Lest We Forget
This week my mind has wondered to all kinds of interesting places. I remembered - because Tuesday was Halloween - that 28 years ago we were enjoying that day and night in Saint John, NB. It was my first Halloween in the Maritimes and the last one I would celebrate. We lived in the south end of the City, the asshole of the asshole of Canada, but we had a nice place. The locals called it "little Chicago", most people in that area were dirt poor.
Anyway, I had bought this fury wolfman mask (latex masks with hair on them was something novel back then), the thing cost me about $20. Anyway I was 14 - a little too old for trick or treating, so I answered the door in that mask and gave out candy. I was a real yuckster, I had this dummy made up and as kids went by I'd throw the thing off the roof of our house and yell, "AAAAAHHHHGGGGG!!!"
I also remembered when my parents told me that Theresa was missing. It was Sunday, November 12th. I attended this private school, Rothesay Collegiate and they had cadets. Yup on Saturdays you'd gussy-up in military dress and march up and down the square. If it was a special occasion - like Remembrance day - we'd have a Sunday morning church parade and get home about 11:00 am.
So I'm back in my room hanging up my uniform and my mother and father come back and tell me that Theresa is missing. I don't know what I was supposed to do with this information. I don't even remember what I did. I do remember that that week I was pulled from Rothesay and I accompanied my parents on the drive to Lennoxville to meet with the police and the school.
I was always under the impression that my parents knew Theresa was missing much longer before telling me, but that's not so. My mother learned that Friday morning and two days later I knew. Later my father told me about the phone call he got from my mom. Dad was the project manager at the Pt Lepreau nuclear power plant (that's right, my dad is Homer Simpson). He was at work and my mom called and said that Theresa was missing. Theresa had been in trouble before - little stuff, she'd stay out all night, once she was involved in a raid at a bar for under age drinking. But Dad said this time he knew that things were different. Dad said when he got the call he immediately knew that the worst had happened.
Ce blogue est une investigation de le meurtre de ma soeur, Theresa Allore. Il y a 30 ans Theresa est mort aux secteurs de Compton, Sherbrooke et Lennoxville, Québec.
Life isn't fair, Justice is blind... and dysfunctional, and some cops aren't smart and dedicated like on tv.
Si vous avez information contact Sue Sutherland: CP 45 Succursale Lennoxville, Sherbrooke J1M 1Z3,Canada:firstname.lastname@example.org Tel: 514-264-7830
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Lest We Forget