Meat Cutting Gypsies

Meat Cutting Gypsies

Out of all the places I have lived, and there have been many, the one place that does not register any memories is the coastal city. Perhaps it was because I was still so young, or perhaps it was because that is where my younger brother was born, but I think it was because we were a family mimicking gypsies. Every year or two, at the longest, throughout my entire childhood, we would move. I believe we lived in that coastal city long enough for my brother to come along and crowd my life and then there we were packing up and moving back to my parent’s old high school stomping grounds, this time in a trailer that was beside a drive-in movie theater.

But, then in a blink of an eye we up and moved again, this time having our trailer following along with the moving van to the next place. But then there was the next place and then the next place and then the next place and so on and so on and so on until I now explain in my description of where I lived in this furthest west province of Canada of where I have NOT lived. It is easier to explain that way.

I now understand the reasons behind the moves. My meat-cutting gypsy of a father was in fact a company man. So much so that my brother and I had matching t-shirts to said company and were instructed to stand up and sing the company’s jingle every time its commercial played. We got used to it after awhile – my brother and I – but to this day when I catch myself singing the jingle I get goosebumps up and down my arms. A company man I am not.

Fuck the whole company man thing actually.

After 35 plus years with this magical company that sent out marching orders for my father, sending him to every area of the province (well almost every area) his career came to an unceremonious end when a work-place injury sucked the last few working years out of his now battered body. He was given the token atta-boy and with a “there, there” pat on the head he handed in his keys and took early retirement. Such a waste of a childhood. The only bloody jingle I can remember and all it does is conjure up disappointment and resentment.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s