Take off your hat, I want to stand up.

Chapter 34: Joanie called.

Chapter 34: Joanie called.

Remember when we were young?

My beautiful sister Joanie was a cavalier sibling. She would dash in and out of the house, always on the run. Over the years she held her own in any conversation, but there was one particular story I always told to people. In fact I would relate this story to my grade four class, passengers on planes, complete strangers in lines at fast food restaurants. They in turn would listen with a polite detachment, shake their head in a chorus of disbelief and move on.

Joan was the oldest child, the love of my parents life. They adored her beyond all else or any treasure they may have owned. Typical of the first child, everyone coos and crows over their least polite body habit. A spit bubble, oh my, how cute, she is going to be a ballerina to be sure. She walks, my goodness, we have an Olympic hopeful. It is trying in all regards. How could the eldest or only child possibly live up to this amount of pressure?

Luckily, Ev started to have children like they were going out of style. Next, Jackie, Billie, Janie and finally we left the best to last my big brother Donny. This was a veritable gang in the making. We did share most things, but held on tight to territory that was deemed personal. In a dispute, really a no holds barred fight to the end, Ev would step in with a weapon of choice or convenience. She would hold a middle position and start swinging, it did not matter who did what, to whom, we were all equally guilty. It was the same with all things in our family, she would retort, I love all of you equally. This was a hard position to argue against. I guess we could have said, but you really love me just a tiny bit more, no? It did not hold, we rowed the same boat, I am surprised she had our names correct. Most of the time.

We rarely sat down to eat at the same time. It was more of a pit stop on our way to watch the Flintstones on T.V., that clam with the bees inside, Fred used as a shaver, cracked us up. At noon-hour we were close enough to school to walk home for lunch. Run if the local, neighbourhood bully boys happen to be with eye-sight. Generally they needed to sneak up on you, otherwise they were very out of shape. Sad, really they could not even run a half block to pound you out. I think it was the smoking, staying out late, eating poorly and general poor home conditions.

We arrived home at 12:05, Ev would have arrived five minutes earlier. She scrambled to feed us. First she would lay out twelve pieces of enriched white bread from McGavins bakery. She pulled down a tub of butter, the Squirrel Peanut Butter, and Hickory Farms fresh strawberry jam. By 12:07 we were flopped down in front of our best friend, Mr. television. This was a well travelled path for our family, we were content.

My sister married, eventually moved out of the house, and set up a very nice home in the Lakeview area of Regina. She had a baby. Baby Jane, being the first child born to my sisters family she was an object of magnified delight. I visited her in the afternoon one fine summer day, Jackie, you can't stay, Jane is asleep. Alright, I left.

Every once in a while I would stop over. The music to the Jane is resting, asleep, fussy, having a bath and the list goes on, did not change. I would catch the odd glimpse of my niece but there was a protective net around this sweet child. It was snowing slightly as I walked up her walk for another try to see the family. In the middle of the walk was a pink and blue large wheeled carriage. Odd, what is a carriage doing in the middle of the walk? I looked inside, before I moved it out of the way, to my surprise there was baby Jane tucked into the carriage like a cocoon in a blanket. Maybe, Joan had forgotten her out in the yard, I knocked on the door and inquired. Joanie said she had Jane out in the cold air, to harden her against the cold. This can only be a Canadian mothers sentiment. I said, sounds good and retreated to my car.

Joan's, Janie was the most pampered, well attended child, she was the moon and stars to her parents. Things would change. Over night my sister had five, no six, wait a minute seven wonderful children. Her family was awesome. It was like watching a good movie with a half a bag of sweet and salted popcorn. They were news for years and years.

From my point of view the holidays and birthdays was a challenge to keep straight. How old was Jessica, or Stacey, who was next in line for a school concert or sporting event. Christmas time happened to be a chuckle of fun, especially for an Uncle. I could drop by and leave when the commotion reached a high pitch of organized confusion.

I thought and thought about what could I get the kid's for Christmas? They were a diverse group. They all played a variety of sports, racket-ball, hand-ball and any form of running. As I was pondering this question I happen to drive by McDonalds. Inspiration hit me over the head like a wack-a-doodle pillow, I will get them

gift-certificates. I pulled a left down Dewdney Street, and right into the parking lot. I marched up to the smiling counter dude and order a hundred dollars worth of Big Macs. He handed me a raft of certificates and I retreated out the door, quite proud of my intention.

I went to the five and dime store and bought twelve dollars worth of balloons, not the cheap ones, but the good ones. After all they were going to be Christmas prizes for my nieces and nephews. I could have thought this part out a little better. Have you ever tried to blow up forty to fifty balloons? I can tell you from hard earned experience, to hit your thumb with a hammer before you attempt to do this. I looked like a winded Arab pulling a reluctant camel across a sandy desert after a full fifteen minutes. I had blown up six, great thirty-five to go.

The balloons were all inflated. I scotch taped the certificates to the balloons. One Big Mac ticket for each colourful balloon. I surveyed my living room, balloons were trying to make their escape here, there and everywhere. I had the brilliant idea to put them into several large garbage bags, tied them up tight and hoisted them into the Volkswagen Rabbit. They just fit, if I did not move.

I laughed in a quiet, snickerly type of smirk, wait until they see these presents. I knocked on the door and waited. I heard a loud retort to come in, shut the door tightly behind you, it is cold outside and the kid's could catch a draft. I complied, shut the door, checked it was closed tight and turned my attention to the living room.

To my utter amazement the children were playing real hockey in the middle of the living room. They had a real hard rubber puck. Wooden hockey sticks, complete with tape on the blades were swinging like swords in a school play. The baby, Sony Keys was in diapers, he had an old rubber truck in his mouth. I looked further and saw he was actually in the middle of the front room. He was centre-ice. The kids flew by, sticks high in the air, swatting the puck over and back as they ran. Sony, peered this way and that, his eyes widened as the team closed in on him. It like he enjoyed the game immensely.

Joanie, what is up with the game? The baby is at centre-ice. She said that is O.K. They are pretty careful with him and he doesn't seem to mind. Here are the kids Christmas gifts I continued and presented her with several bags of balloons.

She laughed and said, you are one crazy uncle. Thanks, I was going for crazy. In the next few minutes she had popped all of the balloons, rescued the coupons and said thanks, we love going to MacDonalds.

The game continued, I melted from the scene. The Christmas salute lasted about the same time as it takes to make a good soft boiled egg. The memory, lasted a life-time.