There are many anecdotes to tell and I hope I add one each year.  This one just popped into my head.  It involves Trish.  It is the first time, and I think the only time, I ever heard Dennis, or “Mr. Camp” as he was known to my 10 year old self at the time, squeal the tires on the car performing a “jack rabbit” start.  He always took very good care of the cars he leased.

On this occasion we were playing ball in the back sandy lot of a rented cottage where the family was staying, circa 1965 with me as a guest so Paul would have a peer to play with.  This was on Georgian Bay near Blue Water Beach.  Trish cut the bottom of her foot rather badly on some broken glass that was buried in the sand.  Dennis jumped into action with alacrity and that 1965 Pontiac burst to life as Dennis floored it to the nearest medical facility to get Trish’s foot stitched up.  It had to be something drastic with one of his much loved family for him to abandon his reserve.