Game Night with The Wardens

Time for a little bit of fun here.

Dial back to the early 1980's, and like many families at the time, my parents went out at purchased one of the original Trivial Pursuit games.  We always played card games, and had the normal collection of Monopoly, Scrabble, Sorry and Yahtzee.

For an 18 year old kid, this was not an easy game, as it took knowledge, which was limited, as opposed to skill or luck.

Enter my bestest buddy.  She was coming out to our house to pick me up, so we could go back to her place for the night.  She fondly referred to my parents as "The Wardens",  as she had experienced their controlling ways several times.  My parents always liked my best friend.  They thought she was well mannered and smart.  They hoped she would be a positive influence on me.   HAHAHAHAHA

Before we were allowed to leave, we had to endure a game of Trivial Pursuit.  Just remembering this, causes a deep sigh and rolling eyes, and then a giggle.  The teams for our game were two adults against two teenage girls not wanting to be there.

As can be expected, the game took a long time to play. We, being the teenagers, did pretty well, moving around the board, and filling up our marker with the little colourful pie shapes. I have always hated landing on the brown space.  Except for this particular game.   Dad pulls out our card, and reads our question with a grin on his face.  "What does SNAFU mean?".  I had never heard of this acronym before that moment.  I thought this was going to be yet another failed attempt at the elusive brown pie piece, when suddenly  beside me, my shy and quiet team mate slams her hand on the table to exclaim "Situation normal, all f'd up".  Dad's jaw dropped.  Mom's eyes popped, and if I had been drinking anything, it would have been spewed all over the table and game board as I burst out laughing in shock. 

Now, much to Dad's chagrin, we have all of our pieces and are heading for the centre of the board, to end our misery and be on our way. When we finally get to the middle, the opposition gets to pick the question colour.  Of course, Dad opts for brown, and draws the next card.  He reads the question to himself, grinning and exclaiming how we will "never get this one".  While I can't find the actual wording of the question, the premise was to name the controversial New York Times Bestseller, written by Masters and Johnson.  Again, I sit there thinking that the curse of the brown widget has beat us, when again, a hand slams on the table beside me, and a squeal saying "oh oh, I know this one.....The Joy of Sex".  I look across the table, to see those now familiar expressions of shock.

The game ended.  We had won. We offered to help clean up the game, but were told not to worry about it.  We grabbed our things and left, laughing all the way back to town.  Nothing was ever said about this game again.  I wonder what was said after we left.  Oh to be a fly on the wall.

Little Bit of History

While it took a while to decide to even start this blog, the bigger decision was where to start.  So, I suppose that since every good story starts with a bit of a background to set the scene, and introduce the main characters, that is where I should start.

My family grew up in Northern Ontario.

My father's family all lived in the same town, or close proximity.  My paternal grandfather worked at the shipyards.  Being a port city, large freighters would dock at the shipyards, where cargo was transferred to and from railway cars. I'm not really certain what exactly he did there, but I have the idea that he worked with metal and welding.  I just remember him coming home from work, dusty and dirty.  My grandmother, for the most part, was a homemaker, but she did work part-time at a small restaurant.  My dad had a younger sister, who I adopted as my older sister, because she was only 16 when I was born.  He had a younger brother, who had health issues, and passed away as a very young child.  When I was 16, we found out that Dad had an older sister too, but thats another story.  Dad's side of the family is a combination of Ukranian and Croatian.  With Grandpa having two brothers, and Grandma having a brother and a sister, it made for a lot of cousins.  Weddings and get-togethers were always loud and full of laughter.

My mother's family was split between Southern Ontario and Manitoba.  I don't know how or why my grandparents chose to live between both of their families.  Both had numerous siblings, resulting in many cousins, but because they were so spread out, we didn't see them often.  My maternal grandfather was a member of the Royal Canadian Air Force.  After the war, Grandpa worked in heating.  At least I think that is what he did.  Eventually, he started working at the District Jail, I think as the custodian/caretaker.  My memories of my grandmother are vivid, but unfortunately, limited, as sadly she passed away when I was only 8 years old.  Grandma didn't work.  She was very busy with activities at her church, organizing bazaars and bake sales.  She enjoyed golfing, curling, gardening, crafts and sewing.  Mom's side of the family was of English, Irish and French descent. By contrast to my Dad's side of the family, Mom's side of the family seemed more reserved and 'proper'.  My mom has an older brother.  He is still the epitomy of the "older brother", poking and pestering.  Love him <3

Mom and Dad were married in early 1966.  I arrived later that summer, when Mom was 21 and Dad was 23. My sister would arrive 4 years later.  From the very beginning, Dad worked very hard to support his family, doing a wide variety of jobs.  Mom stayed home to take care of the family.  As I said in my previous post, kids assume that the world they live in, is the same as all their friends.  We never felt like we did without, but in later years, we would hear stories about how difficult is was for our parents when we were growing up.

So, there is a bit of a history of my very "working class" family.  I know....pretty dry and boring, and well, typical. Public perception was very important to Dad.  He worked very hard, and wanted to be viewed as successful by family, friends and collegues alike. He was very opinionated and strong willed.  He liked to convey that he had money.  Dad was a very physical man, always working with his hands. In later years, when his health started failing him, it was this part of his character that I would miss the most.  And the sound of his laughter.

Mom and Dad have both recently passed away.  They are both missed badly.  So, this blog becomes a way to record the memories that make me laugh.

And so it begins......

So, I have been told by many, that my stories are:
* ridiculous
* hilarious
* sad
* outrageous

To me, my stories are random memories of my youth.  As a child, you always think that the environment in which you live is "normal" and that all your friends live exactly the same way.  As you get older, and start spending time with other families, eyes are opened to the differences that exist.

My ramblings are simply situations that took place, through my eyes.  They do not necessarily represent the opinions of others.

I have always said that I put the fun in dysfunction.  I was told that I could write a very funny book, with all these antidotes.  I'm not so sure about that, but I suppose that there is some form of therapy involved in writing things down.

I will attempt to post here with some form of frequency.

Karen