A Shot of Joy, A Shot of Laughter

Memories
Memories, pressed between the pages of my mind.
Memories, sweetened thru the ages just like wine.
Quiet thoughts come floating down.
And settle softly to the ground. Like golden autumn leaves around my feet.
I touched them and they burst apart with sweet memories.
Sweet memories.

In these days of frustration and confusion—to take or not to take the shot— we must make time for a different kind of shot: a shot of joy, a shot of laughter. Wouldn’t you agree? A few weeks ago I had just that: a shot of joy and laughter, a shot of sweet memories! It was a time that took me on a wonderful trip down memory lane, back to the street where I grew up in mid Toronto, Ossington Avenue to be exact, the north end.

A childhood friend, Vic Wilson, known to me back then as Vickie, invited me to his home for lunch. Vic and his wife, Carol have been a constant in my life over these many years. In fact, the Wilson family has been part of my life since I was pre-kindergarten age. Vic and his brother, Bill, known to me back then as Billie, lived across the road in a semidetached house much the same as ours. Mr. and Mrs. Wilson, Gramps and even their dog, Bootsie have left an indelible mark in my life, never to be forgotten. Mrs. Wilson became my second mother early in my life and I loved her dearly.

But back to the luncheon…

It turned out that the invitation was extended to me under false pretenses. Vic claimed that someone wanted to meet me as the author of my books. “Come prepared with your Sharpie,” he’d said, calling this person a fan. So I went with a tiny bit of apprehension but a whole lot of curiosity.

Upon my arrival, Vic welcomed me into his home, directed me to his living room and told me to introduce myself, which I did. I extended my hand to a man I’d never met before, introducing myself as Ruth Waring. He, in turn, introduced himself as Delbert Mitchell and his wife, Shiela. Nothing was said of my being an author nor inquiries made about my books, so for a few seconds I felt a bit awkward…until Vic took over!

He explained to this gentleman that he might know me better as Ruthie Warford and then turned to me and said, “You might know him better as Skipper Mitchell.” Well! Didn’t my jaw drop! Skipper and his two younger brothers (Butch and Ginger, names I learned as the afternoon progressed were just nick names…that blew me away!), and their young sister, Bonnie lived five doors down from our house. I hadn’t seen the Mitchell family since moving away from Ossington when I was twelve. I’m sure you will understand how quickly hugs followed this revelation, and the journey down memory lane quickly began.

Doug joined us shortly after this discovery and found me bubbling over, telling him about the Mitchell family, how Skipper, being four years older than me, was in the Air Cadets and taught me how to fly a plane  using cardboard drawings, how I had babysat his sister when I was only ten (I think she might have been seven) and how his mother paid me by giving me a perm, telling my mother to leave it in over night…need I say more! Of course, Doug knows me so well! He just smiled and watched me enjoy memories that were pressed between the pages of my mind and were spilling out!

Bill joined the gathering which only added to my absolute delight of seeing old friends that knew me so very long ago. During our time together (almost four hours!), I took great pleasure in confessing the crush I had on Billie when I was but a babe, and had determined when I was eight years old that I would marry him one day, a desire that remained with me into my early teens. But then I met Doug…and well, that’s another story for another day.

I can’t begin to share all the memorable, and some best forgotten, tales that surfaced during those four hours. But I have to give you some details…right? How else could you appreciate the shot of joy I experienced?

You can be sure that dozens of names and stories were mentioned, so many that my head spun trying to remember them all; the egg lady and the sheeny man (or junk collector) and his horse-drawn wagon, both lived around the corner; pranks that were done (not by me, or course!); games of Chase that took us over fences, garage roof tops and back yards, with the desperate need to get home before the street lights came on or before our mother came looking for us; playing Nicky Nicky Nine Doors, knocking on doors or ringing doorbells and running away before they were answered and getting caught; swimming in Christie Pits and the Sunnyside pool; my broken arm from high jumping during summer day camp; and the one that still holds intense memories for me: running away from my aunt’s to live with the Wilsons when my dad was injured and my siblings and I were dispersed among family and friends for eight months. But regrettably, the stories and the day did come to an end with the promise that we would do it again, and soon!

When I was driving home, smiling all the way, I couldn’t help but think how much fun we had as kids growing up. TV had just come into being but not everyone had one, at least we didn’t, so it meant daily visits to the Wilson’s house to watch Howdy Doody or Roy Rogers. But at least our phone (Kenwood 3284) no longer had a party line; that was something everyone wanted. Cell phones and computers didn’t exist to vie for our time and we actually survived without them. Of course life was not perfect. There were fights and hurt feelings, but nothing lasted. We were always there for each other to provide the much needed shot of joy and laughter. It seemed we would be friends for life, and Vic’s luncheon proved that!

How sweet it was as…

Quiet thoughts come floating down.
And settle softly to the ground. Like golden autumn leaves around my feet.
I touched them and they burst apart with sweet memories.
Sweet memories.

Thanks again, Vic, for giving me a wonderful afternoon, the day before my birthday! I will always remember it!