The next nine years…Part 2

Posted on October 31, 2010 by ladamedobscurite

My memories of childhood are a bit sketchy, but I will relay them best I can. I can recall my foster mom watching The Secret Storm and the Edge of Night. The latter was more of a mystery/soap drama and may account for my love of spy, murder mystery and mayhem in books, movies and television shows. These soaps began airing in 1956 and ended in 74 and 84 respectively. I would have watched these along with her during my preschool years and then after school if they were airing at that time. Lots of scheduling changes from what I understand.

We lived in the valley of Sunnybrook Farm which we knew as Div-a-Dale Valley (Divadale?). I did some research recently about where I grew up which was fuelled by visits to Sunnybrook Hospital this past summer which happens to sit on the original homestead of Sunnybrook Farm owners, Joseph and Alice Kilgour. The history about Sunnybrook Farm and how it came to be the home of the Sunnybrook Health Science Centre and CNIB amongst other things is quite fascinating.

I lived where the original barns are still standing. In what was known as the ?? building. There was a three bedroom, two-storey apartment which is where we resided. The upper floor is being used for storage today and most of the bottom floor has been converted to change room and showers. There was and still is an equipment storage area on the other side of the shared wall and on the main floor where the park staff and cafeteria are located now was where the veterans would come to make poppy wreaths for remembrance day. These are the veterans we used to entertain in our sing-song acts.

We went to Northlea elementary school located on Rumsey Road, which my friend notes was a fair piece away from where we lived. She, being a city person, can’t imagine a 4, almost 5 year old walking that far to school, but that is how it was, though I imagine I was walked there or driven a few times to learn the way. Unfortunately I have no memory of that.

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The next nine years…Part 1

Posted on September 29, 2010 by ladamedobscurite

As I stated in an earlier post, my sister and I lived with foster parents for the next nine years. For me, it was from the age of not quite two until I was almost eleven. There is no way I can recap those nine years in one post, so I’ll do it a bit at a time.

I have this picture in my head of being a toddler trying to fold myself into a corner, to get as far away from my mom as physically possible. Not exactly the picture I’d want for any toddler. I can’t lay claim to this as a first person memory. It is more a representation of something my father relayed to me that he had witnessed when mom was visiting us. This visual reminds me of a picture I took of my son, while he was, sort of, in a corner of the living room, but he is happy to be caught on film. This always makes me smile and helps me pull away from my own experience.

I am told that I was slow developmentally, often the case with preemies. I was four pounds, two months premature and spent two months in an incubator. Perhaps this accounts for some of my difficulties later on, there is no way to be sure. Certainly I was a emotionally disturbed child based on my limited experience of the world by the time I was two.

My father proudly told me once that if it weren’t for him, my sister and I would have been separated from each other, had the prospective foster family had their way. The foster parents only wanted my sister. She was a cute, little baby and I was almost or about two, not nearly as cute and cuddly as a baby. My dad will tell you that he told them that if they didn’t take me they wouldn’t have either of us. I was about thirty when he told me this. While I can see why he is proud to say he kept us together, I’m sure you’ll pick up on the fact that being taken in by a family that is only doing so to get the baby is somewhat unsettling. Especially for the toddler, me!

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Beyond the love nest

Posted on September 28, 2010 by ladamedobscurite

There’s not much I can say about my parent’s life together as it was short-lived. I guesstimate that my sister and I were placed in the privately arranged foster home when I was about 16-20 months old and sis would have been 2-6 months.

Much of this period is pieced together through what little I do know and then formed into something that seems to fit. Remember that my dad doesn’t want to talk about anything that happened before yesterday and we have been estranged since 1994, so even if he has changed his tune I still don’t have access to the information.

Suffice it to say that mom was granted custody, and was the one, incidentally, that sourced the foster placement. Dad paid mom support payments which she in turn used to pay the foster parents. I’m not sure how long this payment arrangement was in force before it went south, but I do know that my dad went back to court to change the payment path and started paying support through the courts and then at some point acquired custody. Apparently my mom didn’t even show up for these court dates.

From this point on mom flitted in and out of our lives as the mood struck her. I have no recall of this, but again after some period, undefined, my father put his foot down and told her to stay away, that her comings and goings were really disruptive and destructive. Possibly one of the smartest actions I can attribute to and thank him for though when I was younger I thought it was terrible that he could do such a thing, keeping our mother away. Now I heartily agree with this action.

From my perspective that pretty much ends the “family unit” history of my life. Next, life with the foster parents!

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The love nest

Posted on August 23, 2010 by ladamedobscurite

According to my Dad’s account of wedded bliss, it wasn’t so blissful. Dad and Sylvia (don’t remember ever calling her mom) were frequently in conflict. Dad tells me that Sylvia always wanted to be near him, to kiss him, to be on his lap, etc. She would tug at him tearfully when he was leaving, pleading with him to stay home with her.

The one memory I do have sprang forth one evening as I was “meditating” myself to sleep. I was just about to hit the switch in my brain to “turn off” and bam, this mini video flashed in my brain. I don’t know who picked me up and who put me back in the crib, but I do sense the anger. I was pulled out of one person’s arms and set back into the crib and then Dad smacked my mother so hard she went reeling across the room.

It was like I was re-experiencing the entire event, so naturally I was extremely distraught with healthy doses of “I’ve lost my mind” dancing through my head. I called my Dad to ask him about this and his immediate reply was “what the hell does it matter what happened twenty-five years ago”. It mattered!

Three to six months later Dad confirmed that this happened not once, but several times.

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Hello world!

Posted on August 16, 2010 by ladamedobscurite

A new venture!  I have had a few people suggest that I should write a book and while that seems a bit daunting, I thought it’d be fun to try blogging about my life and see how that works out.

I was born November 18, 1956, two months premature. My mom and dad were 18 and 28 respectively and my mother’s birthday is July 5, so I’m sure you can do the math.  Not all was sweetness and light…more like noisy gunshots!  Yet another reason adding fuel to my father’s desire to not talk about the past.  Must have been quite the shock, especially to my ever so pious paternal grandmother. I can just imagine what my mom’s parents must have said when they learned the news. Says it loud and clear considering she waited until after her birthday (legal) to get married to my dear old dad!

The reason I know this to be true, is due to some pictures and documents I received as a result of reconnecting with my only female cousin on my fathers’ side about 4 years ago. Not long before this event I received the long version of my birth certificate which I requested to get my mother’s full name and whatever other information there was to be had.

The pictures and documents were part of my grandmother’s estate. It was good fortune that my Aunt passed it on to me along with a “family” bible I bought Grandma when I was 18. Amongst these materials is a picture of my mom and dad in wedding attire and a note on the back with a partial date.  Voilá! An auspicious beginning!

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