TIME FOLLOWS ME

CHAPTER TWO - LEAVING HOME

CHAPTER TWO

LEAVING HOME

The morning crept into my consciousness like a slow freight train.  I tried to remember my dreams, but couldn’t.  Last night I packed, and as light filtered through the large Catalpa Tree, with the funny beans hanging down, outside my window, something told me it was time to go.  The Catalpa Tree is known for its tolerance to tough conditions.

Dad out of the blue, offered to drive me to Stayner to get a start on my trip.  I jumped into the green Chev pick-up and we rode silently to the other side of Stayner, “The Friendly Town”.  It seemed Dad would fill in for me, be there for me in his own way.

Something about today reminded me of when we lived in town and a huge snowstorm would delay my Globe & Mail papers being dropped off from up in Toronto.  I always get confused, saying up is down and down is up.  Toronto is 100 miles south so I guess down would be right.  Dad occasionally helped me load the papers in his red Ford truck with the rounded fenders.  We would drive through the deserted streets lit only by street lights, while I hopped out and brought the papers to each door.  When I would get to around Maple and 9th Street, I knew I had delivered the bulk of my route and would now circle home going along 5th Street by the Dairy Queen and down Pine.  The folks really wanted their papers and I wouldn’t get paid if I missed a day, snowstorm or not.  I daydreamed silently in the front seat of the old Ford listening to the whine of the heater fan warming the cab.

Without further ado, and Dad being a man of few words, I stuck out my thumb planning to get as far away as possible this day.  Got lots of short rides and found myself somewhere ‘round Orillia, childhood home of Gordon Lightfoot, after just a few hours.  A driver picked me up and asked, “ Where you going?”

“I’m just goin’ down the road,” I answered.  I think I had adopted a kind of Okie dialect from reading so much Steinbeck.  After a while when we talked a bit more he said, “Didn’t know you meant so far down the road.”  I felt lifted and was getting used to my aloneness, out by myself with my worldly possessions on my back.  The blue sky was above me and endless possibilities were in front.

The next day after sleeping in a farmer’s field I made it along Highway 60 that ran beside the river that joined Lake Huron to Lake Superior.  I decided that night to stay at a campground run by the local Ojibwa Indian Tribe.  I was attracted to the native culture so I liked the idea.

One guy, who picked me up, first drove by and then turned around.  He said, “You look like Jesus.”  I smiled and kind of thanked him for the recognition.  I was smoking Drum Tabacca cigarettes so it was nice to sit in the front seat rolling and smoking.  I would offer it to the drivers as we talked.

That night after dark I was strolling ‘round the campsite just to get my bearings.  Some teenagers asked me, “Are you an Indian?”  I said, “No,” but I could see why they might think so.  My skin was quite dark from being out working in the fields; my hair was long to my shoulders and light brown.  To complete the picture I wore a woven leather headband to keep my hair parted in the middle.  Slept well that night.