Читать книгу I Am Nobody. Confronting the Sexually Abusive Coach Who Stole My Life онлайн

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Not everybody is strong enough to handle Winnipeg. Its only hill is artificial, a park created on top of an old garbage dump that is a great place to toboggan in the winter. Winnipeg has amazing summers, but they last for only a few very short months. The freeze-thaw cycle is so intense that the roads are continually destroyed by potholes that form when the ground warms again in spring. Winnipeg’s mosquitos are so bad that even in these enlightened times most people are in favor of aggressive chemical fogging, if only to allow us to kid ourselves into believing that the problem isn’t as bad as it really is. And as for things to do in The Peg, a prominent professional football player once said that the city was a nice place to live but that he needed to be traded away because he could only take his kids to the zoo so many times after he’d run out of things to do with them.

But Winnipeg was a fantastic place to be a kid. With its long winters and outdoor natural ice to play on, it was an especially amazing place to be a young hockey player. Like all who grew up there, I am a proud Winnipegger, and we share a secret world with knowing references to the special ties that 7-11s, Slurpees, The Guess Who, BTO, socials, Neil Young, “going to the lake,” Sals, orbit, K-tel, the BDI, bumper shining, garbage mitts, and Sylvia Kuzyk all have to our city. A fatwa on any non-Pegger who may ever speak ill of my hometown.