`I recently watched a rerun of the movie, 'Summer of 42'.
When it was first released in 1971, I was 27 years old. My memory of seeing it at the Grant Plaza Cineplex is so vivid, I could walk into the theatre today and point out the exact seats we sat in.
I was there with my bride of two years. Sonya glowed in the eighth month of her pregnancy.
The reason it is so firmly etched in my brain is because, 'Hermie', in the movie, was me nine years before. A teenager spending his summer vacation on Nantucket Island, Hermie developed an innocent love for a young war bride who was awaiting news about her husband's fate. My memory roared back to when I was 18.
At home after the movie, my wife asked why I had been so unusually quiet since leaving the cinema.
I decided to tell Sonya about my 'Summer of 62'.
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In early June of 1962, my best friend Jamie and I were hanging out, playing 'HORSE', at the basketball court adjacent to our high school.
Russell arrived in a red Mustang convertible, screeching to a stop beside the court and yelled for us to get in.
To this day, I can't say why we agreed, but we jumped in and Rusty sped off.
Jamie and I were both 18, friends since we learned to ride our first bikes. Russell was 19, and a more recent acquaintance. He had somehow insinuated himself into our friendship.
Rusty smoked and drank beer, cursed like a sailor, and dated several girls, often bragging about the sex he was getting. Despite all that, there was a likable side to him and as far as Jamie and I knew he had never been in trouble with the law. Neither had Jamie or I.
As we sped along beside the lake on Prospect Drive, a siren behind us, changed that in an instant.
Initially, we were all charged with, Grand Theft Auto.
To his credit, Rusty admitted that he had acted alone. Jamie and I were totally exonerated by the law. The same could not be said for my father, who questioned my decision making in the harshest way.
In the final two weeks of June, except for writing my final Grade 12 exams, I was confined to the house. I eagerly anticipated starting my summer job, working with Jamie at his father's road construction company.
That dream bubble was burst by my father on the day my final exam. That night at dinner, he informed me I was leaving for Alberta the next morning.
A university friend and his wife, Dusty, owned a ranch in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, west of Calgary. Geordi Spencer worked in the oil sands of Northern Alberta as a petroleum engineer. His work rotation was 30 days in and 30 days out. Dusty, managed the working cattle ranch on their sprawling property. Marci, their 19 year old daughter, was currently studying animal husbandry at the university in Melbourne, Australia.
My father had arranged for my 'tough love' summer to be filled with all the adversity they could throw at me.
In Calgary, I was met at the airport by a burly denim clad man, wearing dusty cowboy boots and a sweat stained Stetson hat.
Geordi Spenser was an easy going, gregarious man, who spoke slowly with a deep voice.
We began the ninety minute drive to the ranch. My first view of rugged majestic snow capped mountains was almost overwhelming. I was a city raised eastern boy, who had never been west of Manitoba. The immense scale of everything left me feeling insignificant.
Passing through a gate arch of giant Spruce logs with a suspended sign that read SPRING CREEK RANCH AND TIMBER COMPANY, raised my anticipation of arriving at a ranch house at any moment. It was another fifteen minute drive along the dusty gravel road through pasture land and grazing cattle, before we passed a sprawling log bungalow and stopped beside a large barn structure.
Geordi led me though a side door and up narrow stairs. The small room with a single bed and modest ancillary bathroom attached, was to be my quarters. Meals would be taken with the family in the main house.
My introduction to Dusty Spenser came when we she alit from a chestnut quarter horse. She cut an apple into quarters and fed it to Pauncho, while lovingly scratching him behind the ears. Chance, a tricoloured Border Collie, stayed close to Dusty at all times. There was an obvious affectionate bond between the woman, dog and horse.
