Perry Boys

When my husband Paul was six years old, he and his family moved from Newtown – the little community in which we live now – to live in the capital city of St. John’s. Their parents relocated so that Paul’s oldest sibling David could attend the Vera Perlin school for his special needs.
On the day of the big move, Paul crawled up under the house – the actual house we live in now – in a show of protest. “Everyone should be able to live where they were born,” he argued through tears, but the die had been cast. He was pulled out and packed into the car with everyone else.


On the very first day at their new school, Paul and his other brother Kevin, who is one year older, decided to walk home from school for lunch, despite being told to stay there and eat the lunch they’d brought. But when they saw other children going home, they wanted to go as well. Unfamiliar with their new neighbourhood, the two boys got lost, and Kevin started to cry.

Brave little Paul tried his best to console his big brother by distracting him. “Don’t cry, Kev. Look at the pigeons,” he said, pointing at a bunch of them as they waddled across the sidewalk, hoping the strange, tame city birds might cheer him up. It worked, and they ended up following a classmate to his house. Between the jigs and the reels, their dad had to leave work and go pick them up.

Let’s go back a couple of years when Paul was four and Kevin was five, to another time the younger boy displayed his wisdom. A new addition to the family of three boys had arrived, and this time, it was a girl! When their mom brought baby Julie Ann home, the boys crowded around to get a look at their new sister. Kevin’s eyes opened wide when her diaper came off to be changed. “Look, Paul,” he said, incredulous. “She ain’t got nar topper!” (penis)
“No, ya foolish,” Paul said, enlightened beyond his years. “She got whatever Mom got.”

Now before you think I’m beating up on my brother-in-law, I’d like to share one more tale. Okay, two. When Paul was about nine and enjoying his summer vacation in Newtown, Kevin saved him from drowning. Paul was diving with some other boys off of Burnt Island, but he tired in the deep water and panicked. Kevin grabbed him by the hair on top of his head and pulled him to safety.


Years later, when Kevin was just beginning his teaching career, he and Paul were driving along in St. John’s one evening. Without warning, Kevin pulled over, stopped the car, and jumped out. He’d spied two teenage boys in a fist fight near the local hockey rink, and he wanted to stop them. Paul watched as he parted the boys, reasoned with them, and ended the scuffle.

It was a day he never forgot. Where most people would just keep going and not get involved, Kevin stepped in and tried to solve the problem. It made Paul really proud of his brother.

Paul confessed there were other boyhood fights where Kev stepped in and rescued Paul himself, fights my husband started and couldn’t finish. I would say he’s grateful for those too. And so am I. πŸ™‚

L to R: David, Paul, Julie, and Kevin
L to R: David, Paul, Julie, and Kevin
Thirteen-year-old Paul

39 thoughts on “Perry Boys

  1. Jennifer, I love the East Coast accent. It makes those funny little stories even sweeter. And how wonderful that you and Paul live in his childhood home. I know I’d love to see inside the heritage home I first lived in when I was only 4. Old homes always hold a special place in our hearts. ❀

    Blessings & hugs ~ Wendy ❀

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks, Wendy. Heritage homes have a lot of beauty and character. We were just watching a story on the news about a huge old home in St. John’s being restored for heritage status. I hope they show it again when it’s completed.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. I love stories like this … I keep thinking that one day I will get to recollecting and try to set down some of my own stories. But oh, how to tell them? Sherri of A View from My Summerhouse tells me I should explore memoir, but I’m not sure I have the courage. Maybe I should start with the stories that were shared with me as a child. I particularly enjoyed the ones my grandmother told me about my mother’s misadventures, lol.


    1. Kath, like many writers, I like to incorporate some true snippets of my life inside the fiction. It gives it more authenticity, I think. Thank you.

      Did you go on that writers retreat yet? How was it?


      1. No writers retreat, that would be special. Im going on an artist retreat Jennifer. I agree, I drop little snippets of my world in my story characters too, or stuff I overhear in conversations. Im a bit naughty because i love to listen to people talking in the streets. You can hear some amazing stories this way.

        Liked by 1 person

          1. Jennifer I would love to go to a writers retreat too! Any stuff to do with writing is way to far away for me. I’m into my editing course this week up to lesson 6 asking each character how they are suppose to make the reader feel. So good for me. I never realised how many characters I had in this draft until this exercise I have to write them all down. The art retreat is coming up in April about three weeks away. I am getting very excited.


  3. Fabulous! Totally engrossed in this and wanted more! 😊. It brought back a memory of when my brother-in-law saved his brother (my husband) from drowning in the sea off the west coast of Ireland. I was oblivious to the situation, gathering shells with our small daughter. A long time ago but the memory shot straight to the front of my mind again when reading this x

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Wow, I guess it happened to a lot of people. My sister almost drowned me, trying to climb up on top of me to get to the surface and pushing me down under, in order to save herself! But she was just a little girl in a panic, so I forgave her. πŸ™‚ Thanks, Christine. ❀

      Liked by 1 person

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