He Grows Up

“The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why.” —Mark Twain.

Advertisements
pregnant in N Carolina
Leo-In-Belly at the Outer Banks, NC. A fun weekend with Nancy and Family.

My baby, the one who arrived in a maelstrom back in 1999 and I wrote about here

Locked Up in D.C. 🔐 

… Well, he is now a tall young man.  Intelligent, kind, fun-loving, adventurous, athletic and handsome. But, this is his mother writing.  What else would I say?  He is finished high-school and getting set to go off on a huge adventure and then to University.  I have five weeks left with him before he departs.  My heart is breaking and I am tearful, scared and joyful all at the same time.  I never thought I would be this way, but, then again, I never thought I would be in a straitjacket in D.C. either.  That’s life, right?!  It sneaks up on you and BAM!

Your son, your only, is leaving for University.

But, what about that big adventure you ask?  Leo applied and was picked to be one of forty-five youth to assist as crew on a tall ship from Halifax to France.  Yes, that’s right. Across the Atlantic. Thankfully, there is a professional crew as well and they will be teaching the youth the ropes, literally.  They will do duties:  watch, galley, cleaning and maintenance duties.  I am sure there will be lots of time for fun too.  They will dock in Le Havre in Normandy France and spend five days in France before flying home to Canada at the end of August.

About ten days later, Leo will leave our house for University.

WHAT??  

Already?

What happened to the days of Buzz Lightyear? …

TO INFINITY…AND BEYOND! 💥

…or the days of hiking, just me and small him and the dogs in the parks, on the beaches, up the hills?  The days where every playground became a wealth of potential fun and that he would point at and cry hopefully, “Can I play in the playground, Mom?” and inevitably exclaim: “Mom, I’m having SO fun!!

The holding of my hand. His, so small and soft and warm.  The moments of insecurity when he was a toddler and would wrap himself around one or both of my legs as I stood in conversation with someone. The morning greeting, “It’s morning time, Mom!” The sleepy, cuddly story-times, sweaty fevers, rosy-cheeked kisses and all the stuff we learned together.  The tears are streaming as I ask, “Where did the time go? and WHY does this hurt so bad??!”

hiking on Wolfville trails, from our door

Oh dear, did I spend enough time with him?  Did I do enough for him?  Did I help to shape a good young man?  Will he find his way?  Will he find a love?  Will he miss me?

He wrote his last exam of high-school today and had arranged with two good buddies to go camping in New Brunswick at Fundy National Park.  Both my husband Dean and I were home for lunch (we come home every day for lunch due to our 10 minute walk to work at I wrote about in A Simple East-Coast Life) and so we witnessed the flurry of activity in getting ready for the big out-trip.  Leo was walking back and forth to his room grabbing all that he could imagine needing for the trip.  Meanwhile, I set up a sandwich-building smorgasbord on the kitchen island with large slices of buttered Italian bread, sliced cheese and tomato, ham, bologna, bacon, mustard, mayo, and lettuce fresh and green from the garden.  While Leo ran around, I invited the two buds to build their sandwiches and dig in.  I wouldn’t want to see them on their way without a good lunch.

The curious thing happened.  While Leo ran around, his two friends and I had a nice little visit in the kitchen.  Mainly talking about some hiking memories that Dean and I made at Fundy National Park while going Across Canada in Betsy (age 26) 🇨🇦 and then about their plans for the fall. Leo came out to the kitchen and grabbed the last two slices of bacon for his sandwich, which I then volunteered to build for him, as I could see he wasn’t even close to being packed and ready yet. Just then, we realized that Leo’s phone was vibrating on the corner cupboard. Leo looked at it, then reached for it.  From where I stood, I noticed that his hand was slightly shaking as he reached for his phone.  My heart caught in my chest to see that hand, the very one I knew so well and had held time and again…shaking. Looking at the display, he said, “Dad, this is the call about the summer job.”  When he looked up, there was a nervous strain on his face that instantly caused an anxious reaction within me.  You see, Leo is a very laid-back kinda guy as is evidenced here.

Cape Split nap
Napping at Cape Split, NS

Almost nothing phases him.  But, I had to remind myself to take stalk:  he just wrote an exam, the last of his high-school career;  a couple of nights ago, he found out he was selected for the Tall Ship experience to cross the Atlantic; there was a summer job being negotiated; friends were waiting for him for a couple day out-trip; Prom in a few days; he would be leaving for University in late August and he hadn’t even eaten lunch yet.  So, perhaps a slight tremor of the hand and bit of a strain on the face is understandable. Regardless, the reaction within me was hard to deny.  All I wanted to do was make it better.  Take away his strain and nerves.  Jeepers.  I’m gonna need to chill.

Prom was fantastic and the prom parade went off without a ‘hitch’ and is featured in this little video:

 

When we first moved to Halifax, I lost a second-trimester pregnancy, Leo’s little brother, and it was heartbreaking: The Loss of Dane (age 35) 💔 …

…I am really hoping that the ‘loss’ of Leo to the great wide world (although surely tough on me) will be wonderful.  That we shall see him spread his wings and soar through life, having adventures, doing good and following his dreams….TO INFINITY AND BEYOND!

Mr. Laset and the Walden Games (age 10) 🥈

A hundred years from now it will not matter what my bank account was, the sort of house I lived in, or the kind of car I drove… but the world may be different because I was important in the life of a child.
Forest E. Witcraft
Teacher, Scholar

Mr. Laset was the quintessential good coach: kind, unselfish, knowledgeable and competitive when necessary.  He coached me throughout elementary school for cross country running, gymnastics, volleyball, basketball and track. We had practices after school every day of the week.  He was consistently present and consistently good to me. Over the decades I have thought of Mr. Laset many times and, every time it has been with fond memories.  On that note, I just searched for him and found a phone number and gave him a call…forty years later from three provinces away.  I said, ‘this is Morgan Player, I am trying to find Lee Laset.’ His response: ‘How is my best point guard doing today?’  See, he said exactly the right thing! We had a wonderful chat on the phone.  His memory is fabulous and we laughed about the old days.  I thanked him again and again for all of the time and encouragement he gave me way back then.

Now my story about the Walden Games…

When I was 10 years old, I was on the gymnastics team for the school. We would practise everyday after school and all day on Saturday during the gymnastics season.  Mr. Laset prepared routines for the floor, finding music to suit the routine and then we would memorize and practice until we knew it cold.  The routine for the balance beam and vault didn’t have music but all three apparatus had mandatory moves and lengths of routine.  There was a big meet coming downtown Walden at Central High School. The day of the meet arrived. I caught a ride downtown with my teammate, Cassie, and her Mom. There were a lot of people there. Hundreds. The place was crawling with parents and gymnasts and coaches. Moms were fussing over their daughters’ hair. Dads were looking at schedules with their sons, a large arm encircling their small shoulders.

Gymnasts were warming up. When I stepped on the huge technical floor mat I was immediately impressed with its give.  It seemed like I could bounce higher, split better, balance longer. I was in love with that mat.  I watched some of the more talented gymnasts who belonged to clubs and wished I could one day be like them.

It came time for me to do my balance beam routine.  I nailed the mount which required

a lot of upper body strength, something I naturally had. I bounced off of the small spring board, placing both hands on the beam and then, with hips high, brought both feet into a wide straddle on either side of my body, but not touching the beam.  I balanced that way for a few seconds and then placed my feet on the beam. From the wide straddle I made my way into the splits, held it with arms raised, fingers poised, then swung my back leg forward into a pike fold, then into the required back roll.  From there, I gracefully transitioned into standing and went through the rest of my routine, conducting the required moves: standing balance with one foot held in my hand above my head; 360 degree spin and front roll and with various dance and rhythmic arm moves, made my way to the culminating move: the dismount.  Mine was a front pike hand spring off the end of the beam.  I did it and I stuck it.  Arms up, arched back, chin high, head back. My teammates clapped and there were a couple of smiling, pretty moms I didn’t know who made me feel special.  I walked off to find Mr. Laset who was working with some of my other teammates. Mr. Laset was spread thin watching over all of us.

Next up was the vault.  Our score was the best out of three moves.  I did a pike head-stand over, hand-stand over and high straddle over.  I stuck all three pretty well and felt good about it.  Mr. Laset patted me on the back and told me I had done well.  So far so good.

After eating my brown-bag lunch, I checked the schedule and saw that it was almost time for me to do my floor routine.  Again, I went to the mat for  a warm-up and, again, I was impressed by the springy-ness of it.  My music came on as I took my place on the mat.  I

Gymnastics-Meet-2-682x454
This is what my big move would have looked like

knew this routine cold so it was no problem to do it to the very best of my ability. The one toughest move was a hand-stand which was to be held for five seconds and then a quarter turn down into the splits.  I had practiced this move umpteen times in our basement rec-room.  My friend Layla and I would put on music and dance and do gymnastics: cartwheels, hand springs, handstands, splits, rolls and often we would do this in the dark.  Lucky we didn’t kick each other in the head.

Anyway, in my routine, I was wondering if I was ever going to actually be able to hold the handstand for five seconds. Guess what.  I DID IT!  Oh my, was I happy and very proud. After the splits, I turned forward and ended my routine with my elbows on the mat, my legs in a wide straddle, my dark, curly pony tailed head in my hands and a big smile on my face.

I would like to say the crowds went wild, but, no.  There were very few spectators for me.

A little while later, we were rounded up and told that the closing ceremonies would be held and that we should quietly sit in our team.  I sat down beside Cassie.  She had had a good day and had completed all of her tough moves.  She put her arm around me and told me that she had heard that I did REALLY well.  I looked at her with a question on my face.  How did she know that?  She had been on the other side of the gym all day.  She told me that her mom had seen my points.  She said: ‘Morgan, you’re in the medals’.

“WHAT???!  What does THAT mean?’ I asked her frantically.  ‘What do I need to do?’

‘You just need to go up there when they call your name’.  Cassie said calmly.  She was ultra experienced at this.

A couple of minutes later, I was called to the podium and a SILVER medal was placed around my neck.  Holy cow!! I felt like a million bucks.  Holy cow!! Mr. Laset patted my back and told me he was very proud of me.  I had not expected this at all.  I was shocked!

The meet was finished and it was time to go home with my silver medal.  I imagined my family picking me up and hugging me wildly upon seeing it hanging around my neck.  I imagined a celebratory supper of my favourite foods and my favourite dessert.

What actually happened was rather underwhelming and, as I write this now as a Mom, I feel quite sad for my ten-year old self who was somewhat neglected as a girl, at times. Nevertheless, I got out of the car and skipped up the driveway.  Jumped up the front steps and bounced into the front door, my heavy silver medal swinging on my chest, my curly pony tail flicking happily.

But…

No one noticed my big smile or my big medal.

Mom and Dad were arguing in their room with the door closed and my three brothers were off in all corners of the house.  My three eldest siblings would have moved out by then.  No one asked about my big day. No one picked me up and hugged me wildly to celebrate my success.  There was no celebration meal and no fun dessert.  I had this great big family, but no one was there for me that day.  No one watched me compete. No one watched me receive the silver medal.  I was left wondering if it mattered.  Did I matter? ‘If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?’

Forest

One thing for sure is that this circle of neglect is broken.  My husband Dean and I have one son, Leo.  We have watched all of his sporting events and Dean has coached many of his soccer teams.   My parents were very likely doing the best they could with what they had in their tank.  I am ever thankful for people in my life who were there for me when my parents couldn’t be.  One such person was Mr. Laset. Speaking to him earlier today after forty years, made my year.  The gift of his calm, smooth voice knowing and remembering me and chit chatting about our sports days in the mid-70s will be cherished. When he said, ‘How is my best point guard doing?’  Those words were golden. He was important in the life of a child. That child was me.

Can U Canoe? 🛶

I started canoeing when I was tiny. Job and I would go out on the lake to catch bullfrogs and to explore the lily pads around the cove. We would often harvest a few lilies for Mom who would float them in a bowl of water on the table…

Last night I had a dream about canoeing at dusk on Eight Mile Lake in Ontario’s cottage country.   I was over by number four cabin and the dark, soft familiar waters were choppy. I was solo. Suddenly I realized there was a lot of water coming into my canoe and it tipped over. I was in the drink.  In real life, I have never capsized a canoe, not even while standing and lunging and reaching to catch bullfrogs as a child, never once did the canoe overturn. But in my dream last night, it did.  The current became unusually strong and, still holding on to the overturned canoe, I was carried way down the narrows and into  big part of the lake by Echo Rock.  I was not afraid.  In my dream I realized that my iPhone was in my pocket and was now completely wet. I had the thought, in my dream, that I could fix it by putting it in a bag of rice. The, I was overcome with a feeling of foreboding….but…then, I woke up.

canoe paddleI have many fond memories of canoeing on  Eight Mile Lake. Like the  late summer of 1983 when my little brother Luke  would canoe into town to pick me up from my shift at the diner.  He would slowly and quietly walk up from the dock in his male teenage body to the diner to get me.  I would be in my uniform and with a carton of to-go food, usually friend chicken and chips or something,  I would follow him down to the dock and take up my place in the bow and eat while Luke would paddle and tell me about his day and usually about his struggles with Dad.  After I would finish eating, we would sing for the rest of the trip. We would sing: Two Out Of Three Ain’t Bad by Meatloaf:

Baby we can talk all night, but that ain’t getting us nowhere, I told you everything I possibly can, there’s nothing left inside of here.  And maybe you can cry all night, but that’ll never change the way that I feel.  The snow is really piling up outside.  I wish you wouldn’t make me leave here…

Yep, we would sing that uplifting song.  For some reason we knew all the words and, of course, various Bob Seger tunes and the odd Bob Dylan tune.  Mom wasn’t at the lake that year.  Dad and Mom had split up.  We missed her very badly.  Her light always shone so bright at the lake.  It was her favourite place on earth.  When Mom passed away in 2001, we sprinkled her ashes in the upper field of the camp, under a pine tree.  Eva, Amy, Mark and I took turns saying a few words and Mark sang a song.  It was simple but sweet.  Rest in Peace, Mom.  We miss you.

Mom loved to canoe the lake.  She would gather us up and we would make a canoe convoy out around the point beyond number six cabin in order to see the sunset.

IMG_5870

We would laugh and tease and splash each other all the way.  On the way back we would sing various camp songs and Mom’s favorite: Here Comes the Sun by The Beatles.  As kids, we loved to go see the sunset on Eight Mile Lake.  It was a big event.  And Mom was with us, which made it extra special.

When my friend Ben MacNeil would visit (my neighbour from the city, see post: Let the Games Begin), we would go out in the canoe every day and usually we would canoe across the lake and then over to town.   Sometimes we would take a fishing rod each and some worms and tie-up near the footings of the lighthouse and try for perch, sunfish and bass. Squealing with delight when we would catch a fish, pulling it into the canoe to be taken home where mom would clean it and add it to the other catches to be eating for breakfast the next day.  She would  roll each piece of fish in flour and salt and pepper and fry them in the big cast-iron pan with lots of lard.  There would be a stack of fish and frogs on the table for breakfast —the most important meal of the day!  Mom would say and then after saying grace, we would begin, with gusto.

heron closeOn calm days  we would be beckoned by the still waters of Eight Mile Lake to adventure out for a day in the canoe. Luke and I, or Job and I, or Mark and I would head down the mysterious Trouble River and follow all of its twists and turns seeing blue herons take flight as we rounded a corner or a beaver flapping its tail on the calm black bottomless water. The Trouble River was always so quiet and calm. There were stories about it and beliefs about the water because it was so black. People would say that it was bottomless. None of us wanted to swim in it,  but mom would, no problem. Sometimes, every now and then, Job would water ski down the Trouble. He  loved the challenge of it but, it did scare him, although he would never admit it.  I remember being proud of Job on those occasions.

A and W Days 🍔

Four of my siblings work at the same fast food place. There are some bumps in the road but also a happy ending…

Part-time jobs were an absolute necessity in the Player family. We each had one, early in life, because there never seemed to be enough money to go around…at one point in the 1970s, my eldest brother Matt was the manager of the A&W in Walden, Ontario. He would have been 17 at the time. While in that position, he managed to hire three of our siblings: Eva age 19, Amy 18 and Mark 14 (Mark lied about his age). So, four Players were working there and those were the days of delivery to the car window by waitresses in uniform. The tray would hang off the window and would be filled with the order of those in the car.

One time, Matt was working with Mark and with a friend, who is now deceased due to drugs, Byron Hedgeman. Hedgeman had been cleaning the stainless steel counters with a mixture of bleach and water when a bus pulled up and there was a massive order placed. Everyone was working madly to fill the order. Sadly, the javex and water combination did not get wiped up well enough. Matt slid a burger to Hedgeman who would put it in the bun and the burger must have gone through the javex. The next day a man comes into the front of the A&W and this man’s face is green. He has ‘bags under bags under bags’ under his eyes. He tells Matt that he was deathly sick, throwing up all night, after eating the burger from A&W. Matt looks at Hedgeman and they are sure of what must have happened to this man’s burger. The javex. Matt offers the guy a couple of coupons for free burgers. The man looks at Matt and says: are you kidding? I will NEVER eat in this effing place again. 

One very good thing came of the A&W days…Matt met June and they have been happily married since June was 19 and Matt was 20. They have two adult children and three, almost four, grandchildren.

A little while after meeting and falling in love with June, it became apparent that Dad did not approve of the relationship. Matt would spend hours talking to June on the phone. He had a basement bedroom in our family bungalow on Pearl Street in Walden. Matt was serious about his phone calling so he got himself his own extension phone, a trick we all thought was quite outstanding because at the time, teens NEVER had their own phone. In his day, Dad had been a very skilled hockey player and he had an ambition to produce another serious player from one of his four sons. To that end, Dad and Mom would make us a back yard rink every winter and Dad would force the boys to take a hundred shots a day. Of course there would always be broken kitchen windows and neighbours’ windows too, sometimes. Almost all of us could skate, holding a chair, before we could walk. How’s that for true Canadians, eh? So, Matt had been doing well with his hockey. Dad bought him a new pair of CCM Super Tacks skates. These would have been very expensive on a teacher’s salary who has seven children. Whenever these skates were spoken of, a hush would fall over the room. They were absolutely the ticket to the NHL. They were the very best skates to own back then. Dad, not approving of Matt and June’s relationship, sat Matt down one day and said he wanted him to move out. Matt was 17. Matt asked why. Dad said Matt was a bad influence on the other children. He then took back the skates. Matt asked why he would do that. Dad said he knew Matt wasn’t seriously into hockey if he was going to take up with a girl. Matt said it was crazy to take them back but, Dad did anyway. He took them back and put them in a well-known hiding place: under the head of his bed. Matt found them a few days later and took them back.

So Matt and June found a small apartment in a really old house in downtown Walden. They paid $70 per month rent and Matt was making that much in one week at A&W. Matt could see that he would be needing to do something more lucrative in order to live a more comfortable life. While living in that first apartment, Matt had a pair of leather shoes, just one pair. He would wear them to work. Soon, the sole started to come unattached from one of the shoes. Always a quick problem solver, Matt found a thumb tack to hold his shoe together so he could still wear them to work. One day, he couldn’t find this all-important tack for his shoe. He was running around with his shoe sole flapping yelling June, help me find my tack. I’m gonna be late! until he finally found the tack and he could get to work just in time.

Matt went on to get his papers in Electrical Contracting. He worked for decades in downtown Toronto and all over the city in commercial Electricity making a very good living. He worked hard and he always had lots of work. June managed the business office and, in so doing, had the flexibility to be home to raise their two children. Sam was a honeymoon baby and ended up playing in the Big Leagues. He now does commentating and consulting. Sally is a restauranteur and city counselor for her city. All this wonderful success happened due to the A&W days.

Pigs Can Fly 🐷

A road-trip with my big sister comes to a hilarious, um, outcome.

My two big sisters were Irish twins — born ten months apart.  They had the most awesome bedrooms down the basement of our little red-brick bungalow in Walden.  Their paneled-wall and wall-to-wall carpeted bedrooms were not only super cool and trendy, but they were adjoined so that if you wanted to go into Eva’s room, you had to first walk through Amy’s.  Eva had a single bed in her room with an afghan on it that she crocheted herself.  She was (and still is) very creative and multi-talented – always making something, or writing a poem, baking, painting a paint-by-number or organizing a get-together.  Eva’s zest for life is contagious.  People flock to Eva, wanting to be apart of her exciting life.

Eva also had throw cushions on the bed with hand-stitched colourful cartoon figures of hippos and other large animals.  Her room was so interesting that I would love to just sit and look at everything and wonder at how she must have made it.  Eva was about twelve years older than I was and I adored her.  She was also my God-Mother.  I was so lucky.

Amy’s room sported a double bed and a walk-in closet that had its very own light and light switch.  As a little girl I would imagine it to be my play house and I would wish I was big enough to wear some of Amy’s great clothes.  Amy was (and still is) a very gentle soul. She has many friends.  She listens well and can empathize with just about everyone she meets.  She listens to her clients all day while she expertly works on their hair and makes them feel good about themselves.  People love Amy from the moment they meet her and look into her beautiful blue, kind eyes.  She is one of those soft-spoken, nice people that everyone wants to associate with. Amy was about 11 years older than I was and I also adored her, she was the most beautiful woman, on the inside and out, that I knew and I was very proud to be her little sister.  Amy and Eva pretty much raised me from the time I was a tiny.

One night when I was seven years old, I was curled up beside Amy who was reading her homework assignment to me aloud. She was attending the Walden School of Hairdressing at the time.  I used to share Amy’s double bed with her. Eva walked in, all excited, and announced that she was going to Windsor to attend Mike Carruthers’s graduation from Law School.  Mike was a school friend of hers who lived down the hill from us and who just loved Evie.  He wanted her as a girlfriend but, unfortunately, Eva really never could muster up those kinds of feelings for him.  Eva however, still really liked Mike and was looking forward to the adventure of going down to Windsor to see his grad.  We would, of course, stay with our relatives (on Mom’s side) and not at his apartment (which he shared with some other guy).  I guess I was a type of chaperone for this mission and would keep Evie, my big sister that I was in awe of, company while she drove.

We started out early in the day in Eva’s new, green, 1973 Maverick –“The Mav”.  The plan was that we would pull off the highway about once every hour so that Eva wouldn’t be too tired by the time we got there.  It’s about a 6-hour road trip from Walden to Windsor and sure enough we pulled off for a break each hour.  Eva would buy us a treat and we would sometimes gas up the Mav and then we would be on the road again.  The trip took us on multi-lane, fast 400-series highways all the way to Windsor which is situated on the border with The States.  We sung all kinds of great tunes.  Eva is a talented singer and loves to entertain.  We sang Band On the Run, Country Roads, Out on a Date, Maggie May and more.  My big sister Evie was so much fun!  I could hardly believe the adventure I was having and how lucky I was (compared to my brothers Luke, Job, Mark and Matt who had to stay at home).

We arrived in good time and I was amazed at the absolutely largest bridge I had ever laid eyes on.  Eva said that was the bridge to The States and that it was a mile long.  Holy Cow! I thought.

We found Mike’s apartment and Mike and his roomie welcomed us in with open arms.  There was lots of smiling and some cute flirting going on.  Eva was an expert joker and loved to wittingly poke fun at Mike.  Mike would get all shy, wave his hand and say, Oh Eva!  Mike opened the fridge to offer us a refreshment.  Eva politely declined but, I couldn’t help but notice that all of their food, even the peanut butter was in there.  Yuck! Cold peanut butter, I thought.  We were big peanut butter eaters in the Player household.  Mom used to buy peanut butter by the gallon bucket and it would be gone in a week.  We would usually find a butter knife in the emptying bucket.  One of us had just left it in there.  We NEVER put peanut butter in the fridge!  I had to ask.  I was so curious.  Why do you have all that food in the fridge?  It turned out that their apartment, which was actually in a really old huge brick house, probably out of the Victorian era, had bugs – cock roaches.  Keeping food in the fridge deterred these pests.  Next I had to use the toilet.

Eva said she would come in with me to freshen up while I used the toilet.  As we walked in to the bathroom I noticed that the bathtub was different from our late 70s model in our brick bungalow in Walden.  This tub had feet.  Everything looked different and old, but really neat at the same time.  Eva explained antiques to me as she applied some blush, mascara, then some blue eye-shadow and a bit of pinkish lipstick.  I can remember feeling like I was learning a lot on this trip.

I did a poop, wiped, and hopped off the toilet, yanking up my jeans and turning to look at my deposit.  There, in the bowl, was the biggest, fattest bowl movement I had ever produced, or seen produced, in my young life.  It was huge and it curled all the way around the toilet bowl!  I was pointing at it and saying: Wow, Eva, take a look at this!  When I noticed the look of utter horror on my big sister’s face. Flush it, Morgan! she ordered, before it stinks up this place really bad!

I reached over and pulled on the ancient flushing lever.  I couldn’t figure out why my oldest sister wasn’t as amazed by what I had produced as I was.  The massive, man-sized poop was going to be gone in an instant so I watched it closely as it was going to disappear down the hole.  Around and around and around it went but…it…did…not…go…down.  Instead it proceeded to float up higher to the rim of the bowl.  Again I was amazed at its size and bulk.  Eva hadn’t been watching.  She had been brushing her long, dazzling hair.

Look Eva, it’s not going down.  I said.  I wasn’t the least bit disturbed by this.

Oh no Morgan, she said in dismay as she pushed her shiny, straight brown hair behind her ears, They’re gonna think I did that! indicating with her head nod my big prize poop.

 So?

Oh never mind, you’re too young to understand.  We’ve got to do something before they wonder what the heck is going on in here!

Eva looked frantically around the bathroom until her eyes fell on a scoop beside the toilet that had been fashioned out of an old bleach bottle.  The rest of it happened pretty quickly.  She opened the window, grabbed the scoop, fished out the huge coil and tossed it straight out the window.  When I looked out to see if I could see where it landed, there it was: a large brown lump of poop, a little lower than the window, on a small roof, about ten feet away from my small wondering face.  Eva simply closed the window and the curtain, took one last glance in the mirror, plastered a somewhat nervous looking smile on her face, took my hand and opened the bathroom door.

Years later, after recounting this story to my best girl friend Flo, she was doubled over laughing then stood straight up and while smiling widely said,

Who says pigs can’t fly?   We both laughed some more.