I would like to state right here and now that not everything we did was particularly wonderful...remember, when it comes to flying, biting inscects humanity and they are at war! And war crimes will be committed! I don't like getting bitten and I've killed a lot of bugs. If you have spent any time in Labrador so have you.
Turns out Ma and Pa were the ones that had to wash the back window! Who ever would have thought that? I know from past experience that a baked on bug can take a lot of elbow grease to remove from...anything, so the corner cubby of a back window would have been really difficult to clean. Especially when there's a hundred or so... Sorry Ma, sorry Pa.
Oh, and I also remember that they bit like savages...you couldn't not notice if they were snacking on you! Oh and another thing...there were a bazillion, gillion of them! most of whom resided in my hair or around my sockline!
My strongest memory of the Duley Lake Road was how very bumpy it was! Dad would aim for the potholes I think to see if he could bounce our heads against the roof! And, it seemed to take soooooooooo long! I think it was eight or nine miles but it took forever!
Yeah we had bullies back then too. I was frightend of some of them but eventually learned that if you stood up to them the terror evaporated! Sure you might take a shitkicking but if you could land one or two good ones they stopped picking on you. There's no use being a bully if the kids you're picking on aren't afraid of you after all. Power is fleeting at best.
Yep. I can still remember standing around in a group of fellas looking at these things, every one talking tough and macho, and all I could feel was that it was brilliant...but wrong. That has stayed with me for all these years. This drawing exercise is exorcising my childhood trauma! Lol.
Again, I have to say that the conflict we found ourselves in was entirely baffling to me! I'm not real bright now and as a child I was even less so...like many in this grown up world I went along with the guys for the sake of hanging out with the group. I thank my lucky stars that I eventually found a different drummer to follow...myself.
I purposely drew this one with the kids looking pretty much alike...because we were! The french kids and the english kids (and all the other nationality/ethnic kids) all looked the same! We were a long time realizing this. Part of the problem of course was the system was set up to keep us apart. It was only years later when we met at the ski lodge or the Pool Hall that we got to know each other...usually over cigarettes.
I often joke 'Growing up in Labrador City, where you grew up hard and fast, or not at all'...well, in many ways it was no joke. Truth was there was a lot going on in the boomtowns that a kid had to take in.
I actually chose to not grow up!
True. Then, as now, religious zealots frightened the bejezzus out of me. Especially big mean ones! I remember the place was purple outside (although that might just have been the dirt) and that it was in the lower end of town, down over the bank sort of from Jubbers. I think the particular day that inspired this sketch we ended up walking the line to the pump house then over to Beverly Lake.