Midnight Curfew.

Once the 80's decade arrived I was even more determined than ever to get out from under my mother’s roof. I just needed to for the sake of my own sanity. I was nineteen years old paying her room and board yet she still had a fuck’n curfew on me. If I was not home by midnight she told me that I would need to find another place to sleep and there would be no exceptions.

She made it crystal clear that even if I was one minute late she would be locking me out for the night. After midnight she would not be taking the chain lock off the door. My mother was so paranoid about having her cheap flimsy chain lock on our front door every night while she slept. I knew she was dead serious and if I was not home by midnight then I would not be sleeping in my own bed that night. For the most part her curfew was never even an issue; I was always home long before midnight anyways.

However, there were a few late night hockey games that I didn't play just because I knew I might not be home in time. I had been invited many times to play at rinks relatively close to our apartment where we would be off the ice at or before 11 pm. Normally that would give me plenty of time to get changed and be back home before my impending curfew. But I knew that whoever my ride back home was with, well he might want to have a couple beers during our dressing room banter after the game. I could not risk getting home after midnight because he wanted to hang around and shoot the shit with our buddies.

Imagine, how dare he even think about being so sociable and so selfish?

There was absolutely no way I could ever tell whoever was my ride that I had to be home by midnight because my mommy had given me a curfew. How fuck’n embarrassing would that have been? So I never played and I always told the guys I was busy, which was a big fat lie.

I do remember the one night she locked me out and I slept in the lobby of our apartment building. It actually ended up being the building right beside ours. I will never forget the night my own mother treated me like a piece of trash.

It was the night of my first Collegiate Sports Christmas party. The company would always have one big party for all the staff from all the Toronto area stores at one location. It was usually at a hotel out by the airport. I had been an employee for just over four months and I was so excited about finally attending my first Christmas party ever.

Seriously, I had never been to a Christmas party before.

I got a ride out to the party at the Constellation Hotel with Bruce who lived right near me and I also had full intentions of getting a ride back home with him. Our store was very well represented that night and I was sitting at a table right beside Bonnie, the girl who I already had a massive crush on. Her boyfriend Greg was sitting on her other side. The party was a blast and I was having such a great time, but as the evening wore on I knew the party would not be ending until well after midnight.

What to do?

I decided I would need to use my emergency ten dollar bill I kept in my wallet for cab fare back home. At around 11 pm I started faking that I was feeling sick and I needed to go home. Everyone at the party felt so bad for me because I was sick and I was leaving early. I assured them all that I would be fine and I would see them all at the store on Monday morning. When I got outside all the cabs that had been there just a few hours earlier were gone and there was not a single cab in sight.

Within twenty minutes a cab arrived and I told the driver I would give him my ten bucks to drive me home quickly. He told me to hop in, I gave him my ten bucks and he drove me home without the meter running. My focus was now solely on my watch as the stroke of midnight was quickly approaching.

The cab driver drove very fast all the way to my apartment.

At 12:05 am I arrived home and quickly made a mad dash up to our second floor apartment. I unlocked and opened the door, but the flimsy chain lock was already on. My mother refused to open the door and I was furious with her. I could have easily kicked in the door and gotten inside, but I knew that would mean I would be finding another place to live the next day.

Our building lobby had a broken heater that night and it was freezing cold outside so I walked over to our neighboring building and its warm lobby. That is where I spent the night and I don’t remember how much sleep if any I got. Should anyone have asked me why I was there, I was prepared to tell them I lost my key and I was waiting for my mother to get home.

The next morning my mother let me back into my apartment. She told me how it broke her heart locking me out after seeing me from her bedroom window in the lobby. She said that she needed to teach me a lesson. Otherwise without any consequences, I would be breaking curfew all the time.

It was just another example of how unreasonable my own mother could be. Everything with her was black or white with no grey area in sight. My mother locked her nineteen year old son out of his home. The same nineteen year old son who was now paying her thirty bucks room and board a week to live there.

I now had two things of utmost importance I needed to do as I entered the 80's decade.

One, I needed to get my own car.

And two, I needed to get out from under my mother’s myopic black and white world. I needed to add some colour into my life.

Within a couple months my brother was now working and he too was also paying room and board. My mother's income was now too high and she was preparing for our move away from Lawrence Heights. There was an apartment building over on Lawrence Avenue that she really wanted to move to. Many of her friends from the Kingdom Hall were also living there and she was now on the waiting list for a two bedroom apartment. It would be just a matter of time before the three of us would no longer be Jungle bunnies.

My mother had finally become much more lax with all her crazy rules and I was no longer under a curfew. I was almost twenty years old and I was coming and going as I pleased. Although I never had a curfew I was always home well before midnight anyways. However, I did get the impression that since we’d soon be moving my mother was going to need my room and board money more than ever. She would be signing a yearly lease and her rent would be much higher than what it was at Flemington Road.

It took a decade, but I could finally feel my mother’s regime was slowly mellowing.

In the spring of 1980 my mother was notified that a two bedroom apartment was becoming available later that summer. She immediately accepted it and gave her notice that we would no longer need subsidized housing. I was okay with it although it meant I would now have to take a bus and a subway to get to my job at Collegiate instead of the fifteen minute walk I now enjoyed.

I now more than ever needed to get my first car.

Within a couple months after getting my first car the three of us moved out from our apartment at 11 Flemington Rd. The Jungle was now a much different neighborhood than it was when we moved in back in the summer of 1969. The demographics were changing rather quickly and I didn’t like what I was seeing.

Lawrence Heights was now becoming a much rougher, tougher and a much darker neighborhood.

There was never a murder in the Jungle during the ten plus years I lived there. There have been numerous murders committed over the years following my departure. Sadly, within three decades the Jungle had gone from being a newly built and well maintained subsidized housing project to the ghetto that it is today.

Our apartment on Flemington Rd. had served its purpose and it did what it was intended to do. It put a roof over the head of a single mother raising her kids until they got back on their feet again. It took us just over ten years and it sure wasn’t easy, but now we were finally on our way out.

Our new sixth floor apartment was much bigger and much nicer than our old apartment. My brother and I still shared a bedroom and we now had a balcony. The building also had indoor parking, but to save money I parked in the free outdoor spot. My room and board as well as my brothers was now fifty bucks a week and for the first time my mother was working full-time.

I was committed to living in our new apartment for at least a year since that was how long she signed the lease for. Although, I still really wanted to get out from under her roof. Our new apartment along with my freedom to come and go as I pleased made for a much cheaper alternative.

For now, it would suffice.

Update* In 2011 the City of Toronto endorsed a 20 year plan for the revitalization of Lawrence Heights. Revitalization at Lawrence Heights includes replacing 1,208 TCHC units and building over 4,000 new market units, along with new parks, retail space, and roads connecting Lawrence Heights to the surrounding community. The plan to revitalize Lawrence Heights reflects input from residents, neighborhood organizations, and the City of Toronto, and will occur in four phases.