EPISODE 830 SAD LITTLE BOY THAT I NEVER HELPED…and MARJORIE … ALMOST PARALLELS
alan skeoch
June 2, 2023
MY life has been happy most of the time. Only a Sore knee from football injury. Unlike the student i remember so well at Parkdale C I in the 1960’s which has a similarity to
what Marjorie and her brother faced in the 1950’s. (Picture of Marjorie and Doug Hughes )
WHY WAS I SO LUCKY IN LIFE WHILE OTHERS FACED TRAGEDY…ESPECIALLY ONE LITTLE BOY WHOSE NAME IS FORGOTTEN?
Last night I could not sleep so memory took over. For some strange reason I thought about
a sad little boy in my Grade 9 class at Parkdale C.I. He was very shy….avoided speaking if he could.
Likely poor. How do I know that? Because a lot of the students were poor which made him
unremarkable I suppose.
I think his dad died in November in 1964 or 1965. Think he sidled shyly up to my desk and said “My dad died.” Or
another student told me. That evening I went to the funeral home. A dark place wth 25 Watt light bulbs.
Frightening. The boy was alone in one room. Seemed surprised and glad to see me. But sad and confused…perhaps frightened.
“How is your mom?”
“She died.”
No mom. No dad. No siblings. No visitors. No funeral service. Just this sad little boy and the
casket with his father’s remains.
Why did he come to mind on a sleepless night over sixty years later? Why? Because I did nothing to
help. Just visited the funeral home across from Bellwood Park where other kids joyfully played ball hockey.
I did nothing. I am not sure I even alerted the principal about the boy. I do not even remember his
name.
How lucky I was. Surrounded by people who liked me. A huge extended Skeoch family … so large
I had trouble sorting out my nieces and nephews. My grandparents on both sides welcomed visits
with food and genuine interest in my life.
Yet this little boy had no one. Sad. Sadness captured by the song Old Man River… “Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen.
Nobody knows but Jesus!”
Whch made me start thinking about Marjorie. Fast asleep beside me in bed. A happy girl…woman…wife….future parent.
Both her parents died. Her mom died at Christmas 1954 when Marjorie was in Grade 9 at Lawrence Park Collegiate. At her mom’s funeral she
did not cry until Mr. Chick, her teacher, brought her home form class to the funeral home. At least She had her dad
who taught her how to fish, how to raise baby rabbits. That was some consolation.
But in April 1956 he died as well. Marjorie found him and did not know what to do. She woke her brother.
“Doug, I think Dad is dead. What should I do?’
”I think you should go to school. I’ll look after things.”
Marjorie walked to school in a daze. Sat in her class
and wondered why. What should she do? What could she do? She went to the office.
“I am going home.”
“Why?”
“My father died this morning.”
And she went home. Her high school did nothing. Marjorie was like the sad little boy described
earlier. No mom. No dad. No one seemed to care. Her brother was eight years older than Marjorie
Already making his way in an adult world.
“What happened to your house?”
“We were renters.”
“Your furniture?”
“People came and took what they wanted. Strangers.”
There is one big difference between the sad little boy and Marjorie. She was rescued by her aunt Phyllis Morgan who
was a Latin teacher in the North Bay high school.
“Marjorie, you will come to live with us when the school term ends.”
“Pack what you can carry. We have a room for you and a new high school..”
And that was all. Her brother put Marjorie on the train to North Bay with her single suitcase.
That was the low point Soon events turned upward.
Marjorie was loved and rescued.
Her life in North Bay turned out to be wonderful. She joined the curling team, drama club,
played basketball, went skiing, got good marks, danced, had lots of boy friends who were serious about her. How do I know that?
Because when I appeared on the scene she introduced me to them all…even one that proposed marriage.
Her aunt created a new life for Marjorie Helped her forget the terror of that
morning when she found her father. She was loved.
Maybe. Just maybe…that sad little boy in my Grade Nine class had an uncle or aunt …older brother or sister…friend..
that rescued him.
I do not know. All I do know is that I did nothing . I did nothing. And that memory stays with me still.
What should I have done?
alan skeoch
june 2, 2023
P>S> What do schools do when tragedy strikes a student? I will ask Mary.