John Kitsco

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Some years ago friend Bernie (whom I understand became a policeman and then
a pilot) and brother Ted and myself hiked into the mountains, down a steep
incline and got right under a waterfall. How exciting! Only thing was that I froze coming back up. Brother Ted and friend Bernie had no problem. I just
froze in my tracks. Finally Bernie worked his way down the hillside and urged
me to run, yes run as the shale slid backwards. Well, I made it but felt sheepish
about the fear I encountered. That was many summers ago. And the memories
are still there. Later that day, the three of us toured a mining town, now pretty
much a ghost town, greeted only by the silent voices of the past.  And on the way
back to the city I recall Ted's old dodge encountered a slight problem with the
tires. The tires were as old and worn as the car. Not one, Not two but four tires
were flat, likely from the abuse on the mountain back roads. We drove into
the city on rims.

A few years earlier Ted and I went to a Johnny Cash show and watched Johnny
stumble on the stage, only to be embraced by June Carter. Sad, but the man
in black could do no wrong. Mr. Cash had his own mountains to climb, his own
fears to deal with. The crowd roared with approval as he sang about Folsom
Prison  (on his Canada tour) and the crowd forgave Johnny Cash.

Ah the joys of youth. On another occassion buddy Gerry and myself bicycled
about 30 miles out of the city to a nearby creek(which eventually flowed into
the North Saskatchewan river) Fishing was good. The day was hot. Gerry insisted on going for a swim. I continued fishing. Down to his shorts, he
jumped into the water. Not knowing that a group of girl-scouts was quickly
approaching. My nasty and mischievous side was about to get more nasty.
I decided to hide Gerry's clothing and socks and shoes. So as the girls
approached, all singing in unison, coincidentally Gerry was emerging from
the water. And with that sudden smile that turned to fear, Gerry could only
stand and watch the blushing girls suddenly stop their song, only to be
ushered into the woods by their leader. Gerry's look was now in my direction.
"How could you..."  said Gerry...." I thought you were my friend and friends
don't do such things..."  and I stood silent, the amusement turned to sadness.
And it was a long, quiet bicycle trip back home. Only to all be forgotten the
next day.

Now pushing past sixty, here I am on a Saturday night, the radio blaring
and Canadian Country singer Shane Yellowbird belting out...Me  and my
pick-up truck.  And  I quietly load up some garden mix a neighbor has offered.
I work into a sweat. A group of kids goes by on bicycles. I reflect on my own
youth, And they say youth is fleeting. Indeed....

Our daughter called earlier in the day and told me she was home from the
hospital, holding baby Annabella. Our grand-daughter.  It seems the cycle
of life has edged fast forward just a little more. And yes, I shall have lots and
lots of stories for Annabella.

Yes, me and my pick up truck, some days we don't pick up much and Shane
Yellowbird concludes that catchy little country tune...the music trails off,
I tarp the load.  That garden mix soil shall come in handy for next years garden...