September 27, 2014 - Alexander McDonald

H.M.F.M. Chapter Four: “Corn Corn and….”

When my parents immigrated to Canada, we weren’t exactly “in the money.” If it wasn’t for  my mother’s self proclaimed misplaced royalty lineage, we could probobaly have been very amicably been compared to that of a typical Italian immigrant family coming from Sicily, or worse, the poverty stricken blue collar hick town family, from the old black n white TV show, “The Beverly Hillbillies.”  Either way, here we were in a bloody hick town, called Wallaceburg Ontario,. It truly was the poster town for “been nowhere – goin’ nowhere.” Regardless, my mother and father were, and stil are, very hard working frugal people, not cheap, just shrewd enough to stretch a penny to last the length of a dollar. So, my ideas of being a ten, eleven, or twelve year old kid for that matter, and running my own speakeasy, or shanty bar, and wearing a slick mafia gangster suit, and having my own chauffeur, was quickly vanquished by my mother’s quick witted choice, to self appoint me to show up at a local Dutch farmers house, as she had volunteered to promote me from paper routes, to bloody corn detassling, in the dusty eight foot high acres and acres of flat  farm fields – in the stifling mid summer August heat no less. I would have named this chapter corn detassling in the Sahara desert, but it just didn’t have the same ring to it.

As I noted earlier, in the last chapter, if you the reader have any regretable or repugnant jobs in your lost youth, I’d love to hear about your adventures in a strange new land.

Blessings, peace and joy.



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