Fear of the Eaton's Catalogue

For those of you who may have fears. Fear of Flying, Fear of cats, Fear of Heights, etc. I am sure that you get my drift. I am talking about a real Fear, one that haunted your very existence, that filled you with dread and a sense of impending dooooooooom.

I grew up in Stephenville, Nfld. It was the poorer side of the tracks. the American Airbase was one side of the creek , they had the paved roads, street lights, swimming pool and all the mod cons ( as mod as they could have been in the 1950's.)

On the Cnd. side we had gravel roads, dirt side streets, Tar paper houses,Saloon Bars with the old west style swinging doors. Black and White films and no chairs for the kids matinee. You could buy Lobster for a 25 cents on the Beach below the Church on the hill. So you get the drift of the idyllic place I called home.

It was a great life, you steal copper wire from one junk yard and sell it to another. Where I got a taste for Home Brew, Cigarettes, Sling Shots,Breaking Windows and getting into Trouble once in a while.

I must not have been that much of a joy to my parents. I was well liked by the gang I hung around with as I had the meanest dog in the neighbourhood and beat the heck out of anyone who disagreed with me.

Every once in a while about 4 or 5 times a year I lived in real fear for my life.
The "EATONS" Catalogue would show up somehow at my home. I never knew then that it was sent to your house so you could order clothes and stuff from the glossy pages, on a regular basis.

My Mom, would kind of reach a major breaking point caused my bad behaviour. I always thought I was a good boy and that it was always some other rude lad that did all the damage. And got me into trouble. It was my excuse anyways!!!

It seems at these times that she would pull out this Evil Book and show me all the pictures of nice looking little boys and girls in their clean outfits. In those days they didn't have actual pictures of live models but a cute picture that some artist painted with the clothing that they were selling. So the same picture was used a lot in the edition.

Mum would say" See that little boy doesn't he look nice. I bet he wouldn't cause me so much heart ache and trouble as you are doing to me ;Donald"
She only ever called me "Donald" when I was really naughty. Come to think of it I never remember her calling me anything else, over the course of my life.

She would go on to say. "See that little boy, I think I will order him from the catalogue and send you back to Eaton's , where Your Father and I got you from in the first place. I have my receipts in those Shoe boxes and once I find it. I will send you back. I was looking for it already , just haven't located it yet. But I will, one of these days and you will get sent back to Eatons. And I will get that little boy to come and live with us. Instead of you, you HORRIBLE, ROTTEN, LITTLE BRAT $#@%^&%$#@#$%."

Mom also was a packrat she keep every scrap of paper, receipts, cards, letters. So I lived in real fear for my life. As the Shoe boxes would be open and she would be going through the stuff on a regular basis, looking for my Eatons Receipt. I always was told to send me back and get another little boy who was good. ( I never realized that as Adults you have to keep stuff for taxes, respond to various other requests, etc.)

My Mother always looked forward to the Eatons Catalogue. As we lived in Newfoundland in the 50's they didn't have many stores to buy stuff from.
So the arrival of the Catalogue was a social event for my Mum. It was shear hell for me as I tried to behave myself but I had a reputation to uphold and so heard "DONALD" a lot in those days.

On Day close to my 7th B'day my Mother just snapped. I do not know if it was me, Dad, work, or what it was. I expect it was a combination of a lot of things. But as usual I got the blame. I had never ever seen her, go off the deep end , like that before. The veins on her forehead sort of exploded and my backside was sorer than normal. I ran out of the house howling and holding by backside which felt as if it would burn off.

I came back a few hours later and no one was in the house. The shoe boxes were all opened and papers where strewn all over the floor and table. The hated Eatons Catalogue was opened and a order form was on the page.

I knew without a shadow of a doubt my life was over. I started to cry and run around screaming my head off. She found the Eaton's Receipt and I was about to be sent back. I had a temper tantrum that would have almost equalled "Paris Hilton" now a days. Went into a state of terror and foreboding anda sulk like I never ever experienced before. Then an idea formed in my twisted little mind. Receipt found, me sent back.

If no receipt; I could not be sent back. As I couldn't read that well and hadn't a lot of time as mom wasn't very far away. I had to destroy the receipts somehow.

It just so happened that we had an old Enterprise cast iron stove that used wood and coal for fuel. It was used both for cooking and for heat. I thought in my panic. "The Stove, the Stove." I grabbed as many boxes as I could carry and shoved the contents of the shoe boxes into the stove as fast as I could. The stove was starting to glow red hot and the heat was so intense that sweat was running off the walls.

The door suddenly opened a draft as cold as the very depths of hell decended upon me and I knew my fate was sealed. The look on my Mother's face stopped time and peeled the skin from my body as she realized what I had done. I looked at her in sheer terror and yelled" You can't send me back now."

And hit I the floor hard as she belted me with her handbag or something.

I could not sit down for weeks as I got a hiding almost everyday for destroying her stash of stuff. But the years went by and I was still called "Donald" and other things on a regular basis but I was never sent back to Eatons. I guess I found the right receipt after all!!!!!!!