I am back, once again, to figure out my life. figure out my purpose. figure out my past. lots of thoughts. little action. daily runs. daily meditations. daily medications. daily drinking. day by day. day by day. day by dreary day. life continues on amidst pandemics and wars. needless wars. needless deaths. needless bickering. needless politicians and needless tv shows. needless music and needless news. needless life looking for purpose. looking for love. not looking outside of myself but looking inward. it is easier to find love from the outside than through the inner parts of me. shame and pain occupying large parts of me. feel. feelings. i want to feel more. i want to play more. i want to love me more and in loving me more I can, then, love others more. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
I do not remember where I was born. I do not remember the town nor do I remember the hospital. was anybody there when I was born? what happened in my first few years of life? where did we live? what did we eat? what did we do? did we play? did we love? did we laugh? did we cry? was my Mom happy when I was born? was my Dad happy when I was born? was I a good little kid? did I laugh and play? did I cry and scream? childhood memories bringing tears of joy. tears of pain. life whizzing by quicker than ever. human connection becoming more important in this world of fighting, hating, judging, bad politics and bad systems. greed more prominent than love. does the money ever make these greedy bastards happier? i know many rich people who aren’t happy. i know many rich people who are happy. I know many poor people who aren’t happy. i know many poor people who are happy. so it must be more than money.
We moved from our first house or apartment when I was in kindergarten…I think. I know by looking at old family albums. family albums filled with young happy versions of my Mom and Dad. big smiles. cool haircuts. cool clothes. lots of bottles of booze and lots of packs of cigarettes filled tables while groups of young, hip, happy, curious, and drunk people surrounded the same tables. lots of laughs. lots of great talks. lots of fun. lots of love. what happens to us as we age? why can’t we be as curious and free as we were when we were young and hopeful? life slowing chipping away at our freedoms and hopes. life slowing chipping away at our love and vulnerability. life slowly chipping away at our time. slowly chipping away at our smiles. embrace the moment. embrace life. love and laugh.
we moved to a townhouse complex in the Don Mills and Lawrence area. It was called The Heights Drive. an area filled with new immigrants from Great Britain. my parents loved it. they made many friends. there was lots of laughs. lots of drinking. some drunken fights. lots of playing. I kissed my first girl there. It was on the second phase of the complex and it was on the monkey bars in the playground. I kissed her on the lips. I forget her name. I think I was 7. I wonder what happened to that girl.
My Nana lived with us back then. She was young at the time. Maybe 50 years old. She has been dead for over 40 years. so has my Dad. they are buried beside each other.
I went to St. Bonaventure school. I remember having a crush on one of my teachers. Her name was Miss Scope. I wonder what happened to her too. I wonder if she is still alive. did she get married? did she have kids? did she have any trauma in her life? was she ever abused? she was probably only 30 years old back then. so young but I thought she was so old. old and beautiful. when I was a kid I thought everyone was old. now I’m old and I think everyone is young.
I was bullied at St. Bonaventure. every recess some big fat redheaded guy would chase me around and body check me and take my lunch. he would laugh and everyone else would laugh. I would hide. I ended up hating recess. why are some people so mean? I wonder what happened to that kid? i don’t even remember his name. There was always one other guy with him but he wasn’t so bad. he, actually, liked me but had to pretend to hate me so the bully wouldn’t turn his anger onto him.
once a week we would walk across our playground area to go to the church that was on the school property. i don’t really remember much about that so I assume it was boring. i, sometimes, look at my school pictures from St. Bonaventure and wonder what happened to all of my classmates. have the lead happy lives? sad lives? are they all still living? have any ended up in jail? have any become ill? I only remember the name of one other guy from my class. his name was Merrick Atkinson. he was a tough little kid. we played hockey and soccer together. my parents were friends with his parents. His Dad was a great guy but he would drink too much and become angry and abusive. he would hit his wife and she would have bruises and everyone knew what happened but nobody really did anything about it. we called him Fred Flintstone. he really did look like Fred Flinstone. his name was Merrick just like his son. i guess he liked that name. Merrick Junior and I would hang out all the time. we were together all the time. we played sports. we played HIDE AND SEEK. we played NICKY NICKY NINE DOORS. we stayed up late and got up early. one day we ended up touching each other one early morning while everyone was still sleeping. we were probably 9 years old. my penis got hard and I liked the feeling of that and I think Merrick’s penis got hard too but then someone woke up so we stopped. we never spoke about it again. i am not sure what he thought. i am not even sure what I thought. we were just curious kids living in a free and curious world. such fun. such hope. such freedom. such love.
we had many great times at The Heights Drive. Merrick and I would play all day long in the summers. we also got into lots of trouble. Merrick was a troublemaker but so was I…I guess. I thought that I was a great kid but maybe I wasn’t. but, then again, maybe I was just a curious and free kid. I remember one day Merrick and I threw a big boulder through the window of our Superintendent’s apartment. she was old and scary. she always walked around the complex with a rolling bin and some sort of sharp pick. she would pick up all the garbage and put it into the bin. she had white hair and was all wrinkled and she even had some sort of white hair growing on her chin. she was angry. she was scary. she was lonely. I don’t remember her name. did anybody know her name? was she happy with her life? what happened to her family? why was she all alone? i am sure she is dead now too. everyone eventually dies.
So we threw this big boulder threw her window and then ran like little kids. I mean, we were little kids so we ran like little kids. we were terrified. I was terrified. maybe Merrick wasn’t. we ran our separate ways and I ended up back at my house. my parents weren’t home from work yet but my Nana was. she asked me if everything was alright and I told her, “yes”. I tried to play it calm and cool but I was scared shitless. “Why did we do that?” I walked upstairs to my bedroom and closed the door. i don’t remember what my bedroom was like. i don’t remember much of my childhood. my Nana called me back downstairs to have some Chef Boyardee Ravioli. i came down the stairs and we watched tv while I ate. I remember a commercial came on for Mr. Clean. I will always remember that commercial as that is when there was a knock on our front door and that is when I was terrified even more than before. my Nana answered the door and I saw the old scary lady and two policemen. they came in and asked me if I knew anything about the boulder being thrown through the old lady’s window. everyone stared at me waiting for my answer but I was frozen. they asked and they asked and then, eventually, I said, “I don’t know anything about that.” I was trembling. sweating. “are you sure? are you lying? “, one of the cops asked and I said, “no…I don’t know anything about that.” the old scary Superintendent knew that I was lying but she couldn’t prove anything. I was filled with guilt but I was able to hide it. I was able to bury it. sometimes things never change.
that incident haunted me for awhile as I wanted to be a good kid. want to be a good adult. i tried my hardest to avoid the old scary Superintendent but I didn’t want to avoid Merrick. he was my best friend back then. lots of summer laughs. lots of summer fun. playing. laughing. screaming. yelling and then one day we decided to get into more trouble. we had an old shitty laundromat room in our complex. it was on the main phase. it looked like just another townhome from the outside but inside it was filled with washers and dryers. one day a few old painters with white suits were painting the laundromat white. we walked in and the painters told us we had to leave. we smiled and left and continued to run around and play. continued to move. continued to smile. continued to laugh. at lunchtime Merrick and I saw the painters leave the laundromat. we waited for them to get in their cars and leave the complex. we waited and watched. watched and waited. when we were certain they were out of the complex we ran back to the laundromat and opened the door. the room smelled like fresh paint. fresh white paint. we looked around and saw empty paint cans. brushed. tarps. paint sticks and then saw some half empty cans of red paint and blue paint. yellow paint and green. Merrick and I looked at each other and then both grabbed the half empty paint cans and started emptying the paint onto the floor. we, then, grabbed brushes and rollers and painted over the fresh white paint with yellows and blues. reds and greens. we had so much fun. we were laughing and painting. painting and laughing. kids enjoying life. then my memory fades and I forget what happened. did we get into trouble? did the painters know that it was us? did the Superintendent find out? did they visit our houses again? my Mom knew but her memory has faded too. memories fading along with life. fragmented stories. fragmented thoughts. fragmented feelings. just another fun day with Merrick. KIDS.
the summer went on. the years went on. we would swim in the pool in our complex. every Saturday there would be swimming meets and I was never a great swimmer so I wouldn’t be involved but we had this young girl, Christine or Susan Thompson, who was amazing!!!! I think she was 16 and she would win every race. we all looked up to here. well I did anyway. She made our Complex proud. we cheered her on. she won lots of medals and had lots of fans. I think she had a brother who also swam but he wasn’t as good as Christine or Susan. nobody was. I wonder what ever happened to her? did she ever make the Olympics? did she get married? did she have kids? is she still alive? did she ever get a disease? she was soooooooo healthy and fit back then but life can take a turn for the worse and, sometimes, people do not recover or do not stay healthy. youthful energy can turn into painful memories and painful bodies with painful minds.
Merrick and I continued to hang out. continued to play. continued to fight. continued to laugh. continued to run. continued to cause problems. we were kids. that was a long time ago. Merrick ended up moving out west and joined a punk band. i think he went to jail. i know that his Dad died and his Mom died. he has a sister, Tina, who I saw a few years ago. i think she may still live in The Heights Drive. I saw her out at a bar one night awhile ago. I was drunk. so was she. i met a girl. went back to Tina’s place. drank some more and then drove out to find the girl that I had just met. I found her and we went back to her place and we had sex and then I drove back to Tina’s. not sure what her name was. I wonder where she is now? Not Tina but the girl that I fucked. she fucked me too. we both fucked. i was drunk.
Back to the Heights Drive. still young. still playing. the parents would all gather around at night and drink and chat and laugh. the kids would all run around and play KICK THE CAN and other games. late nights. early mornings. love and laughter. forgotten friends and forgotten lives. one day I fell off of the second floor balcony while playing with Merrick and was knocked out cold. Merrick ran to my house and got my Mom and she ran over to see me. she was terrified and screaming for help. “HEEEEEEEEEEELP…CHRIS HAS BEEN HURT!!!!” neighbours ran to help and someone called an ambulance. My Mom thought that I was dead but I ended up waking up in North York General Hospital with a severe concussion. I was there for 3 days but don’t remember anything. I hardly remember the incident but my Mom reminds me of it sometimes. She sometimes wonders if I have had so many problems in my life because I never recovered from the concussion. I sometimes wonder if I have had so many problems in my life because of my Dad dying. I also wonder if adhd has affected me. or booze. or drugs. or being molested. or being betrayed. it is hard to know why someone becomes something and someone becomes something else. love? lack of love? mental health issues? trauma? sexual abuse?
my dog died one day. his name was Snoopy. we were just kids. he got ran over by a TTC bus and was pinned underneath one of the wheels. the driver was sad and traumatized. the young girl who walked our dog was sad and traumatized. i am sure we were sad and traumatized but I don’t really remember. what did we do with Snoopy? did we bury him? what happened to the young girl who walked Snoopy for us? she was probably 16. she is now probably in her 60’s. is she still alive? is she happy? sad? did she ever recover from seeing a dog that she was taking care of get crushed under the wheels of a big TTC bus? did the driver ever recover? life happens and then we respond. or we don’t. life happens and then we recover. or we don’t.
we moved soon after that incident. left our friends behind. left our school behind. left the old scary Superintendent behind. left the big fat redheaded bully behind. left the first girl that I kissed behind. left Christine or Susan Thompson behind. left Merrick behind. Merrick Junior and Merrick Senior.
childhood memories from The Heights Drive.
so many memories.
so many friends.
so much laughter.
so much youth.
so much hope.
so much love.
it always come down to love.
life can be shitty sometimes.
life can be…LIFE IS TOO SHORT.
the meaning of life?
i love you Mom.
notanotherphony. 