Alan Skeoch

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  • EPISODE 1,180: Part 4: HOW TO BUILD AN ORANGE CRATE SCOOTER…CIRCA 1940

    REMEMBER, Eric, when we built our own scooters?….lots of them…parts were free
    HERE is a picture of an orange crate scooter I built in about half hour. The rolling
    wheels are made from a roller skate.  
    street racing other scooters was popular and a little dangerous
    ORANGE CRATES WERE FREE AT EVERY GROCERY STORE…ROLLER SKATES
    WERE POPULAR AND EASY TO NAIL ON A PIECE OF 2 X 4…PRESTO A1940’S MODEL
    SCOOTER THAT COULD BE RECONSTRUCTED OVER AND OVER AGAIN ONCE THE
    ORANGE CRATE WAS SMASHED. 



  • EPISODE 1,175; IMAGINARY CONVERSATION WITH ERIC SKEOCH, (beer bottle weapons and mud spikes, 1940;s and 1960’s)


    EPISODE  1,175;   IMAGINARY CONVERSATION WITH ERIC SKEOCH (beer bottle weapons and mud spikes…and 1944 snowstorm)


    alan skeoch
    oct. 22, 2024


    Picture of Eric and me in front of one of our snow forts 1946 or around that time. In the1944 great December
    storm Eric was only 4 years old while I was six years old…obviously we were younger than we appear
    in the picture above.

    The snowstorm of 1944 brought life to a standstill in Toronto.


    Hey Eric. remember the snowstorm of December 1944.   Almost two feet of snow came down
    and paralyzed the city.  More than 20 people died trying to shovel their way to the coal chutes outside each house..
    No chute – no coal – no heat. The city was stopped dead. I think you, mom and I slept in the
    same bed on cold nights while dad was on the couch.  





    Remember what we did in those ww2 war years, Eric? We built the best damn forts made of snow where we could fight
    against  make believe enemies.   We were largely unaware that World War Two was raging.  Hubert Skeoch
    and Harvey Metcalfe arrived when the war ended.  Hubert had a plate of false teeth he removed
    for our enjoyment and you found a ‘safe’ in Harvey’s back pocket.  



    Hey Eric, remember when this picture was taken?  We inherited the Freeman Farm around 1960 after grandma and grandpa Freeman died.  Mom inherited 
    the place…25 acres of stony soil with 5 swamps.  Hardly a farm was it?  The farm house was solid.  This is my favourite picture of the four of us.  Laughing.
    We laughed a lot didn’t we?   In spite of dad’s gambling addiction.  It is possible to love people despite their weaknesses and eccentricities.  Mom kept us
    together.  She got no credit.   She did not expect it.  We were not huggers and kissers,  We took each other for granted.  We loved each other.  



    NOTE:  DUFFERIN PARK is mentioned several times in these memories… real or imagined?  Hard to say. The historical
    records say almost nothing about the park.  Is my memory of one big gang fight false?  Why have I so much
    detail in my mind?  Your thoughts!! Broken beer bottles were excellent weapons.




    Bar Fight Image & Photo (Free Trial) | Bigstock

    Broken beer bottle weapon


    Hey Eric, remember when I fell on that broken beer bottle in Dufferin Park?  We were playing Blind Man’s Bluff with mom. perhaps 5 or 6 years old. 
    Big slash.  Some blood.  The park was
    a dangerous place in the war and post war years.  Gangs…The Junction Gang and the Beanery Gang.I think the
    beer bottle had been a weapon.  Easy to make.  Grab the bottle by the neck and smash it against rock.  In most cases 
    shards of lethal looking protruded.  Perhaps the bottle was just cast aside by a beer drinker.  No matter its origin
    the bottle cut me badly.  I still have the scar 80 years later.  The cut was bad enough but made worse by
    mom saying “Alan, we must get the cut stitched up at the hospital.”  Now that terrified me.  Hospitals were places 
    where people go to die.  What did I do?  Remember?  I ran home as fast as I could.  Upstairs and under the
    big bed.  Grasped the bed springs.  Mom could not pull me out.  I screamed.   Dad came home a little later.  He fished me
    out fast.  He lifted the whole bed, turned it over and hauled me erect.  Strange that I do not remember getting the
    stitches nor the hospital.  The whole incident showed me that the game of Blind Man’s Bluff could have bad
    consequences and that dad was as strong as an ape.   He could lift a double bed and turn it over. 


    Muddy football fields were to be expected.   This was our 1962 team at Victoria College, U. of T.,  Russ Vanstone and I have
    mud faces on their right.  
    Eric is in back row.


    You are probably thinking “What this story  got to do with me…Eric.”  And there is a reason.  Years later you
    were sliced far worse than me.  I remember the moment.   We were playing football against Riverdale whose
    quarter back was nick-named Banana Nose.  The field was a quagmire of mud but our game was scheduled
    regardless.  The change house  had  been bashed up and one Riverdale guy poked his head through a
    missing divider yelling “We’re going to cream you pricks,” Or some such expression.  Football was serious
    business in High school  We won.   But there were casualties.  You limped off the field at one point.  “Little cut in my leg
    you said to coach Fred Burfprd.  It turned out to be a very nasty hole in your leg…more than an inch deep.
    No-one knew that until later.  The hole had been filled with mud and white chalk field marker.  You played the
    rest of the game.  No one knew how serious the slash was.  It was not a scratch.  It was big mud filled hole.
    Just looking it made me feel weak in the knees. 

    How did it happen?  Both teams, Humberside and Riverdale, prepared for the game by unscrewing the
    cleats in our boots with ‘mud cleats’ to get a better a better purchase in the muddy field.  Mud cleats were about inch long.  They were weapons and you, Eric, were the reason mud cleats were never 
    used again.  Or so I believe.

    Was it mom who washed the mud out of your leg?  I think so.  No one really knew how badly you were hurt. Mom did.
    Mom took you to Dr.Greenaway  that evening.  He got very serious.  

    “This could be badly infected.We won’t know until; morning.
    So take this syringe home with you.  Alan, your mother says both sleep in the same bed, so you will be the
    first to notice trouble.  If Eric says something  or if the leg gets puffy and red then you give him this needle
    right away. Understand/‘“

    I feared needles.  I was already weak in the knees due to your injury.  Dr. Greenaway put me in a
    life or death situation.  I believe I stayed awake all night.  I stared at the grotesque syringe.  I was scared.
    You were calm.   Asleep.
    Nothing happened.  We saw Dr. Greenaway the next morning.  He took the needle away.  Told you not to
    play any more football for a time.   Coach Burford got upset.   The mud cleats were unscrewed and
    dumped in the garbage.

    The Humbersiders, namely us, won the game from Banana Nose and the Riverdale tough guys

    Life continued.   Both you and I have scars to remind us of our youth. YOURS WORSE THAN MINE. I have no idea what was in that syringe.
    Do you remember?

    ALAN
    Oct. 26, 2024 

    ON November 4, 2024, a few of the survivors of that game in 1956 will meet for lunch at the Burlington Golf
    and Country Cub for lunch.  we have done this for years.  I wonder if Zig, Gary, Gord, Marino or the Rodin boys will remember?


  • EPISODE 1,175; IMAGINARY CONVERSATION WITH EIC SKEOCH (1944 snowstorm , mud cleats, syringe, broken beer bottle)

    EPISODE  1,175;   IMAGINARY CONVERSATION WITH EIC SKEOCH


    alan skeoch
    oct. 22, 2024


    Picture of Eric and me in front of one of our snow forts in 1946 or around that time. In 1944 great December
    storm Eric was only 4 years old while I was six years old…obviously we were younger than we appear
    in the picture above.  Over 20 people died trying to shovel the snow…and a street car ran off its tracks…and
    the city of Toronto became snowbound.

    The snowstorm of 1944 brought life to a standstill in Toronto.


    Hey Eric. remember the snowstorm of December 1944.   Almost two feet old snow came down
    and paralyzed the city.  More than 20 people died trying to shovel their way to the coal chutes outside each house..
    No chute – no coal – no heat. The city was stopped dead. I think you, mom and I slept in the
    same bed on cold nights while dad was on the couch.  





    Remember what we did in those ww2 war years, Eric? We built the best damn forts made of snow where we could fight
    against  make believe enemies.   We were largely unaware that World War Two was raging.  Hubert Skeoch
    and Harvey Metcalfe arrived when the war ended.  Hubert had a plate of false teeth he removed
    for our enjoyment and you found a ‘safe’ in Harvey’s back pocket.  



    Hey Eric, remember when this picture was taken?  We inherited the Freeman Farm around 1960 after grandma and grandpa Freeman died.  Mom inherited 
    the place…25 acres of stony soil with 5 swamps.  Hardly a farm was it?  The farm house was solid.  This is my favourite picture of the four of us.  Laughing.
    We laughed a lot didn’t we?   In spite of dad’s gambling addiction.  It is possible to love people despite their weaknesses and eccentricities.  Mom kelt us
    together.  She got no credit.   She did not expect it.  We were not huggers and kissers,  We took each other for granted.  We loved each other.  






    Hey Eric, remember when I fell on that broken beer bottle in Dufferin Park?  We were playing Blind Man’s Bluff with mom. 
    Big slash.  Some blood.  The park was
    a dangerous place in the war and post war years.  Gangs…The Junction Gang and the Beanery Gang.I think the
    beer bottle had been a weapon.  Easy to make.  Grab the bottle by the neck and smash it against a rock.  In most cases 
    shards of lethal looking protruded.  Perhaps the bottle was just cast aside by a beer drinker.  No matter its origin
    the bottle cut me badly.  I still have the scar 80 years later.  The cut was bad enough but made worse by
    mom saying “Alan, we must get the cut stitched up at the hospital.”  Now that terrified me.  Hospitals were places 
    where people go to die.  What did I do?  Remember?  I ran home as fast as I could.  Upstairs and under the
    big bed.  Grasped the bed springs.  Mom could not pull me out.  I screamed.   Dad came home a little later.  He fished me
    out fast.  He lifted the whole bed, turned it over and hauled me erect.  Strange that I do not remember getting the
    stitches nor the hospital.  The whole incident showed me that the game of Blind Man’s Bluff could have bad
    consequences and that dad was as strong as an ape.   He could lift a double bed and turn it over. 



    Muddy football fields were to be expected.   This was our 1962 team at Victoria College, U. of T.,  Russ Vanstone and I have
    mud faces on their right.  
    eric is in back row.
    what wonderfull friends we had.

    You are probably thinking “What this story  got to do with me…Eric.”  And there is a reason.  Years later you
    were sliced far worse than me.  I remember the moment.   We were playing football against Riverdale whose
    quarter back was nick-named Banana Nose.  The field was a quagmire of mud but our game was scheduled
    regardless.  The change house  had  been bashed up and one Riverdale guy poked his head through a
    missing divider yelling “We’re going to cream you pricks,” Or some such expression.  Football was serious
    business.   We won.   But there were casualties.  You limped off the field at one point.  “Little cut in my leg
    you said to coach Fred Burfprd.  It turned out to be a very nasty hole in your leg…more than an inch deep.
    No-one knew that until later.  The hole had been filled with mud and white chalk field marker.  You played the
    rest of the game.  No one knew how serious the slash was.  It was not a scratch.  It was big mud filled hole.
    Just looking it made me feel weak in the knees. The hole was ghastly…looked like you had been shot.

    alan skeoch
    oct. 26, 2024

  • EPISODE 1,174 :PART 1: REMEMBERING ERIC SKEOCH FONDLY…FEBRUARY 8, 1940 TO AUGUST 1, 2O24



    REMEMBERING ERIC SKEOCH FONDLY…FEBRUARY 8, 1940 TO AUGUST 1, 2O24

    alan skeoch
    (brother)
    October 6. 2024

    My brother, Eric Skeoch, died on August 1, 2024.  His death was a shock to all who new him and particularly to
    me as we were close enough to be twins.  The only example of sibling rivalry that comes to mine is the ‘cake
    icing caper’ below.  

    we shared 80 years of adventures.  I miss him.

    These are my memories of Eric revealed in an imaginary conversation…the kind we had often when
    he was alive.

    THE IMAGINARY CONVERSATION




    Eric, remember The Cake Icing caper?  It comes to mind first and foremost as I begin to remember
    you..  The Cake Icing caper does not reflect well on me
    but the incident shows in a simple way Eric’s planning skill.

    Mom made good cakes with real cake icing liberally lathered on cake that had the bad tendency
    to dry out.  Eric sliced the icing off the cake and looked forward to wolfing it down after the cake was gone.   I knew that
    and planed to grab te slab of icing and then race down the back stairs before Eric could slide off
    the kitchen chair.  My moment.  I grabbed the slab and raced for the door.

    That is as far as I got.  Eric knew what was about to happen.   He had locked the door.  And he pinned me to the wall.
    He may have landed a punch but he was too busy laughing to do any damage.

    I think mom and dad were part of Eric’s scheme.

    Such a trivial story.  Then again Such a meaningful story because it shows both Eric’s wit and his knowledge of
    my frailties.   


    Hey Eric, remember Dad taking us sleigh riding. Our new sleigh.  Must have been around 1944 or
    thereabouts.  Remember dad said ‘you boys wait at the top of the Grenadier hill while I test the
    sleigh.”  We waited and waited and waited but Did never returned.  Far below a crowd had gather around a tree.
    Eventually we slid downtime hill on our bums to find dad and our slight wrapped around a tree.  Dad
    broke some ribs but we were more concerned about our broken sleigh.

    Hey, Eric, remember those wild peccaries at the High Park Zoo?  Vicious little wild kind of pig.  Dad thought we could get closer to
    them by climbing up behind  those pigs.  They had tusks. There must have been about 30 of them
    waiting to greet us.  They had tunnelled under the wire fencing
    and were in attack mode.   I will never forget dad carrying you Eric and trying to kick the peccaries
    while yelling at me to get the hell out of there.  He was surrounded but got a couple of good kicks away.  
     What if he had fallen Eric? Would the pigs devour both of you and then come for me?
    That must have been the springtime of 1943.   You were 3 years old and I was 5.


    Hey Eric, remember perching on old Mr. Howard’s cannon.  Dad took us there under duress.
    He preferred to take us to Dufferin Racetrack didn’t he?  Mom must have persuaded him to keep him
    away from the Dufferin track. where he wasted his pay checks.  He wanted us to be little more self reliant scam artists
    like the Artful Dodgers in Dickens novel. 

    Dufferin racetrack was close to our flat at 18 Sylvan Avenue.   The racetrack was dad’s real home…that was where
    all his paychecks were spent.  Mom supported our family as a sweatshop garment maker.  How she did that remains a mystery.





    Remember when we were big enough to sneak into Dufferin Racetrack.   You were 8 and I was 9.   Just the right age to scamper under the
    fence where gamblers gathered.  “Boys your job is to Pick up all the tickets that are dropped. Always some
    fool drops a good one.”  We got piles of them.  Dad said not to bother with tickets covered in
    tobacco juice.  Remember seeing dad checking them?  Occasionally he would find a good one
    which he could cash.     That was his scam not ours. He kept the cash while we enjoyed being part
    of his skulduggery.



    Remember dad showing us how to run our own scam at the racetrack?  “Boys, gather up
    some of those racing forms thrown away by people leaving the track then sell them
    for a quarter the next day” We did that successfully a couple of times. Good money. Someone
    must have complained because we were chased away.  Too bad for the guys betting on
    yesterdays horses.  Good for us.

    Hey Eric,remember how dad a showed us how to get into just about any racetrack or Fair  free?  …like 
    the Royal Winter Fair. “Eric hold my hand.
    look straight ahead as if you own the place.”    And dad would put his free hand on the rump of a 
    Holstein cow or Shorthorn steer being led into the showroom.  That worked every
    time as I remember. More difficult at the racetracks but doable.

    He yEric, remember how dad used that scam wherever tickets were required.  Like sneaking into
    the Club House at the old Woodbine track.  “Look straight ahead…no expression on your faces…slip by the 
    gate, I know a man there… we don’t look nervous …we will be fine.”      

    That was a lesson in life skills not taught at school.  Bit of a scam. We developed nerves of steel.

    Hey Eric, remember when Uncle Norman arrived at our house with half a pig.  Trail in blood from
    his half ton truck to our flat om Sylvan avenue.  Or was that just my imagination?  Food was short due to rationing in the war years.
    Remember tn\hose pork pies mom made?


    Hey Eric remember when dad bought that horse in a claims race…part of a horse really.
    We sneaked into the track through the board fence to the stables.  We got there just in time
    to hear the shot.   The horse reared ump a bit then fell down dead as I remember.  We were
    relieved.  How was dad ever going to keep a horse in our flat? Mom would have been fit
    to be tied.   Not sure that dad ever told her.  If he did  mom would have said her usual
    criticism of him.  “Oh Red, you fathead.”

    Hey Eric, remember when you knocked Barclay Cormack’s front teeth out with the baseball bat?
    His baby teeth.  Remember all those kids we played with?…Jimmy Melvin, Joan Linton, Bobby Samanas, 
    Barclay Cormack, you and me? Barclay was the catcher…played too close to thebatzer.
    Even professional catchers get whomped occasionally.

    Hey Eric,remember how Bobby Samanas’s dad made us wooden Tommy Guns for our
    imaginary war in Dufferin Park?   Remember how we ventured up to Mount Dennis and
    the Mount Dennis gang smashed our wooden guns against a tree and chased us home.?




    Hey Eric, remember how we collected orange crates and  roller skates to make scooters.
    When the crates broke they were easy  to replace so we had our own little demolition derby.
    The skates  were the running gear…half a skate on each end of a short 2 x 4.





    Hey Eric, remember the Robertson candy  truck heist ? We made a big mistake that day.  
    We watched two boys steal chocolate bars from the Robertson truck.  They ran home. Down Dufferin
    Street below College  Street.  We knew them.  A police car arrived and the cop asked if anyone had
    seen the robbery.  “We did!”  The officer then put us in his cruiser and questioned us. “Do you know where 
    the thieves live?  “Yes sir,” we answered a bit nervously. “Come along.” He knocked on the door
    “He turned to us…”Are these the boys?”  We new then and there we were in trouble as snitches.
    For days we went to and from Kent Public School nervously.  Nothing happened fortunately but fingering
    bad guys to the police was avoided from then on.  

    Hey Eric, remember the school dentist.  Free for kids.  He fixed lone of my teeth.  “If it bleeds hold your
    mouth over the curb of the sidewalk until it stops.”   We were expected to be tough rather than sucks.

    Hey Eric, I envied you big time. You were right handed.  I was left handed. You could do just about
    anything.   Like catch a baseball. I fumbled.  Baseball gloves were made for right handed people
    like you and 90% of kids.  I was an oddball.  Worse!  My teachers in grade 3 or 4 or both decided to
    “brake me”.    Force me to use my right hand.  It did not work so they gave up. Result is that I cannot
    tell; right from left.    f someone says “turn left or turn right”,I have to think about it.  I am no 86 years old
    and still have trouble.   You became a better athlete than me.  I was OK at sports…but not terrific.
    You were terrific. You were Chosen to attend the Ontario Athletic Leadership Camp one summer 
    as I remember.   I envied you.

    We were close friends all our lives.  Little sibling rivalry.  I miss you every time I see cake icing.

    END PART 1;  Celebration of Eric Skeoch’s life.  AN imaginary conversation.

  • EPISODE 1,174: THE LEAVES ARE MAGNIFICENT RIGH TNOW

    EPISODE 1,174:   THE LEAVES ARE MAGNIFICENT RIGH TNOW


    alan skeoch
    oct. 22, 2024

    This is the time you should be walking…anywhere!   The autumn leaves are spell binding.
    Beyond words.   Take a look.

    P.S. Some of you might wonder why my stories have not been coming.   They will come.
    Right now I ma writing a series of conversations with my brother Eric who died August 1,2024.
    Imaginary conversations.  The kind of conversations we had when he was alive.  Our childhood
    was exciting.  We were a lucky generation.  Some readers know that.  Others may find
    these conversations interesting.  

    First let’s look at the autumn leaves.

    a;lan