My Burlington Days Were Pretty Sweet

THE LIFE OF A KID, TRIUMPHS AND DISASTERS - HITS AND MISSES

MY BURLINGTON DAYS WERE PRETTY SWEET-

     I WAS EITHER INCREDIBLY LUCKY, OR UNBELIEVABLY STUPID. HERE'S HOW THAT GOES. THERE WAS THE TIME WHEN I BECAME SO PROFICIENT RIDING MY TRICYCLE, ON OUR SIDE OF HARRIS CRESCENT, WHERE THE NAGY APARTMENTS WERE SITUATED, THAT I HAD GRADUATED IN SKILL, (IN AN UNWARRANTED WAY) TO STUNT RIDER. I HAD QUITE A LARGE TRICYCLE, AND I WAS ELEVATED A PRETTY FAIR DISTANCE OFF THE TRAVELLED PORTION OF THE SIDEWALK. I WAS ORDERED BY ALL MY GUARDIANS, MY PARENTS, AND ANN AND ALEC NAGY, MY ALTERNATE PARENTS, TO STAY OFF THE ROADWAY, EXCEPT WHEN CROSSING BACK AND FORTH, TO OUR APARTMENT. SO ON THIS PARTICULAR EVENING, I WAS PERFORMING DEATH-DEFYING FEATS ON THE SIDEWALK, TRYING TO GET MY BACK WHEEL AS CLOSE TO THE EDGE AS POSSIBLE. I WAS PRETTY GOOD BUT YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY ABOUT THAT?  CLOSE ONLY COUNTS IN HORSESHOES. SO I GOT TOO CLOSE, AND THE BACK WHEEL TIPPED OVER THE EDGE OF THE CURB, AND I WAS TOSSED INTO A SPECTACULAR CARTWHEEL ONTO THE TARMAC. SO GUESS WHAT MADE THE EVENT SO MUCH MORE SPECIAL? AND POTENTIALLY LETHAL? WELL, I FOUND THE ONE PLACE ON A LONG STRETCH OF SIDEWALK, WHERE AN INTERESTING PIECE OF METAL (LIKELY OFF A CAR), WAS LAYING ON THE ROADWAY. IT FOUND MY THROAT. RIGHT UNDER MY CHIN, IN FACT. THIS SHARP PIECE OF METAL, ABOUT EIGHT INCHES LONG, AND TWO INCHES WIDE, BOUNCED WHEN I HIT IT ON THE ROAD, AND SOMEHOW TURNED KNIFE-LIKE AS WE TUMBLED THROUGH THE AIR.

     I LANDED ON THE ASPHALT, CHIN FIRST, AS MANY OF US STUNT RIDERS WIND UP EVENTUALLY. THE PIECE OF METAL CAUGHT ME JUST UNDER THE CHIN, IN MY SUMMERSAULT AGAINST THE ROAD, AND GAVE ME A DEEP GASH. MISSED THE ARTERY. I HAD ALSO ERASED A SUBSTANTIAL PORTION OF THE SKIN ON MY CHIN, AND BADLY SCRAPED LEGS, ELBOWS AND THE PALMS OF BOTH HANDS. I IMMEDIATELY KNEW I WAS IN TROUBLE, BEYOND ANYTHING I HAD DONE BEFORE, BECAUSE THERE WAS BLOOD ALL OVER THE PLACE. SO AFTER ASSESSING THAT BOTH LEGS WERE STILL ATTACHED, I STARTED RUNNING AND BLEEDING. I'M NOT SURE WHO CAME OUT OF THE APARTMENT BUILDING FIRST. ANN NAGY OR MY MOTHER, BUT THERE SEEMED TO BE A LOT OF PEOPLE YELLING AT THAT MOMENT, WHEN I CROSSED THE THRESHOLD OF 2138 HARRIS CRESCENT. AFTER THEY STOPPED THE BLEEDING, MERLE WENT OUT TO GET MY TRICYCLE OFF THE ROAD, AND THAT'S WHEN SHE FOUND THE JAGGED PIECE OF METAL, THAT HAD SOME OF MY SKIN ON THE EDGE. THEN SHE FREAKED-OUT. SO I WAS HUSTLED INTO A CAR, AND TAKEN TO THE HOSPITAL FOR A TETANUS SHOT. I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT THAT MEANT, BUT I HAD WATCHED A MOVIE, WHERE ONE OF THE CHARACTERS GOT RABIES, FROM AN ANIMAL BITE…..AND I STARTED TO WORRY I MIGHT START FOAMING AT THE MOUTH, AND POTENTIALLY FEEL THE NECESSITY TO BITE SOMEONE. ONCE AGAIN, WHEN ALL WAS SAID AND DONE, MERLE MUTTERED, "YOU ALMOST KILLED YOURSELF TODAY TEDDY." FOR WEEKS AFTER THIS, EVERY TIME I WENT OUTDOORS, MY PROTECTORS COULD BE SEEN AT WINDOWS, BEHIND BUSHES, AND PRETENDING TO BE WORKING AT THE OUTSIDE MAINTENANCE SHED, IN ORDER TO INTERVENE, IF I, OUT OF BOREDOM, DECIDED TO DEFY GRAVITY ONCE AGAIN.

     I have written previously about the time I did roughly the same stunt, but with a two-wheeler, when that brush against the asphalt cost me a chunk of flesh from my leg. On that occasion, the greater amount of pain, came when Alec Nagy treated the injury with iodine. I screamed that day, let me tell you. It was the kind of burning sensation you don't easily forget. If ever anything taught me about bicycle safety, it was that little brown bottle, Alec kept in an emergency kit in his white storage building, at the side of the apartment. In the westerns I used to watch, the injured cowboy always got to bite on a bullet, when there was some medical procedure about to happen. I would have exploded a bullet, accommodating the pain from that open wound. I still have the gouge in my leg to remind me of this stunt gone wrong. But I didn't get an infection thanks to Alec's quick thinking, and that wicked germ-killer, iodine.  He did the same thing when I smashed my hand in the trunk of Ed's car, and Alec came along first, before my dad found out. In this case, I had no choice. Alec covered for me, but I had to get another iodine treatment for the twelve or so scrapes from the trunk lid, that had cut the skin on the back of my right hand.

     There were a lot of funny incidents on old Harris Crescent, that I start recalling, as I push forward on this compendium of "a young lad's glory days." Like the time Ray Green had found this small snake in the grass. We used to have lots of them, especially in the late spring for some reason. Mating? We were standing in the driveway of the Nagy apartment, and my dad came home from work. He wandered over to see what we were up to, and noticed the snake in Ray's hand. In those days, Ray may have been holding a hand grenade, so every one who knew him, double checked what weapon of destruction he was fondling at the time. This time it was a garter snake. I don't know what possessed Ed to stick his finger in front of the snake's mouth. Ray was holding the poor critter from just behind the head, to avoid even the remotest possibility the snake would swing back and bite. So the snake couldn't believe its good fortune. Here was this big adult finger in its face, and well, it took a real big bite into the flesh. So Ed instantly pulled back with the snake still attached, and it pushed itself, at the same time, out of Ray's hand. It may have been the funniest sight in the Nagy parking lot, ever! Ed couldn't shake it loose. He was trying to  grab its body with his other hand, while trying to fling it back into the ravine. It was getting pretty frenzied, and it gave the appearance of some magic show, where the magician pretends to be in some dire consequence, only to free himself suddenly; the whole incident nothing more than an illusion. This snake had locked its fangs in the fleshy tip of his finger, and was not letting go. It wasn't until Ray finally caught the snake's tale, and yanked hard, that Ed was finally freed of the serpent. He had a fair amount of blood on his finger, mostly from the ripping of the tiny fangs across the skin. Let's just say, the snake was returned to the wilds. Ed went into the house and asked my mother Merle if there were any poisonous snakes in the ravine. That's when Merle gave him the iodine treatment. Could snake venom be matched with a dose of iodine? You know, it was the era of iodine. By time I had got past my awkward stage (my wife maintains I never grew out of it), of falling and skinning all parts of my body, Alec's iodine bottle was empty.

     A little older, I had arrived at the apartment after school (I was a latch-key-kid some of the time), one afternoon, and gathered my hockey gear together for a little game of shinny, at Dick and Henry Bosevelts's house, across Ratkowski's farm field (not sure of either spelling of family names). I decided, before going, to make myself a roast beef sandwich, from leftovers in the fridge. I made the mistake of using the sharp butcher-knife my mother ordered me to "never touch," and while cutting a slice toward (not supposed to do this) the hand steadying the slab of meat, it slipped, and I directed the blade into the side of my thumb. "Blood everywhere," as my screaming mother would have yelled, had she been in the apartment to see the aftermath. I did a real number on my thumb. Running down to Ann's apartment would have meant another date with iodine. As well as a scolding, I'm sure I deserved at that point. What was so pressing here, was that I really wanted to play shinny with Ray Green, and Dick and Henry. So I forced the two pieces of my thumb together, mysteriously avoided collapsing at the sight of blood, wrapped it with toilet paper, and a bandage, put some catalogues under my socks for shin protection…..grabbed my Toronto Maple Leaf Jersey, my stick and gloves, and while still bleeding…..I headed out to play that great Canadian sport on a cold winter's day. Obviously, I didn't bleed to death. We had a great hour and a half game before dinner. I always remember that particular game, because we were all very upset Leaf fans that day. Recently, maybe even the night before, the last place Boston Bruins had defeated the front-running Maple Leafs 11-0…..with back-up goalie Don Simmons in net. Bower must have been injured. Like today, it was tough for the rest of that season, shaking-off that drubbing at the hands of the cellar-dwelling Bruins. When I got home, you ask? "Were you making a sandwich Teddy," Merle asked, knowing full well that I had done just that, leaving the beef on the counter, the bread bag open, and blood on the edge of the sink. "Have a little accident with the knife?" I just showed here the big bloody bandage on my finger. "One day you're going to kill yourself," she responded, yanking me by the arm to the bathroom for a closer look. Wouldn't that be a way to go? Death by sandwich misadventure! Son Robert one day, asked me where I got the large scar on my finger. I said it happened because of the Toronto Maples Leafs. Nuff said! 

     There were lots of interesting sights, sounds, and current events in our neighborhood, that interested me to take a closer look. Maybe you remember some of the same wonderful intrusions in your home town, or happening on your street. I was always interested in the peddlers who came calling. The delivery and service folks who drove up to our street in various contraptions, and styles of motor vehicles. For example, I loved to hear the clanging bell of the "Knife and Scissor Sharpening Man," who arrived about once a month, except in the colder months. It was a strange vehicle and I'm not sure whether it was gas powered or foot pedaled. The neighborhood ladies would come out with a plethora of cutlery and scissors, and he would engage some type of wizardry, (a grinding wheel) to sharpen what had become dull since his last visit. He was quite a character, and was very loud with his greetings and small talk. I guess you had to talk this way, when conversing over the sound of a grinding mechanism. Then there was the "Goody Man," although each seemed to call themselves something different. Merle only ever had money for a popsicle, but on occasion, she didn't have any money to spare. So I was an unfortunate bystander. I hated these occasions, but I didn't blame my mother. It was when my chums would get honking big ice cream treats, and I had to watch as they licked them slowly……and they loved every minute of my suffering. In fact, they licked so slowly, most of the ice cream had melted, and dripped onto their shirts. I may have…..may have I stress, accidentally knocked one or two out of my friends' hands……just to be an ass. If they could lick slowly, I could be acceptably clumsy.

    There were all kinds of neat delivery vehicles from companies such as Simpson-Sears and Eatons, and the drivers wore nifty uniforms and caps. I was always interested to see what one of our neighbors had purchased, and frequently Merle had something delivered. Usually clothes. That didn't interest me too much, but I was always eager to answer the door, to the next most interesting character to happen by the Nagy apartment. Of course there was the milk man, and bread man. I don't remember a female delivery person. I may be wrong. Merle used to leave our glass bottle in the hall, with money inside. I was in heaven, if Merle found enough coins to buy me a bottle of chocolate milk….maybe once a month, and raisin bread, or cakes from the bakery. I can still remember the clink of the glass bottles in the metal carrier, the milk man toted around, and I seem to remember a large tray carried by the bread man, that I always thought was anchored around his neck for walks through our hallway, looking for bread orders, and requests. Gads I miss those days. He also had a selection of cakes in his big basket as well, and by golly, Merle often surprised me, by making an impulsive purchase. The problem, in those days, was that Merle and Ed worked most weekdays, and that limited my access to the bread and milk salesmen as a customer. I'm not sure if this is how Ann Nagy purchased her milk, but I can't imagine her having bought any bread or treats from the bakery chap. As she was one of the finest cooks on the block, or in the whole town, I can't imagine her needing to buy what she could produce better, in her compact little kitchen up on Harris Crescent.  

    I remember owning a red metal pedal car, that today would be worth a grand. I loved that old toy automobile, and I drove it everywhere I could possibly navigate. I think Ed had purchased it second hand, but I couldn't have cared less about its provenance, just that it would perform magic for me. It gave me a lot of blisters and scrapes, as my legs kept smashing into the metal interior controls, but my chances of falling were greatly decreased by the fact I was six inches off the ground. You know, it was one of the things I wanted to ask my dad, when he was in the hospital, after his stroke…..and he had those few precious moments of clarity. I got outside the hospital after the last good chat we had, and I remembered what I had wanted to ask about the old car. By the next day, he had slipped back again into dementia. I suppose they gave it to some other neighborhood kid, when I outgrew it, but I think it must have happened quickly and quietly, and I don't remember ever being asked if I wanted to keep it. My mother was masterful at giving my toys away, and always had such compelling arguments, to soften the blow of finding out my room had been sucked free of debris. "His parents couldn't afford toys for him, and yours were just gathering dust in your room." Merle's excuse for getting rid of my keepsakes, nine times out of ten, was "dust" related. It was the collateral damage of being a neat freak. She was pretty good hearted, and she was very generous to those kids she knew, who didn't have many toys, from families having a tough time keeping food on the table….let alone spending money on metal pedal cars and table-top hockey games. That was the only time I had an argument with Merle, about her benevolence with my possessions. She gave my Munro Hockey Game away, when I went off to university. I adored that game, and no matter how old we were, it was great party entertainment. The the brothers she gave the game to, had been forced to live with a grandmother, because of marital problems with their mother and father, and they truly didn't have a toy in the world. So I learned to live without table-top hockey. I'd like to have it now as an investment. It had the first expansion teams, when the NHL left the six team era. I got my game from Munro industries in Burlington, which made it even more special. But, I survived.