While writing Where the River Bends, I made an attempt to outline the many influences that shaped my life. With respect to Windsor, I wanted to create a palpable feeling of the city being a character in the story.
There are so many unique issues surrounding the city that I tried to emphasize its formative effect on me. Of primary interest were Windsor’s historical and geographical character. Windsor also showed a huge social influence within the music scene at the time. I hope even a small part of that seeped through in my depiction of my hometown.
Another consideration, that I edited out of the book for continuity, were my observations of ongoing economic changes in the early eighties. Here is an excerpt:
There were some indications of an emerging recession. Every time we went into Windsor for family visits, we drove past a site Chrysler rented to temporarily park excess stock since sales slowed swelling inventory beyond their usual storage capacity on site. House prices dropped. A large real estate establishment went bankrupt. They had operated under the slogan, “If it doesn’t sell in ninety days, we’ll buy it.” That worked well in boom times, but their inventory of houses grew too large too quickly to be sustainable. Advertisements for homes appeared, dangling the incentive of a new car with each purchase. It was not anxiety-provoking for Debbie . My concern was that the recession would affect pharmacy sales, but health expenses are less susceptible to downward pressure. I was optimistic.
Another editing cut was a fun reminiscence, but slowed the pace of my primary story line follows:
Stories circulated about the disrespectful use of the sacramental wine, when “accidental” spills ended up in an altar boy’s mouth, as well as the liberal amounts used when Fr. Smalls was the celebrant. Whispered accounts about dirty jokes told at the back of the bus on the way to the annual picnic also made the rounds. My favourite stories from that time, are about me, my brothers, Lachey and Joe.
Once, Lachey and I were serving at the mass and unbeknown to us, the celebrant left a mic live in our vicinity, moving to another mic to present his sermon. I hiccoughed, and the open mic picked it up. Then, the sound of Lachey and I giggling got broadcast through the church.
Another time, I found some cassocks that fit better than the ones we currently used, which were too short. Excited by the prospect of adequately fitted apparel that I had found, I asked Joe and Lachey if they wanted in on it. They eagerly accompanied me to the sacristy to take advantage of my find. Lachey was in the lead. While still moving forward, he turned toward me and said, “You lead the way; I don’t know where they are.” Unfortunately, he turned just in time to walk face-first into one of the church arches. I felt so bad for him because the impact caused reverberations through the aisle. Lachey, Joe and I continued to the sacristy. When we got there, Lachey flopped face down onto a pew. His whole body shook, and I was convinced he is crying because he seriously hurt himself. Then he rolled over and burst out with a huge belly laugh.