The Goderich Signal-Star, 1985-06-12, Page 20PAGE 2A--GQDERICH SIGNAL -STAR, WEDNESDAY, JUNE 12,1,x85
Comm u.0 ity News
Markcould not help but wonder if he would ever be old enough to understand Y..
His daydreaming was interrupted by the
familiar sound ofthe steel gong which his
mother now pounded to let him know the
breakfast was ready.
Mark quickly jumped down and jogged
all the way to the rocky trail that led to the
house above. It was a steep climb, but he
seemed unaware of it. A few minutes later
he burst into the kitchen, startled for a mo-
ment to see his mother all dressed up.
"Hi, Mom," he panted, kissing her prof-
fered cheek. "Oh, good: pancakes!"
"Are you hungry?"
"You bet," he said, slipping behind the
table.
• "I've had five already," Robbie bragg-
ed, his lips glistening with maple syrup.
"One, darling," his mother corrected.
"You must not exaggerate."
"Twelve," Robbie countered stubborn-
lyStuffing the first piece of pancake into
his mouth, Mark glanced again at his
mother. He was used to seeing her at this
time of day with her hair in curlers, her
feet in slippers and the rest wrapped up in
ner old housecoat.
But this morning she wore a gaily col-
ored spring dress, sparkling earrings,
stockings and shoes. Her hair looked as
though she had just been to the beauty
shop.
Except for the apron, Mark had not seen
his mother like this since she had gone to a
party and that seemed like a very long
time ago.
"Think we're gonna go to the zoo again,
Mark?" Robbie mumbled through a
mouthful of pancake.
"Today is gonna be different," Mark
said. "We may even go to the harbor and
borrow Pete's boat again, like we used to,
til
• Wan page 1
mother had explained when one evening he
bad not comehorne.
"When will we move?" Mark had asked
excitedly.
"We will stay here."
"Here? I ..., I don't understand."
"You're too youfig to understand."
Subsequent inquiries had been parried
by warnings not to pursue the matter any
further and assurances that everything
would be all right.
The only times he and Robbie saw their
father now was during the monthly visits
to Vancouver. At first the prospect of ex-
ploring the big city had seemed like a lot of
fun, but soon the outings had become as
boring to Mark as the tv dinners at hr's
father's small apartment.
Walks and talks proved poor substitutes
for such things as boating and kite flying.
The walks invariably led to the zoo and the
talks led nowhere.
Once it had been made clear that what
mattered most could not be discussed, the
resultant small talk produced long periods
of awkward silence.
Robbie, who at four was still too young to
be diplomatic, made the situation worse by
asking repeatedly if it was time yet to go
back to Seacove.
Will today be different? Mark wondered.
Could things possibly become again what
they used to be?
A sea gull suddenly swept into view,
screeching in protest of the boy's
presence,• then vanishing again into the
thinning mist.
Mark took a deep breath, the salty air in-
vigorating him. He thrust his head
backward . and stared into the wispy
whiteness above as though expecting to
find the elusive answers there.
Involuntarily he recalled last Christmas.
Early in the morning he and Robbie had
found the colorful parcels under the
festively decorated tree. Everything was
quite a bit like it used to be at that time of
year: the cards on the mantlepiece, the
white world outside. But the usual laughter
and excitement that had gone with it in the
past, this time had been as noticeably
absent as his father.
In anticipation of his father's visit, he
had helped his mother set the table for
four. The carefully placed red and green
napkins, the holly and candles had almost
made him happy.
When his father arrived, they had all
rushed to the door.
"The boys would like you to stay for din-
, ner," his mother said, and for a moment
the hope for peace and goodwill had
sparkled in her eyes.
"The turkey is this big, Daddy!" Robbie
had said, spreading his hands their max-
imum distance.
"I'm sorry, but I can't stay," his father
had said. "I've made other arrangements.
On the way to Vancouver the snow -laden
trees swept past in a meaningless blur.
The other arrangements turned out to be
hamburgers and chips at a drive-in.
Mark could not help wondering if he
would ever be old enough to understand all
this: What he did understand was that his
father would never wear the dressing
gown they had so carefully wrapped the
night before and that for the next week or
so they would eat turkey for lunch and sup-
per.
When they had reached the apartment,
Robie was soon busy extinguishing im-
aginary fires with his new fire engine, but
Mark found the games of scrabble as bor-
ing as the electric car race that followed. It
was the longest afternoon in his life.
A thousand times he wanted to ask his
father why they could not have spent the
day at home instead, but rather than ask-
ing questions he answered them.
Yes, things are going all right in school.
No, he had not seen Mr. and Mrs. Wigford
lately. Yes, he would be careful at the
beach.
From that day on his father never again
walked them to the door. He simply drove
up to the driveway, kissed them hurriedly
and vanished for another month. When he
came to pick them up, he honked the horn.
The April sun had now melted an open-
ing through the mist and the sudden
warmth made Mark sigh in appreciation.
He tried' to find the courage to believe
that this morning things would be different
— better. Earlier that week he had found
his father's letter on his mother's night
table, the envelope partially hidden by a
newspaper. Feeling guilt, but no remorse,
he had read it hastily. Now the words that
mattered came back to him.
Dear Kathy, the letter had stated. There
Mark thought, Dad wouldn't call her 'dear'
if he didn't like her.
"This Saturday when 1 pick up the boys
for their monthly visit, 1 would like to talk
to you first. I think if we can discuss things
calmly, we can solve most of our pro-
blems."
Mark smiled, his face warmed by new
hope as much as by the sun.
His father would come to the' house — to
talk, to solve problems. Things would be
different. Didn't it say 'Love, George,' at
the bottom? Mark laughed aloud without
feeling silly. His mother had been right all
along. "Your father needs time to work
things out," she had said.
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eh Mom?"
"We'll have to wait and see," she said as
she poured the last of the batter into the
frying pan.
'Do you like zoos, Mom?" Robbie asked.
"No, I don't she said. "Animals should
be free, like people. Now wash up, you two.
Dad will be here in a few minutes."
As the cuckoo clock was in the middle of
announcing that it waC nine o'clock, they
heard the car approach the house. Mark
rushed to the window.
"It's Dad," he shouted. And opening the
door: "Hi, Dad ! "
ll "Hi, Mark.
Dad!" Robbie. Hello, Kathy."
"Come in, George," she said. And turn-
ing to the boys: Okay, you two, go play
downstairs for a while. Dad and I want to
talk."
"Only a few minutes, right Dad?" Rob-
bie asked as Mark took him by the hand.
"Yes, we won't be long."
Once inside their room, Robbie asked:
"Do you want to play spaceman, Mark?
Nq.
"Why not?"
"Because it makes too much noice —
that's why!"
Robbie looked puzzled. '�I don't like you,
Mark," he pouted.
"What if I read you a
Lassie?"
"Okay."
"It had rained all day," Mark started
sotto voce.
"Yoh roust understand, Kathy," his
father's voice wounded strangely through
the heat register.
"1 understand all right," she said. "You
don't want us."
"Lassie was soaking wet when he reach-
ed the farm."
"That's not true, but we can't pick up
where we left off."
"Does she mean more to you than your
own wife and children?"
"Don't shout!"
Mark put the book down. He'didn't hear
the rest and fled the house as though it
were on fire.
'Wait for me, Mark!" Robbie pleaded, .
unable to keep pace. But Mark heard only
the throbbing in his temples as he slipped
and stumbled down the rock trail to the
beach. He ran along the shore, the shells
crushing under his pounding feet, until he
reached the only refuge he knew. At the
base of the volcanic sculpture he saw a
crab. Angrily he kicked the creature into
the air, watching its dismembered body
drop clumsily on the rippled sand. Then he
climb into his protective seat.
Alone, very much alone now, he stared
at the sea — the familiar view strangely
distorted by the sudden tears.
He clenched his fists and bit his quiver-
ing lip to stem the rivulets on his glowing
cheeks. Then he silently vowed never to
hope again.
story about
Big
Brothers
needs you
This Sunday is Father's Day and although
most of us plan family celebrations to let our
dads know how much we appreciate them,
there are some who don't have or never see
their fathers.
Young boys who have no father need the
companionship of a male sometimes to have
fun with and exchange ideas with. Big
Brothers helps boys between six and 16 by
matching them with a volunteer male, 18 or
over, who they can spend time with -them.
The association takes great care to ensure
the volunteer is suited to the responsibility
of becoming a big brother. Big and little
brothers are carefully matched according to
their interests and individual needs.
"We match personalities as much as we
can," said Cathy Boddy, president of the
North Huron Big Brothers Association in the
Goderich, Clinton, and Seaforth area.
In Goderich and area there are about
eight buys matched with big brothers and.at.
least as many waiting for a match, and this
is usually the case. "There are always more
little brothers on the waiting list then there
are volunteers to match them with," said
Boddy.
• For boys who have no male within the
household or possibly no male association in
their lives at all, a big brother provides an
needed friend,
"The big brother is not a Santa Claus,"
said Boddy. "The purpose of the program is
to create a companionship in the ideal
sense. A big brother is there to listen. He is
not a watchdog, and does not report
Ieverything his little brother says to his
mother. He is only there to be a friend." v,
The big brothers and little brothers may
participate in any kind of activity together,
whether it's a walk on the beach, or an even-
ing at the show.
Big brothers are expected to spend at
least three or four hours each week with
their little brothers. Any cost to the little
brother for an activity is most often paid by
the Big Brothers Association because
"generally speaking the mothers of these
young boys don't have money for such ex-
tras and are just making ends meet as it is,"
said Boddy.
Although the association's main concern
is individual relationships, little brothers
and volunteers get together a few times a
year to go camping or hold a Christmas par-
ty.
Boddy said a two year commitment by
volunteer big brothel's is ideal but with a
waiting list of little brothers, any volunteers
participation is appreciated, especially by a
boy who needs a friend.
For more information on becoming a Big
Brother, call Cathy Boddy at 524.9132 (after
6p.m.).
i