.

My mother said I was very good. I did not fuss or cry. I have no memory of the accident ,the pain or the treatments. Isn’t nature wonderful. I remember the bicycle rides and going through the arches to the hospital. My arm healed with bad scarring up to and a little past my elbow. I have full arm mobility. It’s on the inside so not very noticeable. I was very conscious of it from childhood up to adulthood. I would wear long sleeves even on the hottest summer day. I got over it when I entered nursing. I couldn’t wear long sleeve uniforms. So I got over it. And now, well, I couldn’t give a shit.

This trip kind of took an expected turn. It wasn’t my intended journey. It is what it is.

CONFIDENCE BUILDING SUNDAY

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A lovely sunny Sunday!  You couldn’t ask for a better day to go for a bike ride.  Can you believe it?   I haven’t been on my two-wheeler yet this year.  I can always blame it on the late spring and all the rain.  But the fact is, I am a bit of a scaredy cat.  I always worry about falling.  That, of course, preordains my fate.  I blame my fear on my childhood.  It’s a catchall for every insecurity and fear under the sun.

When I was a child in China, the bicycle taxi was our main transport if it was too far to go on foot.  When my mother visited her parents in their village, it was too far for me to walk.  I was too heavy for her to carry all the way.  She rented a taxi for us but it was her luck to get the same driver numerous times.

He was no Lance Armstrong.  He had no skill.  He shouldn’t have been driving/riding a bicycle at all.  In fact, he did get fired, but not before the damage was done to me.  He instilled the fear of falling in me!  Inevitably, somehow, he, the bike and us would end up off the road – in the ditch, among trees….Thank God, my mother was smart enough to tell him to let us off first when we got near water.

Here I am years later, the fear of falling still resides in me.  It doesn’t help that I was into adulthood when I taught myself to ride.  I would always rely on the curb to push myself off and to stop.  That limited my riding range and enjoyment.  Curbs are not everywhere.

IMG_7379It wasn’t till last year that I took some classes.   I’ve learned the proper way of starting up, stopping and dismounting – without curbs.  What a relief it was to discover that there is time to come to a stop and then dismounting.  I had thought you had to do both at the same time.  Quite often before, I ended up dropping the bike and hopping off.  Sometimes the bike and I dropped!  So no more of that now!  No more scraped hands and other body parts.

IMG_7363After a lengthy absence I still have the jitters starting off.  Can I push off successfully and remain upright? Will I remember how to shift gears?  Can I find the brakes?  What about the traffic?  And on and on. There is no stopping the mind except to push off.

This afternoon off we went – pushing onto the streets of Saskatoon.  We came to traffic lights and stop signs.  We passed ‘GO’  to Broadway and double scoops of ice cream cones.  No drips, no falls, no scrapes.  Just some exercise, sun and a lot of sweetness.