My Grandmother's Pill by Lisa Pike

Author:Lisa Pike [Pike, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781550718171
Publisher: Guernica Editions Inc
Published: 2014-11-19T16:00:00+00:00

More interesting but little known facts ...

If you turn to page 43 of Quotable Quotes!, you will see the map of southwestern rural Ontario where Elias Disney, Walt’s father, was born. Bluevale. A small dot beside Wingham. A farmer turned prospector reads the caption below a photo of the failed family farm, abandoned before everyone headed west to California.

Walt reduced his father to a mere letter in his name. Shrunk his fury and his rage into the tiny and cryptic intial “E.” sitting in the middle of “Walt” and “Disney”.

“He’d pick up a hammer and hit you with the handle and you really wouldn’t even know why. But my dad sure was a great fiddler. And if a homeless man came into town and he could play an instrument ... well, needless to say, dad sure did bring home some weird characters!”

This doesn’t mean though, page 44 of Quotable Quotes! reads, that Elias Disney was a violent man, prone to beating his wife and children as some have demonized him to be. He was, instead, page 44 says, simply one of those eccentric characters whose antics often get embellished upon. And we all know how Walt loved a good story!

∞

From Joan’s living room window, Julie and I would watch men’s feet. It seemed to be mostly men who walked by her basement apartment on Goyeau Street in Windsor. I don’t know why. We thought it was funny to see men’s feet go by like that, detached from the rest of their bodies, their thighs, stomach, chest, heads, arms, fists, things that could hurt you. Just their feet, sometimes dress shoes with a creased pant, white tube socks and runners, maybe bare feet with sandals innocently strolling by Joan’s window.

It was Julie’s birthday and Joan was there in the kitchenette from the 1920s getting out the chocolate-covered frozen bananas that she must have prepared the night before. “I got to dip them in nuts!” says Julie as Joan stands smiling with the bananas, arranging them on a tray. It isn’t until all the other kids start to come that Joan’s smile starts to change. With the sudden bustle of kids and parents Joan seems nervous, anxious. Like behind her smile and her arms holding out the tray, offering like a mother, she is afraid. Alone. Like this apartment, all scrubbed up and feeling new and raw, the breeze blowing in the plain white cotton curtains with the ruffle off Goyeau Street into the living room window whose sill is level with the ground, might just not be something she can handle. Her daughter with her own room, pink and white wallpaper and stuffed animals on the bed, and she with hers, making chocolate covered bananas, some with, some without nuts, greeting the comings and goings of people at her daughter’s birthday party. Like it’s all just not something she can do for long.

Julie runs around showing us the peculiarities of the place. The dumbwaiter. “In the olden days, that’s where you’d order your food.

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