Louis Martin's Daughter

When I was in junior high school, one of my friends got tickets for three of us to go to a concert in Toronto. We lived in the suburbs, so we had to take a bus to get there. I had a phobia about taking the bus, but my friends seemed to know where we were going, so I figured I would be safe as long as we stuck together. I wasn’t sure if I could get permission to go, since I hardly ever went out anywhere except for church activities and my piano lessons at the Royal Conservatory of Music, so I tried to be as vague as possible about where we were going. I told my father that we were just going to a “concert”, knowing that he would probably assume that it was classical music. Most of the music I played or listened to was either classical or religious music, with a little bit of Peter, Paul and Mary or The Kingston Trio, and… horror of horrors… The Beatles for excitement. But it was not classical music. It was George Olliver and the Mandala… a rock & roll band! I felt terrible deceiving my father, especially since he had put his trust in me, gently reminding me that we had Church in the morning. The “concert” was like nothing I had ever seen before! There were strobe lights and George Olliver leaping around the stage while screaming the lyrics! I actually found it a bit overwhelming, and the music was so loud I was afraid I would permanently lose my hearing! My friends thought it was great, but I was secretly praying that it would be over soon, as I had promised my father that I would be home by 11 p.m. I had NEVER been out that late in my life! At the same time, I did find the lyrics to his song, Opportunity, to be kind of inspiring…. I mean, apparently the poor boy never knew his father, and his mother passed away, yet he could sing, “I’ve got faith in myself. From this world I won’t run.”

I had a series of traumatic experiences when I was 5 years old. My mother took me on a bus downtown to see the Christmas windows at Eatons Department Store. Then she lost me in the crowded department store while she went to look at the ladies’ fashions. She later denied it, telling my father that I had made it all up. It was the following summer when I was sexually molested by a group of neighbourhood boys. After that, I was afraid to go out anywhere by myself, and whenever my mother took me on the bus downtown I would literally be sick to my stomach from nerves.

But there I was, listening to George Olliver sing, “I’ve got faith in myself. From this world I won’t run.”

The concert was over. It was ten past eleven. I was freaking out! I had promised my father I would be home by 11 p.m. I had never lied to my father before! We ran out to the street to catch the bus, only to see the last bus of the night drive past us. One of my friends was freaking out even more, because she was literally terrified of her father and what he would do to her. I regained my composure and took charge of the situation. I knew that my father would know what to do, and I had absolutely no reason to fear him. We found a telephone booth, and I called my dad… and at 11 o’clock on a Saturday night, you could be sure that my parents would have been sound asleep! My father sounded a bit groggy, but he remained calm. He wasn’t angry. He was just concerned about getting us all back home safely. He asked me where exactly we were, and then he said, “Okay, this is what I want you to do. Walk half a block north to the corner of Yonge and Lawrence. Wait for me on the North-East corner. I will be there to pick you up at 11:30. Hallelujah! We were saved! We stood at the corner waiting for my father, as instructed. The streets were empty. I looked at my watch, and it was 11:25. Then a police officer strolled by and stopped to ask us what we were doing. (There was virtually no crime in Toronto in the 1960s, so the police had nothing better to do than harass little girls on the street.) I looked the officer in the eyes and earnestly replied, “We’re waiting for my father to come and pick us up. He will be here at 11:30.” The police officer didn’t believe me. He said, “Oh, I know what you’re doing! You’re waiting for your boyfriends!” I started to giggle, because the officer actually thought we had boyfriends! He was not amused. He told us to “run along home” or we would be in trouble. I didn’t understand why he was being like that, and I was starting to panic, so I reminded him that my father would be here any minute to pick us up, and if we weren’t waiting for him here, then he wouldn’t know where we had gone. The officer obviously didn’t believe me, and he was getting angry, so I just said to my friends, “Okay, I guess we should just walk home like the officer asked.” I started to walk down the street away from the officer as slowly as I could without looking suspicious. My friends quietly followed. As soon as the officer turned the corner and was out of sight, we ran back to the corner where my father had told us to wait for him. I looked at my watch, and it was 11:29. I looked down the street to see my father’s car coming towards us. Then I saw the police officer coming back towards us from the other direction looking very angry. At that exact moment, my father’s car pulled up beside us, and we all jumped into the car as fast as we could. We waved at the officer as my father drove away, completely oblivious to what had just happened. Well, I had told the officer that my father would be there to pick us up at 11:30, and I did not lie. My father was nothing if not absolutely reliable, predictable and punctual. I ALWAYS knew that I could count on him.

© Laura L. Martin