My mother, Louise (Lockhart) Wallace, who has
been dead these many years,. She was really
something. Born in the upscale Rosedale area of
Toronto, she didn’t let anything get in her way. That
was my mom.
She was one heck of a mother. I’d tell her when I
couldn’t have be much more than eight-years -old. that
I was going up to the ‘mountain’, a hilltop on the farm, to
stay overnight. She’d nod, shrug.
I had my small tent and sleeping bag and away
I’d go a mile up the dirt road. Put the tent up, crawl in
my sleeping bag and drift off.
Little did I know, she’d only tell me years later, how
she’d slip up around midnight, open the flap, smile to
herself and away she'd go back home
That my mother. Born and brought up in the
uppity (trendy?) Rosedale part of Toronto,. She went to
Bishop Strachan private school . She would marry
a clergyman, Nathanael Clarke Wallace, from the village
of Woodbridge.
I had an older sister, Ann (she added an ‘e’ later. Why?
I have no idea.) Mom would come skiing with Ann(e) and I,
not far from the house. She was somewhat wobbly, but she
couldn't care. less. Neither did we.
I remember living on Kilbarry Road, moving from
Birchcliffe east Toronto where my father, a clergyman, had
been assigned his church. Christ Church, Anglican. We ended
up living near Upper Canada College in Toronto. It was a fair
distance from Kilbarry to Brown Public School. I insisted
on walking there and back every weekday.
One freezing, wet winter afernoon I started home carrying my
books. I was cold and felt sorry for myself and teary-eye when
I heard a car horn.
Mom had pulled over to the curb despite cars honking
behind her. She got out, hugged me and helped me into
the passenger seat.
Writer’s comment: She was born a Lockhart, living in
Rosedale., as I mentioned. She had brothers that she kept up
with. her. Or was it the other way around?
A wild bunch. But lovable.
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