Life in a Thrashing Machine | Page 9

to play on the piano. That was quite an
achievement, he had thought, considering that he was six when he
learned it, and by ear, too.
The lilting and bouncy nature of the music brought to his mind an
image of the past. He saw himself as a little kid on the prairie in Loretta
Manitoba, running through the wheat fields with a few of his friends
and having a good time with them, torturing the gophers that lived
there, and being just normal kids.
He remembered one of his first winters, too. Snow had fallen for a
straight week then finally there was an entire day of nothing but sun
and blue sky.

He was dressed in warm clothing, so much in fact that he could hardly
walk, move his arms or anything. Vlad was just four or five, and he
recalled that he had become bored soon after going outside, but then
wasn't able to get back into the house. His folks were playing around
with him and they did not let him back in until he became hysterical,
outside, in the cold.
Maybe that was why he now hated cold weather, or at least he
wondered if that was one of the reasons. He also has had some good
times in cold weather and snow, so there had to be other reasons for his
dislikes but he didn't care to concentrate his daydreams on that, right
now. He was finally becoming calm, again, and with this new easy
feeling, he began to play some music, right from his heart and soul. It
was music that was like a wispy breeze propelling a dandelion seed into
another universe and like pure, fresh water falling over a cliff that was
a mile high. He was almost in a trance now and he wasn't aware of
where he was or what he was doing. Through force of habit, he reached
over with his left hand and turned-on his tape recorder, to record, and
continued to play; perhaps to dream.
There were the times that Vlad had composed some of his best and
most emotional music. He was never fully aware that he was the one
that was playing the music; therefore, he had conditioned himself to
engage his recorder whenever he felt the sensations of him slipping
away.
The music that he was playing was slow and methodical and brought to
his mind more images of his childhood.
He saw himself climbing up the barrel platform that his father had built
behind the garage, for storing gasoline. During the hot summer days in
the Manitoba sun, Vlad used to play atop those barrels. Imagination
and pretend, were the order of those days. He saw himself as the King,
sitting on a grand throne above all the people of the world-so was the
design of the barrel platform. Seven steps lead up to the platform that
had two large barrels on either side of a smaller one. They were even
painted in silver to reflect the scorching rays of the prairie sun, even
though gasoline was rarely kept within them.

To Vlad, this indeed was a real throne and his kingdom was one of
plenty and fullness. He remembers feeling happy and safe.
At the beginning of the third summer of the platform's standing, Vlad
suffered through his first coup. He sat at one of the upstairs windows of
the house and tearfully watched, as his father and brothers ripped the
wood off the platform's frame, to be used in the future as material for
fencing the garden.
Vlad had begun school when the platform was built and many of his
newly-made friends came over to his house, to play. In Loretta, Vlad
appeared to have a strange power over the other children with whom he
played. Whenever the kids came around to play, there was an actual
respect, for his dominance, offered-up by them.
The majority of the children, including Vlad, spent many late
afternoons watching their favourite television shows. Sometimes, when
they were all together after a long day of hard playing, they would all
go into Vlad's house and they'd sit around and watch Roger Moore's
IVANHOE and the HERCULES cartoon. Children learned quickly and
shortly after the programs were aired, Vlad and the other Lorettan
children began to construct swords and shields. They used old pieces of
wood and some cardboard. Vlad's kingdom was armed and ready for
any conquest.
During the summer of 1965, Loretta Manitoba saw the rise and the fall
of a medieval dynasty, ruled by seven year-old-boys. What was
surprising, though, was that those children had followed codes of
chivalry with the town's girls. During that same summer there was not a
single boy, or girl, that hadn't exchanged their first kiss. A few of