Barry, Chapter One, Part XXVII

part 27

 

With this Lisa looked at me, and without even having to put an upward-angled nod on her head, I knew her idea was to have us three boys boat home right away, even if it was 4am.

Me:  I’m fine without a sleeping bag, I’ll just crash over here on this side of the tent.

Lisa: Isn’t it better if you take your friends home . Your parents will be missing you.

Me:  I doubt that.  After a deep alcoholic sleep they will wake up and see the boat gone and figure out we’re out messing around on the lake somewhere.

Lisa:  You mean they don’t know you came down here at midnight?

Me:  Your mom knew, but otherwise, except for longer lines at the bar, I bet no one noticed.

Lisa: Then that’s worse.

Me:  Oh? But your parents have already come home, and they never even bothered ot look in on us.  If your mom was worried about what we were doing, don’t you think she would have come up to say hello?

Lisa:   Maybe.

Me: Well, either we have parental approval, or the other guys are asleep already, or both.  It’s more dangerous to try to get home in the dark than in daylight. I haven’t heard any of the girls scream, so it appears everything is under control, right?

Lisa:  I guess so Barry; you sure have a gift for persuasion.

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Barry, Chapter One, Part V

So, while two hockey rinks kept us skating in the winter (both the McQuaid and Baume kids built rinks every winter), hot-box baseball, soccer, lacrosse, touch football, and basketball kept us moving in the non-snowy months.  It was a type of heaven, but how could we guess that playing outside everyday would become a luxury, and often overlooked in favor of PC games, cellular phones and 2500 “friends” on Facebook?  I was in no way a jock like everyone else, but I still had a great time playing every day.

One the corner of Trevor Court and Georgian Court Sandy lived, and he lived to play lacrosse, so he had a goal set up in his back yard. Even well into his 30s when he was home visiting he’d take a jog around the neighborhood with stick, ball and trusty golden retriever.  The guy could run forever, cradling, playing catch with his dog, or trying to set new records for the bounciness of a ball…distances measured in kilometers if the throw was straight enough.