If you have read my Blog ” Bully no more” you’ll have a better perspective of my life when I was 10 yrs. old. I have to admit though, I made a small mistake with my age, when moving to Alberta I was the tender age of 9.
A Volkswagen van packed to 2 ft shy of the roof, why leave 2 ft.? that was where I lay/slept and watched my life go by mile by mile. I don’t know just how many trips my father made with that Volkswagen back and forth over the Rockies and on the BC Ferries to Victoria and back again to the lovely city of Edmonton–our 1st Albertan home. My father found us a little basement suite to use as his home base to search for the farm he wanted to drag my brothers and I too.
The weather was just turning hot, there was still a month of school left, and we had to go,I found it quite funny that out of my brothers and I, I was the only one who didn’t get lost walking home that first day! Before we moved there I was a 9 yr. old with quite a chip on my shoulder, and I brought it with me! For unknown reasons I had to stick up for my older brother ( 2 yrs. older) because I didn’t like what some girls were saying to him ( or was it me?? I can’t remember) I just wanted to beat someone up! I had anger problems…. I think I’ll elaborate on that in another Blog.
The owner of the house that we lived in was an Italian man with a family with lots of kids, the man and my father seemed to get on quite well, there were a few nights we had to suffer thru loud Opera and some sort of booze flowing between them. I remember once in that short month in Edmonton my father took me to these people’s house, it was a nice modest house with a lot of antiques and the coffee table was covered in plates of cookies. I’m not sure what lead up to this conversation but it was something like this……” You have to meet my son! he is a couple of years older but you would make a good couple!” “Here…take this money and buy your self something nice!” as he shoved a fistful of bills into my hand! I was dumb struck! My father never said a word, I was looking at him for guidance but he never said a word, all he did was sneak take the money out of my hand and tuck it under the table-cloth near the cookies.
This man kept talking about how his son and I were going to be husband and wife, yes husband, an arranged marriage! I was a bit young he said, they would wait until I was 10 to make the arrangement!…I was freaking out, my guts were churning and I was turning purple I could feel it! My father never came to my rescue and he only said one thing… “To seal the deal it would cost you a goat!!” the Landlord man agreed and they shoke on it. He would bring the Goat in the Fall to give us time to settle in at our new farm , and wait till my birthday in October! They shook hands and the man gave me a big hug and the european kiss, kiss on the cheeks then we left.
I don’t think I ever talked to my father about what just happened, I thought it more of a joke, but deep in the back of my brain there was a fear? especially when fall came and I celebrated my 10th birthday, I found myself watching the Hwy. and paying way more attention to the vehicles that came down our road, keeping an eye out for a truck with a Goat in it ! Luckly one never came.
I finally forgot about almost being traded for a goat when I was 9-10 yrs. old, not too many people believe me when I tell them about it, but it’s true , I told my hubby I was writing about it tonight and he said ” No, you’re not worth a Goat, but you sure have a stubborn streak in you like One!! ha! ha!
I have countless true tales that sound just like that…tales, but they are all true! Come back again sometime!