My Father’s Dreams

My father was not close to me, yet once in awhile I caught a glimpse of the man he was.

Like many Newfoundlanders, he came to Toronto in the 1930s looking for work. He got my mother pregnant and did the honourable thing and married her.

Being the depression, he tried his hand at many things. He rummaged through the garbage looking for something he could sell. A painting he found hangs in my living room. He would get old bicycles and reassemble the good parts to make a new one. In fact, my first bicycle in the 1950s was one of these creations. He did what he could. As child after child entered our household, the task became greater.

In the 1940s, his hammertoe prevented him from entering the army. He ended up spray-painting airplanes at DeHaviland. He was a spraypainter for the rest of his life.

Although I don’t know for sure, somewhere along the way I feel he lost his dreams. I got a clue in the days leading up to Christmas.

Our home was always made happy by Christmas. By the sheer numbers of children in our family, there was excitement. Mom always made sure there was plenty of baking done for the season. She kept her cookies and cakes in a cupboard halfway down the basement stairs.

Finding it difficult to resist temptation, I often went down to pilfer a cookie or two, being careful to make sure the top layer was level so it would look normal. I remember once seeing an envelope at the side of the cupboard. I took it out and looked inside. It contained sketches of scenery. I thought they were very good.

I left them there until after Christmas Day. I didn’t want my mom to know I was sneaking around the cupboard. I then asked her what they were. “Oh, they are some drawings your father did,” she said. It was one of the few times I saw pride in her eyes about the man she had married.

Why my father hadn’t kept at it is anyone’s guess. All I know was that he hadn’t. I wish that I could have encouraged him to start drawing again. As I said, though, we weren’t that close. I often wondered what caused him to stop. Somewhere along the way, he lost his spirit; he lost his way.