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... Times Early memories are at times hard to conjure, yet on occasion we all have opportunities to remember poignant events. Sometimes we remember interactions with others, and even interactions with ourselves that are life events, and have a degree of influence on who we turn out to be in our adult days. I grew up in a family of six. My father, mom, and my brothers, Cleary, Hughie, and Frank, with me in the middle. Cleary and Hughie are older brothers, and Frank the youngest. There are so many things to write about here, but for some reason I got onto Newfoundland, my father, and the change in government in the early seventies. The province was to have an election that would change the governing party from the Liberal's, to the Conservatives. From the party that had ushered Newfoundland and Labrador into confederation with Canada, to a party that had not governed the province since before confederation, and before Joseph R. Smallwood. That decision was determined in 1949 when the nation of Newfoundland became a province of Canada. In 1972 the election was an election that would change the political landscape of Newfoundland and Labrador. My father was a candidate for the Progressive Conservative Party for the riding of St John's South which included Kilbride at that time, which was where our family lived. That election saw my father elected with the greatest majority of that election. That election changed the governing party, and many lives both directly, and indirectly, for many years to come. The Tories had won by the slimmest of margins. As a matter of fact, and public record, the election saw the Tories with twenty one seats. The Liberals, under Smallwood with twenty, and Tom Burgess of the New Labrador Party with one. Gus Olford resigned his seat. Now the Tories had twenty one seats compared to the Liberals who now had only nineteen. In order to form the government the party had to hold the majority of the seats after the Speaker of the house had been seated by the governing party. In 1972 there was a desire for change, no matter what the cost according to many. Tom Burgess returned to the Liberal party, along with the seat he had won in the election. He had been part of the Liberal fold, before being elected with the New Labrador Party. Now the Tories had twenty one to the Liberals twenty. My father left the Progressive Conservative Caucus and sat as an Independent Conservative. Now the House of Assembly in Newfoundland and Labrador was divided completely equally. The Tories had twenty, the Liberals had twenty, and there was now one independent, my father of St John's South. During the may lay of fervent activity in our lives, there were times when the closest of friends were called upon to help protect us boys, and our mother. Ken & Pat, and family, were a staff of aid for my father, and for us at that time, and of many times since. I remember having to go stay at their house because there were crowd of people gathering outside the store which was our house in Kilbride, and they wanted to hang my father for crossing the floor of the House. They had the rope, and the intent to do just that. When we left my father was in the store with a shotgun leaning in the corner saying everything will be okay, and to not worry about dad. I really cannot say how okay everything became, but I can say that the murderous crowd in Kilbride, outside the store never strung up my father. My father was a man now in my life I respect with undying gratitude and love. He was a man of quick wit, and one who could captivate a crowd of people, and make a hall roar. My father had people in his life who admired him greatly. Each of us went through life changing events together. We grew up together in a home that was no more that a two bedroom apartment. At the time of my youth we were paired up to the two bedrooms, Frank and I in one bedroom, and Cleary and Hughie, in the other. Mom and Dad stayed on a fold out in the living room when it came time to sleep. This was after we spent a few years in the basement that would always flood with water, and was unbearably cold. I would put on a shirt, and pants with socks before I would get out of the bed to prepare myself for the cold out from under the sheets of my bed. My Uncle Danny and his family, Aunt Mary, Ellen, Danielle, and Kelly lived at the back of the house. The basement was divided into two small apartments. My Uncle Jim, Aunt Viola, Chris, Terry, Beverly, and Eugene, lived in the second half. The area that they lived in was even smaller than the part of the house that my family lived in. Aunt Bernadette, Steven, Billy, Rosie, and Paula, lived on the other side of the house that hand the entrance to our part of the house in the middle and Uncle Danny's television repair shop on the other. All those Shea's living in the one house made for a unique family dynamic. Our Aunt Winnie lived upstairs, and has been, and will be to the end, a unique woman with the strength of family. There was a time just before high school for me that my Aunt Bernadette died; she was a woman of genuine friendship. A woman who took care of her family, and her nieces, and nephew's too. Many a night was spent sleeping over in the Hair Saloon that Aunt Bernadette and Aunt Winnie owned and ran their business from. They had both gotten an education on styling hair, and decided to possess and open a beauty saloon. The back was an area were all those Shea kids would go and camp out with each other. Those were wonderful times of listening to music and playing games. Barbecues would be on the family's agenda on many an occasion. It was an open pit that had some concrete blocks surrounding it. Rosie and Paula's mom had died, and they were still under her care; high school kid's. Steven and Billy had moved out of the house by this time. The girl's moved to Alberta, to live with their brother Billy, his wife, and kids. After a while both the girls decided to come home, and live with Aunt Winnie in the same part of the house they grew up in. Oh my days at St. Pat's bring back so many vivid memories. A lot of time after classes in the afternoon saw me fighting with whoever had said anything negative about my father. The parents of these kid's, had heard that their son's were in class with Hughie Shea's son, and loaded up their head's with bitter impression's of my father, and when in school a lot of them figured that they would relay all that hostility to me. Dad, at one time had seen me fighting with one of the boy's up the street. He broke up the fight, and took me home. When we got home gave me some tips on what to do when fighting.. Jabbing with the left, as well as using the right, upper cut's etc... how to take care of myself a little better. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A couple of the most memorable times I had at St. Pat's. At one time I had been a member of the glee club, which was the school choir. I had one night, on a parent gym assembly evening, was to sing "My Way". The night was to see me stand in front of the rest of the members of the glee club, and sing "My Way". I froze. I had the spotlight shining in my face, as I stood on front stage, on the stage lit with stage lights, and the audience in the darkness of the gym, and was silent. No word's came to my lips, and Brother Taylor, a fine man, was trying to coach me with the words, as he played a stand up piano, in the front of the stage. His attempted aid was unsuccessful. He played the song completely, and when it ended, I resumed my position with the rest of the guy's who had been standing behind me. When the group had finished singing its songs, I went back to the orchestra which was in the corner of the gym, and was performing musical numbers through out the evening. I was at that time a trombone player. I silently wept, holding my trombone to my lips, with tears streaming down my face. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The very first time I drank alcohol was in grade seven, yes, grade seven. My buddy at the time had gotten a twenty-six ounce bottle of Bacardi rum from his dad's liquor cabinet, without his father being aware of the hoist. There were three of us, Dean, Wayne, and myself and we assembled after school in the graveyard just next to my home on Mayor Avenue. Well it was after school for me, my friend had dropped out of school in grade six. So here we are, three boys up to no good and about to discover the intoxicating effects of straight dark Bacardii rum; it tasted like fire to me at the time and to this day I cannot drink dark rum. Now I will tell you why. The three of us cracked open the bottle and started drinking. The friend who got the bottle was the one who opened the bottle actually and took one mouth full and spit it out saying that it had gone down the wrong way and passed the bottle to me. I tilted the bottle back and started guzzling the rum. By the time I was finished there was just about half the bottle was gone. I then passed the bottle to Wayne for him to have a go. He drank in the same fashion as I did; he guzzled it down, leaving about a quarter of the bottle left which he passed back to me because the friend who got the bottle had refused saying that he was still getting over it going down the wrong way. I finished the bottle. Here are three boys, one was a dropout at the tender grade of eight or ten years old, and another who was a year or two younger that me, finishing a bottle of rum in less that five minutes. We began to walk the neighborhood and I was getting more drunk as the minutes passed. About an hour or two later, the guys had vanished and I was on my own in a neighbor's garden passed out from the consumption of booze we had ingested into our young bodies. The neighbor called my home and informed whoever answered the phone that I was passed out in his garden, and I was not responding to him. With that information in hand my mother sent my brother Hughie up to garden to get me and bring me home. My brother picked me up and put me on his back in a fireman carry position and carried me home. When he got me home he tells me that he dumped my body on the stairs and left me in the aid of my mother. In the middle of the night I woke up and went to the bathroom. This was the night that hours before I was a drunk as a skunk, and had completely forgotten that I had consumed all that booze. The only thing I thought was that I had better get back to bed fast because I had school the next day. On my way back to bed after the pit stop in the bathroom I was told by my mother that "if your drinking buddy dies, you are going to be in a lot of trouble". Well that struck me like a piece of two by four right in the face with a mighty blow. Why would my mother say something like that to me in the middle of the night. I was puzzled because, as I have mentioned, I had completely forgotten about getting drunk earlier. What had happened was he was brought to the hospital, and had to get his stomach pumped, to get the alcohol out of his system. My mother figured that it was my fault for the calamity of events as they had unfolded. The guy who got the bottle's parents had come to my home and accused me of stealing the bottle of booze, and that their son had not gotten drunk at all, and was off visiting a relative who was in the hospital. Well nothing could be farther from the truth. The fact was that he had taken that bottle of booze from his dad's liquor cabinet, and had spit out the gulp he had taken first because, "It went down the wrong way". Looking back at it now, it did not go down the wrong way but was just straight rum which neither he nor Wayne and I were accustomed to. Because of Dean not drank any of the booze, was the reason he did not get drunk and also the reason Wayne had to have his stomach pumped because Wayne and I drank half a bottle of straight rum. After that event had died down and passed, I never again did see either of them. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ At another parent's assembly, the students one evening competed for best public speaker. Well you can imagine, that must have given my father a jolt of energetic pride. He and I spent many hours, writing and practicing a speech about "girls". About how girls are so different, and how we should get them all together, and put them in a big space ship and send them to the moon. It was very funny when I said it, because of my age, and the fact that I was a good public speaker anyway, because of my genetics. My father was the greatest public speaker I have ever seen. So I got a lot of his great public speaking ability. I had gone through the first page of my speech, and I turned the page and there were no words. I was immediately lost, and kept turning pages over, looking for the next line. I had forgotten that, to make it easier for myself, so I thought, was to only use one sheet of paper for each page of the speech, to not have anything on the reverse side of the sheet, so I would not get confused, and would do a better job on the speech, because I no longer needed to worry about getting lost, because for each page of the speech, there was now only one sheet, which I had completely forgotten about. I eventually stopped shuffling the pages in front of me, and stepped from behind the podium, and said the rest of the speech, I could remember from memory. I received an E, for effort, and someone else had won first place, because of my mix up with the bloody pages. My father never mentioned the evening, but I can imagine his disappointment in his son, the son of a great speaker fooling up his public performance. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Another time was when I was in a fist fight with another boy, outside the doors of the school library which was a hallway of the school on the third floor, and one of the teacher's just stood there, until a conclusion was reached, either by beating the head's off each other, or any other way, so this teacher thought. Amazing was my only mental reaction to that. A grown educator, watching two kids in a fist fight with each other, and letting it complete it's self to fruition. St. Pat's was a truly unique schooling environment. I was competing for a spot on the hockey team for atom's my age. I kept trying as hard as I could when it came to sprints of skating and racing the other players to try and be the first to finish each drill. During the try out's the coach would be skating up to players and getting their name's, In the dressing room after each of the try out's, I think there were three, the guy's who had their names taken by the coach thought that they were getting selected to be on the team. That was not the case in reality. In reality the players who had their name taken by the coach were the players that were not to make the team. At that time there was new rule on the books for all pee wee players. We all had to play with a face shield. Well I did not have one of those, and was in the process of securing one through the family. Well to get an item like a face mask, for me to play hockey at St. Pat's, was low on the list of priorities when one lives a life were extra cash in the house was not a regular occurrence. My brother's and I were always taken care of with the love that only a mother and father can give their children. During a game one afternoon at a local hockey rink, I had to change helmets with guys on my team each time I was to get on the ice for my shift on ice. It was in the span of time when the face mask was in the process of trying to be gotten. When the game was over the coach came into the dressing room were we were all getting out of our hockey gear and into our street clothes. He had my hermit in his hand. The one that did not have the face mask on it, and threw it at me, bouncing on the concrete floor to rest about a foot from me. He screamed about the hermit and loosing the game. That week the time came for me to pay the cost of my registration and pay for the ice time. I went to his home room to pay him that fee, to register, that all the members of the team had to pay for the season of hockey, and when I got there, I told him that I did not want to be on his team anymore, and that I will not be playing hockey. I gave him the registration fee money, that my father had given me to forward to the school, and without thinking that there would be no fee anymore, because I was not going to be playing hockey anymore, because I thought the coach of a team of grade three kids, should not be a maniac, throwing my helmets at me, and screaming out loud and what speared to be truly mad, for loosing a hockey game. I never saw, or herd of that money again. I would say that it went into his pocket. Now, not only did he throw my helmet at me in the dressing room, but had also taken money from me to pay for ice time that I never used. Truly a man who needed to go back to school himself, and take humanity, and honesty 101 again. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ During my school day's, I would always put my name in for class president, which I usually won, but not always. My last year of high school, was the last election I fought for personally. Another of the top five men I have ever known. Brother Boucher was a man of great insight, and equally impressive intelligence. He was a man who was my high school principal, and turned out to be a close supporter in those days. I was so filled with energy, to do things that my father had spent a lot of time and energy doing, trying to get elected. At the time, as a kid growing up, I thought that he would be proud of me, because I was taking after the, "old man". That was the term, my brother's and I affectionately referred to dad as. I lost in the election by three votes; I was so astonished that the vote had been so close, and I was on the loosing side. I never heard one word about the results of that student election from my father. I am sure his heart must have hurt; having his son, loose the High School election by such a close margin. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ He had been on the loosing side of every election he was a candidate in, since crossing the floor of the House. There were a number of attempts made to capture a seat in the House, after he had crossed the floor. Ran always as a Liberal after crossing the floor. Deep down my father held mentally to the political orientation of the Conservative Party. His political philosophy was right of centre. A number of year's later my father had written a book called "Shea's Newfoundland Seduced", outlining the events of the election of 1972, and his commentary on the political integrity of Frank Moores, and the Progressive Conservative Party, and their thirst for power, no matter what the cost. My father had brought that book into a meeting of the New Liberal Party, which Joey had put together, after loosing the leadership of the Liberal Party. He, Joey, did not give the appreciation that the book had deserved, because when Dad came home from that gathering, he was disappointed with Joey's response to the book. He wrote a number of articles for the provincial newspaper. I have included one that he wrote and one that was written by him. "You can't have half a lie. You can't have half a conscience. It's like trying to have half a flame or half a hole. You can have a big lie or a small lie, a big flame or a small flame; but you still have a flame, hole, lie, ect. Well poaching is just like that. There is no such thing as half a poach. Poaching is as absolute as lying. You lie or you don't. You poach or you don't. The fifty-first partridge taken by any one person in one year is s poached partridge. Any moose moved from were it was killed, without first being tagged, is a moose that was poached. Weather the moose was killed by a silver bullet, a snare, or a bloody Karate chop doesn't make a peck of difference. Weather it was transported by plane, on foot or by broomstick couldn't matter less. And weather it landed at Gander Lake, Paddy's Pond or Stinky Bridge makes it no less a poached moose. Now! Anyone! Anyone! Anyone who argues that the moose that was landed at Paddy's Pond, untagged, was not poached is either naively stupid or a bald faced liar. Rich and powerful people with rich and powerful guns and rich and powerful transportation can poach. The authorities and the government proved that beyond a doubt a couple of weeks ago. However the average Newfoundlander is not permitted to poach. He is confronted by court appearances, fines, and sentences, confiscations and generally disgrace. The authorities and the government have been proving that since the Wildlife Regulations came into existence. The obvious questions are: How powerful do you have to become before you become subject to the law? How much money, how powerful a gun, what mode of transportation makes one immune to the law? A question that follows is; When will the degree of wealth and or power necessary to permit carte blance hunting be written into our laws? Another question is: How many cohorts are permit at any given time to fall under the carte blanche umbrella of the omnipotent hunter? If these questions seem facetious, then, stop and read again and think. Frank Moores, John Lundrigan and their safari companions are poachers. I am not branding them. An untagged moose in an aircraft at Paddy's Pond branded them. Resipse loquatur; the thing speaks for it's self. Now then if Mr. Moores can poach, can his family poach? If Mr. Lundrigan can poach, can his family also poach? Is it limited only to immediate families, or do in-laws count? Other interesting queries are: If they can poach, can they shoplift? Can they drive impaired? Can they break the speed limits? These are straightforward, simple, relevant questions. Were does the law stop and the authority, position of wealth of an individual raise above the law? Before moving into the liberal Leadership and the St. John's West bi-election I'd like to state something which should be obvious to all but the mentally moribund: Absolutely no one, in or out of Wildlife, in or out of government has the authority to give after the fact permission to poach. No one! And now from the lofty heights of poaching, ever downward into politics." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ LIBERALISM "We liberals will choose a leader the coming fall. I will certainly be in that leadership race. I will be there, hopefully, as the member for St. John's West, for there is no question of my seeking the St. John's West Liberal nomination. That was decided long ago. Mr. Roberts considers St. John's West as a testing ground for Mr. Rowe. I agree. For a fact it's a good testing ground for any leadership aspirant- including Mr. Roberts. Mr. Rowe is a bit leery; understandably so. I believe that both these gentlemen have held safe seats. And another test of leadership is weather or not you can put another candidate in you safe seat. Smallwood could. Mr. Rowe presently holds no seat. St. John's West could be a golden opportunity for him to re-enter the House. Mr. Roberts holds a safe seat. I suggest he resign that seat which could be filled by a Liberal in a bi-election and enter the St. John's West contest to prove his leadership capabilities once and for all. As Leader he should think of what a positive vote of confidence he would be placing in himself and his party. Surely he realizes that the interest which wou9ld be generated in the election could only be a great plus for the Liberal Party which he hopes to continue to lead. It is unnecessary to say that should Bill Rowe then not enter the race he could forget his leadership aspirations at least for this time. I, personally, would relish the opportunity to contest the St. John's West nomination against messrs Roberts and Rowe. I firmly believe that the bi-election could be the high point in seven less than glorious Liberal years and a grand boost for Liberals through out the province. It could also be an enticing display of political decency and political integrity for those Newfoundlanders that want badly to vote Liberal in the next general election. But no matter if it's Roberts, Shea or Rowe who wins St. John's West or Roberts, Shea or Rowe who wins the Leadership, one thing is certain. Newfoundland must see within this year a loyal, cohesive, Liberal Party, determined, eager and prepared to take the reigns of government. And that Party must be the pillar of political decency. We must always be mindful that a Democracy should have on the Opposition benches, the makings of a viable government, of that Democracy will suffocate from political arrogance. Speaking of politicians: He died and everyone swore to a man They voted for him every time he ran. A harmless thought and said as though by rote: Now, dead, it seemed he did deserve their vote. Seemed now that they'd wished him into hell, "Cause he was good and honest. They could tell. No doubt about it now, sir, No, by God! No better man was put beneath the sod. Oh, well, God rest his soul; he's better off. Let's all go on back home and have a scoff. Scoff they went to eat and drink their fill While his nibs made his rapid ride downhill. Condemned by Justice to eternal fire, For being so notorious a liar. And don't you know that as the gravel fell,' This straight faced whore's whelp sauntered into hell. Scanned his District, called for attention to declare: Well, now, first I'm gonna get you out of here" Pretty good huh? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ My father wrote a lot of poetry before he died, and being a great public speaker, had his poetry, and two of his speeches published in a book put together by his closest friends, Ken Mercer, Bob Rumsey, and Gerard Rumsey . Through the help of Rick, who is Ken's son, and was the Godson of my father.. What an amazing man was he. He had the ability to give praise and stunning chastisement for stupidity. He captivated his audience, weather it be one, or one thousand. His likability was unmistakable. The memorable times for me were many. Once he ran for the Liberals when he owned a store called "Shea's Rip-off". The sign on the front of the store actually did read "Shea's Rip-off". Doing promo for his bid for a seat, he would always welcome any local news interviews even if they didn't want them. Anyway there was a time when the private television station in Newfoundland and Labrador, had gotten touch with dad to have an on camera interview concerning the election. When the TV crew showed up at "Shea's Rip-off" for the interview my father wanted them to go to the top of the street in front of the old age home. Well the TV crew refused and the interview took place on the street corner, which was not as good a backdrop as my father had rightly suggested. Frustrated with the turn of events, my father went ahead with the interview. During the interview, about half way through, one of the neighborhood kids rode past on his bicycle. My father referred to the kid as his campaign manager for the election. I to this day, still admire him for having the good scene to turn a not so optimistic event, into a pleasant event by referring to the neighborhood kid on the bike as his campaign manager. My father had a talent for doing things like that. He had a special kind of persona. He was the kind of man who people would love. There is usually a gray area in between the love and the hate, but in relation to my father, there was not. Not that I ever saw. Just to point out that the apple doesn't fall all that far from the tree. There was one time when I was managing at McDonald's in Mount Pearl, which is now a city bordering St. John's. I was the breakfast co-coordinator for that restaurant. I was one of the staff of managers that opened that store for Keith King who at the time was the owner operator for that store, and a number of others in St. John's. I would ride my bike into work at four thirty in the morning, to arrive out at the store, and prepare the restaurant to open for the business day and serve the breakfast customers my managing the full time employees. It was many a morning in the dark of night that I rode along Blackmarsh Road on my way to the restaurant in Mount Pearl to open it. One morning my father had told me that he would give me a ride into the store. I was very happy for the ride, no doubt. My father had given me the keys to the car indicating that I could drive. Well I think that he undoubtedly regretted that move. The car that we were driving in was obtained through me. Well so I thought at the time. The neighbor down the street was selling it and I harassed my father into getting it. As we were driving along in the dark of early morning he said that he would give me the car for a thousand dollars and my bike as well. I was at that time bitter about his even thinking that I would give him a thousand dollars and my bike too. Well the car when it was bought from the neighbor was not even a thousand bucks. I started to speed up the car. I was going so fast because I was angry at my father that he said to slow the car down as he placed his hand on the dashboard in case of collision. When I got out of the car it was decided by me at that moment that I could not live under his roof, because of my childish anger. I got that energy directly through him and his teaching of standing up for one's self. Thinking back and hindsight being twenty twenty, I should never have been so juvenile. Dad the man I learned so mush about life from when he died, never knew the feelings of sadness I had concerning my treatment of him. I am sure though, he would want my brothers and I to live happy and content lives, with pride and happiness, and to not be bitter over the past; either the positive or the negative. My father died at a young age of sixty-three. He had months of care, from many in the Shea family, most notably, besides my brother's, and mother was Beverly, my cousin. His kidneys were failing to clear the toxins from his blood, and it eventually killed him. At the time of my father's death, I was in Ottawa with Jane, who I love. I was not home when Dad died. Beverley, who is an R.N, called me in Ottawa, and told me that I should come home because Dad was going to die, within the next day or two, so Beverly said. I flew the next day, with the help of Beverly paying my plane ride, to St. John's, and when Hughie and Beverly picked me up at the airport, I was told that Dad had died a few hour's earlier, while I was on the plane. He had been taken to the hospital, on one occasion, and was taken from the brink of death by using a dialysis machine, that cleaned his blood. When he awakened in the hospital, he tore the IV from his wrist, and pointed to my brother Frank, indicating that he was leaving, and to get him out of there. He had to point and gesture, because he had a tracheotomy in his throat, and could not speak. Frank, being a brother of mine, did what Hughie or I would do, obeyed Dad. He got Dad home, while being told that if Dad left the hospital he would die. My father refused going to the hospital on a regular basis, to have his blood cleaned by a dialysis machine. That decision slowly poisoned him to death. That was a decision that dad had made for himself. He decided to die. Proving right to the end, that he was in control of any treatment, or lack there of. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ High School saw a number of different things happening with me. The first year saw the death of my oldest brother Cleary. Cancer had spread to his lungs, after he had his leg amputated to stop it's spread. He died at the age of nineteen, and still to this very day, brings a tear to my eye, when I think of him dying at such an age. He was my big brother. He was a great athlete, strong, and fast. He had the respect of his buddies, as well as those who had seen him compete, weather it was a team sport, or a solo effort, such as running. He had gotten a tumor on his knee, when he was playing a basketball game at the University, being fouled, into the wall. That means that a player on the opposing team, had pushed him, in an attempt to get the ball, and was called by the referee, for those who know nothing of basketball He hit knee off the wall, and a tumor developed, that eventually killed him. His girlfriend Jill had become pregnant. After Cleary had the amputation of his leg, the cancer had spread to his lunges and killed him. Before he died, his girlfriend gave birth to my niece, and a beautiful grown woman she is now. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Just before my first year at Brother Rice, I had meet an awesome girl! A beautiful girl from Chamberlains, a small community outside St. John's, that took me about forty minutes to ride to on my ten speed bike, that only had one gear working, the fifth. That summer, I spent many hours riding my bike, back and forth from Chamberlains to St. John's. She was my first true love, so I would have ridden my bike to Mar's, if she wanted me to. That relationship ended when she had gone to summer camp and had met up with another guy that she liked more than me. I got this information after countless phone calls to her home and getting no response. I was always told that she was not home when I called. She had her family say that to me. I was crushed. The first love of mine leaves me, by not calling me, or answering any of my phone calls I had made to her home. I did meet her again, a number of months later, in a local shopping center, by luck. She told me the details I have just told you, in the hall of the shopping center. After a load of time, I finally got over it Years later, I met her in a local bar, and we had decided to get together for a drink, which I was so very happy about. I didn't remember making the time to get together so she showed up with out sight of me. My heart was completely enthralled on her, when we were with each other. I was head over heals in love with her. In my eyes she was the most beautiful and radiant girl I had ever been with, and what excited me almost to frenzy was the fact that we were girlfriend and I her boyfriend. We had met through her cousin who lived just one block from the Shea house. A couple of weeks later I met her with her mother out shopping, at a local shopping complex. She was surprised to see me, and I was so thankful that I ran into her; I missed her so very much. At that time she gave me the reasons for not contacting me, and telling me that she had fallen for this other guy, the ex-Christian brother. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ After that summer the first year of my high school life was about to unfold. The very first day I got into a physical altercation with one of the brick heads that was in my grade nine class. Thick as a brick is true, is true. He was angry at me because the summer previous I spend a couple of weeks with a girl out by the city bus station. We didn't even really have a relationship, and it fell by the wayside. But unbeknown to me, she was as mad as hell at me, and wanted this guy to take revenge. Remember now, this was about a girl I had spent not even two weeks with, a girl who I did not even speak with on the telephone. On our way between classes and each of us finding where the classes were, what floor and the like. We were on a stairwell of Brother Rice high school and the moron tried to shove me down the stairs. I grabbed the rail of one of the doors to prevent my fall. Then we grabbed each other in wrestling fashion and began to try and over power each other. That was as far as the fight went. One of the Brothers broke up the fight, and brought both of us to the principal's office. The first question asked by Brother was, "who started the fight?" Well the brick head immediately put up his hand and say's, "I started it": I was taken back wondering why he so quickly admitted to being the instigator. When the Brother asked why, the brick head said, "He went out with a girl by my house and she said he was a jerk". If I wasn't so nervous about being in the principal's office on my first day of high school for fighting, I would have laughed my ass off. "Because she said he was a jerk"' can you imagine? Wow, what a slow lad, a true brick head. Or should I say, alternately gifted. Twenty minutes then go by and the brick head shows up in class and there was no clapping then. He had been given a number of detentions after class. He wanted to fight after school, but nothing ever did come of the after school fight. A few weeks later he no longer showed up in class at all. He either quit school or got expelled or what ever, but I never again had to deal with that particular brick head at Brother Rice. In high school, I spent a lot of my time at Holy Heart of Mary Regional High School for girls, which was an all girl's high school that was the very next building to Brother Rice High School. I was so excited, that there were high school girls so close. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A name that comes to mind immediately is Melissa , who I fell in love with. Melissa went through some very intense moments, when it came to her father, and his relationship with me, or lack of one to be more precise. Actually, her father and I got into a fight, believe it or not, on the front stirs of his house. The family screaming from the top of the stairs. I remember that there was not much physical damage done other than maybe a couple of bruise. Melissa moved from her house and stayed with a close friend of hers, Elizabeth. She stayed there for a while in protest of how I had been treated by her father. She stayed long enough to get the message of how upset she was and it getting across to her father. The whole time we had been together I had been to her house once or twice. I think that her father was mad that Melissa was seeing Hughie's son. I guess there may have been other reasons, but I give my thoughts. She's a girl so sweet, beautiful and caring, and I am so sorry, for those hard times, so many years ago. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Donna, and I met through mutual friends at Holy Heart, and had become good friends. She knew that I could, without much effort, sing like Elvis Presley, and she recommended me for a part that incorporated an Elvis persona; me thinks anyway. Donna helped, as she always did with her ever kind heart many times. I played a character who was actually the Pharoah of Egypt, and was on stage in an orange tuxedo singing in my Elvis harped voice in the role. Donna was always my biggest most giving of herself helper, and most kind person who was ever my friend. She is a person I have great respect and love for, and consider my lifelong friend. Donna is warm - hearted, giving and kind; being a proud mom, and wife, with her two kids. I am friends with all her family to this day, and especially her Dad, and has been a surrogate father. I feel blessed to have met Donna who I love. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ At Holy Heart there was an assembly, just before school was out for Christmas vacation. At the assembly I sang, "Blue Christmas", to the girls in the auditorium of Holy Heart. I was panic stricken! I sang that song in the orange tuxedo I wore performing in Joseph. That is a happening that is etched into my memory. I can still see the colours, and details of it in my head. The next year we did "Cat's and Other Tales", which was an adaptation of the show "Cats". In that show I played "Old Deuteronomy", the wisest and oldest of cats. That show was great fun; we toured the island. Well I don't think toured the island is quite right. Fun to say though. We went out to Gander! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The Gang: I was the biggest fan of the band, and tried to always be very loud in appreciation when ever they played in public. I would rant and shout praise as they took the stage. Billy, who was a close friend, and the guy's, including me, spent many times out in Mahers, a small community, about a half hour outside the capital Mahers, had a cabin that Bill's father had built, and was open whenever Bill wanted to go. In my first couple of years of high school my brother Cleary died. He was nineteen years old, and our big brother. It hurts the heart to think of it. Now I know that his spirit is in the afterlife having a hell of a time I am sure. He died from cancer that had become a tumor from hitting the wall while playing basketball at Memorial University. The tumor eventually had to be removed by amputating the leg. So my oldest brother had his leg amputated. He was always very athletic, and loosing the leg was a heavy blow for him. Sadly again, he died when the cancer spread to his lungs. A healthy grown nineteen year old man was eaten away by it. He lost much of his hair, and a great deal of his body mass. I was sitting on the stairs of the corner store that was one door from our house, when an ambulance came to our house, and put Cleary on a stretcher, and brought him to the Health Sciences Hospital. I never again saw my brother alive. Two day's later he was dead. One morning with school books in hand, I was on my way to Brother Rice for my classes, when my father drove up the street in the brown Nova, and said I did not have to go to school today, my brother Cleary had died. My father came into the house and gave me a donations envelope, and said that I should go around to the houses in the neighborhood, and ask them to give to cancer research. My brother had just died, and my father wanted me to collect donations. I was taken aback. To this day, the only reason I can think for dad to have me do something like solicit funds from people, was to take my mind off the reality, that I had just lost my brother Cleary to cancer. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ My uncle Frank was renovating the basement before the move took place. I spent a lot of time downstairs with my uncle helping were ever I could. Getting nails, and other items for my uncle, whenever he wanted, made me feel important. Sometimes he would get me to hammer a nail into the new paneling, making me feel like a big boy, and I enjoyed that. I am sure, looking back upon those day's, that my uncle would ask me for things, lots of times, welling in my heart, and a great feeling of admiration for him Uncle Frank was one of the greatest supporters of my father, and his political ambitions. He worked endlessly for dad, and for me, my brothers, and mom, for countless years. Mayor Avenue was a brand new world for me, and Uncle Frank made the transition enjoyable for me. As a five year old boy going to St. Patrick's Hall for kindergarten, in the fall of 72', I was full of hope. My father, and my brother's Cleary and Hughie, had attended St. Patrick's Hall, and I, and my brother Frank, were to follow. So proud on a day that I had walked home from school by myself. A boy in kindergarten walking from school to home was a big deal. I remember the pride I demonstrated to my mother, telling her how big a boy I was, because I had come home by myself. In kindergarten I started building a house out of Lego blocks that were part of what could be used when it was activity time. It looked like and honest to God replica of a house foundation with partial walls. The other kids in the class thought it was really good. They would come over and compliment the house and speak with me about it. Well the year went by and I had made the house to big. There were not enough Lego blocks to complete it. It turned out to be a half a house. It was like if someone took a large bread knife and cut the upper half of the house off. What was left, was what I had made in my activity times in kindergarten. On one of the summers of my younger years, I was given a choice by my mother to either have a trip out to Corner Brook and stay with Irene Liver and her family, or get a lawn lower. Well at that time the choice was clear; lawnmower of course. That summer and beyond I would mow grass all the time. I would mow lawn's to have the money to go the movies, and get treats at the store. I mowed a lot of lawns that summer. Sometimes I would go to houses that I had done only a few days earlier and ask if they wanted the grass mowed again. Sometimes people in the neighborhood would let me mow the grass again to make some more money. Lucky to have good hearted people in the neighborhood. Both the grade school's I attended were run by the Christian Brother's, all boys, and Roman Catholic. Many years later, the community learned of abuse by some of the Brother's. Boys at Mount Cashel, which the Brother's ran, and was an orphanage, were abused. Men, whom had taken vows of celibacy, and obedience to God, My heart goes out to the victims. I have met many Christian Brother's, and have learned that many are men of true conviction, and pious demeanor. I moved to the other end of the continent, British Columbia, and worked harvesting, cutting, and kiln drying pine, in a sawmill in British Columbia named, "Gregory Forest Products". That job was attained through Brother Maher, who was a friend who put in a good word with the owner of the saw mill that he knew. At that time in my life, I was eighteen years old. I turned nineteen in British Columbia. I lived in a small community called Fort St. James. It is on the outskirts of a reserve in British Columbia. Fort St James is about a 45 minute drive from Prince George. Fort St James was like the Wild West for me. The place seemed to be made for drinking, and fighting. When I had first arrived, I had stayed in a motel with a bar on the bottom floor, that everyone in the province of British Columbia called "The Zoo". "The Zoo" was the drinking spot in Fort St. James. It was either there, or the local Royal Canadian legion. Most everyone would drink at the Zoo, and get drunk there; causing fights, and a rough time for just about any who passed through the doors. When I first started work in the mill I was a clean hand. I was the man who would clean the mill floor, while the mill was operating, cutting, and piling, lumber, to be brought to the kiln to be dried. The floor of a saw mill is always covered with cut off pieces of wood, and saw dust, by the bucket full. I would clean one area and by the time I had gotten that area cleaned of debris. I had cleaned piles of scrap wood that needed to go to the chipper. My first days at the mill were the hardest I have ever worked in my life. I was trying to show the mill supervisor, that I was a good worker. It was said to me by the supervisor that he had never seen the mill floor cleaner in his life, than when I was cleaning it. Coming back to the Zoo, and to my room, the first few days at the mill, I would fall asleep in the back of a pickup truck. After making myself exhausted all day. All of us at the mill worked four day's on, and four day's off. We worked twelve hour shifts. And when the end of the fourth day came, almost all of us would party like there was no tomorrow. After a couple of weeks at "The Zoo", I moved into a trailer that was being rented. It was about a half hour drive from anywhere. One of the mill hands asked me to move into a for rent trailer, to save money, and live with someone who wasn't half nuts, like most everyone else was After a time at the mill I was promoted to a Charge Hand position, and was in charge of the men, and production for a line of men. I was nineteen year's old, but all the men working at the mill, took to me, which was a very good thing, because if they didn't, then my life would have gotten a lot harder. One night there was a fight at The Zoo, which was not that big a deal, and happened quite regularly. The men and I, were having a few drinks. Well when the fight broke out then the men who worked at the mill with me, made sure that I would not be hurt. The fight involved a number of men right in front of our table. I know it doesn't sound like much, but if you had been there, then you would think different. The men who were there from the mill got between me and the fight. There was another time when I worked at the mill that there was one man who owned a house on the reserve that he would cut the two by four out of his wall for firewood. Now if that doesn't sound strange enough, if you went to his front door and opened it then not even ten feet away, there was a forest of trees. This man was using his home as firewood. Another, was when I was with a few people, drinking, when one guy said "Check this out", well he had a thousand watt light bulb. Really, it was a thousand watt light bulb. He plugged it into the wall and the room lit up as if we were standing on the sun, with nothing on to protect the eye's from the bright light The retinas of our eyes could be seen. The light bulb was giving a loud buzzing sound, the whole time it was plugged in. I couldn't take the brightness and buzzing sound, and had to leave the house to get away from the light bulb, and loud buzzing sound. I got out the door and to the steps when I threw up. I got as sick as a dog. Another guy had a snowmobile that had run out of gas and he just left it in the woods and never did go back to get it. He had driven his snowmobile into the wood's hunting gross and it had broken down. He left it in the woods, and never went back to get it. When I asked why he just left his snowmobile in the wood, his words to me were "I will get another one, from the government". Now, so many years later, I do wonder what ever did happen to his snowmobile. Or better yet how about the guy who left it there? It had take three and a half day's to get to British Columbia on a Greyhound bus from Toronto. My God it was the longest milk run ever! On the third day I liked like a pan handler on Young Street; unshaven, tired and hungry. I had run out of money in Alberta, as I way driving across Canada in a Greyhound bus. I had ended up taking a bus, because I did not have money to take a plane. I had stopped off in Toronto on my way to British Columbia, to spend some time with my great friend Jody, who is a wonderful entertainer, and a great hearted Newfoundlander. We did have lots of fun, and I did spend a lot of the money, that I had, to get to British Columbia with. That's why I took the Greyhound. When I got off the bus at eleven forty five at night, Mr. Gregory, the owner of the saw mill was there to pick me up, and give me a run into Fort St. James. He put me up for two days, and gave me a few hundred bucks to get myself set up. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Day's at "The Zoo". Wow, money has always been of short supply. As it is, I am sure for many who read this book, who have felt the money crunch, and I give my prayer, and good thought's for those in need. My time in British Columbia helped to usher me into manhood. I knew that my father would be proud of how I handled myself in British Columbia, and I felt good that the name of Shea was well represented in my stay. So here I was, at a time in my life, a young adulthood in my twenty's. It was a time in my life, when I was not my father's fan. He was one of the main reason's I went to British Columbia. I wanted to prove to him, and myself included, that I could move to the other side of the continent, and do well for myself; alone. Here I was thinking of how he'd be proud of me. When I think back on it, I laugh at how foolish my young mind was. When I left British Columbia I took the "Intercontinental Train", across Canada, and what a wild time had. I had a cabin and lots of money from working in the woods, and at the saw mill. I bought drinks for the bar car, on a few occasions. I had come to British Columbia with just the clothes on my back, and a knapsack, in hand. Coming across the country, going east this time, and I had money in my pocket; it felt good. I still remember the feeling deep in my belly, as I write these words. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I wound up in Montreal. I had gotten off the train and was going to Jody, Randy, Dick and Nick's apartment on Decarie Boulevard, in NDG Now I meet up with my buddies in, Montréal, Quebec. These guy's, Jody, Dick and Randy anyway, were friends of mine from Newfoundland. Dick played in the band, "Toast and Jam", for a few years, so we had hung out a lot in town. Randy is a close friend who I met through a mutual friend of ours, Andrea Jackson. Andrea is known by me since my days at St. Pat's. We meet each other through my neighbor on Mayor Avenue, Darren Abbott, who's cousin Wade knew Andrea. Anyway, Andrea is my oldest friend, and she is very beautiful. Always with a wonderful personality, even through some very difficult times her and her sister Sue had growing up. Sue is Andrea's younger sister, and was the very first real girlfriend I ever had. Now when I say real, I mean that as a kid, real meant that we kissed each other, held hands and hugged. She is now a wonderful musician. And she's still very beautiful. The good looking genes, are in abundance in the Jackson Family; great people. I spent many day's and evenings at the Jackson home, hanging out with Sue and Andrea A lot of the relationships I had with others in my life, at that time, came about through Sue or Andrea. I never have forgotten that. I thank God that I was given the honour of knowing those girls, and the whole family. One time me and another guy, I can't remember his name, but we were in the back of the house hanging out listening to music and chatting, when the girls were not allowed to have anyone over, while Mr. and Mrs. Jackson were out for the evening. Well the girls were told to not have anyone, over but regardless me and the other guy, were there all evening. There was sound of a car pulling in and the Jackson's getting out of the car and coming into the house. The girls went into panic mode They wanted us out of the house so they would not get in trouble for disobeying their parents. Well we crawled out the window. Now these windows had latches that only let them open a certain amount, by swinging outward. It was almost like a magic act, to see it. The two of us crawling out windows that looked like no more than a cat could get through. We made it through before the Jackson's discovered we were there. The funny thing about the whole event was that we had left our shoes in the porch of the house before we left. After waiting a time we both agrees would not draw attention. The two of us in our socks went to the front of the house and knocked on the door, to get our shoes. We got our shoes, and I don't think the girls ever did get in trouble over us being in the house. The parents never knew; I think anyway. The minds of kids, and how they work, really is amazing when it's thought about. My growing years with the Jackson girls. Mr. and Mrs. Jackson invited me to their home on more that one occasion to have dinner. That was when I was having a relationship with, Jane O'Regan, who I spent over five years. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Jane is another beautiful soul I have had the pleasure to have in my life. Jane and I met one another in Montreal, Quebec, while she was attending McGill University to become a teacher, which she now is. Jane and I, had a loving relationship with one another for over five years living, growing together, and ending in my falling seven stories, off an apartment building, and because of the head injury I had gotten the relationship crumbled. Tears come to my eyes when I think of my mental confusion that accounted for the illogical decisions I was making at that time; decisions that greatly impacted my life. I went to Ottawa in the O'Regan car with my futon tied to the roof, and Jane's mom, Gail drove. I remember on the way to Nepean, which is a suburb of Ottawa; I was making animal noises like cows, horsed, and frogs etc. Jane's father Vaughan is a man who helped greatly. Jane's mom and dad also co-signed a lone to pay student loans off, bringing my financial life back to earth. Jane was with me when I had the most traumatic experience of my life. Who helped and loved me un-dieing. I know I seem to use the word love fairly frequently but when I speak of Jane, I love her with a part of me that no other human being on this earth has from me. I've written some pieces in thought of her; she is so loved, and important. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The seven story fall was a life changing event, as well for those close to me. It happened on the twenty second of May. That was the May Twenty Fourth weekend which is celebrated each year to celebrate the Queen of England's birthday. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Back to the guy's - I did not really know Nick, from St. John's, other than he was Paddy's sister Eva's boyfriend. He turned out, from my observation, to be a good guy and great to spend time speaking with. In Montreal, here I am. Jody is here, living with and Randy, Dick on Decarie. Beth and Andrea and Paddy, who just finished a year doing Katimivic. Dick and Beth were a couple for years and met up in St. John's. I met beautiful Beth, at a get together of a mutual friend at the time; Heidi who I worked with at a resturant with me. Decarie Bulivard in Montreal was one the most amazing places I ever lived. I had come back from British Columbia and stayed with the guy's for a few weeks leading up to Christmas. Then I decided that I was going to hitch hike home for Christmas. When my great friend, Jody found out I was going to hitch hike home, he asked if he could come with me. When Jody asked, he said he would sell the plane ticket he had, to come home, and use that cash for the journey we would make from Montreal, to St. John's. How could I possibly say no to such an offer. My friend, through the graciousness of his heart, helped me, by selling his plane ticket, and taking the crazy option, to join Shea hitch hiking across eastern Canada, to St. John's. I have never forgotten his true friendship with me, and to this very day he is a noble man, with a helping loving heart. What a trip. We had said adieu, to Randy and Dick, they had flown home. The school term was over for Christmas, and that was the time, when all the gang went home for the holiday season. Jody and I packed our knapsacks for our journey from Montreal to Newfoundland. We were prepared. We had a nylon pup tent and a couple of sleeping bags. The trip started boarding a bus in Montreal to head east. Well the bus terminal looked dreadful. I mean it had the image and feeling of darkness looming, it was very disheartening. There were rows were the bus's would line up for passengers, and light's that were hanging from the overhang. The lights looked like they had been there since the nineteen twenties. Jody and I got onto this bus at ten in the evening, for a bus ride to North Sydney. About an hour into the trip we were driving along the Trans Canada Highway in Quebec, at night, when the red and blue of police car lights could be seen along the side of the bus and the bus it's self slowing to a halt. Here were, two Newfoundlander guys on a bus in the middle of the night that has been pulled over by the police. Jody and I thought it very entertaining at the time. When the bus stopped the door opened and two Quebec police officers boarded. The spoke for about a minute to the bus driver and then headed toward the back were Jody and I were sitting. The police were called by the bus driver because the people in the very back were being loud, playing music, drinking, and smoking pot. The police had a conversation with the group while the rest of the passengers sat and listened to the police questioning in French, the group and the group answering. The police, after speaking to the group at the back went to the driver again and the bus was diverted to the closest holding facility. When the people that were to be detained were off the bus and we had gotten back onto the highway our trip continued. That was this was the beginning of getting back to St. John's for Christmas. There were an amazing amount of stops along the way. The bus would not be on the road for a half hour before it was stopping to drop off or pick up new passengers. Along the way Jody and I got off the bus for the evening and stayed at one of his relative's houses who loved in Nova Scotia and was so very good to put the two of us up for the evening while on route to St. John's. We got back on the bus and made it to North Sydney which is the spot were a ferry needed to be taken across to Newfoundland. We spent our time on the ferry talking with travelers, and we were on the bow of the ship at one time during the boat ride, in a very windy misty evening on the North Atlantic ocean in late December; we had to be careful because the wind which was very strong and could easily toss us over board if we were not careful. When we made it to Newfoundland it was early morning and we had a few bucks left over to get the bus to Deer Lake, which was still on the West Coast of the Island but it was better than having to hitch hike the whole way across the Island. We got off the bus in Deer Lake and began to hitch hike. Jody brought with him his sack, and guitar. He also had made a cardboard sign that had "HOME FOR CHRISTMAS", with a small representation of the Nativity scene with Mary, Joseph, the three wise men and the baby Jesus. It was an item that I will always have etched into me mind. My friend and his attempt to solicit rides through the use of his sign, was so very great in spirit as far as I was concerned. As the cars passed us on the highway Jody would hold his "HOME FOR CHRISTMAS", sign high in the hope of getting a ride. When the night came I told Jody that it was not safe for us to be on the highway at night. So we walked into the woods outside Gambo, which is a small community around the middle of the Island and pitched my nylon pup tent. We pitched the tent but could not anchor it to the ground because the snow was so deep. The snow actually was up to our knees as we had walked into the road for a spot to set the tent. We had to put whatever heavy objects we had in the corners, to shape the bottom, and tie it onto a branch of a tree to erect it. As the evening went on, it was bitter cold. The two of us were chattering our teeth all night long. We made it through the night, one of which I will never forget. We got out of the tent and Jody began to disassemble it. I called his name, looked at him and said leave it, I'm too bloody cold, and we're not going to be on the road for another night so we are not going to need it. We left that tent right were it was and headed to the highway. We made it to the highway and into a Esso station, which was a gas station along the highway on the way to St. John's. When I got into the gas station the first thing I did was take my Addidas squash sneakers off, and placed them on the heater to thaw them out. They were frozen solid as ice blocks when I had put them on in the tent. When I did that the waitress came over to us and said I was not allowed to put my sneakers there, and had to put them back on. I refused, and explained how me and my buddy were in the woods all night and this gas station was the only piece of civilization we had seen since leaving Deer Lake. I mentioned that perhaps she could call the police and they could drive us into town. She didn't force the issue. -or find me funny. Jody ordered one tea, and two cups. He and I shared one tea bag, to have a cup of tea, to warm up from the frost of the previous evening in the tent. Because that was all the money that was left! I laugh out loud when I think of it and Jody sitting across from me, happier than happy can be, that he was about to have a hot cup of tea. My sneakers thawed out, were warm anyway, and we had finished the two cups of tea we had made, with the one teabag. Back onto the Trans Canada we did go. We eventually got into St. John's after making one of the wildest trips I had ever been on. I arrived at my house, and enjoyed that Christmas with added delight thinking of what I had done to get home, and be with my family for the season. After that Christmas season had come to a close, I had decided that I would move back up to Montreal; to be with the gang that I had developed a love for, and had some great times with. And with that goal in mind I started to try and get the cheapest way to get to Montreal because all the money had diminished to a couple of hundred dollars. I did eventually get back to Montreal, and lived with Randy and Dick on Decarie again. The guys will always have my deep appreciation for putting me up, with no cash in my pocket. The guy's gave my a couch to sleep on, and feed me until some cash made it into my life again. I received unemployment from the work I did in British Columbia, and when that ran out, I did rough carpentry work, which was followed by driving a fork lift for a nuts and bolts company, Infasco. I spent close to three years working for Infasco, which was in Lachine, a suburb of Montreal. To get to work each morning I had to get up at six a.m., and take two buses, and the Metro ride to get there. It was a fair distance to travel each day for work. The picture below is when in Montreal a few months before my move to Ottawa. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Now I am very aware that there is so very much that has not been touched on, that needs mention. Anyway should the time come I will give some structure, and share some amazing things that helped so profoundly mold us into who we are. I have not added anything to the above piece of writing other than occasionally fixing grammar, and structure. I will give it an effort to continue the story and give some stories that run deep in my makeup. Thank you for reading my humble voice, and being so gracious for putting up with my ragtag story. I look forward to sharing my next addition to Time. Till then, be kind, cool, well, and loved. |
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