Radical Shifts

Foreword and Chapter One

I grew up in a Christian home, Catholic, to be specific, so religious figures like priests, nuns and bishops were a regular part of my life. Music was a big part of our family life because not only did my parents both love classical music and play piano but my siblings had lots of rock and roll records for me to listen to. As a result, I came to love rock music.

I was the youngest noisemaker of five children. My first baby photo made me look as if I was freaked out about something. My eyes were fixed on the camera and my arms were tense. Maybe the doctor had slapped me too hard, or perhaps I had a foreshadowing of what life would be like at home with my zany siblings.

Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada, is where I was born on September 28, 1962 on a sunny Saturday at Vancouver General Hospital on W. 12th Ave. Once when my dad asked me "Peter, what do you want to be when you grow up?" I answered "a money maker, dollar maker." Even at that early age I sounded like Gene Simmons of KISS.

Anyways, what I meant in my answer to my dad was that I actually wanted to "make" money, just like in a mint, but at home. I thought it would be easier to do that than have some boring job. We had a little red plastic cigarette maker I played with at the time and I figured if you could make your own cigarettes, you could probably make your own money. I was about five years old at the time. One day I touched the red hot element on the stove, disobeying my mom who told me not to touch the stove. I got a burn on my finger and boy did it hurt.

Our home was in Burnaby on Canada Way near Willingdon and we had a lot of trees and surrounding land to play in. I was the "last born." My brother Allan, when he was a little older, would often proclaim loudly "I am the first born!" I would sometimes remind him that Jesus said "the first will be last and the last will be first!"

When I was about five we moved to a dead end street named Hazelmere St. in Burnaby, just off of Canada Way. There was a cherry tree just behind our back yard that I loved eating from. Once when I sat at the kitchen table and ate chocolate chip cookies and drank chocolate milk, my mom held me tightly and said, "My little Pete!" Although this incident may seem like a common one, it was the first time I remember my mom doing this and it made me feel very special and cherished.

Deep down, I think that is what everyone wants and needs, whether they are five, fifty, or ninety-five. My dad showed his love by carrying me and playing with me.

Standing all of five feet in her flowered apron my mom loved to bake and cook her famous perogies with onions, sauerkraut and borscht. Mom was always busy cooking, cleaning or out in the yard gardening. My mother could often be found in the kitchen with her wood baking board and flour scattered about, making some kind of cookies or treats like hroost, which is a Polish cookie. My favourite treat was to eat peanut butter balls with icing sugar on them before she baked them. Yum.

An amusing fantasy I had when I was in elementary school was that I would lie on the ground and stare at the ceiling, and look at the chandelier and white speckles and pretend to walk upside down on it. It was a change of perspective, kind of like Alice in Wonderland. I had a blast pretending that the floor was the ceiling and the ceiling was the floor.

Imagination is a wonderful thing and you don't have to be a child to exercise it. We should never lose a sense of wonder in this life, for there is so much to be fascinated by in nature, the stars, sun, moon and sky, not to mention the oceans, lakes and rivers and all the creatures in them.

My mom was very popular with her friends and relatives, not to mention all of my pals who came over for ice cream, milkshakes, and other goodies. She kept our kitchen cupboards and fridge full of all kinds of yummy food, with plenty of snacks. She took delight in feeding anybody who came into the kitchen. She even fed the birds with bread thrown on the front lawn. Sometimes, though, she pawned off old cookies and other stale food on our friends. It was her sneaky way to get rid of them and even these stale treats were readily received by us.