I was born just before WWII was about to explode in Europe . My dad served in the Canadian Army throughout the entire war , so my mother was home alone to raise three boys . Lately , after visiting my father ’ s grave in the Field of Honour in Queen ’ s Park Cemetery , the following reminiscences occurred :

I had grown up during the war when food rationing was part of our culture and money was always scarce . I was the youngest of three boys raised during these times — harsh times ; do without times . We played cheap , simple games like hide-and-seek , kick the can and marbles . Girls skipped enough rope to circle the globe , played ‘ house ,’ tended to dolls and kept busy with hopscotch and jacks .

All of these games were simple , cheap , and filled our days with friends and good times . We had the liberty of the streets ; a child could walk downtown alone without fear . There was no television so there was a lot of playing outdoors — rain or shine . We lived in a quiet village ( Calgary ) where our tomorrows were much the same as our

todays — just with a different date . Pot bellies were stoves and not a socio / medical problem ; gouging was related to tractor functions and not prices fed by greed ; chiarismatics were crooners like Frank Sinatra , their ‘ radicalized ’ followers were known as Bobby Soxers ; extremists were those led by Elvis Presley and by the Beatles in a wild revolution known as ‘ Rock ‘ n Roll ’; and the most sacred books were school textbooks .

From a wider perspective , the political , economic , religious and social grids were quite stable . Postwar societies were slowly catching up to new industrial demands and job opportunities . Our community and world at large seemed to be like a small jigsaw puzzle where all of the pieces fitted easily and neatly into place . It was stable , predictable , and best of all , understandable . I compare those days as being like living in the Olduvai Gorge where primitive man eked out a meagre existence because that was all that was known . Those years , the good years , were indistinguishable except by their dates .

I also view the period from 1945 to 1957 as a period when the territorial imperative was , if possible , to maintain the status quo . Small currents of change were in the wind , but occurred ‘ out there ’, far from my life — but this was soon to

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