Schticks and Stones: The Turning Point Series

This is the Turning Point Series where I recall events in my life that changed the course of my journey in some significant, impactful way. I almost entitled it the TP Series but then thought better of it. Given the state of our world with covid and everything, I didn’t want people to wrongly assume this was the central spot to find the best toilet paper sales in the north (it’s not, btw).

Growing up I had a schtick, like what I truly believed about myself. I carried it with me everywhere like a security blanket. It was a bit I would tell myself, whether it was true or not. It was what I genuinely thought about myself. It had less to do with what people told me and more to do with what people never told me.

It went something like this:

Holiday Traditions

I didn’t grow up celebrating the holidays. As a mostly secular family, we did not belong to any of the religious groups that celebrated Christmas. Growing up, Christmas in our house was just another day of the week (except my parents happened to be off from work- usually). There were no build-ups to the holidays like

See You Later, Good Night, Bye-bye

When I was a kid, I couldn’t wait to die. I know what you’re thinking: What in the actual heck?! Okay, let’s back up here. You see, when I was around 4- or 5-years-old, I didn’t know how TVs worked. For some reason, the only explanation that made sense to me was that when people died, TV-land was where they inevitably ended up (“heaven,” so to speak). Thus, for a short (very short) period of time, I was accepting of death- excited even. Because I couldn’t wait to be on TV.

Where I Come From

I grew up in a neighbourhood where the sound of streetcars passing by on tracks would lull me back to sleep- metal against metal. My family moved around a lot when I was a kid. We rented all types of houses from bungalows to townhouses to the ground level of a detached home. Mostly, we lived on busy downtown streets facing a main road. Oftentimes, in the middle of the night, it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary to

The Fear

I distinctly remember the light-blue, square tiles that are standard for indoor pools (at least back in the late ‘80s). I was lucky enough to go to an elementary school with an underground pool. (Or was it the neighbouring school down the street that allowed us to use their pool?) It’s quite hazy now as the memory exists in my mind from so long ago. I can’t tell you my exact age but I must have been somewhere in the range of third or fourth grade. The physiological effect of cool, blowing air mixed with water droplets dripping off my body from the mandated pre-swim shower gave me