Out and About

The every evolving treehouse in the woods by our house.

As a Gen Xer who grew up wandering the mean streets of East Windsor, Ontario, Canada, more specifically known as the  Riverside area, which included the infamous Villages, Shit Creek, and Suicide Hill. I kid you not! The Catholic elementary school I attended was known around the city as St. Welfare (St. Wilfrid), which is what was chanted at us during any sporting event. We were suburban kids who were known to

stick together. ​

Our misfit crew of kids who grew up on our street was our extended family. We looked out for each other, stole food for each other, hid from parents with each other and when it came time to play, we 'murdered' each other with make-believe guns and fought off creepers like our neighbourhood 'Dinky Man' aka Banana Man, Jean the Flasher, GI Joe, basically a flasher who chased children and exposed himself to us.  He was the villain in many of our forest and pond scouring adventures and the basis for many a fright, real-life and made-up.

My immediate family included 3 high-energy monkeys, of which I was the oldest, so often given the responsibility of caring for my younger sister and brother while my parents were at work.  There were babysitters at times, but that story is for the blog

Summertime was a magical time when we got the hell out of dodge and headed for the Northern Ontario lakes and hills.  Packed tight like sardines in our powder blue Malibu, always with a tire on the roof, our journey always started around midnight so that we could head up the 401 in time to beat the Toronto traffic.  This was long before the 407 toll highway was created.  Falling asleep with a one-pieced bathing suit under pajamas, the 8-hour drive felt like months for 3 rambunctious kidlings who often kicked and wrestled for space in

the back seat of my dad's gas-guzzling beast.  The drive was always worth it when we finally made our way up the pine strewn path to our red and white family cottage built by my great-grandparents' own hands after they had bought the land for a Canadian dollar.

Rolling down the windows as we made our way up the long path, the smell of fresh lake and pine needles beckoned.  Before we were able to jump into the lake, we were always given the task of filling a wheelbarrow of sticks from the acreage and dumping them by the fire pit in preparation for the first night's campfire.  This chore always felt excruciating, and I have to admit that on more than one incident I broke free from the formation to run down the steps to the lake and dive in before anyone could catch me. The stick gathering

had to wait. 

This ritual began the unfolding of our summer of adventures with family, friends, and familiars who had explored the lake and surrounding woods for 4 generations. Our neighbours were our adversaries and protectors.  Family on one side and adopted family on the other.  Every year, we were excited to meet the new children who had been added to our pile of playmates.  Since the father was a missionary, he often returned from his trips with a child (at least this is the story we were told). On top of 2 of their own girls, they added a wonderful crew of kids who came from near and far places such as Winnipeg, Toronto, India, Japan, and Vietnam. To us, this was exotic and we felt so fortunate to include these new playmates in our reindeer games.   

Why did I include this long-winded trip down memory lane? I think it is because the early days are those that form who you become.  I became a teacher, an artist, a surfer, a wanderer, and a traveller.  The comfort of knowing I had such an amazing tribe  he encouraged me to leap to follow my curious adventurous side to explore our country and the world.  Our group of street urchins had a pentant for storytelling long before Facebook and Instagram arrived on the scene.  Communication through words, writing, and artmaking ran through our blood. 

Although it took a few false starts and winding adventures, including an extended decade-plus stay in Tofino, BC., I eventually made it to Camosun College in Victoria, BC, where I began my studies in the arts.  After a long hiatus from education, I returned to a 2 year program that enabled a deeper dive into completing an Honours Bachelor of Arts at NSCAD University in Halifax, NS.  4 years after finishing my degree, it was time to move back to my parents' basement to complete my Bachelor of Education at the University of Windsor.  

Eager to get the heck out of RADville (Riverside Area Disfunctional) again, I signed up to teach English in Gwangju, Korea (a story for another day), and then after a desperate exodus from Korea with a little help from some friends in low and high places, I made it to Kaoshiung, Taiwan where I met some of the most amazing locals and expats from around the world.  Together, we named ourselves 'The Dog Mamas' and the 'Kao Krew.'  Within 2 years, I worked at a variety of Bushibans and finally a year at a government-funded school which provided so many adventures as well as a balanced living with which I could pay off some of my student loans.