November, 1969

Another blustery November evening has everyone stuck indoors and it is as good a time as any for my parents to spring some news onto the kids. While the event exists before the memories of my younger brother Matthew and I, my older siblings knew something was going on. The family had just finished dinner, served in the dining room for a change and perhaps to ensure that everyone was in one place when the news was announced. At the head of the table sat my father sipping his standard post-meal cup of tea. He always drank tea after every meal and always from the same, rather ornate, cup and saucer. It was the only cup and saucer like it in the house and it was known as ‘Dad’s cup’. He then told everyone we were moving. A bald statement made without panoply for any fanfare would have belied his essential pragmatism. My mother, it was noted, sat adjacent to him, silent, already resigned to the news.

Mixed with the obvious questions of, “moving?”, “where?” and, “why?” came the explosive response of my sister Sharon. Prone to the overreaction of all teenagers, she jumped up from the table and ran up the stairs to her room, punctuating her entry into her bedroom with the loud bang of the door being slammed shut. My mother pushed her chair partway from the table, uncertain as to who she should first attend – her kids at the table or her daughter upstairs. My mother’s decision was made for her as my sister Sharon came bounding down the stairs moments later and out the front door disappearing into brackish gusts of a mid November night. She ran off to find comfort and consolation at the home of a nearby friend.

My older brother Benjamin, feigning lack of interest and poking at the food left on his plate, was sparked into mild protest when my father told us where we were moving. The family was moving to Bay Roche in three months. I am told my brother Benjamin, who was close to 14 at the time, was heard to swear for the first time (at least for the first time in front of my parents) and he slumped backed into his chair, tossed his fork onto his plate and uttered a bewildered, ‘fuck’. If my parents did not chide him, particularly my mother, it probably had more to do with the fact that Ben had only expressed her feelings on the move as well. My father was taking a management position at the new fish processing plant that was nearing completion in my grandparents town of Bay Roche. It was a position that came with a substantial increase in pay and my father felt a good move professionally. My mother, perhaps having exhausted herself in counter arguments about the move, remained silent. It is not just kids who leave friends behind.

My earliest memories would be created by the events of the few years we would live in Bay Roche.

Number one hit from November, 1969
Na Na, Hey Hey, Kiss Them Goodbye by Steam