RIP Tante Hilde

When our clan washed ashore here in the middle fifties, Tante Hilde was one of the aunties who looked out for you like you were their own.

This continued well beyond our formative years. I'll never forget that time when she got me out of a jam that was gonna get me in big trouble with my mom.

Back in the day, the Hirtles lived up in the northeast corner of Guelph. Not too far away, there was massive gravel extraction going on to build Guelph Lake. Those gravel pits became a magnet for youthful partying.

I'd borrowed my mom's car to attend to an evening of revelry out there. If I'm not mistaken, I believe the car was a Plymouth Scamp. White with a burgundy vinyl roof. I must have had a great time, because when I awoke, the party was over. I was the only one there.

And my mom's car wouldn't start.

So, making the best of a bad situation, I figured I'd hike to Johnny Hirtle's place to round up a posse to come and rescue the car. Walking there along the roads would have been miles and hours. But if I cut across Lou Fontinato's farm, I'd be there in maybe twenty minutes.

Fontinato was the NHL player whose neck and career were broken by Gordie Howe, but he was well regarded locally. He wouldn't have a problem with me cutting across his farm.

But the problem I had cutting across his farm was falling through the ice in that marsh in front of his place. Pretty sure I crapped myself before I realized my feet had touched bottom and my head was still above water.

That took the immediate urgency out of the situation, but I still had to get up Victoria Road to Johnny's place, and avoid his mom, Tante Hilde, at all costs. If my mom got wind of this little hickup, I'd never get the car again, and it was a foregone conclusion that if Tante Hilde knew, my mother would know five minutes later.

So I arrive up at the house half frozen, and I desperately need some dry clothes, not to mention the posse to retrieve my mom's car. I'm also desperate to avoid my aunt. It's two in the morning by now. I tap on Johnny's window. Nothing.

I peek in the front window. The side window. Oh my God, what am I going to do....

Suddenly the door opens, and I hear, "Dee-tah, vat ah you doing?"

Oh shit! 

Busted!

To make a longish story short, Johnny arrived home a short while later, and we got my mom's car home safe and sound, but in the meantime, my Tante Hilde had fixed me up with dry clothes.

To this day, I can't imagine that this little incident was never shared between my aunt and my mother, but the thing of it is, my dear mom never mentioned a word about it, and my car privileges were unscathed.

It paid to have Tante Hilde in your corner!

*******

A special thanks to Reg and Carson who ensured Tante Hilde didn't spend her last year isolated.