The summer of 1977 often comes to mind. Peter and I (Shaun) and two of our mutual friends—Al Page and Ron Scammell—all lived in the Beach area of Toronto. Back then the community had not over-gentrified and the shops, restaurants and bars still had a village quality to them.
In ’77, I was recently separated and 25. Pete was single and 22. We both worked at least part time for a student publication edited by Ron. Living close to the lake and its beaches that summer gave a cottage feel to our lives. Often several of us played a game we invented called Frisbee golf—we’d select distant trees or objects and count how many throws it took to hit the target. Like real golf, the lower the count the better.
Many mornings we’d meet for breakfast at a local restaurant, the Nevada (long gone), at the corner of Queen and Kenilworth run by a Greek family. We just asked for the regular and they knew. (I always had two eggs over easy with fries and coffee.) Pete, I and Ron often talked about our writing careers and what we wanted out of life.
On many warm evenings, Pete and I took our guitars to the beach and played a few tunes, hoping to attract an audience of mostly women. To some extent, we succeeded. We had played in a garage band and did a very respectable version of Take It Easy by the Eagles.
That summer, Pete experienced his most prolific period of song writing—I swear he had two or three new tunes every week. Some were thankfully forgotten. Some still survive. (See my post for Feb 1. of 2013.)
The summer of ’77 was special. We were young and eager, and life’s promises loomed ahead of us. If I had Bryan Adam’s talent, I’d write a song about it.
In ’77, I was recently separated and 25. Pete was single and 22. We both worked at least part time for a student publication edited by Ron. Living close to the lake and its beaches that summer gave a cottage feel to our lives. Often several of us played a game we invented called Frisbee golf—we’d select distant trees or objects and count how many throws it took to hit the target. Like real golf, the lower the count the better.
Many mornings we’d meet for breakfast at a local restaurant, the Nevada (long gone), at the corner of Queen and Kenilworth run by a Greek family. We just asked for the regular and they knew. (I always had two eggs over easy with fries and coffee.) Pete, I and Ron often talked about our writing careers and what we wanted out of life.
On many warm evenings, Pete and I took our guitars to the beach and played a few tunes, hoping to attract an audience of mostly women. To some extent, we succeeded. We had played in a garage band and did a very respectable version of Take It Easy by the Eagles.
That summer, Pete experienced his most prolific period of song writing—I swear he had two or three new tunes every week. Some were thankfully forgotten. Some still survive. (See my post for Feb 1. of 2013.)
The summer of ’77 was special. We were young and eager, and life’s promises loomed ahead of us. If I had Bryan Adam’s talent, I’d write a song about it.
1 comment:
Thanks for the memory Shaun. Hard to believe three years have gone by since Peter's too early death.
I'm sure Dad and I, with Mom smiling unknowingly near by, will exchange a few other memories this week when I head to Kingston for a visit. Maybe I'll serenade them with Peaceful Easy Feelings on my uke in honour of the occasion.
Love you Bro!
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