"Livin The Dream"

I laid sideways on the top step, scrunched myself up a bit and rolled myself down to the next step, then the next, and then the next. Finally I arrived at the landing halfway up the staircase.


Nobody had noticed, so I reset myself at the first landing and rolled down the rest of stairs to the bottom, I made sure to thud good when hit the carpet at the bottom. Still nobody noticed so I cried.

My parents came around the corner, my dad picked me up and they were both laughing. They did not believe for one second that my roll down the stairs was some type of dangerous accident. My plan was foiled. If this were a hockey game I would have been given a two minute penalty for diving.

I just wanted my parents to show me they cared. They did of course, I just needed reassurance. Life is nothing if not a long winding path of reassurance.

For never being too sure of myself I've done alright, that is mostly because I surround myself with many that did not require reassurance, or who went confidently about finding reassurance in a way that worked for them.

It had been a hot summer, we were all looking forward to our first year of High School.

Smitty threw the frisbee to me, it was a close game. We had been playing Frisbee hockey on the front lawn of Knox Church for the past hour. One net was the between two posts of the cast iron fence, the object was to throw the frisbee past whoever was protecting it. At this time it was Dave, OB for short. I faked high and threw low. Dave rolled, grabbed it in mid air and tossed it back towards our undefended net for a goal. OB and FrontseatFrac, so called because no matter where he went in car he had to have shotgun.

It had been a hot summer, we were all looking forward to our first year of High School.

As Smitty ran back to our goal and picked up the frisbee, a steel-toed platform shoed, bright yellow muscle shirt wearing, wild long haired beast came down the lane looking like he had just killed something with his bare hands, while singing death metal. His eyes were angry and his muscles were pumped. He was a few years older than us.

Smitty just stood and stared, the wild man walked up to him and said, "Give me the Frisbee." Of course the frisbee belonged to me so Smitty obliged. Suddenly it was on the church roof, 50 feet up . Game over, called on account of some crazy prick showing up out of nowhere. OB moved closer to me and said, "I know him, it's Lenny Lafont he's 17, he's drunk and he likes to fight."

Giving up the Frisbee was apparently not enough of a sign of submission as Lenny moved in closer to Smitty and said, "You stupid , freckle faced piece of shit. Why don't you take a swing at me!" Smitty had a bad temper, his face turned red with rage, but he held himself back as he knew he would be pounded by this drunken muscle machine.


Lenny then turned his focus on FrontseatFrac, Frontseat was a bit heavy, which I think comes from sitting in the front seat all the time instead of walking but what do I know. Lenny got up real close to Frac and said, "You fat fucking pig I should just pound you into the ground!" Frontseat quivered, as I would have, as I did.

There was only four of us, and Lenny had already threatened two of us, next in the semi-circle was Dave and then I was last. The tough guys never leave without punching someone out, so I figured I would be the exclamation point on the end of Mr. Lafont's violent steel platform shoed outburst.


Lenny took a step towards Dave and started with some new insults. "Nice long hair, you a fucking girl? You wear dresses" Dave just stood there a bit sideways one fist clenched.

Almost on cue, down the lane comes Donny the dickweed, to assist in the beating, the neighborhood ahole. A skinny loser, but Lenny's laughing buddy. Donny slapped Smitty across the face and turned to Lenny, "What's up buddy? You going to beat up these retards or what?"

Lenny decided to hurl another insult OB's way, as Lenny was looking for a bit of challenge and OB was definitely the biggest of all of us. Lenny puffed his chest up and poked Dave in the ribs, "You are faggot! You should wash your greasy long hair more often." As Lenny turned to me he hurled one last shot at OB. "Nice skinny legs you got there."

My beating was upon me, suddenly a flurry of kicks and punches by OB hit Lenny Lafont in every place that would hurt. They grappled on the ground, dust flying everywhere. Dave had Lenny in a headlock.


To my right another flurry of action broke out as Smitty and Frontseat slammed Donny to the ground and laid in some boots. Dave slowly let Lenny out the headlock while saying, "If you try something I'm sorry but I'm going to have to beat you up again."

I always liked that about OB, he would apologize to someone for beating them up before he did it. Kind of like a well seasoned hitman. Not proud of what he has to do but business is business.

Lenny stood there with his nose bleeding and he asked OB for a hanky. OB had a hanky. Amazing. I don't think I have ever seen one before or since, well maybe as a shitball accessory for a suit at a prom. OB handed the hanky to Lenny like he was feeding a Cobra, since there are really no rules in fights. Lenny took the hanky and thanked him. Frontseat and Smitty put the boots to Donny a couple of more times and the thug train headed back up the lane.

We all turned to OB and thanked him.


I said, "OB why did you jump him?"

OB answered, "He said I have skinny legs, I don't like personal insults. Anything but personal insults."

Yes personal insults were really never appreciated in my hometown.

I grew up in Peterborough, it’s only about 75 minutes from Toronto, but it is it’s own beast. In Peterborough you are more likely to get a punch in the mouth than a hello. This was the 70’s, not a lot mattered growing up in the 70’s. Not a lot that made sense anyway. Cars mattered, the cooler and the louder the better. Hair mattered, the longer and shinier the better, Shoes mattered the higher, and more steel reinforced with optional pointy tips the better. There were lots of scraps, it wasn’t all about winning,it was all about the fighting.

You could fight for no reason at all. Manufacturing a fight involved a few select ingredients. Personal insults are a good start. Like calling somebody "PoodleHead," another sure fire fight starter was any phrase that started with, “Only Homos…” Like "only Homos wait for buses"…Only Homos wear jackets, "Only Homos chew gum," my personal favorite, "Only Homos breath." Only homos was cited as the number one cause of fisticuffs in Peterborough from the years 1975-1980.


The other surefire way to start a fight might be the “What are you looking at guy.”

It would go like this, you could be anywhere, and some guy would just decide it was time to beat you up. No reason, you didn’t have to anything. Suddenly you would be in this Deniroesque drama with some wild eyed dude.


He would somehow catch your eye, and say,

“What are you lookin at?”

To which you would reply.

“Nothing.” He would answer, “So I’m nothing am I?”
You would reply, “No you’re not nothing. I didn’t say that.”

He would say, “What did you say, are you saying I’m too ugly to look at? Is that what you are saying?”

You, “No you are not too ugly.”

At this point, you didn’t have to say anything else.

The guy would just build. “You think I’m attractive, you gay or something.”

“No I don’t," you would answer.
“Why you got a problem with gays?" He would say.

“No,” you would answer.

“Well what’s your problem then?” tough guy would say.

At this point, you might as well offer to beat yourself up. Because it is going to happen.


I've said, “Well I’m not going to fight.”

The answer to that is usually, “Don’t worry you just stand there, I’ll do all the fighting.”

I was not a very good fighter. I had my first fight in Grade one and I lost that. And in my hometown if you can’t fight you better hang with someone who can. I realized I needed some protection.

My protection was Dave he answered my prayers after my first fight in grade one. It wasn’t really a fight. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Standing in front of Francois Gendron during recess. Francois came from a poor family and he lived in a rough neighbourhood. He was a scraggly thin faced kid. As an added bonus to being poor, he had one hand that was a balled up claw. I’d never seen anything like it. I could not help but stare, I think Francois noticed because he gave me a closer look at it. The slap hurt, I went down hard on the gravel of the schoolyard. Francois stood over me. I cried and cried. Dave walked over and asked me what was wrong. I said, “Francois hit me.”

Dave turned to Francois, “Is that right? Did you hit him.”

Francois said, “So what if I did.”

Dave answered very calmly, “If you did, I’m sorry but I’m going to have to beat you up.”

Francois laughed, but only for a second. The next second he was on the ground where the laughs were, only blood.

A bond was created that day. Dave as my protector and me as his friend. I certainly got the better of the deal.

Dave/OB was a champion/legend/hero/whatever else matters in guy world. The world could use a lot more Daves.