Kate and Big Bird
From a happy, easy going baby, Kate grew into a chatty, inquisitive child. She always had a question, and she was never shy to ask—or to state her mind. Kate was a very social child, and wanted to take part in everything.
She especially wanted to make friends with large cartoon characters. People dressed in costumes amazed her. Certainly, she believed them to be real. They were magical and special, and she could never get enough of them. Whenever her parents took her to a mall when there was an event, they would have to watch Kate very carefully. More than once she had wandered off to people in costumes, and her parents would eventually find her, holding hands with the character, wandering around.
“They’re not strangers mom! It’s Big Bird!” How could it not be alright to trust them, and wader off with them? Big Bird and all of the other costumed characters were very trustworthy people!
Kate became front page news in the Montreal Gazette when she met Big Bird at the YMCA—but this celebrity didn’t get to her head. She knew that it was the wonderful Big Bird who was really in the spotlight!
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From learning to roller skate, to learning to ride her tricycle, to learning to swim without water wings, this was a time
1990 Tricycle
when Kate was ready to take on any challenge.
It was also the time when Kate learned to play soccer! Soccer was very important for Kate. It was not winning or losing, or even ever about competition. Soccer, to Kate, was playing the game. She was always excited to play soccer, excited for the moment she smelled the freshly mowed pitch, the feel of the ball, freshly inflated and perfectly round, the gathering of the team, the soft sound of the perfectly even green grass under-foot, parting as tiny cleats drive into it… not to mention the bright, juicy half-time oranges and popsicles that dribble down sweaty chins, melting in the noon-day sun.
Bright and early, with the first rays of the sun, Kate rolled out of bed, rested and energized for the day’s events. Her uniform was there, waiting on her chair, diligently and lovingly collected and folded by her mother. She put each piece of the uniform on, smoothing it so that it looked just so, tucking in her jersey so that she wouldn’t be called out by the referee. She struggled to cram her bulky shin pads into my too-tight socks. She pulled and yanked, and her foot finally slid in, the sock un-bundling itself straight up past her knee. A few neat folds of the sock, and she was ready to go.
She struggled to get through breakfast as nerves and excitement got the better of her. Besides, she knew that she would be greeted with a right feast after the game. There were bright pink cloud-like balls of sugar, spun around and around on a stick until it was just right. Then there were the juiciest hot-dogs in the softest, chewiest buns, meticulously wrapped and folded into paper homes, each one crafted in the exact image of the one before it, and with the power of making pickles and relish seem like a feast for the gods. There were the nachos—so crisp and delightful. Who knew that cheese came in such colours?! Then there was the soda, cold as ice, with bubbles that tingled the tired tongue.
1993 Soccer Team
Kate crammed her feet into well-worn cleats, torn at the toe after a long summer season of running and kicking. She grabbed the laces and pulled those laces with all her might. She pulled and tightened until they were just right. She knotted each, and then knotted them again, just to be sure.
Stepping outside was deceptive. The sun, which looked so warm and gentle from inside, carried with it the prick of the first chilly air of the year. This day was truly the marker for the end of a season, the end of a summer.
The two minute drive to the field lasted an eternity…as did trying to find place to cram a car into an already overflowing lot. The moment finally came. Stepping out of the car, Kate took off at a run. Straight down the too-steep hill, no time for the staircase when running beside was faster! She looked for others wearing the same colour, and when she found them, they ran together, giggling excitedly. To the lower hill they ran. The grass here was not so soft, haphazardly splotched with dried patches of hard dirt and tufts of prickly grasses. Yet this could not stop the soccer kids from rolling, fast as they could, to the bottom—only to run back up and do it again. Around and around Kate rolled until all of the colours around blurred into one and even when she stopped, the world still spun.
Then came the soccer game. Kate played, she tried her hardest. Whether she won that year or not, no one knows. All of the years since have blurred together. Some years she won, some years she didn’t. Sometimes Kate scored, sometimes she didn’t. There was always sweat, laughter, and sometimes tears as the season culminated in this day: the Pointe-Claire soccer tournament at Terra Cotta. Kate started when she was five years old, and still plays soccer at twenty-four years old. Unfortunately, she doesn’t get to play in this tournament any more.
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The deceptively cold soccer tournament weekend led to the next brisk September weekend. This time around, there was very little left of the hint of summer. The trees shivered and
shuddered in the wind, the air held no hint of the warmth that was so cursed in August, and the cold smell of fall had settled over the city. It was time for another yearly tradition.
Kate put on her warmest sweater, and a lighter one underneath, in case it was too warm in the noon-day sun. The Poiriers packed into the car, with snacks and juice boxes in tow. The set off on a drive that would last forever!
They drove and drove. The sides of the highway were lined with fiery spheres, trees lit up like neon signs in vibrant red, yellows and oranges. The entire drive was through this scenery, and yet it was so captivating that eyes could barely be torn away from up. But inevitably, with a five year old and a seven year old in the back seat, they were.
“That’s MY juice box!”
“I had it first!”
“STOP poking me!”
“MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM, Kate hit me!” Sarah wailed.
“Well you shouldn’t have been poking her!” Mom replied, as Kate stuck her tongue out at Sarah.
“I spy with my little eye something that it stupid!” Sarah chanted.
WHACK. Served her right. She needed a good punch in the ribs, and Kate never minded being the one to do it.
“If the two of you don’t stop, I WILL turn this car around! We can go right home if you want!” Dad would shout, frustrated in a car full of women.
“No you won’t. Everyone is waiting for us.” Kate replied logically.
This was followed by about three minutes of silence, before it started over again. If only the scenery could have been more captivating to a five year old…
The near incessant bickering stopped though, at a certain point while everyone gave a moment of silence to a very special location: the sign.
YOU ARE NOW HALWAY TO THE NORTH POLE
This was a very important sign—it meant that Kate was halfway to where Santa Lives, to a magical land where, counter to what ecologists say, polar bears and penguins play together in the snow all day. It was momentous to be halfway to the North Pole. Kate could not have understood that the sign meant halfway between the equator and the North Pole at that time. To her, it meant that they had driven SO far, that they were halfway to the North Pole.
1991 Milking a cow
After the sign, there was little left in the trip. Before Kate knew it, she was stepping out of the car. Legs numbed from too much sitting, Kate stretched as she stepped lightly onto the gravelled parking lot. Everywhere she looked around the parking lot, on every surface that used to be grass, as far as the eye could see, there were now Canada geese. There were thousands of them, all honking, flapping their wings, and standing around. The geese knew that the warm summer months had ended, and they were smart enough to leave for the frigid weather that would soon roll in. Upper Canada Village was just one stop along their way.
The first exciting leg of the trip was always a jaunty sprint to the washroom. After driving for the better part of two hours, with only one pit stop but many juice boxes, the bathroom was a welcome friend, even if it did smell vaguely like cow manure.
After the washroom, Kate found her grandfather. They walked around, waiting for everyone else to arrive. Grampa talked about geese, and he said that they weren’t very nice, and they liked to bite. He then proved it, by making a fist and putting it in the face of the nearest goose, which promptly bit him.
“They’ll take your finger right off if you let them!” Ironic, since it was actually a table saw, and not a goose, that would take her grandfathers fingers off years later. Yet the lesson was leaned. Kate would not put her hand anywhere near a vicious, mean goose.
After a long day exploring the past, Kate sat to rest her weary feet, right outside of the barn. The cows were no longer trimming the grasses; they had all been brought inside. The sun was lazily sliding down towards the horizon and the shadows stretched on their way to becoming tall as they could before they disappeared for the night. It was four o’clock: milking time!
Kate decided she wanted to give it a try! She waited her turn in the barn that had the distinct odour of manure. Flies buzzed and bumped about, so Kate had to flick them off every so often. The cows did the same, using their wiry tails to swat the flies instead of their hands. When it was her turn, Kate sat on the tiny stool—perfect size for a five year old, she didn’t really see why the grownups were using them too. The farmer put a bucket below the cow’s udder, and showed Kate:
“You just have to squeeze at the top, that gets all of the milk into the teet. Then you close your hand. Just like this.”
So Kate did just what the farmer showed her to do. The udder was oddly warm in the cool weather. It was very soft and very wrinkly. It was like nothing that Kate had ever touched! She grabbed the teet, just like farmer had showed her, and gave it a yank.
“No, no, don’t yank! That will hurt the cow. You just have to squeeze gently!”
So Kate tried again—success! A stream of milk came bursting out, right into the tin pail. It made a very musical tinny sound, like raindrops falling onto a metal awning, but more drawn out.
“Good! Now try with two hands!”
Before long, Kate was milking like an expert!
1992 Airplane
*****
It was during these before school school years that Kate went on many exciting trips. Her father worked for a company that allowed him to fly for free, so it was during these young times that Kate was able to gallivant around North America.
One trip brought her to Washington D.C. Walking through the Smithsonian, Kate felt very small indeed as she looked up at skeletons towering above her. Big bones and bigger teeth surrounded her, and she was immediately enthralled with the grandeur of the extinct marvels. Kate was already fascinated by dinosaurs before this—she knew every name of every dinosaur. Now she was able to see in real life what she had seen in pictures so many times. It may also have been this experience that guided Kate in her future choices….as it wasn’t just the dinosaurs that were fascinating, but also the bones!
1991 Smithsonian
1992 Florida
*****
A trip to Florida to visit the relatives made Kate feel right at home as a beach bunny. The ridiculous heat and high humidity didn’t bother Kate, because spent the entire day in the water and in the sand next to the water. This was all she needed! The salty water was unlike anything she had experienced before. It was like combining a swimming pool with potato chips! But it didn’t taste as good… When Kate wasn’t at the beach, she would spend the time chasing tiny little lizards. When she caught them, their tails would
1992 Florida
come right off! What a fantastic creature. It’s too bad there were none in Canada.
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