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
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