TERRY GROVES

I'm not sure just how different my brat upbringing was due to my relationships with my grandfathers was from those without grandfathers, but I know I got a lot less time with them than most of my civilian friends did with theirs. Many of my memories of my grandfathers are positive, most. They were men from a different time, tended to be a lot tougher and more serious than I am as a grandfather. I believe that was shaped by their wartime experiences. Both went to Europe early

I don't know if being a brat had an influence on my relationship with my grandmothers, but I think it did. They certainly understood what it was like to be the dependent of a military man, but their experience was considerably different than mine. In their day, the husbands headed off to war at the start, and came home when it was all over. It was difficult enough giving up my father for the periods of his deployments (a few weeks to a few months). It is hard to conceive bein

I remember Mom telling Dad how the next door neighbor's boy had asked to be driven somewhere. The response had been that the gas tank in the car was empty. The young boy, being very industrious and clever, proceeded to gather sand from the side of the road and pour it into the gas tank. Being as young as I was, we were still living on Jameswood Drive on the air base in Winnipeg, so was about 4 or 5, I failed to understand just what that action meant but filed it away in the b

We can get called by many names during out life. Here is the history of my nicknames

Growing up a military brat, for me, resulted in a fair bit of regimentation in my childhood. I am not certain it would have been the same had my father chosen a civilian occupation. I feel the structure he and Mom gave our family, helped my siblings and I lead relatively productive lives. A lot of the regimentation manifested in chores around the house and family. Making my bed each day was one of the chores I did to earn my weekly allowance. One day each week was wash day, w

I recently learned just how valuable a brat friend is. During a trip to Ontario to see my family who COVID had kept me from for two years, I decided to include a side-trip to Fort Henry Heights, the Kingston PMQ area where I spent four years while finishing grade school and starting high school. I was eager to reconnect with that part of my childhood. As you know if you have been reading my blog posts, I have many fond memories of my time in Kingston. When I posted that I was

Ah, those military provided amenities.

Have you encountered heroes in your life? I hope you have. I recall one whose name I never learned. It seemed I was always waiting to be big enough or old enough to do things my older brothers were already doing. I was not the most patient of brats and I tried to find ways to at least live on the fringe of their activities. They were often my heroes, when they weren't using their heroic muscles to pound on me, One of the things I had to wait for was swimming. On the air base

Did you grow up believing a misconception?

Being a brat didn't always involve just military settings. Sometimes we got to interact with the civilian population at a more personal leve

Can kids be trusted to make smart decisions?

This story meanders a bit but illustrates a couple of brat bits of wisdom. I left home at 17 after graduating high school. I went to London, Ontario to go to Fanshaw College for auto mechanics. While I waited for classes to begin, I worked at the Holiday Inn as a busboy, and then for a cleaning company at the White Oaks Mall running a big floor scrubbing machine. When it was time to begin studying, I decided I didn't want to go to college (big mistake- tell your kids to get t

I find it curious that what constitutes a weather disaster now, I viewed as an exceptional experience opportunity as a teen. I don't recall the exact year, but it was around 1973-74. We were stationed in Kingston, living on Lundy's Lane, right beside the Protestant Chapel, across from Batoche school. I think it was January of February. What I do remember is the ice storm we had. Everything was coated in ice. The trees, streets, sidewalks, parking lots, lawns, everything was

Living on a military base gave lots of opportunities for interesting places to explore. I won't go into them all, it would make a very lengthy blog entry, but you can expect more of them to come out in future musings. In the 60s, Clinton had two dumps. One was where they had deposited the remains of old roofing materials, piles of shingles and tar paper in a lot beside the mobile home park. It offered wonderful opportunities for building forts and such but stunk pretty bad of

Wolf Cubs and Boy Scouts were a constant theme throughout my youth. Through the activities and my never-ending quest to amass proficiency badges, my horizons were broadened and I gained new skills and knowledge. At the time, I didn't realize I was learning things, I was just having fun. From learning about nature, geography and gaining a love for reading, I also learned leadership and independence, growing to be quite proficient when I was away from the comforts of home. All

My first job had a profound effect on my career

Even when I was so young I was still mastering walking, we were encouraged to spend time outside. In the winter, the activities were varied and, because we were living in Winnipeg, often involved snow. . .lots of snow. Besides building snow forts and ice caves, we would build snowmen. My parents taught us, make a big snow ball, then another one, not quite as big, and then another one, a bit smaller yet. Pile them up with the smallest on top, add a hat, carrot and two briquett

Growing up in a military family, being one of six boys, finances were always tight. Mom and Dad did what they could to squeeze every nickel, ensuring we always had what we needed. One of the ways Dad saved a few dollars each month was to cut our hair himself. When I was very young, Mom tended to pile my hair up on top of my head and everyone thought it was cute. In those days I didn't care but those days didn't last. Eventually, I outgrew that and was glad to climb up onto Da

In about 1968, when I was ten or so, I had a bit of a fascination with fire. I wasn't running around lighting them, I just liked how a line of gasoline would flare from the end you lit to the other, a snake of flame. I knew a lot about fire safety from what I learned in my involvement with Wolf Cubs and Boy Scouts. Since we were always having camp fires, and because we often crafted creative ways to light them, fire safety was a high priority. I was also cutting a lot of lawn

How do siblings decide what to fight over?