I must have been twelve years old when I discovered the mountain for myself. My mother never let me play with anyone who was not of the same religion and came from a good family. Family, she approved of. So, when Sheila from a very wealthy family asked me if I want to go all the way to the mountain with her, she said yes. We would go all the way, by ourselves, by bus to the park in the mountain, all the way in the center of the city. And this time, and it was not that often, my mother agreed to let me go.
When I was small,
we did not have a country house. So, my father would take me and my little
brother for a walk on the mountain on Sundays. But I was an extremely happy
little girl when he took not only my brother but the kids on the block with us
on these walks. (Of course, these were from a family that my mother gave her
approval). But when I was six years old my parents decided to build a country
house and we went to the country on the weekend. The walks stopped. I never
forgot the mountain.
So, it was
years before I went to the mountain again. And although my friendship with
Sheila did not last long, once she had shown me the way, II took on the habit
of going to the mountain myself.
One day I
met a man who wanted to go for a walk with me on the mountain. And there was a
man who drove a horse and buggy around for tourists who had the money. He had
drunk the night before and wanted to sleep. So, he said that he would give the
reins to the man, and he could drive the horse as the owner of the buggy would
sleep in the back. My companion was delighted to take the reins and off we went
with horse and buggy.
I was a
romantic little girl and knew that sometimes people took the horses from the
mountain and rode into the city. It would only be much later, as an adult, that
I learned that this was very unusual and traumatic for the horses. But then I
was in blissful ignorance of the fact. So, when the man asked me where I wanted
to go with the horse and buggy, I suggested that we go for a ride in the city.
And off we went.
We went
around the mountain. And then down the twisted road that led away from the
mountain. And then we passed the Wax Museum, went all the way down Victoria
Street across to the Decarie express way and onto Van Horne until it turned
into Fleet Road. We must have passed the two
golf courses that lined the street at the time. We went up and up; the
same way I had gone all the way, by bus, to Park Mount Royal. Until finally, we
were at Westminster Avenue which was one block away from my modest home, when
the owner of the horse and carriage woke up.
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