Blaring from the speakers was Benny Goodman and his Orchestra’s rendition of “Taking a Chance on Love”.ġ2. “He was the most handsome airman, no, the dreamiest man, I have ever seen,” the girls chided to one another. Sleeves rolled up to the elbows and tie tucked in his shirt. He was wearing his air force blues, without the hat and jacket.
Because hers is where mine began….” Mitch Albom “Behind all my stories is always my mother’s story. Being the only one in his large family with brown eyes and dark complexion, and Bertha’s unlikely birth of John in her mid sixties, were never discussed. There were other things we never talked about. We could double date, deliver lambs, carve the nuts out of young bulls, laugh full-heartedly at a lewd play, yet never discuss sex. John Turner lived on a farm that had not yet replaced its horsepower with machines. My greatest triumph was making my first real friend. Capable of any sacrifice to protect the fragile life.ĭuring the two years at the Orangeville District High School, I did not see academic, athletic or student government successes as my most valued accomplishments. Yet, I held on to my fragile identity more attentively than a mother holding her newborn for the very first time. Obstacles, threats, and fears were constant companions. At any rate, I hope and pray that his father’s guidance is what will get him onto a better path. I prey that none of them is with child on his account. Sometimes I think he is driven by the Devil Himself. He is especially wayward when it comes to girls. A smack in the face resemblance that would become my life’s work to escape. Had I been wearing a felt hat, burgundy wool scarf, and long charcoal overcoat, we could have been mistaken for one another. Still shivering from the walk between the exit stairs of the DC-3 and the terminal, I saw him. I pulled up the lapels and closed them over my chest. My Harris Tweed sports jacket was no match against Ontario winter. Some of us have to turn the world upside down and shake the hell out of it until we make our own place in it.” Elizabeth Lowell
Momentum gradually increased until the entire slick calf slipped out of the birth canal. I gripped the front hooves that were the first evidence that the calf was coming and pulled gently and steadily. Once the mother’s heaving reached a peak of intensity, the process was quick.
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An exhilarating thrashing about, inventing the person I wanted to become. At that instant, like the pop of white light from a flash bulb, the disappearance of my father came into sharp focus.Ĭhildhood was an overflow of exploration, and discovery. Then, muted laughter, as, gulping for air, I awkwardly struggled back onto the stage. Tale of the Ancient Mariner, Samuel Taylor Coleridgeġ. So why recount it? Like the Ancient Mariner, I am driven to tell this tale.įorthwith this frame of mine was wrenched Mine is a simple perhaps even unremarkable account exploring the life of a boy tussling his way to manhood.
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