Onion Boy

When I finally grew up and became self-aware (mid to late 20s), one of the scariest aphorisms I read was "an unexamined life is not worth living". There was an emptiness just barely coated by a thin film of learned social responses. I have no idea how I was perceived by others but apparently mom and dad were worried enough about me that they sent me to a monastery in North Dakota (Assumption Abbey) for my freshman year of high school. I learned some interesting things there. Every day from 6:00pm to 7:00pm, we got on our knees and prayed at our desks; at the front of the room was a clock - by the end of the school year, watching the second hand, I could 'go away' within 5 seconds and not come back until prayers were over. Some people think I was just sleeping but the monks would have beaten me silly if they caught me sleeping - I was never caned like some of the wilder boys (all boys Catholic school) but I did get bent over a desk a couple times and whacked with a yardstick. Anyway, I do not know where I went; was it meditation? Why did/do I feel so good when I am back in my body? I was repeating the prayers with everyone else so could mean that it was a form of the chanting meditations (nom miyoho rengee kio or om mani padme hum) rather than the current 'mindful' meditation being practiced where you just breath. The next thing I learned was to not be in my body when something bad was happening like being beat with coat-hangers by upperclassmen - I could watch what was happening but not be in it. Another thing I learned is that even if someone beat the crap out of me then asked me if I learned anything, just say "I learned pain hurts" not give them any satisfaction. Then I took karate as soon as there was a class available which was when I went off to college - I did not care much for hitting people but I learned quite enough that no one ever hit me again - er, more than once my defense was almost impenetrable which did not win me any tournaments (though I did get 3rd place in board-breaking.

My place in the family was always the basement. my sister Jacquie always got the 2nd bedroom upstairs while Gerry and I lived in the basement. I was talking with Jacquie the other day and brought up the basement dwelling and she said "Oh, that is why I have no memories of us being together growing up". Dad was always in his bedroom reading or just laying there. I asked Jacquie about it and she says that she and dad used to play games until she got to a certain age and that stopped - this is similar to mom's stories about how dad used to play with Gerry and I while they were courting and for a while after they were married then it stopped. Dad was so extremely shy/introverted that he never talked to anyone (I guess over a certain age) - pretty odd for a bank loan officer (I later learned that the locals called him Mr. Giggles behind his back, for his nervous laugh, I suppose). Only at the cabin did he ever really talk to us and that was usually over drinks.

Living in the  basement was interesting, it started when dad bought a house on the hill in Livingston; there were 2 bedrooms upstairs and an unfinished basement. I think that building a bedroom for us down there was about the only real 'handy' thing dad did. But that house is the house at the edge of civilization mentioned in other posts about Livingston. The first 2 houses we lived in in P'wood (many sticks, murmurtonia and other odd kid names for the town) were on the crick. The first house did not have enough bedrooms so Gerry and I slept on the porch until dad found a house with enough room (ie a basement for us boys) but we did not stay there long; don't know if it was because the previous owner died in the basement when the crick flooded and the basement wall collapsed on him but that kind of creeped us boys out. Then we moved into the Boundary house with another basement but this one had a mother-in-law basement apt with sink and 2 rooms with a bathroom.

I knew how to play chess and so did my brother and he would come home and make me play him but I beat him almost every time and he would so damned angry. Sometimes I would pretend to be asleep when he got home but he would wake me up to play and I still beat him. I pretended to be asleep because I never got to sleep before 3 or 4 in the morning; I would just lie there in the dark thinking my thoughts; eventually, I started making up stories in my head where I was not quite so alone. Then I got a radio and listened to CKCK (CK62) out of Regina I think - at about one in the morning they had a 5th wheel program for long haul truckers that was 2 hours of comedy albums. Can you imagine listening to 2 hours of full comedy albums every night! Shelly Berman, Bob Newhart, Dick Gregory, Godfrey Cambridge many,.many others I can't remember right now. I suppose that contributed to what some see as my sense of humor. It was always cold in the basement in the winter; it got so that I needed the cold sometimes - like I would sleep with the window over the bed open (so this was after Gerry got married so I was promoted to his bed). I remember sometimes waking up to shake the snow off my blanket and closing the window. Other times I remember being so cold my feet never warmed up.

more later, maybe