I was raised in the 1950’s. My parents and I lived in a small house that my dad and grandpa built on a hill, in a small hamlet called Ruskin, which was about an hour outside of Vancouver BC.
I had the run of the middle part of a ten acre hill. I played with the neighbors cows, which would come right up to me and lick my arm. We also had many cats and chickens that I amused myself with. I had every toy in the world because every Christmas I would tell my parents that I did not want clothes, just toys. My dad managed a five and dime store in a nearby town so I had a lot of choices. I had all the toy guns from the cowboy TV shows of the time: great role models like Gene Autry, Roy Rogers, Rifleman, Zorro and a lot more. I was in little boy heaven. The nearest kids were about a quarter mile away so we did not play with each other that much. I had a great imagination and I used it.
When it came time to start school, I was terrified, as I had never been away from home before; besides, I had to walk about a half a mile to get there, and I was not thrilled with that.
My mother dragged me down the hill to school the first day, because she did not trust me to go myself, she was correct. I was already plotting my escape as we entered the school yard. The other kids saw me come in with my ‘mommy’ holding my hand, which did not bode well for me, as I became a bully magnet from then on.
My teacher was Mrs. Anderson, an older, rather over weight woman with the patience of a God. I tried every escape plan I had, like peeing my pants so I would be sent home, or running home at recess only to be dragged back by my mother or my favourite was stopping at my aunt Pearle’s place, which was half way to school, to use the bathroom. She would yell at me to get out of the bathroom and go to school.
One day I got so far behind in my work that Mrs. Anderson told me to stay after school to catch up. Oh my God, I started to panic, I thought,”She is going to keep me here all night, I’ll never see my parents or more importantly my toys again!” I had to come up with the best escape plan of all time, maybe playing dead, no she will just drag me out and toss me in the garbage can. Then it came to me: I will lie, which goes against what all my role models would do, but I’m desperate.
“Mrs. Anderson” I said in my best pathetic voice, “I have to go because my mom is taking me shopping in town as soon as I get home.” I thought she will buy that, it sounded good to me.
“Ok, Daryl, go ahead, we’ll catch up the work later.” Wow, she fell for it; I was out of there so fast I almost forgot my coat.
When I got home my mother asked, “How was your day?”
“Fine” I answered trying to hide my guilt; those role models would be so disappointed with me. I went on with the rest of the day, playing and worrying about my lie which I was sure would get me sent to hell.
When my dad came home from work he would usually play catch or bat a ball around with me. This day he came home and went straight in the house and sat down, no catch or anything. I thought that was strange until I saw his face, the angriest that I had ever seen, my stomach sank.
“Come here!” he said with his ‘really mad voice’. I walked over to him but stopped short of his reach. “I ran into Mrs. Anderson in the store today, guess what she told me?” I felt sick; I wondered what hell was like, probably no toys.
“I don’t know.” I said in my best innocent voice.
“She asked how our shopping trip was, and how she let you go so you could go shopping too.” I was trying not to burst into tears. “Why did you lie to her?” he yelled.
“I didn’t want to stay overnight, or to be thrown in the garbage, and I missed my toys!” I cried, realizing that that did not even make sense to me.
“Don’t ever lie again!” he roared as he was spanking me. “Go to bed right now, no supper for liars!”
My role models were right, it took a long time before my parents trusted me again, to say nothing of facing Mrs. Anderson the next day.
As far as I can remember that was the first and last time that I ever lied to save my own neck.