When we were in Toronto
last week, I had to occasion to drive past some of my old haunts. I have done
this before, and I think I have written about some of them. I have been doing
this long enough now that I am bound to start repeating some of the stories,
but hopefully they will be told in a different way each time. If there is one
that you think you have read before, can you be sure that you actually read it
or might it possibly be a case of déjà vu. I am going with déjà vu.
I turned off of the 401 at Warden
Avenue going south to some destination that I
can’t remember now. Right on the south east corner, there is a Methodist church
and a Howard Johnson’s. I can remember that particular corner for a couple of
reasons. When I was in cubs, it was that area we would go to in order to
practice wood craft. You see, back in the day there wasn’t a building there at all;
it was just a small forest.
I was a city boy, so any place with trees thick enough that
I couldn’t see buildings on the other side was a forest. Like I say, we would
go there and practice scout things. I suppose that we would cut down saplings
and lash them together to make a drying rack for dishcloths or articles of
clothing. We would practice the various methods of starting fires and once the
fire was started we would sit around it and listen to stories, cook
marshmallows and poke people with the burning ends of our marshmallow sticks.
It must have been a day camp, but my mind seems to be a little foggy about that
aspect of it.
I remember playing tag in the forest and what must have been
foraging for firewood. One thing that has stayed with me for my whole life is
being deep in the woods with about seven or eight other cubs while this older
scout showed us how to masturbate. I don’t think my juvenile psyche was wounded
in any way; I just took it as an interesting happening and didn’t think too
much about it. I am pretty sure that I didn’t tell my mom or dad about it, but
I don’t remember going back to that camp in the years following. I never
thought of it as dirty or wrong in any way, but now that I think back, it does
seem a little weird. Why was that guy masturbating in front of a bunch of
little kids in the woods? I wonder if he went on to become a scout leader.
Perhaps he is the minister at the Methodist church. Whatever, it was strange.
Years later, there was a Holiday Inn built on that site.
Maybe that is why we stopped going to the forest. I quit cubs when the bastard
Akela (leader) wouldn’t give me my second “eye” after I had done what was
required (No! Not in the woods.). It was just a pin that went on the cap, but it was obviously pretty
important to me. My brother quit at the same time and for months we would leave
to go to cubs every Tuesday night and spend the dues mom and dad gave us on
candy. We did our best. Cubs will get that.
Time marches on a few years and the Holiday Inn advertised a “Bottomless” cup of coffee on a
big banner on the side of the building. A group of us decided that it would be
a pretty cheap contest to see which one of us could drink the most coffee. I think my
brother won with 17 cups, but by that time the world was spinning and my eyes
were taking in far too much light. The advertising was incorrect by the way.
Shortly after the 17th cup we were told to leave and not come back.
They had nothing to worry about there, because a couple of the guys haven’t
touched coffee since and fully half would opt for warm pond scum over coffee.
If I move forwards a few more years, there was a bar in the Holiday
inn and it was one of those with a “Men’s Only” section and a “Ladies and
Escorts” section. We would go to the men’s section and what a pig sty! There
was sawdust on the floor and just a bunch of old drunks that would hang out
there, no doubt hiding from their wives. The cool thing about the place was
that you would order draft by the table and it was twenty cents a glass. Yes,
before you ask, you could order two tables of beer. They would pull another one
of the small round tables over and cover the surface of both tables with
glasses of beer. It was the kind of place that was a young mans vision of heaven.
Well, without
women of course...Men Only.
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