Memories of my brother, 1936 by Cliff Stokes

From MemoryArchive

Who: Cliff Stokes
What: Memories of my brother
When: 1936 or 37
Where: Toronto Ontario Canada

It was getting close to suppertime and Ernie wasn’t home. When the door opened and he came into the back porch we knew something was wrong, there was a rip in his trouser and grass stains on the knees and mud on his shirt. Ernie used to take great pains with his appearance, Sunday mornings would find him busy sponging and pressing his trousers, before venturing out in the afternoon. In my mind I can see him hanging over the ironing board dressed only in an old pair of light checked, homemade shorts. The shorts were a wonder! The legs of the shorts reached to about six inches above the knee but the bottoms of the shorts were cut in a deep zigzag fashion. He was sixteen or seventeen at this time and a picture of health, thighs muscular and the rest of his body trim from much bicycle riding. When he would leave home to go out with his friends he looked flawless, his tie would be tied in a long hard knot, a style that disappeared but I am pleased to see returning of late. His hair was thick and curly, when the movie, “Bride of Frankenstein” came out, we used to joke that he and Elsa Lanchester had the same hair stylist. Ernie’s arm was in a sling, left arm I think. He had been to a hospital and they had reset a dislocated shoulder. Apparently he and Bud had been out for a walk and encountered a fence, the top of which he had caught the cuff of his pants on and he had taken a tumble, landing on his arm the wrong way. That was it. He seemed to have sustained a lot of damage from such a simple fall, but it happens.

Later, over the next few weeks the full story came out. Ernie and his friend Bud were a real handsome pair and I don’t think they ever suffered a shortage of female companions. Ernie often told stories about his experiences etc but he never said much about girls. This particular Sunday he and Bud and a couple of girls had decided to go for a walk in the country side, actually riverdale Park, much more “unspoiled” than it is today.

It was late summer and the hills abounded with Wildflowers and insects, Butterflies in particular. At one point an uncommon type flew by, probably one of those with the big,”eyes” on their wings, we still see the odd one in our garden. The girl with Ernie let out a squeal and asked Ernie to catch it for her. Her wish was his command! He crept up on the butterfly and slowly reached out for it. At that time the butterfly decided to head for a better patch of vegetation, up the hill. Undaunted Ernie took off after it. The butterfly would settle, Ernie would creep up on it and it would take off. This happened three times and by this time Ernie had his jacket off and the beautiful knot on his tie loosened. Not one to give up, Ernie and the butterfly played their game to the top of the hill. The butterfly lit on a fence post and Ernie made a stretching grab and got him! Then he lost his balance! He should have reached out with his free arm and grabbed the fence but he couldn’t, he had that prize, the butterfly, in his hand. Down the hill he rolled trying to slow his descent with one hand, the other fist closed on the damned butterfly. Torn and battered he reached the bottom, clothes torn and stained, shoulder dislocated, knee scraped. He was in terrible pain from the dislocation but when the girl came close he stretched out his arm and unclenched his fist so that she could take the butterfly. She looked at it, pulled a face and said, “Oh, I don’t want it now, it looks horrible and its dead!”