The Farm; Chapter 1

27 Aug

Our Garden
The greening program, a farm that is and extension of a inner city neighborhood. A little about folks,farm.
(The people)
This day a man in is working on a piece of equipment , he his wearing beautifully colorful attire- sporting a bandanna, Dashiki top, too his funky shorts, create a explosions of color that enhance his vibrant personality. His striking eyes dance with mischief and mirth, his rapid fire cadence adds a element of comedy to his banter- that is fills with humor. The fit, furtive little man is working on a piece of equipment that aid in are cultivating at the farm. When he’s done working on the equipment, he pick up a hoe and perform yeoman like works clearing the weed between rows of vegetable. His earnest effort taking on the task is done, drench in sweat he take a break with the others for some more banter. This likable man is not unlike most folks that come here ( a very youthful looking in his sixties) he volunteer his time, giving to the farm- something he plied most of his life, honest work, tinker and fixing equipment. With that being said each participant has their own reason for coming out to the farm, whether often of infrequent; both are equally welcome out here.
A couple of summer student work to augment the group by doing ‘a bit of the heavy lifting’ in the form of weeding, watering, moving equipment hoses here and there, wheel barrel compost (weeds) to it’s destination; plus any other ad hoc task whether mundane (weeding, watering, counting plants) or something that require youthful energy and muscle. These young individuals are a welcome component of the team. There unbridled vitality and youthful boldness couple with respectful deference to all- make them a good teammate and considered friends.
At the garden/farm participant works in pairs and in solitude. There is a synergetic rhythm to the team, at the days beginning, folks spills out of the van and cars and in a uncanny way fall quietly into roles on a whim or gravitating to their strength, history or passion. The mentors drops into pragmatic role testing the soil water retentions in rows of vegetable, subsequently turning on the appropriate drip line that’s require water that run through the row.
In a perfect environment on a farm like this there is no leaders and followers. But the oldest ones are look at as mentors and granted due respect for their displayed common sense and sage fairness. The group moves forward in a welcoming, collaborate, learning, adapting environment. As a whole the group gravity to the mentors occasionally whom will make suggestion, with in hand the folks are off doing another simple task. If one could imagine seeing the farm and participant through a bird eye view, sans the noise the pantomime will tell the story-serene cooperation-a bit of Jungian unspoken spiritual guidance pulse would see people all shape and sizes,age- going this way and that that, somehow there is a method through actions. Not to suggest it’s a utopian environment…like any workplace ego bump into each other…but dignity is respected and valued.


There is a common dominator out at the farm (for the most parts) folks come out here with a wealth of streetwise skills- survivors.
A middle age man’s is “holding court” with a couple participants. His booming voice lace with conviction, humor and a bit of (tongue in cheek) bluster with and ever present twinkle in his eye, as quick at that, he turns on a dime- pull a headset over his ears, and gives equal measure proficient work (of a production worker) cutting the grass between rows, that’s is in step in line with his cadence and principles. A lady come out weekly for a day, her knowledge of plants dwarf us, -the farm is grateful for her knowledge,and for the seeds and plants she save and nurture respectively- the farm is for the better for her contribution.
Like a sport teams that’s lose people IR-Injured Reserved. Ideally folk come and go out our (farm) at their leisure… other may go on the injured reserve of life that move with the ebb and flow with the month peaks and valley. Nirvana would be, to see folks that come out to the farm and contribute (in a way that fit what they are able to do) and take back with them a fair measure of produce, most likely to a area like inter city neighborhood- an  targeted community . The balance to congregated meal program kitchen  more re- distribution for people that come to the meal program.. The goal -of the farm-can be boil down to one words WELCOME everyone and anyone, anytime. The stewardship of the farm echoes the angency believe and values.
If the spine of the farm is boil down to a few general principles:( 1-to provide fresh vegetable for  congregated weekend meals programs 2- for folks and others, who may on a fixed income can participate (at any level)and can have access to fresh healthy vegetable to take back with them.3-sell the vegetable at the kiosk  in a more than digestible price/quantity meant for folks that budget barrier , the neighborhood that have mini obstacle to access fresh vegetable and fruit . 3b. to share surplus with like minded agencies and churches).
Then the heart and soul of the farm is considerable more for folks and takes in different form and reason.
-to nurture
and many more…

(farm-at large)
The organize planning and the sweat equity for those who contribute (big and small) is echoed in controlled weeds among the vegetables, straight row with healthy plants, buds and flowers emerging into vegetable and fruit on unfetter plants, fields of foliage leaves swaying in the wind reveal endless golden flowers soon to be food, to picture perfect well-kept rows of cut grass between rows. Humble pride is reflective in modest garden/farm. One’s perspective is to be thankful for whose contribute now and before, the infrastructure and good will built up over the years. Benevolent donations the land its sit to the plant that grow on in the farm to the Muskoka chairs (where folks take the refuge from the sun) and many more equally values donation- vast and small.

Folks drift toward a certain vegetable- in a way and seem so natural; could be life history, nostalgia, palate, geographic (harvest crop of this nature back home). There is personal- plant relationship- this is a good thing.
Folks like there vegetables……
D-likes beets
T-like tomatoes
M-like hot pepper
j-like cucumbers
r-like strawberries
…….on and on its kind of instinctive natural unplanned way to shepherd the (vegetable) flock to harvest.
(conversation- humor-resilient)

Conversation develops here unforced, folk learn a little about each other (whilst weeding, planting, and watering) at the same pace that plants the folks are growing –slowly in layers. There always is humor, (it’s the straw that stirs the drink), and at the end of the day it’s the last line of defense. It gives folks balance, perspective; humor come in many forms, at the farm it comes in the form of absurdly this summer, the folk speculate that we drowned tomato in the midst of a summer draught (curly- leave gate). It all taking in stride the folk adapt try to make the wrong right at best as know-how. The tomatoes survive producing fruit…not unlike the people who tend for them.
People are resilient-a segment of folk that may (or may not) come out to the farm for reason take on various form; maybe they have some life bruises-flirt with morality- … whatever. The fact that people come out to the farm is nothing but a good thing, its encompasses a wide range benefit ;maybe be being a part of something bigger than ones selves and be attachment to a program one believe in, maybe a place to make a springboard to something more, maybe a practical exercise to prove to one selves something , anything is still possible if one stay the course, maybe could be community hours for a program, maybe is a lifelong passion for gardening, maybe an easy place to come for ones state of mind, maybe as a therapeutic place for the soul. Maybe there is element of a tender pushes back to life in the form of gardening- reminiscing Dylan Thomas -“Do Not Go Gentle into the Night’ without the ragehere in the garden .
Maybe it’s the vegetables! lots of vegetables for folk who appreciate it

27 Aug

farm chapter 1 (1)

23 Nov
Just found this in archives..a blog ran years age…some trivia question might be moot and dated…I’ll look for more..I think I did about 5 of them.
1/These two Quebec born players, one in Montreal PQ in 1966, and the other in Taschereau PQ in 1955, both had prolific careers in the QMJHL and later in the NHL some called them Lucky. Name them.
2/Played in 9 Grey Cup games, was also a professional wrestler who went by the nickname King Kong. What was his given name.
3/In 75/76 he scored 43 goals for the Leafs while playing with Sittler and McDonald,name this PEI native.
4/ This former Montreal Expos Broadcaster died this February 2011, Ahall of fame centre fielder and one of the famed “boys of summer”.
5/She was a prominent professional Canadian Tennis player, whose father owned the Birmingham Bulls of the WHA and her maternal grandparents were in the brewery industry. It’s all in her name, what was her full name in her playing days.
6/This eccentric Canadian golfer was born in Kitchener Ontario, preferred playing in Canada over the PGA tour, he won back to back Canadian Amateur championships in 55 and 56, this self taught professional considered one of the greatest strikers of the ball in his generation died in 2004 give the mane he went by.
7/ Son of a former CFL Fullback, he himself retired (from CFL) recently to focus on bobsleigh training fulltime. Name him.
8/ His dad Ken was a 4th round pick of the Philadelphia Flyers and was one toughsmokaroo in the OHL in the early 80’s, Uncle Dave was a first round pick of the Quebec Nordiques in 1985, name this Sarnia Sting OHL rookie in 2010/2011,name his father and
9/This colorful former Canadian professional soccer player won three consecutive World Superstar competitions in the late 70’s (a U.S. based made for TV special that pitted the
world’s best athletes in various athletic events.) He passed away in 2008 name him.
10/ This controversial hockey coach spent most of one season as head coach of the Vancouver Canucks before being fired, sandwiched around this stint was a JR coaching
career of varying success, which included coaching some high profile Junior hockey
players such as Tony Tanti , and Bryan Fogarty. He passed away in 2005 name him.
1/Pierre Larouche , Luc Robiltaille
2/Angelo Mosca
3/Errol Thompson
4/Duke Snider
5/Carling Bassett
6/Moe Norman
7/Jesse Lumsden
8/Nick Latta, father Ken Latta, uncle Dave Latta
9/Brian Budd
10/Bill Laforge

Anatomy of an American Hockey League Game in Canada

31 Aug


Pre Game,

I have been to a handful of Hamilton Bulldogs games over the years, Spartan considering I love hockey and live in the area. The American Hockey League in Hamilton has always seemed to me to be one of the more enigmatic relationships between city and sports franchises in Canada. I have decided to take in a game maybe I’ll walk away with a clearer understanding of what’s at work. I know what I’m not going to learn; that the AHL is quite arguably in the mix as the second best league in the world in terms of a combination of talent and where players reside in their development. Using the aforementioned premise I know it is a level of hockey that is better than major junior and a few star players per team below the NHL echelon. In writing this I’m already contradicting my self because I’ve inadvertently stumbled upon my first truism, that it is a superstar less league

We arrive early (I bring my thirteen year old nephew to his first Bulldog game, they are playing the Rockford Ice Hogs; his engagement will be a good barometer for my anecdotal study). There is a moderate line up to get in, mostly hard core fans, many of whom are adorning some form of licensed Bulldog wear. When we are allowed in we walk the corridors, wide and clean, and although I’ve no formal training in arena architecture it seems not unlike the Calgary Saddledome. My nephew keeps repeating “this is like an NHL rink” I agree, “It’s what it feels like to me too!” I decide not to dismantle his enthusiasm with a Bettmanesque breakdown of the type of upgrades the arena (rink) would need to be consistent with NHL standards.

Our pre warm up tour of the arena continues the concessions are ready and serving the occasional early customer. As we make our way around the circumference of the corridor that separates the lower and draped upper bowl I notice that they do not open concessions on the far end and a vacant Haagen Dazs portable vendor rests in front of a canteen.

I’m not looking to pick up a program but would like a game sheet- happy to find I can pick one up for a buck that has all the stats you need; basically a trimmed down version of what might be offered in the media room.

My first blush that this is Bulldog territory is re-affirmed as we enter the souvenirs store ‘the Dawg House’; it is packed and I overhear a guy who is trying on a Bulldog jersey asking (what I assume is) his spouse to take a picture, but he halts her before she has a chance to make sure the Habs logo on the shoulder are pushed back far enough so it will not be caught by the camera.

The warm up has begun, I split my time reading the stats and watching the ice. I like to look at the rosters for familiar names, high scoring stats or penalty minutes then pick them out while their warming up to see if they carry themselves in a way that reflects their stats or status. I seek out the Captains (a habit from youth that has not dissolved over time) and follow them warming up.

I scan the rosters. The stats suggest Zack Fitzgerald for the Bulldogs is a toughie, I zero in on number thirteen with the long hair, got to be a fan favorite. Kyle Beach, hmm remember him being a top prospect plucked out of the WHL, a big guy who plays with (dare I say) truculence, I don’t see him out there though, he has meager stats must be injured. Rostislav Olesz triggers my memory, a high draft pick, I spot him, he kind of looks like Jagr; big and gangly. Philippe Paradis, remember him, a former first rounder included in Jiri Tlusty deal between the Leafs and Carolina, the player I only heard about kind of  looks like Zack Fitzgerald, shaggy rock star hair, how did he end up in the Chicago system? Andrew Shaw is listed, he is a former OHL tough guy who evolved into a game changing energy player with Owen Sound, he played a key role in the Attacks Memorial Cup drive, thought he was up with the Blackhawks? Don Cherry has recently been praising him on Coaches corner. As the warm up ends Zack Fitzgerald one of the last players to leave the ice skates over to   where a couple kids are sitting on reclining Lazyboy chairs (promo) at ice level between the two team benches, he taps the glass, a nod a gap tooth smile before exiting; affirmation that the conduit from the fan to the personality of the team is usually through the lovable enforcer.

With about five minutes left on the clock before the start of game the lights go off the spotlights spiral around the half empty lower bowl, and the show is on. After a few announcements a video montage of Bulldogs goals, fights and big hits supported by the sound of a jubilant play by play announcer with Linkin Park’s “New Divide” providing all the subtext needed to give you the pre-game jump out of the seats yips. My nephew is about 10 for 10 on the engagement scale by this point and if he could jump out on the ice with the team he would. Bruiser the mascot is firing t -shirts into the crowd with some kind of mechanical launching device while parents and kids alike stand and make some kind of down dog motion, included among this group is my nephew who is following the lead of the gentleman sitting next to us in the Bulldog Jersey (with whom not five minutes prior I had a very diplomatic, polished conversation).I have to admit it was really tough not to let your guard down and get caught up  in it.

Incongruent to the show coach’s Clement Jodoin and Ron Wilson calmly take their places behind the bench. If you were casting a movie you could not pick better coaches who fit the mold than these two seasoned professionals; graying around the temples, wearing nothing flashy, stoic, hockey weathered faces unflappable to the organized chaos surrounding them. They stood like statues while strobe lights took them in and out of focus; surrounding them grown men, woman, kids-families danced some still pantomiming the down dog rhythms- Game on.

The Game

Well into the first period the Bulldogs scores their first goal (the second goal of the game) fans pump their fists, the music blares and on the overhead scoreboard the big screen  runs video of some scantily clad gothic warriors doing a celebratory  dance, an unexpected Monty Python like clip, it’s funny, I like it and I make a mental note to research if there is a company who produces these type of shorts for sporting events.

Rockford’s Andrew Shaw gives a Bulldog a face wash on one of his first shifts; an indication of the type of game he’s bringing tonight .Later in the shift Shaw gets a penalty while the delayed call is immanent the play continues, Shaw looking agitated and knowing he’s going to the box ends the shift by taking a run at a Bulldog player banking on getting two bangs for his buck, Bulldog Ian Schultz takes exception and a fight ensues, Shaw gets a double minor for both infractions and five for fighting a foreboding of the night ahead for him. Schultz skates by the Rockford bench and mugs for them displaying a toothless smile; my nephew says Schultz kind of looks like his Aunt when she takes her teeth out.

Rockford’s Andrew Shaw is a throwback, old school type player cut from the same cloth as a guy like Dennis Polonich; smallish, good skater, scrappy and tough, the type of player that is going to make life miserable for whoever he’s playing against,  tonight his

‘find a way or make a way’ approach is not working, he can’t hit upon that effective blend, later in the game he takes two power play penalties and coach Tom Dent leans over his shoulder and speaks to him for a prolonged period.

The game continues at a rapid pace passes are executed with precision, the result of thousand s of rote drills; the protocol these athletes have been on since they were sixteen or seventeen. At times because there are some vast empty spaces in the lower bowl you get the sense that you are an invited guest to a special performance. There is an icing call at about the time a Hamilton defenseman is trying to make a change referee Koharski comes over and doesn’t let the Bulldogs keep the fresh defenseman out there ruling the change was made late, Jodoin walks over and says something to assistant coach Wilson, Wilson doesn’t flinch just keeps looking straight a head. There is nothing coaches hate more than not being able to execute a player change. Then the inevitable occurs seemingly from nothing Branadon Bollig Rockford’s tough guy big and GI Joe looking drops his gloves as does the Bulldog’s Zack Fitzpatrick his hair long and curly, they circle each other at centre ice apprehension in the air, then they engage, it’s all clutching and sneaking in punches, looking to free up a hand without becoming vulnerable, a flurry of punches first by Bollig then Fitzpatrick, it goes on like this for quite some time the linesman let it go on and on, finally when there is nothing left they step in,  a lot of hockey fans would have called it a classic tilt. The crowd cheers but I don’t get the feeling that they are crazy about their fighting, there is not that edge you might feel at a junior game- no catcalls. Nonetheless Zack Fitzpatrick second fight of the night comes in the third period with Rob Flick this time it’s hair flying every wear; Fitzpatrick long, shaggy and dark, and Flicks mop like falling over his face- a blonde orange color, a kind of surreal scene envelops Slapshot fights Ronald Mcdonald. Later I realize that that’s the same Flick from the OHL’s   Mississauga St Michaels Majors, a big centre kind of an ugly skater but effective and irritating.

Rastislav Olesz is interesting to watch he appears moody, temperamental but when on the bench he is active, eager, standing waiting to get his next shift.

In between the second and third period Bruiser hits the ice with a sling shot and an ample supply of bundled t shirts that he will projectile into the crowed. The impressive sound system delivers us Flo Rida’s ‘Good Feeling’ and the Bob Fosse in Bruiser comes out, he dances to the rhythm quick and agile and plays the crowd like a conductor would a symphony, he prompts the crowd reacts, I decide here he is a top shelf  mascot.

There is an absolute flurry of activity in the third period the Dogs score three goals in thirty eight seconds. It is pandemonium, Salak, Rockford’s Goalie is infuriated with the second goal in this sequence and punches one of the Dog players, Dogs forward Gabriel Dumont who took a big hit on the second goal skates to the bench looking like a sailor on leave. Fans cheer and jeer happy for the sudden success but slighted by the cacophony of misdeeds afflicted to the home team. On the third goal Alexander Salak storms off the ice past the team down the corridor gone- he might still be going. Rockfords’s back up for the night Carter Hutton goes in. It’s a five – two Bulldog win.

Post Game

The first star of the game is new Bulldog  Blake Geoffrion he scores a goal and adds two assists but is otherwise unremarkable, Geoffrion was the 2010 winner of the Hobey Baker award, which surprises me a little, he looks  like a big prototypical power forward who will evolve as he smoothes out the edges- if anything I picture a former Hobey Baker winner as a skilled polished guy that’s  maybe lacking in size. He is also the son of former NHL player Danny Geoffrion, grandson of Hall of fame Montreal Canadian Boom Boom Geoffrion, and great grand son of Howie Morenz.

Zack Fitzpatrick is recognized as the games hardest worker he dives out on the ice and does an All Star wrestling type wave to the crowd. I like the theatrics and think- take it all in Zack this is your time, a pro hockey life is fleeting

At the end of the game there is a puck throw, fans have purchased rubber pucks that they try to throw in a pale placed at centre ice, suddenly hundreds of pucks are on the ice, it seems as though almost everyone in attendance participates mothers and fathers passing out their purchased pucks to their kids and joining in themselves, smiles laughs a cathartic release of their inner Bulldog. The Promotional girl announces the three closest numbered pucks and just like that it’s over. Brilliant. Tonight everyone is leaving happy, basking in the glow of a dramatic victory and the whaling sounds of U2’s “Beautiful Day”. My nephew repeats a few times that he’s going to come to all the games now. I agree it was a terrific experience well worth the investment

On the ride home we listen to the post game show on 820 all platitudes and recaps, it does what a good post game show does, offers a little brain candy  and keeps you in the game while driving home on a cold dark night. We don’t say much mostly listen and make the odd remark about some point that is made. I think of the small things, like I thought it was kind of neat the way the players from both teams tapped their stick against the boards when the little crease cleaners came on the ice during the commercial breaks. From the inside it had all the ingredients for success, good venue, high level of talent and a top notch game production. From the outside I still wonder why this has not caught on more than it has. An online dictionary tells me an enigma is something hard to understand or explain.

My blog is diverse best read by choosing a Categories along the right side of this page!

10 Oct


My short story, music, sports story, nostalgia, landmarks…..

View original post

Terry Fox Run

13 Sep

The reasons I partake in the annual Terry Fox run.
Its Saturday September the 13, here in St Catharines we’re socked in with grey cloud’s- drizzling and chilly . But somehow I know that tomorrow the cloud will part and the sun will shine and the day will be lovely. Its uncanny that the element are true to the momentous of the day that the Terry Fox run take place.
Everybody have their reasons to run/walk/ bike the Terry Fox run, we all been touch by cancer family, friend, schoolmate, co-worker, teammate… etcetera. People of my vintage came of age about the same time that Terry Fox run across Canada took place. You can see them in the crowd a mist of nostalgia/reverence come over them before the run when a speaker come on and say a couple words about Terry Fox. It hard to believe it been 34 years that Terry Fox embarked on his run. The run has taken on a sustainable life of its own handing down to generation upon generation…. Engaged from day one by schools, community clubs and sport teams on and on.
I grew up in Thunder Bay Ontario, I remember hanging out with my friends among a big crowd awaiting the arrival of Terry running though Thunder Bay. Anticipation excitement was buzzing through the crowd.. high fiving, horse playing with friend and family and then the silence as the crowd disassembled and left with what wasn’t going take place. Later we learned the gravity of the reason that Terry had to stop running.
I overheard my aunt and uncle talking about Terry passing. I was at their camp, I don’t know why I did this but I hopped on their dirt bike and hit the rural dirt road (not far from the place the Terry Fox statue now stands on the edge of Thunder Bay) and unexpected visceral tears came to my eyes as I speeding recklessly down the dirt road. Later I was proud to be a flag bearer at the first Terry Fox run in Thunder Bay.
My thought on Terry Fox these days are less visceral, more like reflective. We keep Terry Fox alive like we keep our memories of our mother and father alive in our mind and heart long after they pass. There are myriad of reasons Terry Fox so resonate today. Maybe the earnest fix on his face, maybe implausible challenge of running a marathon a day through the hot summer, maybe the inner strength and outer shy. It’s all of these thing and many more.
Best put by writer Christie Blatchford “ Terry Fox gave Canada A Dream and Big as a Country”
I just know it will beautiful sunny day that its always is, I’ll donate a very modest and partake in the 5k run after 34 year since Terry Fox run across Canada,the Canadian and beyond are still running.

Schleprock In The Ravine

22 Jun


So unreal…So scary… So funny…So benign…So weird… So surreal…almost too fantastic to be real. I guess it just one of those childhood adventures that seemed to follow me around in a schleprock kind of way.
Circa 1978
Every summer we went from Thunder Bay to Toronto and go to hockey school and stay at my Uncle Mike and Aunt Shirley house on Brooklyn Ave. by Avenue Road and Lawrence Street area. One time we (me and my friend Donny also from Thunder Bay) were crossing the ravine going to the store on Avenue Road (Brooklyn was a short dead on street that was broken up by a small ravine) it was a short walk from my relatives house to Beckers on Avenue.

As we are crossing the ravine we notice some older teenager ( we are about 12yrs old) being loud and rambunctious at the other side of the ravine, getting to Avenue Road meant walking past these teenagers. Me and Donny exchanged nervous looks as we proceeded toward the top of the ravine. Before we got to the stop one the teenager shouted (looking our way) “get them!” and then about twenty teenager boys and girls were running our way Donny look at me wide eyes “ F#%*~king run Rollie! I take off one way Donny goes another way. They were hot in pursuit (looking back I still don’t know if it was just a teenage lark or they meant business!) Nonetheless there was a bunch of teenager in  pursuing me like a pack of wolves  and  they weren’t letting up! I was running like a jackrabbit running from yard to yard over fences landing hard, through hedge bushes and short fences fuel by fear..adrenalin… fears …athleticism..and more fear .The final fence I went over I landed hard on my back; the next this I see and feel is and oldish man with a big ass wrench in is hand cocked to brain me while  his other hand held me by the collar. I blurt out “they are chasing me” I didn’t recognize my own voice- laced with primal fear and adrenaline.
He said something about hooligans and calling the police on me. Maybe the years has fuzzed the lines, but what follows is the way I remember what transpires on that bizarre summer day. He bring me into his house,still a wrench in one hand me by the collar.Once in the house I see an oldish woman who is apparently his sister; he send her to the garage to fetch a rope so he can tie this hooligan (me) up! So that he can call the police. She return with a suitable rope …with my arms at my side he wraps the rope around me a couple of time and ties a knot, with the balance of the rope dangle to the floor. He then talks to his sister, they discuss about if they should put me in the cellar (which I don’t like the sound of) or keep me in the kitchen. They decide to keep me in the kitchen where they can keep an eye on their tied up 12 year old prisoners.
I guess when they had the police on the phone I guess I gave them info on where I was staying and the phone number . Because the first to show up was my aunt and Donny with their dog Rocky. The old man brought me to the door I was tied up lamely he was holding other end of the rope in case I had plans to bolt. I said to Donny through the screen door in a voice I still didn’t quite recognize  “ hey Donny wanna come in” I remember he made a duck lips face nodding his head in a no motion. The police quickly pulled up. I remember a black officer had a “what the F*%#*K!?! Going on look  on  face” . He said to me ” you all right son”. he took off the rope and ask me if they hurt me. I said no which was true.I had some cuts and scrapes in the chase. If a had the wherewithal when he asked me I would have made the circular motion beside my head indicating coocoo  inside. He then shifted from me to my crazy misguided abductors and had strong words with them which I don’t remember because I was walking  out the door to my friend and Aunt. It was lucky my uncle was out of town that night..I will leave it at that.
This story become lore among Thunder Bay teenager house party in the 80’s. I remember Donny couldn’t even hold it together retelling the story laughing to coming to the front door “ with the Vigilante grey hair man at the other end of the rope I was tied to…People would listen laugh ..and look toward me and say “Rollie you really got tied up”….I would shrugged my shoulder in that “ Buck Friendly” kind of way and sheepishly say yeah that was me.