Fourteen - Grown Up

I had a great childhood but it was in some ways shortened by events when I turned 14.  First of all my father’s business took a bad turn (a whole other story to be retold another time) which resulted in Dad taking a job with Burns Meats (as it was called back then, later it became Burns Foods).  We kids knew nothing, of course, since our parents NEVER discussed money matters in front of us, or any other “adult” situations.  But suddenly my sister and I were not allowed to go to ballet lessons.  We could still go to Guides (it only cost 10 cents each week) but other treats were no longer allowed.

As well, my youngest sister was born and I was naturally the baby sitter which curbed any social life that may have bloomed.  I couldn’t go anywhere because I had to baby sit Charlotte after school.  Every day.  I cannot tell you how many times I had to leave the supper table to mind her because she would set up her wailing as soon as we sat down to dinner.  She wouldn’t shut up unless someone sat with her and because I was the most patient of the lot, I was the one.  Plus, I was the oldest.  You get the picture, I felt downtrodden.

Worse was to come; once school was over we were going to move away from Burlington, to Winnipeg.   Good grief, who moves to Winnipeg?  We were Ontario kids and as Westerners feel, snobs.  I was devastated.  The only good thing I remember about that summer was my beloved Aunt Jonna visiting us and coming along the ride to Winnipeg with us.  It was 3 eventful, squished days on the road – 3 adults and 6 kids in a Pontiac Strato Chief driving north along the Great Lakes to Winnipeg.  The first day the major event was Mom vomiting into Erik’s safari hat since we were stuck for nearly 3 hours on the TransCanada due to road construction.  After that things got better but my aunt never forgot that first day!

My aunt was with us for about a month but once she left I was bereft and terribly unhappy.  I don’t think I really recovered to myself for 18 months!  But that’s another story . . . are you seeing a trend?