Hacktreks in Canada
This... is for
me: a place of firsts.
Gimli Manitoba every summer still provides me with a great source of
pleasure, its definitely lost the magic. This largest-settlement-outside-of-Iceland
Lake Winnipeg appendage- that houses up to 8000 immigrant cottagers
every summer- is for me: a place of firsts.
First lake swim,
First fireworks event,
First ferris wheel ride and three legged race attempt.
First witnessing of sexual activities played out between Ken and Barbie
by my sage-older-cousin.
First cigarette-induced coughing attack, first light-Canadian-beer induced
display of drunken flirtation and obnoxious giggling, and first, "hey
man, those stars are a trip," exclamation following the inhalation
of my first west coast import doobie.
Now you understand the term magic.
Gimli was also the locale of my first real kiss. This brazen beso was
slapped on me by a 14-year-old skin head skater dude who was way too
cocky for his own good. This was the same boy who then proceeded to
ignore me the next day after I had decided to marry him at the fine
age of 12. He didnt even kiss well, using his tongue like an A.D.H.D
gopher poking its head up out of ground and then retracting frenetically
ad nauseum for what felt like hours.
Gimli was the first place I got to try driving a car. My Uncle Jerry
the farmer took me out in the tractor first for fear I would be a road
hazard in his Chevy Buick. So instead of worrying Id hit Great
Auntie Ida on her way home from the Bingo alley, we played pick-off-the-cows,
accelerating into open fields where I learned the hard way that not
ALL cows sleep standing up.
firsts in Gimli included fending off Hells Angels coming at
me across putting-green pool tables in the bar one day, and then
finding their repugnant ugly mugs in the obituary section the next
day having died of "unknown causes." (You try being that
ugly, mean, offensive, and philistine with a penchant for drunken
violence and then well talk about "unknown causes.")
firsts are as follows:
Skinny dipping with cute teenaged neighbours, constructing the perfect
smore, swimming five miles in a natural body of water with my Uncle
Guy, resuscitating myself after almost drowning due to a muscle cramp
induced by aforementioned swim in a natural body of water, thanking
my lucky stars I didnt drown from cramp induced by aforementioned
swim, sneaking out, getting caught, shaping up behaviour and then sneaking
out again. Oh, that and eating wieners and beans.
Like I said, the magic is gone, but the memories have left permanent
© Heather Neale December 2003
Update From Heather:
So Much To Tell... It's been a while since we've spoken, you and
I. There was a period there where you thought maybe I had gone for good.
But it was just a misunderstanding you see. I went to Mexico for a while,
made my attempts at oyster fishing, and sadly, came to terms with the
fact that I was terrible at it. (You try holding a spear that weighs
more than your right leg, executing a surface dive of about thirty feet
with it, hitting and grabbing up a camouflaged shell exactly at the
right spot, all the while holding your breath. Add to this equation
the fact that the surf is booming over your head sending your legs flying
in the opposite direction as your torso, and you will begin to recall
what it felt like to be a gangly prepubescent teenager unfamiliar with
the movements of your own two feet. As we move towards the glee and
joy and sometimes sadness of Christmas time, I hope that you have all
checked your stockings for coal, made sure to max out your credit cards
on Purdy's chocolates (the old standby in the event that you really
don't know your brother's sister-in-law's girlfriend well enough yet
to go for the old lingerie gift) and of course, gone in for your flu
shot. (No one wants a sniffling drunk on their shoulder at the New Year's
party.) There will be more news now that I have a computer again, but
for now, I shall say, good night. Be well. Heather
Meesha was sick,
Charlie knew it.
Haired Disasters -
Heather Neale on mother/ daughter/ boyfriend relationships
Heather Neale on Terror in the backroom
Yes-Girl Learns to say No.
expressing my frustration and feelings of violation by starving my body
Really Is Spinal Tap
Heather Neale gets a pain in the neck
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