Discipline - Dad

Dad was different. A little more understated. When he was mad and he started to grit his teeth, that was not usually a good sign. If he raised his hand you were done for. I am not sure what every body's opinion on a parent raising their hand to their children, but I was a kid, and now I am a parent and this much I know for sure...if I ever got a flying slipper off the noodle, or a wooden spoon off the back side or if my Dad had to grit his teeth and raise his hand, i can tell you this, I always deserved it. Not only did I deserve it, I probably deserved it about 8 infractions before I got 'it'. I tended to push the envelope a tad. I never had the brain power to think on my own when I was a kid to say...."hmmm, maybe I should stop behaving like this". My Mom has asked 6 times to stop, and yet I still continue to behave this way.....so I am going to stop now and say sorry Mom" No, that never happened. I would push it way beyond any reasonable limit.
My Dad rarely had to actually do anything, if he was mad, we knew why, and we didn't want the discussion to go any further than that. I would lay in my bed, and listen to my Mom and Dad talking, I could not hear them clearly, but I knew it was my Mom filling my Dad in on my day. The I would hear him coming up the stairs, one gigantic step after another.  I was dead. He would walk on to my room, (why did I do it, what was I thinking) My dad would walk in, and...well, (this is the anti climatic part)  he would just ask me what happened, I would tell him. I felt bad, and he knew I did....and that was the toughest, I didn't like to disappoint my parents.
Next - My siblings.

Discipline - Mom

 Discipline - Mom's and Dad's back 'in the day' had a little different version of discipline than we do now. If I screwed up when i was 10, there was a possibility of some sort of pain, really no big deal, just something to make you straighten up, and think that what you just did was maybe not a good idea. One good example would be my Mom and her flying slipper. My Mom was amazing back then. She could talk on the phone with the grace and elegance of British Royalty...all this while my brothers and I were beating the crap out of each other and making all sorts of noise. Hers was her special skill...and we always had ample warning. She would be chatting elegantly on the phone, smiling, laughing and her first attempt to 'shush' us would be to raise her hand above her head, if we did not get quiet (and we never did), she would begin to snap her fingers, very loudly, and give us a stern look, all the while laughing and chuckling with her friend on the phone, it was like a ballet really...and of course she would still not get the results she was looking for (which was a little peace and quiet). When it got to this point, she added yet another item to her juggling act. While talking on the phone with the grace and courtesy or royalty, and while snapping her fingers and looking at us very sternly, she was able to (in one fluid motion) remove her slipper, rear back and fire that slipper across the room, with the accuracy of an Olympic Biathlon Sharpshooter. Distance did not matter.  5 paces or 20 paces, she could fling that slipper and hit you right upside the head, and we were startled and realized at that very second, It was time to stop. (for now).
Mom's other form of discipline was the wooden spoon. "if you don't stop, you are going to get The Wooden Spoon" Sounds savage doesn't it? It wasn't. I think the Wooden Spoon evolved for a simple reason. When you have six kids...and all their friends over, all the time, you tend to spend a lot of the time cooking (as my Mom did) so a good percentage of the time, she happened to have a wooden spoon in her hand. Not very often did we every find out what "getting the wooden spoon" meant, but knowing what she could do with a slipper, we couldn't even imagine what she would do with a wooden spoon. Just the threat was enough to make us stop. However there was one time, I remember my brother Donny 'getting' the Wooden Spoon. Needless to say it broke. Needless to say, back in those days you could have taken a 2 x 4 upside Don's head and it would have broken in two, so a wooden spoon was harmless.
Than there was the famous swearing incident. We were taught never to swear. We didn't (too much). My Mom said it was filthy. She said if we did she would wash our mouth out with soap. It was kind of an idle threat, kind of like the wooden spoon. We never really believed she would do it. Than came that special day. I think I was about 13 at the time. I swore in front of my Mom. I said "bugger"  i.e ...that little bugger was bothering me. Yes, apparently back than, that was a swear word, and now my Mom heard it, and I had forced her hand. Could she carry out the famous idle threat...it was like an old Clint Eastwood movie, was she going to reach for the soap, or not...we stared each other down, the tumbleweeds rolled by in the background...I stared at her, chewing on my toothpick (ok I made the toothpick part up)...it was dead silent, finally she made her move (she had to save face), she said Michael, go to the bathroom. I had no idea what was about to happen. She turned on the water, lather up the soap a bit, and said, 'open up' and I did...and the only thing I can remember is...it wasn't that bad, it tasted a lot like Thrills chewing gum and as the years have gone by, I now know, that was a lot harder on her, than it ever was on me.
Next - Discipline - Dad

Backyard (Continued)

 Our garage was separate from the house. It had a brick wall that was perfect for throwing a lacrosse ball against. We even drew a net on the wall with chalk, and put little circles in the corners to practice our sharp shooting, it was perfect (almost) – see the problem is there was also two full size windows on either side of the net, and as we tried to fine tune our shooting for the corners, the ball did tend to get away from us sometimes. Oops. Dad, was so good at fixing windows. Our lacrosse games were the best. I have been playing lacrosse for about 46 years, and I am still playing. I have played at the highest level. I have played for Canada against the U.S. in front of 16,000 fans at the Spectrum in Philadelphia. I have played field lacrosse at John Hopkins University in front of huge crowds. I have played all over Canada. I have loved every minute, but I can tell you this categorically. The best lacrosse of all time, the most fun, the most competitive level I ever played was with my friends in the back yard of my house when I was 10 years old. The numbers did not matter. If I was by myself, I would practice against the wall (and break some windows), if there was only two of us, we would take turns playing goalie, and we would take shots, 5 longs shots and 5 comer inners, and see who got the most goals out of 10. From there any number worked it didn’t matter. 15 guys, you split it up, stick checking allowed, we used a tennis ball, that way you could wire your shots as hard as you want…..which caused a few stingers (of course) – no refs, no penalties, no time clock, we just played. First one to 50 wins, depending on the day. It did not get any better than that…..and all of a sudden, we didn’t know this at the time, but we started to get really good, are stick skills got better and better, we were a backyard of future “stars” of the game. That is where it all happens. It was the same on our ice rink, split whoever was there up, and away you go, the best babysitter any parent could want, we were there all the time. Our house was the place to be, lacrosse, hockey…..and let’s not forget the trampoline. The “community” trampoline. Everybody wanted to jump on it. we quickly realized that jumping on the trampoline, was quite often followed by kids falling off the trampoline, so my parents quickly came up with a simple rule, that in order to jump on the trampoline, you must have a note giving permission to do so, not sure if it was a legal document but it was a good idea. We came up with all sorts of competitive game here as well. The ‘sock’ game was the best. You would roll up a pair of somebody’s socks (usually stinky) and you would all stand around the outside of the trampoline, and you must hit the jumper, from the knee down (this rule was implemented early on after a few errant head shots and shots to the groin area to some competitors out of action for extended periods) – anyway you hit the jumper below the knee, and you are on next, it was a lot of fun.
Next - Discipline (Mom)

My backyard

My Back Yard was the Best of All time…….no question about it. We had full lacrosse games there, as many as 15 kids running around. We used a tennis ball, no mouth guards of course, stick checking allowed, we took turns in net….but the “good” goalies filtered out and played most of the time. I still play lacrosse (Master’s Lacrosse) with most of the guys from my back yard. My Dad replaced, I would say conservatively 40 – 50 broken windows in our garage and house. I remember one time when I was using the lacrosse ball, that it “got away” from me, went through the window in the house and landed on my Mother’s sewing table. She was sewing at the time. Oops. We also golfed in the back yard (it was big) – I made the shot of my life in that back yard. I was practicing with my pitching wedge. My sister was 100 yds away. What are the odds…..after all, I was 10. My Dad said “Michael, don’t hit the ball, your sister is there. I thought out all my options. I looked at the wind direction. I looked at the target. I looked my Dad. I felt like Arnold Palmer. It was an impossible shot. I made my decision. I took the shot, it was the sweetest wedge I think I have ever hit. Bang. Right off my sister’s forehead. Oops. But I learned something that day. It was the first time I ever realized I could out run my Dad*** see discipline section coming soon***. He came after me. I quickly assessed my options as he got closer, I made another cat like decision, and I decided to run for it. I had never gotten away before, but I was a boy possessed. As he got within arm reach, I was able to find another gear, and I started to put some space between us. He was quick, I will give him that, but I had the stamina, all my sports were paying off, combine that with focus and I was not going to be caught that day. The day was mine. Only one problem, I realized about an hour later, it was getting late…..and I was hungry, I headed for the house.
Next Backyard (Continued)

Weekends

  Weekends. (chores) Aside from collecting money for the paper…..my weekends were full. First there were the chores around the yard. We had a huge yard……..and it had to be maintained. There were 6 kids, 3 lawnmowers about 3 or 4 snow shovels (which we also used for scooping apples). We complained about chores, but we really didn’t mind it. The grass had to be cut, the apples had to be picked up first though, we had to rake, and trim…lift, wheelbarrow, and garden, it never ended. There was always a smoldering fire in the back yard, burning leaves and so on, I love that smell still today, there always seemed to be an Argo game on the radio, which I loved, we horsed around, beat each other up, worked, fought, laughed and always felt good. Funny thing….as we got older we figured out that if we did chores on Sunday we could get out of going to church (like Dad) – he figured that out a long time ago…..so on Sunday if I knew that church was in my future plans, I would volunteer for chores. (we all did) (Mom didn’t like that plan).
-        Weekends (no chores) – There was a lot to do on the weekends. What to do first? That was the thing. We had options. Backyard lacrosse game, touch/tackle football at the park. We needed anywhere from 2 to infinity players to have a decent game, because no matter how many guys, we could think of a game, or competition. It was all about the competition. We had no time limit….we played until we were done. Very Simple. It was the same as road hockey, lacrosse, ice hockey etc…..no matter the game, no matter the numbers, we would make it work.
-        As for food on the weekends, we really never had a solid plan, but we ate very well. It was just a factor of whose house was closest when we were hungry, and that’s where we went. Sometimes we could score two lunches……stop at one place around 11:30 and get lunch from his Mom, and up to somebody else’s around 1:00 pm, and it his Mom said “are you guys hungry? Who were we to say no, it would be impolite. Those two meals would push us deep into the day…..other than the odd visit to Charlie’s Variety, we were good until supper.
Next - My backyard.

The Paper route.

 The Paper route. When I was 10, I was a fat capitalist pig. I had a paper route. The Globe and Mail.
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/
I would wake up at 430 am to 5am. My bike in the summer, my toboggan in the winter. None of my friends ever helped me deliver the papers. (I wonder why?)Although, they did help me Saturday mornings collecting the money. I was flush in those days. I had a higher net worth at 10 then at 53. Go figure. We would collect the money, figure how much I owed the Globe and Mail....and the rest was gravy baby. First order of business was to walk to Charlie’s Variety, there was no other choice. I would buy my assistant(s) whatever they wanted...pop, wax lips (we ate them), thrills gum (taste like soap) *note – refer to first swear word blog coming soon. *  The paper route was my ticket to freedom. Occasionally I would sleep in. Not a problem though. My Dad would wake me up, and if I was late he would drive me. He knew every single person on our street, and what they did for a living, and what time they went to work. We would go to Mr. Pavanal’s house first, as he went to work first…..and then all the way back to The Henderson’s as he was next to work, and so on. We had a system, we didn’t talk too much, and we were like machines, very systematic. My Dad never got paid for this service. I never thought about paying him. All this extra cash I had allowed me to live the life. Jeff Black and I would go golfing with all my riches. We would stand at the end of Meadow Wood rd and wait for the bus. .025 cents for the bus to Lakeview Golf and Country Club……we would arrive at the club at 530am, we had to, it was first come, first serve...you check in, pay your $2 for 18 holes and get your time. We loved it. French Fries and gravy for lunch, and the bus back home. What a life. Jeff died when I was 16, that my first experience with death. I didn't get it. His mom hugged me for what seemed like 30 minutes at the funeral, was more like seconds, it was very sad.
Next - Weekends.

Our bikes

   In 1967 Saturdays were the best. Between the hours of 9am and about 6pm on a Saturday (and all summer), my parents never knew where I was, not because they didn’t care, but because the “worry about your kids” factor had not been really invented yet……..they knew we were going to “goof” around with are buddies, and they knew when we were really hungry we would come home. It was so radical. Cutting edge parenting.
 We went everywhere on our feet, or our bikes….no matter how far, didn’t seem to matter. Our bikes were the best. Banana seats, high handle bars, and you were the coolest man around….and if you really wanted to step it up a notch you would put hockey cards in the spokes. Davey Keon rookie card, Gordie Howe, Tim Horton card…….these cards today would be worth thousands of dollars, oh well, they sounded cool rattling in the spokes of your bike, and that is all that mattered to us. Our bikes were unstoppable, you could go anywhere, no exception….they were the original “mountain bikes” simply because we were not smart enough to ‘not’ go somewhere with them….we just kept rolling. I remember my friend Kim, had no bike one day so we made him ride my sister’s bike, a “girl’s bike” of all things, but to toughen it up a bit, we nicknamed the bike…..we called it the “Harley Girly Bike” and that never changed…..any time Kim needed a bike, he would say “is the Harley Girly Bike available”? There was a huge steep hill near our place that in this day and age you wouldn’t go down this hill under any circumstance, but we took our bikes down it, how else would we know it was not a good idea. I will never forget the day Kim took the Harley girly bike down that hill, no helmet (they didn’t exist), he must have gone head over heels at least four times that day, we thought he was done for. He popped up, we laughed hysterically…..straightened out the wheels, the seat, the handle bars and away we went. Good times.
Next - The paper route

My Dog - Chips

There seemed to be a lot less rules when I was 10.
Take my dog Chips for example. He was a boxer and he pretty well sums up the era of our neighborhood when I was 10. He was the king of the neighborhood. You would simply open in the door in the morning, and out he went, (much like me and my buddies) and away he went.
We were never 100% sure of what he was up to, but there were numerous sightings throughout the day. He would have his favorite spots. My mom would get calls from people down the road where he would visit for snacks. He would always come home (eventually) – unless of course he got hit by a car. That happened three times…well two and a half, the one time was just the Milk Truck backing over his head, as he was biting the tires, like he enjoyed doing, it was ok, a bloody nose, he shook it off.
He protected that yard of ours better than most countries protect their borders. Kids were always allowed and welcome, he had no problems with kids, it was other four legged creatures that were his issue. Squirrels gave him high blood pressure, he shook when he saw them, he chased every single squirrel he ever laid his eyes on, the closest he ever got was a tail, he did get one tail. It was a proud day. Dogs, cats, raccoons, skunks, 4 legs, “you come on my property, you deal with me” that was his motto. He needed to protect his family, and that he did. He was the toughest guy you would ever meet, the problem is he didn’t win many fights, they call them boxers because the use their paws a lot, they have kind of a square jaw, not great for fighting, he had more stitches than you can imagine, we kept the vet busy.
Chips was care free, no stress, had to answer to no one. When I was a kid, I think life really was a lot simpler, and certainly seemed to be less stress.

Next - Our bikes.

Technology in 1967

Back in 1967, when I was 10, we had no cell phones. If we wanted to talk to a friend we would pick up the phone and dial the number (and I do mean dial)…..my phone number was Taylor 2 – 0828.
Here is where it gets really crazy, sometimes I would just walk to my buddy’s house and say hi. We would just walk in, as though we lived there, the parents there were usually carbon copies of my parents, they were not surprised to see you, they expected it.
-        We had no Internet. We used Encyclopedia Britannica....well we were supposed to.
-        We had no video games. We did the real games - 3D - like table hockey, and electronic football (a football field where you would put all the players on it, put the magnetic football on the running back and turn on the switch, the field would vibrate, and the players would buzz in any direction they felt like, we played for hours and hours, too funny)…….......and of course, and best of all, we played sports.
-        No dvd, not even vhs tapes, no cd’s ……Crazy stuff….we used 33 1/3 long play records, or 45rpm singles.
-        We had black and white tv’s and you had to change the channels by hand……think about that, I had to get up off the floor or out of my chair or off the couch, every single time I wanted to change the channel……but it wasn’t bad, we only had 3 channels for a time……although I did have a certain skill, (I don’t like to brag) but I could lay on the floor watching tv and could reach up with my foot, and change the channel with my toes, Maybe that is what the guy was doing that invented the remote…..and I said the guy, because I don’t think even then, that most woman ever thought of it as a problem to get up and change the channel, that has to be a guy thing.
Next - My dog - Chips.