Hockey Dreams
“It was deep winter — one of those winter days when you either go to work or start to drink wine at seven in the morning. We were walking along the highway on our way to visit Stafford Foley.
I could see how Stafford, back in 1961, would think his snake was real. He would think it was real because he wanted it to be real. He didn’t want to sleepwalk — walking down the street in his slippers. He didn’t want to have insulin attacks, where he would become as strong as the Amazing Hulk, and five or ...six of us would have to hold him down and feed him a sugar cube. He didn’t want to be tiny and blind. He wanted to have his own snake. He wanted to play hockey.
And if it wasn’t going to happen he would become a pathological delusionist. He would tell people Gordie Howe phoned him or he was over talking to the coach — who wanted him to become a scout for the team. Stafford had all kinds of plans such as this, back in 1961, and he was no more deluded than most of us.
Not only did my father play Beach Blanket Bingo in October, where we would stand about in earmuffs watching our breath — and of course Annette — but, when I was not much older than this, we would have beach parties in January after a hockey game.MoreLess
I could see how Stafford, back in 1961, would think his snake was real. He would think it was real because he wanted it to be real. He didn’t want to sleepwalk — walking down the street in his slippers. He didn’t want to have insulin attacks, where he would become as strong as the Amazing Hulk, and five or ...six of us would have to hold him down and feed him a sugar cube. He didn’t want to be tiny and blind. He wanted to have his own snake. He wanted to play hockey.
And if it wasn’t going to happen he would become a pathological delusionist. He would tell people Gordie Howe phoned him or he was over talking to the coach — who wanted him to become a scout for the team. Stafford had all kinds of plans such as this, back in 1961, and he was no more deluded than most of us.
Not only did my father play Beach Blanket Bingo in October, where we would stand about in earmuffs watching our breath — and of course Annette — but, when I was not much older than this, we would have beach parties in January after a hockey game.MoreLess
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