So, Where Did I Leave Off?

Our brush with The Great White North had come to an end by December of 1958 and it was back to civilization.

Enrolling in a Toronto area high school was to be my great undoing. Up until this time I had been an above average student with yearly averages in the mid to high 80's and had goals and direction. This was to come to a screaming halt. Remember back when I first went to high school? I had a choice of options. I had picked drafting as it seemed to be most applicable to my end goal of becoming a commercial or graphic artist. Certainly far more advantageous than delving into some foreign language.....WRONG! French was to be my undoing. Returning to the Toronto area school system without french put me in an untenable position. French was mandatory and without it my options were limited. I could choose to go back to grade nine and start all over if I wanted to go on to higher education, or, I could choose a four year vocational or commercial course. None of the options were particularly attractive but a decision had to be made. At 15, my parents goal was to get me through school in the shortest possible time and have me join the workforce. The prospect of seeing a child in school until his early twenties did not sit well with parents that had seen their education end by age fourteen. The decision was made for me and I ended up in a four year vocational drafting course. Being enrolled in a vocational course immediately set your social status just a tad higher than pond scum. For the most part, Tech kids were considered the misfits, ne'r do wells and miscreants of the educational system, and for about 10% of the kids, that was true. My level of interest diminished rather dramatically and although I completed my high school education, it was with anything but stellar marks.

Returning to Scarborough brought about a cultural shock unlike anything I had experienced before. To start with, the great outdoors was replaced by concrete, asphalt and shopping malls.
Our residence became a two bedroom apartment in a seedy district of Scarborough known as The Golden Mile. In very short order I came to resent this final move and all its implications. Life at home became insufferable and I was in constant conflict with my parents. My only refuge was with a few close friends that harboured the same great love of automobiles as myself. I lived for my 16 birthday, which meant a drivers license and freedom.

My teens where not a particulary noteable time in my life although there were some high points. Most significant were the trips to Harewood Acres near Jarvis Ontario for the sports car races, the day I turned 18 and was able to join CRCA (Canadian Race Communications Assoc.) and the purchase in early 1961 of a 1959 Austin Mini. I had run the gamet of domestic junk from the time I was sixteen, the 49 Ford, 52 Chevy, etc, but this was my first european car. Mini's had already made their mark in club racing in the UK and the likes of the Monte Carlo Rally. I was now able to envision myself as a budding Paddy Hopkirk. Life was now starting to look a little brighter.

My education was as complete as my parents would allow and I was off and running in the world of survival. Over the years I worked for a number of architects and engineers, advancing my education in night school and the school of hard knocks. I owned/operated my own wholesale/retail photographic supply company for almost 20 years before my retirement. No complaints, a few regrets, but hey, work is work. If it were anything else it would be called 'fun'. Regardless, I was able to retire in 2001 and life has never looked better.

I have no intention of elaborating on my working life accomplishments and/or failures. It lends nothing to where I want this blog to end up. I want it to do two things; instill a slight insight into our family history, which I think I have accomplished, and get to where we are today.