Reflections: Montreal Life

There was a time, not too long ago, when you could clearly identify a car by the shape of its headlights. Many warm evenings were spent on our front porch playing the “Car Call-out game”, to see who could first call-out the make, model, and year of passing cars. “There goes a ’67 Corsair…a ’69 Skylark…a ’74 Monte Carlo”. In those days you could almost instantly shout out a car’s make and model. As in the past, our cars were designed with much more flair and pride in workmanship, giving each car a distinct character.

As we walk through our neighbourhoods, our abandoned school buildings continue to speak to us directly, awaiting their final days in dark, secluded silence. Old friends like Allion Elementary School and Crawford Park Elementary, continue to remind us of the importance these buildings once played in defining who we are today.

Their halls are now empty of the laughter, friendships and school spirit that only children could bring.

Midnight in the European countryside, carrying all of their provisions, including their rifles and ammo, they waded through an ice-cold river, as they heard the sudden order to stop and stand still.

--October 31, 2011.

The flicker of images on the screen was the only source of light for an estimated crowd of 800 who were packed into the old Laurier Theater, for a cold Sunday afternoon matinee on January 9th, 1927. The balcony itself was crammed with almost 300 children ranging in age from 4 to 18, as they stared on in wonderment at the images being projected. It was a silent picture; a comedy called “Get’em Young”. Their views were slightly blurred, as waifs of cigarette smoke formed linear clouds before the screen.

Hey Boy? Oh, boy! Panama, Shanama, Swanee shore, let me dig that jive some more.

--July 13, 2011.

Often when one talks of Montreal’s English-speaking community, our image is of the western side of the island of Montreal. However, just beyond those now-crumbling bridges to and from the South Shore, you will find the officially bilingual community of Greenfield Park.

The voices of young children could be heard singing in the distance over the public announcement speakers. “CAA-NAA-DA, one little, two little, three Canadians…we love thee”.

Fifteen-two, fifteen-four, fifteen-six, fifteen-eight, double-run, sixteen and one for the jack, is a typical way to chant and to count a Cribbage hand.

While enjoying the coolness of the basement during the hot, sweltering heat of July, a white rectangular box briefly catches our attention. Wrapped tightly with butcher’s string and strapped between the upper floor joists with bunjee cords, this is its home for eleven months of the year. For now, just one of the many pieces of winter storage, quietly awaiting the arrival of the first snow.