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An old colleague from my Greenpeace days added me on Facebook recently and posted to my wall. As part of my reply, I thought I'd reference exactly how long is actually has been.
I've been keeping some form of journal since I was 15, it seems. The cover of Volume 1 is dated 1980. According to these records, I last spoke with Jen 15 years ago, leading up to the 1993 Toxic Round-up here in Edmonton. Recruiting volunteers to open and check cans of unwanted paint brought in by Edmontonians for proper disposal was part of my job in those days prior to the City creating permanent household hazardous waste depots.
"Hi Myles," Jen had said when she heard my voice on the phone. "Is it toxic round-up time again already?"
In finding that little factoid I also found things written down that I'm sure I never would have remembered otherwise.
Volume 20: Maycomb County Summer covers portions of 1995 following the dramatic break-up of my engagement to Piko Gajdostik and my moving back to Edmonton's south-side where I met Martin (10) and Marta (8), the children of a single woman living next door, who became my constant companions for about a year. Marta reminded me of Scout from To Kill a Mockingbird, hence the subtitle of the volume.
Launch day of rockets we'd each assembled from paper mache and paper towel tubes
Piko's religion was wicca. In fact, she was a ranked member of the Ordo Templis Orientis. So, in other words, she was a witch. What made our break-up so dramatic, apart from the police involvement, was her parting words to me,
"I curse you! No woman shall love you for fifteen years!"
Anyway, I found this passage in Maycomb County Summer:
Our front porch is a little on the shabby side. The bannisters are chipped and splattered with mortar, the steps are painted industrial grey, and we have a thread bare armchair and folding card chair sitting out as deck furniture. But this has been the site of much play and counsel this summer. It is a joyful place.
I was telling Martin yesterday about my curse.
"Do you believe in witches?" I asked him.
"Yes," he replied, gravely.
"A witch put a curse on me."
"What kind of curse?" he asked with concern.
"That no one would love me for fifteen years," I said. "Well, fourteen years, four months now."
"Someone loves you," Martin said.
"Yeah," Marta piped up. "I'll bet there's some girl, she's sitting around saying, 'where is that little boy?'"
"Little boy!" I said with mock offense. "Do you think of me as a little boy?" Marta pulled her Toronto Blue Jays cap down over her face in embarrassment.
"Maybe she saw you when you were a little boy and remembers you as a little boy," she replied. I laughed as she tried to pull off a clever save.
"Is there a girl that you like?" Martin asked. "A girl that you want to like you?" Martin went on to tell me that he can do this thing with his mind, telepathy, it sounded like though he didn't call it that, to communicate with this girl.
"I like a girl named Hannah," I told him. He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to his temples. Moments passed.
"Did you talk to her?" his sister asked him. "What did she say?" Martin didn't divulge anything, but I thanked him for his effort. I feel like magikal friends are helping me fight my curse.
What's funny is that Hannah is three years older than me and we both attended D.S. MacKenzie Junior Highschool (she in Grade 9, me in Grade 6). Though we had never met, I found out that the Grade 9 girl I had the biggest crush on in those days, Karri Lummerding, was Hannah's best friend. So, Hannah could very well have seen me when I was a little boy.