Rob/Windsor Ont.
New member
The Kenney family lived across the road from us on Charl Street. Mike and Pat, the two oldest boys hung around with my two older brothers and myself. Leonard Parent was a few years older than the rest of us and was a prolific smoker, even at the age of fourteen. He blew the best "smoke rings" I've ever witnessed.
The Kenney home was unique to where we lived. They had a garage,.... the only home with one on the block, I believe. And it was here where we manufactured our electric guitars of cardboard, complete with elastics for strings. Everybody wanted to be like the Beatles and our neighborhood crew was no exception. Many a Beatle song was performed in that garage and Leonard, being the oldest and the only kid around with Beatle boots, generally got his say on which Beatle he wanted to be. He was Paul, more often than not, even though it was John, George and Ringo that smoked like he did. The rest of us made our own Beatle boots by simply placing childrens "blocks" in the heals of our socks. If your socks happened to be the right color, they didn't look all that bad. They "felt" like we were wearing Beatle boots anyways.
It was the beginning of summer vacation and we hurriedly gulped our suppers down. The garage was waiting for us and it was a race to see who was going to get there first. Protocol dictated that it was first come, first served. Arriving late meant waiting agonizingly for your turn to be your favorite......or if impatience got the best of you, you banged the cardboard box and settled for being Ringo. Problem was that Ringo rarely sang, and we ALL wanted to be the singer. The evening progressed as usual and I remember watching Leonard, the "almost" a man belting out a song with a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth. Boy o' boy, that was impressive !! After performing to his satisfaction, my brother Glenn and I took the stage. Glenn's two years my senior, which would've made him ten at the time. He was chatting with Leaonard when I saw a cigarette being handed over to him. He was taking the big step ! He was going for the gusto ! He had better not get caught I remember thinking. Puffing on his smoke with bravado, I somehow felt not quite as authentic. I summoned up the courage to ask for a couple of puffs myself. I figured if he could, why not me. Well, within a few minutes, we had smoked our first cigarette. We were growing up and seemed more like the Beatles by the minute. And then we heard that dreaded call.....Greg, Glenn and Robbie.....time to come home now from my father on the porch. We hurriedly placed our "guitars" in safe keeping for the next day and took the all too short walk home. As we walked past our father on the porch, he stopped my brother Glenn and myself. Not being a smoker himself, he noticed the all too familiar smell of smoke on us. Have you two been smoking as he looked into our eyes for the truth ? Are we going to be in trouble if we were was my brothers inquiry ? Of course not came the reply. How many "puffs" did you have ? Now I'm observing my dad, even at this young age and something wasn't quite right here. My brother Glenn, feeling confident answered honestly and said "about seven or eight". My dad then looked at me and I answered straight faced........I only had one !
Wait right here........I'll be right back were the words from my father. My brother Glenn was calling me a liar but I was sticking to my story. Something was going to give here and we both knew it now. Sure enough, my father returns with a twitch in his hand. Seven cracks on the backside for Glenn......and one for me. 
Needless to say, my brother was a bit pizzed at me for a day or two but it was he that first thought of smoking in the first place.
Beatle's or no Beatle's. The summer passed as usual and we spent all our nickels that season on packs of Beatle cards. Baseball cards took second priority that year and I've often wished that we were still in possession of those now collectible items. But even if we were, nothing could replace those memories of yesteryear.........Yesterday....all my troubles seemed so far away................
The Kenney home was unique to where we lived. They had a garage,.... the only home with one on the block, I believe. And it was here where we manufactured our electric guitars of cardboard, complete with elastics for strings. Everybody wanted to be like the Beatles and our neighborhood crew was no exception. Many a Beatle song was performed in that garage and Leonard, being the oldest and the only kid around with Beatle boots, generally got his say on which Beatle he wanted to be. He was Paul, more often than not, even though it was John, George and Ringo that smoked like he did. The rest of us made our own Beatle boots by simply placing childrens "blocks" in the heals of our socks. If your socks happened to be the right color, they didn't look all that bad. They "felt" like we were wearing Beatle boots anyways.
It was the beginning of summer vacation and we hurriedly gulped our suppers down. The garage was waiting for us and it was a race to see who was going to get there first. Protocol dictated that it was first come, first served. Arriving late meant waiting agonizingly for your turn to be your favorite......or if impatience got the best of you, you banged the cardboard box and settled for being Ringo. Problem was that Ringo rarely sang, and we ALL wanted to be the singer. The evening progressed as usual and I remember watching Leonard, the "almost" a man belting out a song with a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth. Boy o' boy, that was impressive !! After performing to his satisfaction, my brother Glenn and I took the stage. Glenn's two years my senior, which would've made him ten at the time. He was chatting with Leaonard when I saw a cigarette being handed over to him. He was taking the big step ! He was going for the gusto ! He had better not get caught I remember thinking. Puffing on his smoke with bravado, I somehow felt not quite as authentic. I summoned up the courage to ask for a couple of puffs myself. I figured if he could, why not me. Well, within a few minutes, we had smoked our first cigarette. We were growing up and seemed more like the Beatles by the minute. And then we heard that dreaded call.....Greg, Glenn and Robbie.....time to come home now from my father on the porch. We hurriedly placed our "guitars" in safe keeping for the next day and took the all too short walk home. As we walked past our father on the porch, he stopped my brother Glenn and myself. Not being a smoker himself, he noticed the all too familiar smell of smoke on us. Have you two been smoking as he looked into our eyes for the truth ? Are we going to be in trouble if we were was my brothers inquiry ? Of course not came the reply. How many "puffs" did you have ? Now I'm observing my dad, even at this young age and something wasn't quite right here. My brother Glenn, feeling confident answered honestly and said "about seven or eight". My dad then looked at me and I answered straight faced........I only had one !
Wait right here........I'll be right back were the words from my father. My brother Glenn was calling me a liar but I was sticking to my story. Something was going to give here and we both knew it now. Sure enough, my father returns with a twitch in his hand. Seven cracks on the backside for Glenn......and one for me. Needless to say, my brother was a bit pizzed at me for a day or two but it was he that first thought of smoking in the first place. Beatle's or no Beatle's. The summer passed as usual and we spent all our nickels that season on packs of Beatle cards. Baseball cards took second priority that year and I've often wished that we were still in possession of those now collectible items. But even if we were, nothing could replace those memories of yesteryear.........Yesterday....all my troubles seemed so far away................
Those were the good days, where we could dream about things and enjoy life. This was a good story about the time in our lives that we liked the Beatles and Elvis. Thanks for posting this most enjoyable story, I liked it. Please have a great day! Kelley (Texas) 