The Power of Words

Our family was once again returning to Cape Breton Island for the summer.  We were living in Prince Edward Island where my father, who was in the Canadian Air Force, had been stationed since I was about 4 years old.

At the time of this trip, I think I was 7 or 8 years old; just recall I was stubborn, mischievous and had a very “strong ” will of my own.  If you read my article on Cape Breton where I tell of my parents’ roots, you’ll know where this stubbornness and strong will came from.

We kids were herded into our old stationwagon and we took the rocky, rickety “ferry” from PEI to mainland Nova Scotia (or was it New Brunswick…don’t recall).

Let’s get to the point – or should I say the “paint!”

Per usual, after being on the Island for several weeks and no let up of what I refer to as “Cape Breton mist” we kids were getting a little stir crazy.  Most afternoons we were required to take a nap after lunch – I think so my parents could have some “sane time”!  One afternoon it so happened that my parents also succumbed to the nap which I discovered when I ventured out of my room to see what they were up to and passing their bedroom door saw it closed.

Immediately I ran back to my room where my “big” brother (all of one year older than me) was sleeping on the other bed.  I whispered really loud trying to wake him up and when that didn’t work I threw my running shoe at his bed – and it landed on his head!  He woke, he glared and I screamed out of the room and stood by my parents’ door…in case I needed to barge in for safety.  He never came out of the room, so I tip toed back into the room and saw him perched on the bed, still glaring.  He lifted the running shoe and pitched it at me, nailing my backside as I bolted from the doorway!  I heard his triumphant snicker and did an about face, returning to the doorway, hands indignantly perched on my hips, and glared back at him.  We stared..eyes piercing one another..and both simultaneously burst out laughing.

Me & My Big Brother

“I’m bored,” I said. “Come on, let’s go outside and see what grandpa’s up to.”  He needed no coaching and we both tip toed down the creaky wooden stairs to the main floor and gently opened the screen door, hoping the oil applied earlier got rid of the squeak.  Out we went, tumbling across the field of hay to our grandfather’s house.

There was no sign of grandpa or grandma and we decided to explore some more.  There was this shed that grandpa did a lot of work in, and it was always locked – this huge iron lock, rusted from the ocean spray and salt that even now kissed our skin.

“WOW” I belted.  “Grandpa left the lock off the shed!”  My brother was a little more cautious and said, “Yeah, well he’s likely in there working right now.”  I wasn’t going to let that deter me, and I drew closer, glently pushing the shed door inwards.  I couldn’t see any lights on and didn’t hear any  noise.  What I did get was a very strong waft of turpine burning my nostrils and drew my tiny little nose out of the doorway before it dissolved!

Turning my head to the side, looking at my brother, without words we giggled and entered the empty shed!  “Cool!” we both exclaimed.  We were in a cornucopia of a child’s delights.  Everywhere we looked there were cans and cans of paint and plenty of sticks and brushes to boot!

Before we had entered the shed I’d noticed the door paint was chipping off.  I mentioned this to my brother, and we decided we were going to “fix grandpa’s shed for him.”  We’d start by fixing the door; repainting it a nice bright colour.  We couldn’t decide what colour though.  Our tastes were completely different.

Because we couldn’t agree on a colour of paint with what was available, being smart little 8 and 9 year olds, remembering the colour chart and how if you mix red and green you get blue, etc. – we decided that our grandpa was going to have the best, the “most different” paint shed, “in the whole world!”

And so it began, and before even a stroke of paint touched the shed door, we were in DEEP DEEP TROUBLE.  I heard him before my brother did; the gruff bark of our sea faring grandfather!  Boy was he mad as he grabbed each of us by the neck and literally threw us out of the shed.  “What,” I said, looking at my brother.  “What’s wrong with grandpa?”

We both moved closer to the shed, and peering into it saw what grandpa had seen.  We had been so caught up in what we were doing; trying to find that “one”, that “special” paint just for our grandpa – we hadn’t seen the disaster that filled the shed.

We’d opened and mixed over 20 different kinds of paint and in our excitement never noticed the splatters all over the place, including our faces; never even thought about the fact that we were ruining gallons of precious paint that, in those days, cost my grandfather a fortune!

Obviously, my parents heard the noise, because they came running out the back door of our house bee-lining it for the shed.  Grandpa’s growls were still piercing the air and grandma stood on the front porch, covered in flour from the baking she’d been doing.  It looked like the screams had scared her and she must have knocked the flour over because she was wearing it.  She looked like a ghost and we couldn’t figure out if it was the scare she got from the guttural screams coming from grandpa!

Just as we’d been pitched out of the shed, we were just as roughly dragged home, up the stairs and marched to our bedroom!  My parents were livid and my dad was speechless.

We were canned, needless to say, and our planned afternoon at the beach – well it didn’t happen.  As we sat in our room our conclusion was that we’d done a good thing; we’d done something special for grandpa, and once he saw the “special colour” we had made for him – well, he’d be right over to thank us.  Didn’t happen; neither did the beach or supper.

We awoke the next day, ready for more adventures.  However, we thought better of going to visit grandpa; not just yet.

He did eventually get over it and because of the mess we had made, his shed got a long overdue overhaul and clean-up and grandpa, who had no choice, had to give everything a “fresh” covering of paint.  It all worked out for the best.