Time in Okotoks

Mrs. Hay. One of the handful of people who hung in there and fought through the bad behavior. I can clearly see now how much teachers are greatly unappreciated. They are so incredibly influential in our development and yet, once we leave there classroom and graduate, we rarely, if ever, see them again. A thankless job.
   My time in Okotoks was to say at the least an adventure. Many days of my time in Okotoks were mostly typical. There were the bullies, the awkward social interactions with girls, the miscellaneous ways I would cause trouble in a feeble attempt to gain attention. Nothing too important to mention I guess. Time away from school was a different manner.
   From about the age of 7 to about 10 I had a few friends that lived on the same street.. They were friends more out convenience and it helped fill in the times when I was bored. If you were to ask me who my best friends were in my youth, I'm not sure I could tell you. Now don't go and misinterpret this as some sort of social malformation I had acquired as a result of minute interactions with kids when I was younger. I'm a parent now, and I know quite well that many parents assume that if you don't force kids to play together quite early in their youth that they will turn out weird and sprout tentacles from the back of their heads. I have many memories of good times spent with the few that I did play with. Perhaps the years have made me jaded, because as I look back those memories seem hollow. Proof of this would be "in the pudding" as they say. Where are those kids now? I haven't seen or heard of them in years. It wasn't till my high school years that I had any long term friends, and in the grand scheme of things, even they were short lived. No pun intended for some.
   My parents decided around the time I was 10 to start adding to the family. Terra came first and two years later Heather was born. Quite the experience growing up with two sisters. I remember thinking at first that it would be great to have more in the family. However, while I love both my Sisters dearly, I had been branded the black sheep. The title sounds cool now, but I didn't feel that way when I was younger. Two normal kids in a house hold trapped with a whole lot of dis-function didn't make for easy raising. Wendy has the patience of a Saint, and the endurance of a marathon runner.
   The weekends of my early teenage years were spent out in the woods. No one around to bother me. I found the outdoors to be very comfortable for me. My favorite pass time was catching garder snakes along a creek west of town. I'd bring them home and put them in a cardboard box and hope that they would still be there the next day. They never were, and I would have to go out into the woods and catch more. At one point in time, there were so many wild snakes in our neighborhood that I was asked by a few people down the street to please stop. I even recall Mrs MacFarlane next door suddenly screaming in her back yard from one of my acquisitions slithering across her side walk. Yes, I was definitely working on my ability to become Mr. Popular.
   I had one spot out in the woods I liked to frequent. It was a quarter acre section of woods along the Sheep river. It was marked by my own personal landmarks. It started on the outskirts of town at a place I nick-named the "Hanging Cliffs". It was an outcropping of sandstone along the river that had the lower portion of the cliffs washed out by erosion. They were just sort of hanging there, thus the name. They were so smooth it looked like they were built there. Just past the Hanging Cliffs was the "Dam". This was a beaver dam that would always return, no matter what you did to it. I recall a nearby farmer try to blow it up with explosives one fall. Sure enough, by next spring the dam was back, which was a good thing because I needed it to reach the other side of the creek bed that ran into the river. Once across the Dam, a kilometer or so led me past a small stand of poplar trees and into the "Junk-yard". The "Junk-yard" was a collection of abandoned cars and old farm equipment. A treasure trove of cool places to have imaginary fun. I was a race car driver one weekend and a soldier fighting to liberate a town the next. Past the "Junk-Yard" was the forest. A dark and foreboding place to those who didn't know it, a warm hug to me. Two kilometers in there was a small glade. If you reached it at the right time of day, the sun would hit it just right and light it up like my own private cathedral. Sometimes I'd just sit there and listen. You'd be surprised how loud the forest can be when you listen closely. Buzzing, chirping, creaking, constantly vibrating with life. My head was so clear then. It wasn't filled up with all the nonsense I have today. The time here was in part I think, a way to compensate for not being out at the lake. I even slept out  there on a few nights that I can recall. Strange thinking now that my parents would let me go.
   Well, today the river has changed course and the glade is right next to the river and grown over with trees. The junkyard was cleaned up after the town hall annexed the land; nothing left there now. As for the Dam and the hanging cliffs, the dam is still there, although I believe its under new management. The cliffs however, surely gave way under the influence of the elements and now lie broken. The river now politely excuses itself as it flows past the once smooth sandstone wall. Nothing is ever constant. Nothing eternal.

More later.