run frogger,8,1

Back in the early 80’s, when I was yet a child of the single digits, the morning show of CFTR with Tom Rivers and Mike Cooper Brampton radio station CKMW ran a contest surrounding the hit new board game SuperQuiz. (Editor’s Note:  Mum corrected me on the station and says she can’t remember the DJ’s name but does remember that he was very good looking!  I think it was Russ SomethingOrOther…) My mother managed to get through on a regular basis and became one of the multi-show winners.  One of the early prizes, of course, was the actual game.  As the contest went on, Mum continued to win as did two other contestants.  All three became finalists in one last game held at the centre court of the Bramalea City Centre.  The grand prize was a brand new Commodore 64.

My father being a young electrical engineer, this was quite a coveted prize.  In preparation, he and Mum spent their evenings memorizing every card and every question in the box.  As a result, Mum was indeed crowned SuperQuiz Master and the computer came home with us that day with full fanfare from family and friends.  Its arrival in our living room was a grand party – complete with pizza and flowing alcohol.  The kids were spellbound and the adults jockeyed for position at the keyboard.  I’m sure my sister and I were carried off to bed just before our eyeballs dropped from their sockets.  The adults, meanwhile, stayed up learning all about BASIC, floppy disks and that oh so brightly coloured joystick.  Everyone had a great evening.  Except, of course, for the poor frog; he never did make it across the highway that night.

Advertisements

The Red Mitten

The red mitten was a beacon; I couldn’t have ignored it.  Its crimson softness called out to my peripheral vision like a siren song, a ruby gleaming in the grey November surroundings.  It was a solitary, ordinary mitten.  Why I was drawn so magnetically to it remains a mystery.

The day was grey and misty and the mitten was spotted by man and dog almost simultaneously.  Charlie strained forward on his leash in anticipation of a new found chew toy.  I reined him back in, my sixth sense tingling.  We were a few miles from the last rest point on the trail – a long walk for the small owner of the mitten. Continue reading “The Red Mitten”

Red Plastic Skis of Doom

The yard stretched out before me, a barren wasteland of snow and ice. Shadows were gathering in the late afternoon gloaming beneath low grey clouds laden with snow. Tears freezing on my cheeks, I let out another wail.

“Mummy!”

No good. I could see the flickering of the TV in the living room and knew that Daddy was watching Buck Rogers from his yellow recliner. I couldn’t see her, but figured that Mummy must be upstairs with the baby. They were all warm and dry inside and couldn’t hear me. Continue reading “Red Plastic Skis of Doom”

Beware the Evil Snowman

The snowman grinned malevolently as he watched his prey from the top of the toboggan hill.  This was the longest run in town and the children had chosen its peak as the place for his creation.  But their building had been clumsy and he despised their lack of skill.  His bottom was lumpy.  His middle was full of grass.  And his head was so large and misshapen it threatened to roll right off his shoulders.  But worst of all was his face.  Two stones for eyes.  A small twig for a nose.  And a curl of frozen dog poop for a mouth.  Oh, the indignity! Continue reading “Beware the Evil Snowman”