At first I was not sure how I felt about having 3 new people in our lives. Or about having a new brother and sister but it quickly grew on me as we all got to know each other. It was nice having siblings and having someone to hang out with. By 1986 my Dad and Dot had moved in together in the white house they purchased in Morinville, Alberta. I called it the white house because of the large pillars that surrounded the front door. They looked similar to the ones on the actual White House. My Dad had taken the coaching job for the Morinville Giants and Dot was busy managing some of the local convenient stores in town.
I had my very own bedroom in the 4-bedroom house, with Dad and Dot right across the hall and with Vicki and Lawrence in the basement. One big happy family. At least every second weekend it was for me. At first I did think much of my step mother. I expected her to be nasty like the stepmother off of Cinderella but I quickly came to realize she was not like that at all. She made my Dad happy and that was all that mattered to me. She treated me just like I was one of her own children, chores and all. I loved it.
We would spend a lot of time at the hockey arena every weekend though out the winter. The rush of the game; I enjoyed the excitement. I was so proud to look out across the ice and see my Dad leading his team to victory. 3 – 20 minute periods full of pure adrenaline! Watching the rollercoaster actions of the crowd as the puck was passed from one end of the ice to the other was exhilarating. Then there were the fights…. I loved those the most. There was something elegant about watching two men trying to fist fight on skates.
I would intentionally sit with the opposing teams crowd in the arena. When I would begin to hear them curse the coach of the Giants, I would turn around in a sad face and say “that is my Dad you are talking about”. Their facial expression would immediately change to shock as they would apologize for what they had just said. As I would turn back around to finish walking the game, a smirk would always cross my face because I had just royal played the other team’s fans and got them to not cheer as aggressively as they would have. I won! Yes, I was a little shit disturber in the stands. Especially the closer our team got to the finals or whenever we played our arch enemies the St. Albert Senators.
Dot my step mother would begin to help out with fundraising and other odd jobs around the arena. My sister Vicki would be put in charge of keeping me busy while the adults were away or when we were at the arena on Sunday afternoons watching the weekly game. I could tell that she was beginning to hate it. Understandably so, what teenager wants to be saddled with their little 9-year-old step sister. Even though she hated it I looked forward to spending time with her when I was there on the weekends. She was someone I could look up to and learn from.
Vicki was a good kid; she had spirit. I guess what some would call talking back, but I saw it as something more. A hidden strength. She spoke her mind even if your feelings got a little hurt along the way. She also had a sense of humor, but sometimes only she got the joke. For example, once she told me as we were doing Saturday morning chores, that I had a twin sister and she was given away at birth. She had me believe this for quite a few months. She was very convincing. Having older siblings was very interesting. Watching how they interacted with each-other. Lawrence and Vicki could really fight when they wanted to. The both of them were strong willed and stubborn to boot.
Brave Enough by Dawn Marie 
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