Later Childhood

 At the age of 8 I realized that being adopted meant I was different. One day I was playing with some kids in the back lane. They were from the next block. I casually mentioned that I was adopted. Suddenly I was the center of attention. They all had natural parents and had never seen an adopted child before. I liked the attention. I started telling people I was adopted just to get a reaction.

At about age 8 I had my first serious criminal incident. I went to a house with a little friend, he was about 6. His name was John Mark. He was the little brother of my friend Mitch. The little boy we were going to see lived with his grandparents. He had no parents but he had every toy you could imagine. We were very jealous of him. We were hoping to play with his toys. There was nobody home. In that small town people didn’t lock their doors. We went in and played with his toys. After a while we searched the house. We found money in a dresser upstairs. Four $20 bills. We struck it rich. A while later we were playing with matches. We piled up some of the kids toys and set them on fire. We laughed, but soon the fire started to grow. It spread to the door frame and the house was filling with black smoke. We decided to leave. As we were about to leave I remembered the $80. I went back and threw the money into the fire. Both of us were all black from smoke. As we got home we heard fire trucks. It was obvious what had happened. Now outside authorities were involved. We had to speak to the Fire Chief. I blamed everything on John Mark, his English was not very good, his family spoke French. I got him to agree with what I was saying. We both got terrible spankings. I still keep in touch with John Mark. He says he got one hell of a beating. He has never had a focus in his life, he is a drifter.

I always played with fire. It fascinated me. I got very smart about it and hid it well from my parents. When I had my own children I taught them about fire from a very early age. We played with it together. I taught them how to be safe with it.

My parents always tried to protect and shelter me from the realities of life. I was always being given answers to my questions like “you wouldn’t understand”. I asked very big questions. When in Sunday school as I learned about Jesus and God I formulated a very large question. All the little creatures and children and parents also had parents. Jesus was the son of God, so it was quite natural for me to ask, “Who is Gods mother?” For that I was sent to the Sunday School Superintendent who severely chastised me for being a very mischievous little boy. I was very young, still in the Primary department. But I smelled something fishy. Children can sense hypocrisy and I sensed it. I began to doubt the existence of God. I never had the faith in the Christian God that my parents had. I was never able to draw on faith in my times of need. I was alone in the universe. At the age of 12 I committed the unpardonable sin, according to the bible. I defied God openly, out loud, I called out to the sky, I cursed God. I was not struck by lightning. Now I was sure that God did not exist.

Another humorous incident occurred at about that age. I took my Sunday School lessons quite literally. They said that God created man from dust and he would return to dust. I noticed large dust bunnies under my crib. I thought it was someone either coming or going from God.

I was always getting in trouble for stealing. My father took very good care of all his possessions. His car was immaculate. His clothes were immaculate. The house and yard were immaculate. I was not immaculate.

He always made a big fuss over money. When I was small and didn’t understand money I was very curious about it. Every Sunday he would make a big production of putting money in the church envelope. He kept change in an old humidor on his dresser and one day I began to take a few coins.  I didn’t know what to do with it but I knew it should go in an envelope. I got a church envelope out of his dresser and put the money in there. I hid it far behind the back leg of my crib. At the time I still slept in a crib in my parents room. From time to time during my nap time I would go and take some money from the humidor and stash it in the envelope. One day on his birthday my mother was giving him a present, I wanted to give him a present too so I went and got the envelope and gave it to him. There was a lot of questioning about it. I said I found the coins on the floor and collected them. There were quite a few. I lied, but I got away with it, there was no punishment. As time went on I got better at stealing and lying.

My parents were penny pinchers. They never gave me enough money to go to the movie and buy popcorn. I had to settle for the price of a ticket, while my friends had spending money. I coveted other peoples possessions and I started to steal. I always got this weird and wonderful feeling when I stole something. I liked to steal money most of all. From a very young age I would go through peoples coat pockets or suitcases if they came to visit overnight. I stole from my Great Uncle Al from Detroit. He had a lot of American money in his suitcase, several hundred dollars. I don’t remember how much I took but it was quite a bit. I wasn’t sure what to do with it or if it was real money. One day I left it lying on a path in the park and ran away. 

I stole from other visitors too. And spent the money. I would buy a toy and play with it for a while then throw it away cause I couldn’t bring it home. I started to steal from stores. I got caught trying to steal a carton of cigarettes when I was 9 or 10. I developed a system for stealing from Stedmans. I would walk through the store quickly and never stop moving. I planned ahead what I was going to take. I would walk by the counter it was on and pick it up and then head for the front of the store. There was a side door by the lunch counter and as I passed it I would duck out at great speed, then run like the wind for a block or so. One time I grabbed a couple of mega packs of chewing gum and this guy chased me. I outran him and ended up in the park, I threw the gum down and kept going. He picked up the gum and went back. 

I got into trouble with the police finally over the shoplifting. Some kids told on me.

I got a real good spanking that time too. All through my childhood and early teens I always knew inside that I was doing bad things because I chose to do them. I was secure in my own mind about what I was doing. I weighed the risks and consequences and went ahead if I thought I could do it. I was not driven by an uncontrollable urge. I was intelligent and cunning although motivated to do what was forbidden. When I got caught it was another game, I tried to get out of it. I would lie and say anything I thought might work. Inside I knew what I was doing. I thought I was being honest with myself. I chose to steal because I wanted to. I was an opportunist. I picked my times. Life was a big adventure and I was enjoying it despite anything my parents wanted. I may not have had a great deal of self confidence in dealing with others, but I was very confident within myself as far as my devious behavior went. I had a lot of secrets. They were mine. 

When I got caught I would lie and squirm. Sometimes I got away with it, sometimes I didn’t. When I was fully found out I would be in trouble for every little thing I had ever done. They always threw my whole life in my face. On day I had a thought. I realized that they probably wondered what other things I had gotten a way with. I casually said to my mother, “Every time I do something wrong I get caught”. She bought it hook line and sinker. They wouldn’t be poking about looking for other offences. There was plenty of unsolved mysteries in my neighborhood.  

Another very traumatic event occurred when I was 11 years old. My  father worked for a small department store chain for most of his adult life. In 1962 he had 25 years service and was rewarded with a gold watch. It was the highlight of his working life to which he was completely dedicated. His staff threw a surprise party for him at our house one Friday after work. The store was open until late and someone kept him behind while the rest got to the house. He walked in to a dark living room, the lights went on and everyone yelled surprise. It was his golden moment. 

That evening while everyone was having a good time the little bastard was busy working overtime upstairs. All the peoples coats etc. were on the bed in my parents room. One by one I went through all the purses and all the pockets collecting every cent I could find. I stashed the loot cleverly in the linen closet, not in my room. Certain that I had pulled off a successful caper I went downstairs and joined in the fun. 

The next morning at work, my dads staff began coming to him one at a time. Meanwhile I was laying in bed dreaming about how I would spend the haul. The phone rang, my mother talked for a few minutes then came up to my room. “Did you take money from coat pockets last night?” “No mommy.” The phone rang again, more people reporting missing money. “Your father is on his way home.”  

My dad came in and I denied everything as plainly as I  could. I was very polished at lying by now and  was very bold about it. I knew the more convincing I sounded the better my chances were of pulling it off. He went back to the store and my mother began searching my room. She was very upset by now. It was readily  apparent to them that I had stolen the money. I hung on to the thread that they couldn’t prove it. She searched and searched and finally got to the linen closet. She found the money. 

She phoned the store. Then all hell broke loose. I don’t know for sure how long it went on, I think maybe 2 days. I recall her coming into the room where I was crying, and screaming at me over and over and over. “You are a thief and a liar” she would say. Those were the two worst things one could be in that house. She threw every little incident in my life in front of me and condemned me for each thing. I cried and cried and cried and it went on and on, she was completely enraged, out of control. I was condemned wholesale repeatedly again and again. It seemed like it would never end.

The family name was severely tarnished now. I was a complete humiliation to my parents. They wrote me off entirely. When my father got home I got one hell of a spanking, but I got those all the time anyway. He looked at me as if I were the devil. I have seen that look many times. I felt completely worthless. Not only did I feel worthless, I knew I was worthless. I knew I was unwanted and unloved. Nobody loved me. 

I began to look elsewhere for love or affection. I would fixate on a little girl at school and have a secret love affair. I craved affection. Sometimes I fantasized about my birth mother. It was about that time that I started to have fantasies about being abandoned. I can recall laying in my bed and imagining that I was sick, dying, too weak to get up, unable to do anything but lay there. Outside the door to my room the world was going by. Everybody knew I was in there helpless but no one would come to my aid. My heart would ache and I would cry and cry. Another fantasy I had at Christmas. It would be Christmas morning and when I went downstairs there were lots of presents under the tree. Lots of presents for everyone, but nothing at all for me. I would make myself cry with that one too. Somehow the pain gave me something I needed. Christmas was my absolute favorite time. It was the one day when I felt real good.

I had started to hang around with a gang of kids that lived over by the river. Some of these boys were older and I idolized them. There were three islands in the river north west of town. We called them 1^st, 2^nd and 3^rd island. When the water was low in summer you could jump across the rapids between the islands on rocks, like stepping stones. Only when the water was really low could you get to 3^rd. Third Island was the biggest and neatest of the islands. It had a forest with lost of ferns. Kids used to get trapped on third sometimes. The water level was controlled at the dams about a mile upstream. Sometimes during low water the flow would be shut off almost completely. Then suddenly they would open the dams again and the water would rise in minutes. You had to watch the water level if you went to third island. Some kids got trapped there on a few occasions. We had  great adventures on the islands. Battles with BB guns, smoking cigarettes, dividing up the loot from capers.

Sometimes we talked about girls. I was fascinated with girls. I always had a secret crush on one or two. Some of  the lusty topics that came up just blew me away. No one really knew too much about sex but I began to learn a little bit about intercourse. I was very excited about the prospect. 

There were two brothers in that gang. Bobby and Kip Giles. They were a two and three years older than me. I thought the world of these boys. I would do anything to impress them. I stole cigarettes and lighters and matches and gave them to them. Their mother had died young and they lived with their dad. There were never any adults at their house and it was a great place to go. When school started in the fall Bobby told me I couldn’t hang out with them in the school yard. I was too young for their friends. I was broken hearted.

Bobby helped me curb my desire for stealing. He probably doesn’t realize it to this day. We used to call it “hooking”. One day at about age 14 I met him on the street. I had a hot lighter in my pocket. I walked up to him, pulled out the lighter  and showed it to him, bragging about how I stole it. He got into a huff and said, “are you still into that”. I was devastated, but my stealing slowed way down. Peer pressure.

Another valuable lesson I learned at that age was about gambling. When I got my first pay from my paper route I was so proud. It was about $2.40. I took the money with me on Saturday and went over to the Civic Centre I remember my mother telling me not to take all my money with me, but I wanted to have change jingling in my pocket. At the Civic Centre there were a few older boys playing poker at a table in the corner. They were about 16 years old, I was 11. I watched with fascination as nickels and dimes changed hands. One of them asked if I had any money. Of course I did. “Do you want to make some more.”

One dealt cards while another told me what to play, They let me win a little then cleaned me right out. I was devastated again. It was a good lesson though. I’ve never been able to put real money down seriously.

I learned my lessons about life from the world, not from my parents or teachers. I guess that’s what they call “the school of hard knocks”. There were a number of times that I had to face these harsh realities. Somehow, when I really had to I could be honest with myself and accept the reality. However, I had to learn each and every lesson the hard way.

My idea of fun was always doing what I wasn’t supposed to do. I had a lot of fun. I believed my parents didn’t want me to have any fun, and I said so often. I swore like a sailor outside of the house. I was able to turn my vocabulary on and off instantly in the presence of adults. I didn’t trust adults at all.

There were many, many episodes as I grew up, hundreds of them. I got away with an awful lot. Some of my biggest capers were never found out. I had the appearance of a good child. I lived in one of the nicest houses in town. I was always well dressed. I had good manners in front of adults. I was very bright. I also had a criminal mind and a lot of mixed feelings about myself. I was a walking contradiction.

One of the things I got in trouble for a lot was not coming home in time for supper. We ate a lot later than most people cause my dad didn’t get off work until 6. Other kids ate much earlier and would be back outside playing before I had to go home. In the spring I always got spring fever. The park by the river was a big draw. Of course I was forbidden to play by the river. Nearly every year in the spring a child would drown in the river. Quite naturally I was down at the river as often as I could be. I got plenty of spankings for being late and being at the river.

Smoking was another big one. I began to smoke at about age 9. I smoked as often as I could. By 14 I was a regular smoker. Getting money for cigarettes was always a problem. I was always trying to steal money or cigarettes. I used to steal from peoples milk bottles at night. That was profitable. I scanned car dashboards for cigarette packs. I stole ladies purses whenever I could. I was a good thief. 

My dad was so busy working and my mother with her garden and ladies auxiliary that I was pretty well left to my own devices most of the time. I got grounded sometimes, but that meant they had to supervise me. My dad never played any sports with me, he never knew sports himself growing up. He never threw a ball to me. When I wanted to play hockey the answer was NO. They wouldn’t spend the money for the equipment.

Basically there was little or no guidance. I had to go to church and Sunday school every week. I hated it too. I used to smoke in the men’s washroom at the church between services. I was always dressed very well, especially on Sundays. I was supposed to look good, like the house. My dad had a sign in his office at the store. It said “The clothes make the man”. I think he believed it.

One thing I never did was throw tantrums. I always was amazed when I saw other kids throw them. My parents were models of polite behavior. They never fought or argued. Everything was settled in discussions. My mother was also her husbands faithful servant. He ruled the roost. People that knew my parents said they never knew another couple who loved each other more. My dad was very modest about showing affection to my mother. I never really saw them have a passionate embrace. My mother always talked about how much she loved her husband.

To Teenage