Tucked In

By Corey Wainman

It is June 1979, and school is out for the summer! Having just turned ten years old, Shane Anderson is your typical fun-loving kid who just moved from the suburbs to the city. Sure, he likes to exit the same door he entered. And he likes turning lights on and off an even number of times. And he has to keep scary movie scenes out of his head at bedtime. But apart from that (and maybe a few other things), he's just a normal guy with a musical mom, a semi-hippie dad and the coolest sister around. Join him as he experiences many notable adventures against the backdrop of toys, tunes, TV shows and new-found friends.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Oct 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9780228868293

Corey Wainman

Corey Wainman is a fiction writer, copywriter and author of Tucked In, the first novel in The Delightful Oddball Trilogy. By combining his passion for storytelling with his love of nostalgia, Corey wrote Tucked In to whisk the reader back to a simpler, freer time. As an award-winning copywriter, Corey had the pleasure of supporting many renowned brands. He especially enjoyed writing for kids' cereal mascots such as Lucky the Leprechaun, Tricks (a.k.a. the Silly Rabbit) and even Boo Berry! Corey lives in Toronto, Ontario where he enjoys subjecting his wife and three children to all the songs, TV shows and movies of his youth.

Book preview

Tucked In

Corey Wainman

Tucked In

Copyright © 2021 by Corey Wainman

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Tellwell Talent

www.tellwell.ca

ISBN

978-0-2288-6828-6 (Paperback)

978-0-2288-6829-3 (eBook)

To my wife and family.

Contents

1.Moving Day

2.Smoke Bombs & Lip Gloss

3.The Broken Window

4.Cartoons & Disco Lights

5.Dares & Kisses

6.Sarah’s Place

7.Chopped Egg

8.Gasping for Air

9.Pelican Girl

10.Volcanoes & Furry Boots

11.Show Day

12.Goodbyes & Glow Sticks

About the Author

1

Moving Day

June 27, 1979 was the best day of my life for three reasons. One: it was the last day of Grade 4. Two: it was my tenth birthday. And three: it was the day I moved from the suburbs to the city. It was also a sunny summer day in June. I was skipping home from school that day, clutching my dented Star Wars lunch box and just loving the smell and feel of a warm, blue-skied day. I had a memory for every place I looked; there was the corner where I fell off my bike (with a big goose bump on my head as a result), the tall tree I fell out of (and somehow survived) and the grassy hill behind which I found the remains of my stolen Green Machine last year—the gorgeous Green Machine that the Easter Bunny had brought. But that didn’t matter today. Today was my birthday and the start of no school for a very long time.

I often had a song in my head, and today was no exception. For this walk home, I was humming Cruel to Be Kind, a new single from Nick Lowe. I loved music. I had known since I was 9½ years old that I was going to be a famous disc jockey when I grew up, like Casey Kasem. I also loved charts and countdowns. My plan was to have a weekly TV show Saturday evening called Shane Anderson’s Top 10 Weekly Countdown. It would be on from 8:30 to 9:00 p.m., right before The Love Boat, the best show on TV hands down.

Just ahead of me was the entrance to my townhouse complex, and I entered twice to make it an even number. The radio station in my head switched to Shine a Little Love by ELO. I also had the Discovery album cover pictured in my head—the one with the young man holding the flying saucer.

We lived in the city of River Mills, a suburb on the outskirts of Terrance City. This was the second townhouse complex I had lived in. Before that, I had lived in three apartment buildings. Today, the day of days, we were moving to Forest Mews, yet another townhouse complex located in Willowville, a neighbourhood on the north side of Terrance City.

In my current complex, there were basically four types of townhomes repeated over and over, and most of them were attached to each other on both sides. A key part of a townhouse complex was its number of parks, and my current complex had four in total. In fact, I had to cross two of them on my way to Number 123, which was our three-story unit. I loved our townhouse number as it was a cinch to remember.

I approached our porch stairs and went up them two at a time. I then had to go down and up them again so that I had gone up the stairs an even number of times. Then I went in. I could hear a Carole King song on the radio…my mom LOVED Carole King, especially Tapestry. (That album featured a double A-side single, which I knew all about because I was going to be a disc jockey. Both A-side singles I Feel the Earth Move and It’s Too Late reached #1 on the Billboard Hot 100.) I took off my running shoes and peeked my head into the kitchen.

Hi, Mom.

My mom swung around, clearly pleased to see me. She had been packing in the kitchen.

Well, if it isn’t the birthday boy! How was your last day of school?

"It was good. We watched The Red Balloon."

You love that movie! she said.

I really did. The Red Balloon was a classic.

Listen, something came in the mail today for you.

My heart started to thump. Receiving mail was SO exciting. I remembered the time I had sent away for replacement racing cars for my Tyco Super Duper Double Looper set and they arrived six and a half weeks later…the joy!

My mom handed me a plain box, and I knew what it was right away. I tore it open and pulled out the brand-new Boba Fett action figure. (Boba Fett was a character from the upcoming Star Wars sequel, which was filming in some secret location in Norway according to Starlog magazine.) To get it, I had to cut out three proofs of purchase from other action figures and mail them in. I turned him around to check out his rocket pack, and—just like I thought—the rocket did not fire. Bobby at school had told me that some kid in America had choked and died so the toy company made it so the projectile could not shoot out. It was still my coolest action figure yet.

Now, your main gift is waiting for you at the new complex, said my mom.

Please let it be a BMX bike with yellow mag wheels! I thought.

And one more thing… she continued. I was at the drug store today, and at the checkout, I eyed that action figure you were having a hard time finding.

With that, she pulled out another package from a nearby bag. It was a Tusken Raider…one of the sand people and the hardest Star Wars action figure to find—even harder than the Jawa and Darth Vader. I now had a complete set of all twelve first-series action figures. And I had four of the eight new second-series action figures: R5-D4, the Power Droid, Hammerhead and Greedo. I still needed Snaggletooth (who was sold out everywhere), Luke X-Wing Pilot, the Death Star Droid and Walrusman.

I don’t know what to say, I said. It was a magical moment.

How about ‘thank you’? my mom said with a smile.

Thanks Mom. She was the best.

Did you eat your lunch? she asked while resuming her packing.

I had not eaten it all…I had only eaten half…well, almost half. You see, my dad was a bit of a health food nut. He had opened a health food store five or six years ago that had to close down because not enough people ate health food. But he still believed in the cause and had both my sister and I well trained. My peanut butter sandwich was basically crushed peanuts on what was called Earth Bread.

I only ate half, I confessed.

Shane…you need the protein, she said, sounding concerned.

But the peanut butter is just…peanuts.

I remembered the time when, for some reason, I had to go to a block parent’s house for lunch on school days. They had Smoothie Peanut Butter on the table. And I resisted. I was strong.

Have a snack, she said.

That was a good idea. Our kitchen was a standard layout with an area where you could eat breakfast and lunch (and dinner if you really wanted to). The gem of the room was clearly the microwave, which seemed to sparkle amidst the rest of the appliances, even outshining our new electric can opener. My parents had hosted a microwave party this past March, inviting neighbours over to witness the wonder that is microwave oven cooking. Our kitchen table had red legs and a white top with four matching chairs. I opened the fridge to see a whole world of healthy foods—skim milk, cheese curds, Earth Bread, crushed peanuts peanut butter. I grabbed a Sesame Snaps from the counter—that was the one thing I loved. My mom smiled in approval. She liked them too.

Isn’t there something you’re forgetting? my mom asked.

I thought for a second then realized what she was getting at. I quickly retrieved an envelope from my pocket.

Here you go, I said as I handed her my report card. It’s a bit crumpled. Sorry about that.

Is there anything I need to worry about? she said as she inspected the document.

No, I did well in everything, but there is this one issue, I said.

What? asked my mom.

Well, I think the teacher might have insulted me in the comments section, I said.

Insulted you?

She called me, well, I can’t really pronounce it, but it looks awful. It starts with a ‘p.’

She quickly checked the comments section then looked at me with a smile. Shane, my love, your teacher called you ‘precocious.’

Is it bad? I asked, fearing the worst.

Not at all. In fact, it’s a compliment.

I was relieved. What does it mean? I asked.

Well, you know how you know all those things about music and movies and stuff like that?

I nodded.

It just means you’re advanced for your age. You know things that people your age don’t typically know.

I could handle that.

I’m going to finish packing, I said as I bit into the first of four snaps.

I think there’s only your record player left, she said. And your records of course.

There were boxes everywhere—clearly, it was moving day. I hopped up the first flight of stairs, taking care not to choke on my Sesame Snaps. I quickly arrived on the second floor, which had my sister’s room at one end and my dad’s den at the other. My dad’s den had just a bed, above which hung a Close Encounters of the Third Kind poster, the one with the runway at night. I loved that movie but was a little freaked out by the aliens at the end. My sister wasn’t home and neither was my dad. I climbed the second set of stairs which led to a floor with my parents’ room at one end and mine at the other.

My room was nothing special. I had a wooden bedroom set from Deers department store and a bookcase above my dresser. The bookcase was bare because all my books were in boxes ready to go. Seeing my empty bookcase made me think of some of my favourite books. How to Eat Fried Worms was the best book ever written, and The Wheel on the School was great as well (our teacher had read it to us in class throughout Grade 4). I also loved Roald Dahl, especially Danny, the Champion of the World (which taught me about pheasant poaching) and the one-of-a-kind Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, a delicious book indeed! I also liked to read the Deers Christmas Wish Book, which was more a catalogue than a book. I would swell with excitement when it arrived in the mail! I had such fond memories of reading through the toy section and preparing my yearly list to Santa. But Christmas was too far away to think about now.

Music was my main passion. I listened to it and sometimes played pretend instruments along with it. My record player sat on the floor in front of me, plugged in and itching to be played. I quickly grabbed a 45 single, pulled the record from its sleeve and attached a yellow plastic centrepiece. The song I was about to play was tearing up the charts. In fact, it was #1! I eagerly opened the lid to my record player (which had a built-in speaker) and plopped the single down on the turntable. Because the player was a kids’ model, it did not have a properly weighed-down needle arm, so I had two pennies taped to the top of the needle. This was a tip from my mom’s friend Rollie. When I first bought the player, the needle would skip all over the place, so Rollie (who had a massive record collection) suggested I try weighing it down with pennies, and it worked.

Hot Stuff by Donna Summer filled the bedroom air. I loved disco. And rock and roll. I liked many types of music. After my dose of Donna Summer, I packed away my player and records then looked at my room one last time. I felt a wee bit sad—not nearly as sad as when I saw Ricky Schroder in The Champ, but I felt like I was leaving a chapter of my life behind. I turned the lights on and off twice then went downstairs.

The moving company had arrived and was ready to empty the place. As I said my final goodbyes to a home full of memories, I thought of some of the major events that had occurred there. It was the house where, during a humongous blizzard last year, we had waited (for what seemed like forever) for my dad to come home. I would never forget the feeling of relief when he walked through the door! It was also the house where my dad had to turn my sister Sienna upside down and thump her back when she had whooping cough. I also remembered barging through the front door to let my mom know that I had ridden on two wheels for the first time. Oh well, I was sure to make many more memories at my new complex.

On the car ride to the new townhouse, my mom let me pick the radio station. I always chose 1060 Buzz. I turned it on and, lo and behold, Convoy by CW McCall was on. (Convoy was a novelty song, a special type of song like Disco Duck.) I had not heard it in a long time. I think I first heard the song on one of those C-Tel compilation albums, the ones that had ten tracks per side. I used to dream of owning my own CB radio (like the narrator in Convoy) where my handle would be rubber duck.

There was traffic on the 704, the highway that connected River Mills with Willowville, but it never mattered as long as I had the Buzz. Next up was Miss You by the Rolling Stones. With that, a flood of memories came back to me. Music always sparked memories, and Miss You reminded me of California. You see, about a year ago, I had gone to live in California for two months so my dad could help open a new office in the USA—he was the owner of a publishing company that put out the Green Earth Gazette (their bread and butter as my dad would say) as well as a children’s newspaper called Small Times (which I had written for). California 1978 (which is what I liked to call it) was the best trip I had ever gone on. My dad loved—and I mean LOVED—the chorus in Miss You, which came out in the summer of ‘78. Every time I heard it, I thought of the beaches, the body surfing, the palm trees, the Universal Studios Tour and Disneyland. Ah, Disneyland! The Matterhorn bobsled ride was my favourite ride ever. I was a little scared of the Abominable Snowman (I closed my eyes and plugged my ears), but the ride down the mountain itself was so much fun. I also enjoyed Knott’s Berry Farm…and Montezuma’s Revenge—the coolest coaster ever made. It did a backwards loop!

I remembered nice times in the townhouse we had rented, like curling up and watching back-to-back episodes of I Dream of Jeannie. Barbara Eden made a great genie. I loved the scenes when she was in the bottle; I wanted to live there with that wonderful purple circular couch. It looked so cozy. Sometimes I ate Alphagetti while I watched (we weren’t ALL about health food but pretty close).

California was where we wore out side 1 of the Grease soundtrack—every track on that side of the record was a single somewhere in the world. As an aspiring disc jockey, I always contemplated what songs might make for good singles. In some ways, Grease was the soundtrack to our entire trip. And the two records came housed in what the industry called a gatefold sleeve, where you opened it up and there were two album covers inside, often with one continuous image…in this case, pictures from the movie on a table at a ’50s-style diner.

Grease had made its way into our life in all sorts of ways that summer. My sister Sienna and I used to act out scenes from the movie at home in Santa Barbara (the city where we stayed). Sienna, dressed in a ’50s-style outfit, would mouth the words to Hopelessly Devoted to You. And we would both grease our hair back, roll up our sleeves and dance to Greased Lightning. It was a blast!

California was a US state, which meant you could buy cereals like Boo Berry and Cookie Crisp at the grocery store. And the pop cans were fatter for some reason, and they crushed more easily. I made a friend in Santa Barbara, and we actually started a business where we would charge residents ten cents to take their garbage out. I also remembered eating at Burger King the day we landed in Los Angeles, and I got a beautiful green pickle whistle in the kids’ meal!

I was still thinking fondly of California as my mom exited the highway onto Crestview Avenue. The Buzz was still buzzing. The DJ had just introduced Gold by John Stewart, a new song I had heard once before and was already growing on me!

How do they time it perfectly? I asked.

Time what, honey? my mom said, a little lost in thought.

The DJ always speaks right up until the moment when the singing starts. How do they do that?

Well, practice I guess, she said.

I knew a lot about the tricks of my chosen trade, like how disc jockeys worked with two turntables instead of one—that is how one song faded into another. But I was stumped as to how they timed their intros.

They have to know the song’s timing perfectly, I said. And they also need to know the time it will take to say what they are going to say. But they always seem to do it.

Well, when you’re a DJ, you’ll do it too.

My mom was always supportive of my dream to be a famous disc jockey. She loved music too. We didn’t always agree on what was good music, but a lot of times we did. Whenever I called her an old-timer for listening to ’50s songs like It’s My Party by Leslie Gore, she liked to remind me that she was only thirty-one.

As Gold faded out, the opening riff of Foreigner’s Double Vision came bursting from the speaker. Foreigner was a band we could agree on. We sang the verse and chorus out loud, but we frequently got the words wrong. Less with the chorus though.

Out of nowhere, my mom had to brake suddenly. Almost like a reflex, her arm extended to shield me. But we were fine. It made me think of the time we were driving in our old, wood-panelled station wagon and I was pretend vacuuming the back cargo area with an ice scraper. My mom had to brake suddenly and I flew through the air, the back of my head hitting the thingy that pulls the back seat up and down. Blood started to pour from my head, and my mom rushed me to the hospital. A couple of hours later, I was strapped to an operating room table face down as I received stitches in my head. In order to breathe, there was a circular hole in the table where I could put my face through. They then had to put a needle in my wound several times in order to freeze it.

Will it hurt? I remembered asking