Dad on the Left

Here are two recently rediscovered photos of Dad, on the left in both images. The boy on the right is George Wells. This would have been shot in Nipawin, Saskatchewan, sometime in the early 1940s; maybe 1944, assuming Dad is two years old in these images. 

Garbage Can-dy

Today Sylvia and I stopped at the Bulk Barn for provisions. I stopped in my tracks when I spotted ghosts from the past: neon-coloured cans of Garbage Can-dy, a sugary confection I first encountered as a child on a trip to Nipawin, Saskatchewan.

For nostalgia's sake I bought a can, and to my delight I discovered the contents haven't changed. Here are the discarded sneakers, pop bottles, soup cans and fish bones of my childhood, though I seem to remember there used to be bones as well. Of course these days the bottles and soup cans go in the recycle bin. Can fish bones be composted? Hmmm.

I'm munching on one of the fish bones now, but my memory isn't good enough to tell me if the flavours have changed. It's sweet, hard and chalky, in any case.

I'm almost certain I still have at least one or two Garbage Cans from the 1970s, because I used them to store the laser guns and other accessories of my Star Wars action figures. You can hold a lot of little plastic pistols in these bins, and they snap closed very firmly so there's little risk of losing your stash.

And now, having eaten all the Can-dy, I have another empty Garbage Can. Perhaps Sylvia can use it to store her earrings.

Memories of Slime

If  you jump to the two-minute mark of this video, you'll be treated to a vintage commercial advertising Slime: It's Alive, one of a handful of Slime products marketed by Mattel in the 1970s. "Comes in its own garbage can!"

Slime was a pretty unique toy back in those days - a mysterious oozing green compound sealed in a green garbage can, a perfect toy for little boys obsessed with snips and snails and puppy dog tails. Orange Slime quickly followed, then purple Slime with worms and finally the yellow Slime with eyes featured in the above commercial.

While I never owned any Slime, I had friends who did; it made an excellent trap for our Star Wars and Micronauts action figures.

One year our family travelled to Nipawin, Saskatchewan for Christmas with some cousins. My cousin Lawrence had apparently been begging for Slime with worms for some time, and he was initially gleeful when he unwrapped his gifts to discover the promised plastic purple garbage pail. Unfortunately Lawrence was quite squeamish, and when peeled back the lid to thrust his hand into the worm-infested mauve muck, he promptly vomited.

Slime - wholesome entertainment for the whole family!

Hazards of the Campaign Trail

Before I came in to work this morning, I spent a half-hour handing out Mary MacDonald campaign literature at the Grandin LRT station. While chatting with a couple of voters, I petted their large, friendly poodle - something I usually avoid because of my allergies. But when you're on the campaign trail, shunning beloved pets can create a bad impression. So I gave the dog's head a couple of pats, handed over a flyer to its owners and moved on to the next person.

Just before nine a.m., my right eye started to swell up like a balloon. You can't tell from the photo, but the white of my eye has swollen so much that its surface is higher than that of my iris. I could barely see, so Kim drove me to a clinic. The doctor froze my eye and prescribed some anti-allergen eyedrops, which I'm to try if the swelling doesn't go down by the end of the day. In the meantime, I'm to apply a cold compress, which is making work a little awkward.

I haven't had an allergic reaction this bad since I was 11 or 12, when a tiny puppy sent me to the emergency room in Nipawin, Saskatchewan. After a half-hour in the same room with that dog, I couldn't breathe except by sucking in air with all the strength in my lungs through a nearly-closed windpipe. Fortunately the nurse on duty knew just what to do, and jabbed a needle in my butt filled with some kind of elixir that immediately opened up my airway. I'll never forget how glorious that first breath after the shot felt: it was full of the thrill of being alive.

Today's reaction is a minor annoyance compared to that scary experience. Still, I guess it's a reminder that I shouldn't forget that my childhood allergies remain. So if you see me on another campaign and I avoid your dog or cat, please don't take offense!

Nor should anyone forget to vote today. Whatever happens, it looks like this could be one of the most fascinating election results in years, and we all have a role to play in making history of one sort or another. If there's one thing no one should be allergic to, it's the ballot box.