when-i-was-a-kid-3

[when-i-was-a-kid-3]

Bittersweet

[when-i-was-a-kid-3]

Goblin

https://www.pinterest.ca/pin/338684834455838979/

[when-i-was-a-kid-3]

Icarus, Goblin, Heritage

https://teamdivarealestate.com/4-reasons-why-crown-hill-is-one-of-seattles-homiest-neighborhoods/

[when-i-was-a-kid-3]

Heritage

https://www.cars.com/research/ford-tempo-1992/consumer-reviews/

[when-i-was-a-kid-3]

Heritage

(via GIPHY)

[when-i-was-a-kid-3]

Heritage

It was a rare day in the household, my dad didn’t get called to work at the warehouse so I got to see him during the day. With my brother at school my parents and I went out to get all the groceries for the week. With my dad home we got to use the car that I rarely ever rode in. It was foreign compared to the bus, I could sleep and stretch myself out as much as I wanted in the backseat without a scolding from my mother. Once we stopped by all the stores we needed my dad thought this was a perfect time to return the lawnmower he bought a week previous, I mean he got the old one to work again right?

I remember waiting in the customer service line at Canadian Tire patiently, knowing that my dad hated nothing more than time spent doing nothing. Eventually we creeped up to the front where I could hear the lady at the desk saying something about the box being opened or a sale being over. This is when my dad started complaining, to me it was nothing really new but I could tell that people around weren’t the most appreciative of my dad holding up the line further. I still thought everything was fine until I heard a voice behind me say “That's not how we do things here in Canada, maybe you can do that from whichever country you came from”. It was a middle aged man with a son around my age. I didn’t understand, we were all born here right? Was I different from my own dad? 

As I turned back to the counter I saw my mother holding my dad back, he was saying words I never heard him say and he looked unrecognizable to me, my own father. Sure I saw him angry but not like this, I followed briskly a couple feet behind as my mom dug her nails into my fathers arms and brought him back to the tempo in the parking lot. 

Like many stories from people's childhoods the naivete of being a kid distorts the reality that may actually be occurring. To me this was the best entertainment I have ever watched but as I aged I came to terms with the not-so-innocent truth. My father who worked so hard to carve himself a better home was seen as nothing but an alien, a savage, and a lesser being.

[when-i-was-a-kid-3]

Heritage

Todd Robertson via Southern Poverty Law Center

[when-i-was-a-kid-3]

Goblin

[when-i-was-a-kid-3]

Goblin

[when-i-was-a-kid-3]

Goblin

It was fall of 2002, I had just turned 5 years old and life was good. I was oblivious to the financial struggles my family was going through, after all sharing a room with everyone was like having a sleepover every single day. Many things “regular” families looked at were luxuries to us, one of which was going to the theatres to watch movies. You wouldn’t believe the excitement when my parents exclaimed that they had saved up enough to take myself and my older brother to watch Spider Man 2 to celebrate the birthday I was earnestly oblivious to having. 

The movie was great, obviously absent was the popcorn and other snacks but I finally got to see the Spiderman I had been noticing everywhere on the bus. It was amazing, “how could anyone fling themselves from building to building?” I pondered. Suddenly “He” appeared, The Green Goblin. To anyone else he was Willem Dafoe dressed in a metallic green plastic costume, but to me he was my worst nightmare (literally). After the movie my parents pressed my brother and I on our favourite moment of the film but as my brother rambled incoherent adjectives I was oddly silent. It was fine I thought, not real… 

As I drifted into sleep that first night it hit me, I woke up seeing the Green Goblin burst into our basement suite. He had no regard for my family as they stood by sleepily watching as he stalked me around our home. I was throwing everything at him, leapfrog, cup, shoes, nothing slowed him down. As he cornered me inside our only bathroom my heartbeat quickened its pace to a crescendo abruptly stopping. My eyes opened, I was drenched in sweat alongside an unfortunate accident. Internally I was hysterical yet kept my thoughts to myself hoping not to disturb my brother. The thoughts wouldn’t dissipate, I couldn’t go back to sleep. When my parents woke up I was given a firm scolding to but more than that the fear of the Green Goblin stayed. Day after day I was worried about the night terrors praying each night before bed for protection. I found blinking quickly in the millisecond lapse of each dream where I recognized the illusion to be my greatest weapon. After some careful thought Willem Dafoe wasn’t even that scary, he wasn’t tall or strong at all. In fact, besides his face he was by all accounts pretty harmless. Not that any of this would matter, as each night passed I came more and more prepared for our inevitable rematch.

[when-i-was-a-kid-3]

Goblin

The Break-In (2016)

[when-i-was-a-kid-3]

Icarus 

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[when-i-was-a-kid-3]

Icarus

There was a steep road on the hill behind the basement suite we lived in, perfect to cruise your bicycle on. Every day of the week I had the same routine, after my dad went to work I’d follow him saying goodbye to my mother like a labourer heading towards the mines. I’d grab my old rickety rusty bike and make my way to the road. It was the same bike I learned to ride on and was starting to creak and whine attempting to handle the weight I was seemingly putting on by the minute. I’d walk up the hill with my bike in tow, careful not to get too tired before reaching the top. 1,2..6, I counted the passing houses on the block and their seemingly monotonous appearance. 

Once at the summit I engaged my strategy, similar to that of an olympic luger. This consisted of gliding for the first couple of feet, followed by around 10 seconds of breakneck pedal pounding finishing off by coasting to the end of the block, careful not to go into the busy road at the end. One Saturday I had done a slightly different routine, I instead said goodbye to my brother this time and when at the peak of the hill I was struck by a grandiose idea. What if I pedal as hard as I can the entire journey? How fast could I go? How cool would I look? All of this ran rampant in my head, I couldn’t possibly see any downsides to doing this, it was set. 

When I pushed off my heels down the hill I pictured myself reaching the bottom of the hill with flames enveloping my oversized Bell helmet. It didn't take long however, about 5 feet or so to realize that initially cruising was imperative to get the balance needed as an inexperienced rider. As I started pedalling I immediately swerved right, harshly into the freshly installed and only steel fence in the entire neighborhood. Here is where my story ends and a recounting from my brother's perspective begins. 

At around noon that day my mother asked my brother to go bring me back for lunch to which he begrudgingly agreed. After turning off Recess and strolling outside he noticed that while looking up and down the street he couldn’t see me. Weird, he thought as he walked up the hill hoping to find me somewhere in the vicinity. As he passed by the house with the steel fence he noticed a slumped figure with a pool of blood accumulating around the head. “He’s dead!” He yelled as he dragged my small limp body back to our door. Upon careful inspection by my mother it seemed I only suffered some major road rash alongside a nasty cut on the forehead. In fact it was so mild to my mother when weighed alongside the cost of going to the hospital waiting room she believed her polysporin alcohol concoction would do a better job anyways. I can’t complain however, besides a slight lapse in memory, what I got out of this whole ordeal was a cool scar and being able to use my brothers bike.

[when-i-was-a-kid-3]

Icarus