Those Happy Golden Years

I have never been to the Calgary tower. But I enjoy looking at it from the C-Train. It is tall and alien looking and when the coloured lights shine on it at night it is like it is beckoning beings from outer space to come on over and say hello. I wonder if kids hang out at the tower and just run up and down the stairs for fun. It reminds me that as a child I often would spend a whole day with a friend running through the halls of the Manitoba legislature building. It was like it was our own private castle to play in. And it was totally open to the public. I am sure the security guard loved listening to two little girls peering down over the railings saying, Hello? Hello?” Giggling as we waited to hear our echoing voices.

We desperately tried to find a stairway up to the Golden Boy. Oddly enough there was an  unlocked door to an open stairway, but it disappointed us when we found another locked door after many tiring steps. What did we imagine we would do once we got up there? Hang onto his big old golden leg as we surveyed the landscape?

I loved the large bison that flanked the staircase. I would pat them and pretend they were my pets. I was lucky enough that my own father worked there and would sometimes take me on a Sunday if he had work to do. That’s why I felt comfortable there, it was once my dad’s workplace.

I suppose the proprietary feeling I had for the Manitoba legislature building is how Ivanka Trump feels about the White House. It’s her dad’s place of work. She probably wanders around in her bathrobe and fuzzy slippers down those empty waxed floors at night, just ’cause she can. It must be fun to order pizza and give the address… ” Yes- hello ? Can you make sure to add pineapple and a side of extra sauce?, oh and just ring the bell, at the White House!”

And I am not talking politics here. I am just mentioning that we feel comfortable where our family is. Even if it is the legislature buildings or the White House . I felt comfortable in the back of my grandfather’s furrier store- Boston Furs where I would sit and watch all the men sit at their roaring sewing machines making fur hats and coats to keep all the Russian ladies warm in the cold dark winters of Winnipeg. Often on weekends, I would stand in the front window next to the mannequin, remaining still for what I imagined was hours, pretending that I was a small mannequin.

What I am saying is that I really hope that children today get the same freedoms we had as children growing up in the seventies.


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