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Notes from a Garage

With John Gardiner

The house at 436 6th Avenue; hipiefest 2010; and my grandson Isaac…..

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Watched my old bunk bed get loaded in a van and drive off up 6th Avenue on Saturday morning – the one with my initials carved into the end. My parents had their big yard sale as they continue to downsize in preparation for the move to the new condo – which is happening in mid October. At that point, the old family homestead at 436 6th Avenue will cease to be part of Gardiner family history – a history that stretches back some 50 years when my Dad sold the house at Marl Lakes and we moved to Hanover. I was about nine. And despite the fact I’ve lived away for over 35 years, the house in Hanover remains somehow my home. I was sitting on the front step having a smoke over the weekend and looking across to Norm’s Restaurant and remembering how my friends and I used to gather in this very spot when we were teenagers before heading out for a night of fun and games. I remember the back yard carnivals my friends and I would run to bilk the little kids out of their pennies so we could buy ice cream or French fries at Norm’s. I remember the time we ruined my mother’s raspberry bushes building a giant catapult to launch tomatoes over the garage and onto the street beyond. I remember my Dad making me a golf course in the back yard so I could pretend I was a famous golfer and I remember the thousands of times I hammered a ball off the side wall of the house – with a hockey stick in winter and my baseball mitt on in summer. I remember the many parties my parents used to host while my friends and I played cards in the kitchen and filled the room so full of cigarette smoke we could barely see each other. I remember the time my friends and I strung string all over the neighbourhood to make a type of primitive telephone network – and we thought it sort of worked. And, of course, I remember practicing in the basement with the band Strange Brew and then Charlie Gardiner’s Basement Band (great name, eh?). I remember that the police would drop over to see if we could turn it down and my Dad would stick up for us. It got pretty noisy in the old neighbourhood when Strange Brew was practicing in our basement and Richard Knechtel’s band Local Disturbance was practicing in the barn out back. No, I’ve got so many memories about the house at 436 6th Avenue that I could fill a book – and perhaps one day I shall. I know this is right and that my parents have made the right decision to move to a smaller, more manageable place. It’s the way of the world as you get older. And I try to imagine how difficult it is for them – to see all these memories for sale. So, I try not to let on how I’m feeling….and I try to help out. And then I have a good cry as we drive out of town. And I look forward to Thanksgiving when we’ll have our last family meal in the house. Life is hard sometimes. I ask my Dad how he’s holding up to the big changes in he and Mom’s lives. “Oh, I’m okay,” he says. “I’m getting kind of used to it.” Christmas will be different this year. But it will be just as good as ever as long as I have my family around me. A house is only bricks and mortar – the memories come with us. And I will cherish those of my time at 436 6th Avenue ‘til I depart this mortal coil. Of that you can be sure.

We had the hippie reunion over the weekend as well and had a get together with some of the old friends. These are really special gatherings for me and I savour every minute of them. My old friend, Ian Mills, who is the main organizer of hippiefest, called me after the event and we chatted. I told him that I’ve never made friends again like the ones I did in Hanover while I was growing up. It’s weird. You can not see one of the old gang for 25 years, but when you see them again everything’s cool after about 30 seconds. You just feel comfortable with them. For one thing, they know exactly who you are and you know exactly who they are. There’s a type of honesty. There’s no way you can fool someone from the old days. I’ve made some good friends since Hanover but it’s not the same type of friendship as when you know someone’s roots. Anyway, thanks to Ian for his boundless enthusiasm for the event and for keeping on keeping on…..

My grandson, Isaac, had his first day of big school today and my thoughts are with him even though he is so very far away. I remember taking both of my kids to school on their first days and it’s quite a thing to know that the next generation is on the way. I really have a hard time believing that I’ve reached a point where I have grandchildren. It’s very strange and if you don’t believe me, wait ‘til it happens to you. Proud of all my grandchildren and love them to death…..

Out of time after a long Notes this week….and no politics or ranting this week..kind thoughts all the way around…take care and remember, “Hew to the line; let the chips fall where they may.”



John Gardiner is a 25-year-veteran of the community newspaper business, but he is also a prolific writer of moralistic short fiction he refers to as "emotional thoughtscapes" or "adult fables". Samples of his fiction can be found at:

He has also produced a noteworthy piece of humanist philosophy which can be found at: http://www.xs4all.nl/~aboiten/ad502.htm He welcomes comments on his work.