This is the story of how I met Pierre Elliot Trudeau.
As I mentioned before my father worked at the South Terminal. Of course, we didn’t call it the South Terminal at the time it was simply ‘Vancouver International Airport’.
This was the scene of my first brush with fame.
Because my father worked at the airport we were invited to meet Pierre Elliott Trudeau when he visited Vancouver.
My mother dressed me in my prettiest outfit and we waited patiently for Prime Minister Trudeau to disembark.
If you were a prime minister back in the day you simply walked off the plane and started talking to people.
There wasn’t a big show of security at least not that I could see.
P.E.T fever was at its height and all young ladies were supposed to scream cry and generally make swooning type overtures.
The Precursors (of my mother’s Mental Illness)
My father’s oldest brother was named M but we knew him as ‘Wowie’ growing up. I thought this was because I couldn’t pronounce his name, but actually, it turns out that it was because my father couldn’t pronounce his name as a toddler and ‘Wowie’ stuck into adulthood.
M’s wife A took her own life when my cousins were still very young children.
I remember her vaguely as a pretty and (I thought) happy blonde lady from the odd family get-togethers we would have. They didn’t live near us so it wasn’t that often that we were able to get together.
I wonder if this was one of the precursors to my mother’s illness.
Back in Burkville,
my mother and L.B. picketed to try to stop the second runway being built in ‘Core O’Brown’, an area adjacent to the Fraser River close to MacDonald Beach. They brought T and me with them and we were on TV. The picket signs were that day’s craft project. We each had our own. Continue reading