The house I lived at, at 23 Denham, was a split-level detached house built in the 60s on the site of what used to be a golf course. The street itself ran the length of exactly one block, at both ends having another side street running perpendicular to it. The numbers on the street maybe ran as high as 28, so we were near the north end on the east side. As I grew up, I became familiar with the people who lived in some of the homes around us, so I'm going to mention them before getting into the real start of my personal story.
Next to us to the north, at 25, there was a family whose name I couldn't remember. They had a daughter named Julia, and I got to know her as a playmate and friend. It was one of those relationships in the movies, where kids who are the same age live next door to each other, grow up together, eventually marry and remain together for the entirety of their lives. When I was around 5 or so, probably the summer before I started school, Julia's family moved away. I vaguely remember being told they went to Hawaii, but perhaps they were Hawaiian and just moved somewhere else. Regardless, she had been a big part of my childhood to that point, and losing her friendship still saddens me to this very day. Wherever you wound up, Julia, I do hope you have had a happy life.
To the south, at 21 Denham lived the Freckers. Can't remember the wife's name, but the husband was Bill, and these two were elderly when I first met them, never mind the years that passed. Bill had a garage in his backyard, the only house in the area that did, and he kept a workshop in there that I visited maybe twice growing up. The two of them were always nice to me, chatting and keeping an eye on me for my parents when I was out playing, but never in an obvious way. I spent a lot of time playing with their grandchildren when they came to visit from Oshawa, two girls named Nicole and Danielle. Danielle was younger than Nicole by maybe two years, and Nicole was younger than me by 3 or 4, so we didn't meet or play until I was a bit older.
Next to the Freckers, at 19 Denham, were the Tobins. They too had a daughter, named Lisa, and she was a bit older than me, by maybe 3 or 4 years. Lisa Tobin was involved in my first sexual experiences with a member of the opposite sex, soon after which she got her period, which stopped everything immediately - soon after, they too moved away. I remember that before I was allowed to play with Lisa, I was given a literal fifth-degree questioning by her mother up their driveway so that my mother wouldn't be able to spot it occuring if she happened out on to the sidewalk. I don't recall anything sinister about the questioning, but it took a long time and was all over the map as to what was asked. Just a weird situation, for sure.
Next to them were two more houses whose inhabitants I had interaction with over the years. 17 had the Gummetts, a nasty old couple who were generally the meanies of the street. They were the house where, if you lost a ball, it would never come back. Theirs was also the first house on the street that, when travelling south, wasn't like the others around it. All the houses were identical on the street as far as design, with maybe a few mirror images in how they were built, except three: 25, where Julia lived, and the Grummetts' home were still the same style, but turned sideways. Number 15 was either turned totally around or was a different style altogether. I think that it was just turned around, so the back was the front with windows on the upper floor, but never went in it so have no idea. It was at number 15 that Fred the dog lived, and I'll discuss my interaction with him in another post.
Across the road I only knew two families, the people directly across from us and the house one to the south of them, so probably numbers 22 and 20. At 22 were the Methvans, again an older couple whose daughter was attending college. Cindy Methvan was my piano teacher when I was younger, before she moved from her parent's house and got married. At 20 Denham was Ann Dark. She was alone as far back as I can remember, and also fairly old. She was the person on the street who hid behind the curtains and watched everybody coming and going. She was also apparently a wild racist. Never got to know her beyond those facts, so who knows if any of it is true?
The only other home on the street that bears mentioning was number 27 Denham Road, where at some point during my grade school years a Czechoslovakian family moved in, the Bolchiches, That is a phonetic spelling, as I have no idea how it was properly spelled. They moved in with their sons Gordon and Dennis when I was in early double digits, and due to the nosy interactions of both my mother and theirs, our friendship ended after about a year and became distrust and hostile glances for the remainder of my life on that street. That was a shame, but I feel nothing but animosity towards them now, and have no idea anymore if any of it was even warranted. I'll get into that stuff at another time.
Beyond the confines of my street, I knew a bit about some other people in the neighbourhood, but didn't get that information until I started attending school at Dorset Park Public School. The school was at the south end of Blaisdale, the street parallel to Denham one over to the west. It went just south of the street at the south end of mine, Cornwallis, and dead-ended in the school parking lot. Needless to say, I was only a three minute walk from the school doors to my door, which is ideal for kids first starting out. Beyond that, I knew about the White Shield Plaza, where resided a Miracle Mart, which was our main grocery store, located right at the northwest corner of the intersection of Kennedy and Lawrence, and the McGregor Park Library and Arena, found on the south side of Lawrence right between Kennedy and Birchmount Road, where they had an outdoor swimming pool and indoor skating rink. Until I was much older, and apart from knowing where my grandmother on my mother's side lived at 70 Eastwood Avenue down at Gerrard and Coxwell, these locations and people were the centre-point of my life.
About Me
- Gutrend
- A big lover of all types of media, from Movies to Video Games, Books to Music, Television to Stage.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Friday, January 28, 2011
Family At Childhood
My father was a Toronto Firefighter, working mainly at the Main Street firehall, just south of Gerrard St. and the Main Street subway station. The hours of a typical firefighter at that time was 12 hours on, 12 hours off, in groups of three and four days and nights. I still remember the little calendar he used to carry with him in his wallet, with days marked as red numbers, and blue for the nights. It would have six months laid out on each side, all on a plastic card the same size as your average credit card. Damn, haven't thought about that until just now when I started writing about his shifts. I seem to remember him leaving home around 5 or 6 in the morning, in order to get to the day shift, and I certainly remember him coming home one Christmas morning even before any of the presents had been opened. I was thrilled that Christmas, because I was under the impression that he wouldn't be home that morning. Sometimes he worked a double, which kept him away for a full 24 hours, and I can't remember whether that was a regular occurrence when he changed from days to nights or vice versa, or whether he was filling in for someone who wanted to be home for a specific day. Regardless, there were quite a few Christmases when my father wasn't there.
That meant being with my mother. She was for the most part a stay-at-home mom, but I remember her having secretarial jobs, or job, when I was really young. Most of my early years, however, she was always at home. I don't know whether it was because she was the parent present at most times, or whether it was just a part of her nature her entire life, but she was the main disciplinarian. Either way, I very early had a general dislike of my mother and a wish to see more of my father. I don't know that I ever actually loved either of them, early on or as I grew up, beyond the obligatory "You have to love your parents" crap that people are fed every day. I do know that very early on I was aware that the two of them did not love each other, way before it became apparent to the rest of the world and family. I also know that my reactions to their deaths was like night and day: When I heard from my father through his lawyer that my mother had died, we threw an impromptu party; I'm still mourning the passing of my father, and nightmares keep reminding me of the fact.
My earliest memories are quite disjointed. I have three that I can't decide the order of. My very earliest memory, to my current knowledge, is of being awakened in my crib by a siren from either a police car, fire truck or ambulance, and both my mother and father coming into the room to respond to my crying. My next memory is that of having to take a nap when my grandmother on my mother's side, Marjory Noble, was babysitting me. I actually remember watching a clock near the crib (I think it was a crib I was in, since it was the same room, and when I got older and had my actual bedroom it wasn't the one I was in when I was a baby) and thinking that if I just stay quiet she'll think I'm asleep; I reasoned out that if she thought I slept long enough, she would come get me and we'd go back to playing. I didn't know that she had probably put me down for a nap so she could rest. I wasn't old enough to know that subtlety.
My third memory, probably not as old as the first two but still when I was quite young, took place in Niagara Falls. I remember driving along what turned out to be Lundy's Lane and seeing a plaster dinosaur. It ended up being at a miniature golf course which has long since been replaced by something else, but my early fascination with dinosaurs (which to my knowledge every male child has at one point or another) was fuelled by that image. Not fossil fuelled, that would be bad for the environment. My mother always said that when I was younger and we played, and I learned a word, like cow for instance, she'd pack us up, head north, find a cow and show it to me for real. That's cool, if it is true...I honestly don't remember, but for decades I've taken her word for it. I do know that we did a lot of travelling my entire childhood, and my Niagara Falls memory underlines that it happened even when I was at a very young age.
Beyond my immediate family and my grandmother on my mother's side, there was only one other group of family I ever remembered from that time. That would be the other half of my grandmother's children, comprising my uncle Bill Noble, his wife Ardith, and their daughter Jennifer. It was always a treat to visit Uncle Bill and Aunt Ardith because I could hopefully play with Jennifer, who even then was a couple of years older than I, and to this day somehow still seems to be. The best visit I ever had was one that involved going there, to their house south of Kingston Road in east Scarborough, and having Jennifer ask me to play with her without having her parents push her to do so. Looking back on it from now, I figure they probably made her do so, but arranged it before we arrived. Jennifer didn't much like me at that age, and that was mainly due to my mother constantly acting as though I was the second coming of Christ or some such ridiculousness. I was probably picking up on her attitudes, and that most likely made me a snob, or as much as one can be at that age. I don't personally remember any behaviour that would label me as such, but I'm sure that with my mother's influence I would have exhibited that type of behaviour.
My sphere of close family only included the people listed above. I have only vague memories of my grandfather on my mother's side, as he was slowly dying of cancer during those early years of my life, and I've either shut out the memories or was too young and restless to pay much attention. I have thoughts from then, but this entry is too long already, so I'll move that to another post. I have virtually no memories of my father's parents, but there is good reason for that and I will also cover that in the future. For now, however, these were the people in my childhood, and who I began exploring the world with.
That meant being with my mother. She was for the most part a stay-at-home mom, but I remember her having secretarial jobs, or job, when I was really young. Most of my early years, however, she was always at home. I don't know whether it was because she was the parent present at most times, or whether it was just a part of her nature her entire life, but she was the main disciplinarian. Either way, I very early had a general dislike of my mother and a wish to see more of my father. I don't know that I ever actually loved either of them, early on or as I grew up, beyond the obligatory "You have to love your parents" crap that people are fed every day. I do know that very early on I was aware that the two of them did not love each other, way before it became apparent to the rest of the world and family. I also know that my reactions to their deaths was like night and day: When I heard from my father through his lawyer that my mother had died, we threw an impromptu party; I'm still mourning the passing of my father, and nightmares keep reminding me of the fact.
My earliest memories are quite disjointed. I have three that I can't decide the order of. My very earliest memory, to my current knowledge, is of being awakened in my crib by a siren from either a police car, fire truck or ambulance, and both my mother and father coming into the room to respond to my crying. My next memory is that of having to take a nap when my grandmother on my mother's side, Marjory Noble, was babysitting me. I actually remember watching a clock near the crib (I think it was a crib I was in, since it was the same room, and when I got older and had my actual bedroom it wasn't the one I was in when I was a baby) and thinking that if I just stay quiet she'll think I'm asleep; I reasoned out that if she thought I slept long enough, she would come get me and we'd go back to playing. I didn't know that she had probably put me down for a nap so she could rest. I wasn't old enough to know that subtlety.
My third memory, probably not as old as the first two but still when I was quite young, took place in Niagara Falls. I remember driving along what turned out to be Lundy's Lane and seeing a plaster dinosaur. It ended up being at a miniature golf course which has long since been replaced by something else, but my early fascination with dinosaurs (which to my knowledge every male child has at one point or another) was fuelled by that image. Not fossil fuelled, that would be bad for the environment. My mother always said that when I was younger and we played, and I learned a word, like cow for instance, she'd pack us up, head north, find a cow and show it to me for real. That's cool, if it is true...I honestly don't remember, but for decades I've taken her word for it. I do know that we did a lot of travelling my entire childhood, and my Niagara Falls memory underlines that it happened even when I was at a very young age.
Beyond my immediate family and my grandmother on my mother's side, there was only one other group of family I ever remembered from that time. That would be the other half of my grandmother's children, comprising my uncle Bill Noble, his wife Ardith, and their daughter Jennifer. It was always a treat to visit Uncle Bill and Aunt Ardith because I could hopefully play with Jennifer, who even then was a couple of years older than I, and to this day somehow still seems to be. The best visit I ever had was one that involved going there, to their house south of Kingston Road in east Scarborough, and having Jennifer ask me to play with her without having her parents push her to do so. Looking back on it from now, I figure they probably made her do so, but arranged it before we arrived. Jennifer didn't much like me at that age, and that was mainly due to my mother constantly acting as though I was the second coming of Christ or some such ridiculousness. I was probably picking up on her attitudes, and that most likely made me a snob, or as much as one can be at that age. I don't personally remember any behaviour that would label me as such, but I'm sure that with my mother's influence I would have exhibited that type of behaviour.
My sphere of close family only included the people listed above. I have only vague memories of my grandfather on my mother's side, as he was slowly dying of cancer during those early years of my life, and I've either shut out the memories or was too young and restless to pay much attention. I have thoughts from then, but this entry is too long already, so I'll move that to another post. I have virtually no memories of my father's parents, but there is good reason for that and I will also cover that in the future. For now, however, these were the people in my childhood, and who I began exploring the world with.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Who Am I? Starting At The Beginning...
My name is David William Stanley Rudd. I was born at 8:18pm Eastern Standard Time on April 28th, 1971 in Scarborough Centenary Hospital, Scarborough, which was at the time a suburb of Toronto, Ontario, Canada. I don't currently remember what my birth weight is, though I do have documentation of that fact, and will post it at some time in the future if and when I find it. I was born to my natural biological parents, Marilyn Maxine Rudd and David Stanley Rudd. At the time of my birth, my father had turned 30 only 6 days before, and my mother would turn 29 in 23 days. Prior to being pregnant with me, my parents had lived in an apartment building at the intersection of Midland Rd. and Kingston Rd. in Scarborough, but then moved after my conception but before my birth to the house I would know as my first home at 23 Denham Road., also in Scarborough, near the intersection of Kennedy Road and Lawrence Avenue. This blog is meant to be about the facts of my life, and while the statistics and information above is certainly meant to start us all off at the same point I started off from, the blog itself may not be continued strictly in chronological order.
A lot of my formative years were spent with my mother, and my main motivation during a great deal of that time was hate mixed with fear. I will get into specifics as the blog progresses, but I feel it is important to place things as quickly into perspective as possible right here at the beginning.
This blog is of course going to be written from my personal viewpoint, and all events I mention will therefore be tainted with my emotional relationship to them. I have not marked this blogsite as an adult site, though there is a good chance that expletives and possibly controversial subject matter may be found in these writings - I expect the average reader to proceed with the knowledge of these truths, and hope that any comments I receive over the course of my writings are mature and thought out with this in mind.
Additionally, I will name names as the events unfold. This is not to disparage anyone who I write about who has interacted with me over my years, this is only to allow my life to be as fleshed out on these pages as possible so that after I am gone some part of myself will remain as long as the future allows. I will never provide contact information for anyone who has left my sphere of knowledge regardless of the reasons such information may be requested, and other than my own personal addresses I will not be any more specific than a nearest intersection for anyone else's whether the people in question still reside there or not. If I do not remember something, I will not attempt to embellish what I relate unless I purposefully state that I am doing so, and while I apologize here and now for anything that I write that turns out is not true, I will not apologize for being truthful about anything I write. I do not intend this blog to be depressing, but will ensure that it contains all the ups and downs I have experienced, and can remember, since 1971.
This is how this particular blog is going to be written, and this is what the blog is going to contain. If interested, please keep reading - if not, I do write other blogs that are much more entertaining, and I list them here for your pleasure: Crap I Think About, which is about things that I feel I need to voice an opinion over; Confessions Of An Achievement Whore, a videogaming blog that covers new titles, my reviews, and at some point will even discuss games of the past that I have immersed myself in; Real To Reel, a movie blog focusing on rumours and news, but also contains some reviews and is generally film related with some DVD and Blu-Ray stuff thrown in for good measure; and Telly Vision, discussing current shows and past series, whether available on disc or internet. I hope that if you do not read my writings here, you take the time to see if any of my other blogsites are more palatable for you.
One last note: This blog will be updated on an infrequent basis. I am approaching my 40th birthday, I have Congestive Heart Failure, and as already stated I am managing four other blogs at the same time. I always update my first blog, Crap I Think About, whenever I write a post on any of the other blogsites, so if you want to keep track of posts here, reading that one regularly would be the best way to go about it as far as I know. People who have subscribed to the other blogs are for some reason not getting updated as to when I post, but that is a Blogger problem, not mine.
Hope everyone has a good day, and I will write here again soon.
A lot of my formative years were spent with my mother, and my main motivation during a great deal of that time was hate mixed with fear. I will get into specifics as the blog progresses, but I feel it is important to place things as quickly into perspective as possible right here at the beginning.
This blog is of course going to be written from my personal viewpoint, and all events I mention will therefore be tainted with my emotional relationship to them. I have not marked this blogsite as an adult site, though there is a good chance that expletives and possibly controversial subject matter may be found in these writings - I expect the average reader to proceed with the knowledge of these truths, and hope that any comments I receive over the course of my writings are mature and thought out with this in mind.
Additionally, I will name names as the events unfold. This is not to disparage anyone who I write about who has interacted with me over my years, this is only to allow my life to be as fleshed out on these pages as possible so that after I am gone some part of myself will remain as long as the future allows. I will never provide contact information for anyone who has left my sphere of knowledge regardless of the reasons such information may be requested, and other than my own personal addresses I will not be any more specific than a nearest intersection for anyone else's whether the people in question still reside there or not. If I do not remember something, I will not attempt to embellish what I relate unless I purposefully state that I am doing so, and while I apologize here and now for anything that I write that turns out is not true, I will not apologize for being truthful about anything I write. I do not intend this blog to be depressing, but will ensure that it contains all the ups and downs I have experienced, and can remember, since 1971.
This is how this particular blog is going to be written, and this is what the blog is going to contain. If interested, please keep reading - if not, I do write other blogs that are much more entertaining, and I list them here for your pleasure: Crap I Think About, which is about things that I feel I need to voice an opinion over; Confessions Of An Achievement Whore, a videogaming blog that covers new titles, my reviews, and at some point will even discuss games of the past that I have immersed myself in; Real To Reel, a movie blog focusing on rumours and news, but also contains some reviews and is generally film related with some DVD and Blu-Ray stuff thrown in for good measure; and Telly Vision, discussing current shows and past series, whether available on disc or internet. I hope that if you do not read my writings here, you take the time to see if any of my other blogsites are more palatable for you.
One last note: This blog will be updated on an infrequent basis. I am approaching my 40th birthday, I have Congestive Heart Failure, and as already stated I am managing four other blogs at the same time. I always update my first blog, Crap I Think About, whenever I write a post on any of the other blogsites, so if you want to keep track of posts here, reading that one regularly would be the best way to go about it as far as I know. People who have subscribed to the other blogs are for some reason not getting updated as to when I post, but that is a Blogger problem, not mine.
Hope everyone has a good day, and I will write here again soon.
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