Finding scraps, making magic

and building something special

When I was a child, people much bigger than me moved into the forest behind our home. They cut down the trees. They put the stream in a pipe. They moved earth and transformed the land.

Houses sprouted where the trees used to be. Families arrived. A community grew. The best part though was the beginning. When the workers were there, they created a world of possibility and opportunity for an under-supervised boy to flourish.

I loved riding my bike in the muddy ruts left by the earth movers. Culverts that replaced streams became tinny caverns for ambitious spelunking. But when the houses were being built? That’s when the magic happened.

At the end of the day, the workers would leave and we were free to explore the unfinished homes being framed almost everywhere. I like to brag to my children that I have peed in most of the homes that were built in our neignbourhood when I was a child. No, I didn’t use their toilets. I went where ever I wanted. Knowing that my urine is soaked into the fib…