The thing the sixties did was to show us the possibilities and the responsibility that we all had. It wasn't the answer. It just gave us a glimpse of the possibility.
John Lennon
watch the video/remix - Cherry Blossom Girl - bottom
The End of the Innocence
I can’t even imagine what it must have been like to be a single 30 year old in the U.K. in 1965. Zero friends. Looking into her oval mirror and wondering what it would be like to BE one of them, you know - younger, prettier girls who they fall in love with. Like Paul McCartney’s girlfriend/lover. Making out in a darkened nightclub booth with Mick Jagger or Alain Delon.
The thought stirring shivers … still alone. Dreaming.
circa 1944 - Dad - G.J. (Jim) LaMarche (center)
Black & White - Hayley Mills
Mom left Dad in 1966, with a bigger picture in mind and it was devastating to this 10 year old, whilst simultaneously watching the world modulate. There were remnants of a world war still lingering; a dusty aftermath. Woodstock Ontario was very conservative/still is - an unwavering intransigence that persists 70 years later even in those in their 20's/30's now. In the 60's half liked it way better before this wave of liberalism changed everything. Long hair on boys and girls wearing short skirts and speaking their minds? Mom was 32 - in the prime of her life, before she moved out and took us kids too. Dad was toxic, damaged. Out to prove something to those who didn’t care. Men back then just had certain expectations, especially on their wives. A duty to comply. That said, most men got what they wanted. Submission.
Movies, music and attitudes were changing. A quantum shift. OK. Hayley? She killed it. That informed androgyny about to blossom into a beautiful woman. She was older but we were one in the same. Gender was irrelevant other than an overwhelming attraction to the opposite sex. Sexuality was abundantly heterosexual. That said, homosexuality was a hidden non issue to anyone under 30 - like it didn’t matter. Hidden only because those who didn't subscribe to the times saw them as freaks. Puberty was just a word that I had no clue about but the rumblings of something big was right around the corner. A feeling.
The Beatles - Ed Sullivan Show - February 09, 1964
Relevance
On Sunday February 09/64 at 8:02pm it all rotated. It was like everything just got that bit brighter and sharper on my screen; that 12 inch black & white portable TV in my Dad’s office on 980 Sloane Street where I saw the Beatles for the first time. Not just a 'fad' either. It was frikkin' epic! Adults/parents are like, what’s this nonsense? - while everyone under 30 was on fire; sensing an eruption that would transform everything for the better. A permanence that defied established norms brought to us by four mop-tops from Liverpool.
So it was 1965 that I would like to suggest that the world actually changed. Rubber Soul. Vietnam war, the voting rights act, an awakening in America’s youth. A distinct marker or separation between US & THEM, when all of a sudden, people started thinking differently. A new polarization between Conservatives and Liberals; the old way versus the new way that lasted for decades. Older conservative thinkers were 'squares' contrasting the more circular movement of progressive minds, younger/hipper. There was a growing anxiety amongst stoic thinkers that one may just eclipse the other that continues to this day.
I mean I’d heard ‘I Want to Hold Your Hand’ and ‘She Loves You’ on the radio but seeing them perform live on TV was earth shattering. Mom was stuck in the middle. In a rut of a relationship with a man who wanted her to keep quiet and stay put, and a tsunami of liberation launched by those younger and more alive. Relevance. It makes total sense to me now why she had to step out and make a life for herself. The word suffocation comes to mind. Life is about more than being the good wife who looks and acts accordingly.
A Hard Day’s Night then HELP was a must see on the big screen followed by 'To Sir With Love' where high school white girls fall in love with their black teacher played by Sidney Poitier was a massive blockbuster that transcended the boundaries of race and tolerance, elevating everyone’s awareness while pissing off millions of sceptics determined to preserve their way of life - threatened by change. Becoming open to new ideas was the hallmark of a new humanity focussing on equality, diversity and acceptance for a growing population embracing peace.
Hayley Mills
Epilogue:
The struggle continues. The tug of war in a push-pull entanglement of opinions and values. Some new, some old and all still gasping for air.
I often think of her and wonder what it was like back then. That spark of inspiration that carried her forward into the unknown, knowing it was something she had to do despite the obvious setbacks. In a new world full of possibilities. Jumping. Taking the plunge.
Home is the place where, when you have to go back, they just take you in.
Robert Frost
Sudbury, 1959
One of these days, these boots ...
In 69 years; I’ve lived in 28 places. mostly rentals (even now). Some for a few months, some for a year or more. All (ok most) temporary.
For me, parents? Have very little to do with home. Ya - another story for a different day; turbulent. We were mobile; A default. Pack yer shit. Get ready to go. Dad drifting from job to job, skipping rent for a month and bolting. The early 60’s was way cool if you were a kid. Not so as an adult. Mom & Dad were miserable. Unfaithful. Impotent. These boots are made for walkin’ (Nancy Sinatra ’66). Mom walked that October, 4 months after that song was released. It's not something small town Canadian wives did then. Modern woman - enough bullshit. Little tip for all you guys out there who think you got it all figured out ... you don't.
In the years before and after, moving again & again, month to month never knowing - it sucked. Different schools, different kids. Never time to make friends before moving again. I’m thinking Mom and Dad's relationship was fertile earlier on, then a burden; pain in the ass. Being unsettled? It’s in my nature. So when I see 90%+ of those living on this planet still - in the same place as I was? I feel lucky.
519 Edward Street, Woodstock, 1963
Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble
In quieter times, Sunday afternoon drives around Woodstock Ontario was a thing we did in the early 60s. Just cruising around, looking at stuff. Fun. Fresh air. In fall ’65, Lester B. Pearson was our Prime Minister. Some voted Liberal and some Conservative but essentially we were one in the same. I vividly remember the four of us in our yellow '63 Chevrolet Impala driving east on Henry Street with Michelle by the Beatles on CKOX radio and Dad saying ‘I love this song’. WTF. Dad saying he likes a Beatles song? No way. It was like a rare awakening/surrender, like the world was becoming liberated, even Dad. I was astounded. Mom a bit surprised. Mom felt like home for a short time after she left him. Dad was never even close to home; abused and abusive - drinker. I lived for my distractions … Looney Tunes on Sat. mornings kept me sane. My younger brother David was a buffer (and he would say the same about me). All good. A serious appreciation with what was coming. Later (ok now).
Those thick black clouds on the horizon moving in incrementally.
Pointe Aux Roches
I’d seen them before as a child. Our home is at risk of calamity, disrepair. That little bit closer each day. Watching. Worried? Na. Concerned? Definitely. A shit-storm unlike anything I’ve ever seen. The distractions continue … a new blog post. Born into a Canadian winter in northern Ontario has it’s perks in preparation for the blast to come.
First Sudbury, London/Woodstock - Toronto, and out in the boonies earlier on (Stoney Point/Pointe Aux Roches) - Essex county was desolate, from ages 11-16 (Lake St. Clair/Windsor) with very little real human contact. Writing and finishing my remix trilogy/Temple Redux mostly now, documenting my journey. Mom saved me in my late teens. Toronto was eventful. An amazing daughter with her own challenges. It’s all good. Prolific, settled and relaxed. Retired now in 2025. Living through the prime of my life (70s, 80s, 90s) in Canada was essentially winning the lottery.
In 28 places … I’ve lived in 2 homes. Both in Woodstock Ontario Canada. Houses on lots - where magic happened/happens. A continuation.
Sudbury, 1957
Home is where the heart is
It’s all cyclical. Look at the patterns and it’s not really that difficult to see that when we forget, we repeat. Whole nationalities have no idea what HOME is. In the millennia of their scattered evolution and broken dreams, they can’t even describe it, because they’ve never felt it, been there. What home might feel like is just an idea that they’re still fighting for. Desperate for some sense of it. Most humans now have no idea what being settled and secure feels like. I am fortunate. So many are too even though they don’t show it. Rampant entitlement prevails especially in the west. Entire countries further east having no idea what home is.
Take Israel. They’re still recovering from half a century of humiliation and physical torture/death and a legacy of hyper-reaction in defence - to this day! Ok, I have serious issues around genocide in any way shape and form BUT! I did not live through that, like they did. Am I angry at them? Yes. Can I blame them? No. Greed spawns hatred that continues to spin generations later. As long as we continue depriving those who we think don't deserve what we have, shall we provoke reaction and resentment. What goes around, comes around.
Overture, Curtains, Lights
We are all in this together. Trump is a symptom not the disease and MAGA is just a reaction to unfettered Capitalism spiralling into chaos going way back. Worse? Absolutely. Necessary? Most of us now believe it is. Greed has no ideology and no remorse. Democrats and Liberals are as much to blame for enabling the billionaire class and protecting wealth. Joe Biden had 4 years to correct our course and prevent the crash and he didn't. Fascism is always the bastard child of a bankrupt liberalism. If democracy cannot exist amicably then maybe we should put it out of it's misery is now the mantra of tens of millions who voted for this massive shift stateside and the millions poised to do the same here later this year. Sad, only in that it just makes it all so much worse. Now, it no longer matters what's true but what's correct in the service of those who matter. Those not subscribing are expendable. A new 'elite' that will eclipse the old, endorsed and enabled by the masses desperate for change, having no idea what they have unleashed. Like it doesn't matter. Are we suicidal? I'm thinking yes.
In this expanding social inequality and steady erosion of our democratic institutions media, congress, organized labour, academia and the courts leading to an authoritarian christian/fascist state, there is this unsettled alienation purposely designed to distract and withdraw. Corporate Christianity is a marriage between Godzilla and Frankenstein. Unthinkable and yet - here we are - staring into the dark lair of the beast while he watches back in silence, unseen. Maybe I need to get back to safety.
Epilogue: Golden Years
Home is not about owning a house or having possessions others don’t have. Brick & mortar with your name on it does not make it home. My first home was on Edward Street in Woodstock after we moved in w/my deaf grandmother Mona in 1960. I was 4. When I walked into that modest, dark two story Victorian, I just knew that this was home. That musty musky smell, surrounding trees … HER. No, home was her. Grandma Batho. Simple, silent, resilient/fragile and loving. That was the combination that made it home for me. No partisan patriots, no judicial gerrymandering, no mass media manipulations. Just parents going through a rough patch and needing a place to live for awhile; Dad unemployed again.
God, this feels good!
In my golden years, I’m back in Woodstock and live in a turn of the century renovated Victorian that reminds me of her. My second real home now in 69 years. I live alone with my cat Tippy (that I'm convinced is a reincarnation of Mona) and it feels the same. I’ve learned that it’s all about appreciating this moment. What has been and what will be are just faint echoes of the here and now, ringing truer and truer.
