When I was a kid growing up in Montreal, my uncle took me, my sister and our two friends for a walk to the park. We got ice cream and played on the playground for a bit. Things were going fine until there were some lowlife trashy thugs who made fun of our friends hair. My uncle went to tell them off. Big mistake! They made fun of his weight. He stood his ground and told them off which got them aggressive and they threw sand at us. My uncle charged at those bastards and they backed away. Then he looked at us and said “RUN!” And we all ran as fast as we could to the end of the park. We raced right across the street, into the alley then power walked back home. Thankfully those cowardly fuckers did not try to follow us home. Generally I’ve gotten over it, but it came back and haunted me yesterday. Looking back I still wonder to this day why not one person who lived across the park heard what went on and even bothered to call the police? Those bottom feedering losers could have had weapons on them. We could have been killed. I’ve never talked about this until now because it is just too painful. Thankfully the past is gone and buried.
The Georgia Straight: A 50th Anniversary Celebration Book
This beautifully produced coffee-table book brings together over 100 of Georgia Straight's iconic covers, along with short essays, insider details and contributor reflections, putting each of these issues of the publication into its historical context.