Comrade Max

When I was 5 years old my name was 'Comrade'.

My parents still called me Max, but every other adult was calling me Comrade...other parents, teachers at school, high school kids all did.

I guess I didn't really mind as much as I just found it confusing at that age.

It did seem to make everyone happy as they were always laughing and smiling as they said it. But I had no idea what they were laughing at.

The year was 1976, and I was a 5 year old boy living in Port Perry, Ontario and going to Kindergarten at Prince Albert Public School.

My neighbour, Jay Sterling, who was my age and in my class at school, had enrolled in Beavers, which is the first level of the Boy Scouts club, and I was begging my mom to allow me to do the same.

And she agreed.

The next day on her way to work as a nurse in Oshawa, she drove to the Scouts headquarters, which was in downtown Oshawa and paid the enrollment fee.

This is when she found out that she would also have to pay an additional $10 for a Beavers' uniform. This consisted of a summer shirt, a thin scarf and a ball cap.

You see, attached to the Scouts' headquarters was a store for parents to buy all the clothes and accessories, and this how they made their money. Understand that $10 back in 1976 was a lot of money.

My father worked as a school teacher and as I mention, my mom worked as a nurse, so while my parents didn't have an excess of funds, we never found ourselves wanting.

For my mother though, having grown up during the depression era, it was the principle of being required to pay so much for a summer shirt and ball cap hat that made her so upset.

She rarely got upset, so when she did, she fumed.

My mother let it be known to whoever was working the counter that she refused to buy the clothes.

When the Scouts representative told her that it was mandatory for me to have a uniform, she fumed even more. I can only imagine how she looked to the person working the counter as I've seen my mom really mad only a couple of times, and it is not pretty.

When my mom sets her mind on something she sticks to it. And she was committed that she would not be buying the regular uniform for $10.

Instead, she decided to buy me the winter Beavers' uniform instead. This way, she figured, she'd be getting more value for her money as I could wear it all year round.

Don't be too surprised if you didn't know there was a winter Beavers' uniform. It wasn't exactly a big seller.

The piece-de-resistance of the winter gear was the large faux-fur hat.

It looked almost exactly like the large Russian Ushanka military fur hats, thus my new nickname of 'Comrade'. Everyone has seen these hats; of course, usually they are reserved for the bad Russian guys in old cold-war era war movies.

I remember it well. The hat had long faux-fur flaps which hung down, covering my ears and most of the sides of my head. The whole thing seemed to weigh about five pounds, my little head pressed down into my body as I wore it.

The accompanying winter vest was a thick brown cotton material that had a lining of the same faux-fur which poked out the sides. It was very heavy and very hot. There was also a thick scarf which had a Beavers' emblem sewn at the bottom and was wrapped a few times around my neck as it was so long.

As dumb as I may have looked, proud was I to wear the Beavers uniform. I was 5 years old. At that age, joining Beavers felt like I was joining the war; I was just proud to serve my country.

I was a bit surprised that I was the only kid I knew to have this uniform. I asked my mom and she quickly replied that the store had run out of the summer wear. It seemed reasonable to me.

It was early September when I started wearing it and we still had a few very warm days left.

I wore my uniform everywhere I went; as did the other kids wear theirs. I wore it to school, after school, everywhere. I was so proud to be in Beavers, just one of the local boys fighting the good fight.

By wearing that outfit, the local residents above the age of 15 took to calling me Comrade.

As far as I know they didn't all get together in a town meeting of some sort and declare that this was my new name....my guess is it just seemed an obvious choice given that I looked very much like a Russian soldier trying to survive the Siberian winter.

"Hello Comrade".

"Comrade! Power to the People!"

These are the things I heard as people passed me.

My first knowledge of the word Vodka arose from asking for a glass of water, and the reply was "Comrade, you mean Vodka, da?" in a thick, fake Russian accent.

I had no idea what was going on.

In 1976, they introduced an exercise program for all students at our school. Some days we began the morning with the Health Hustle, in which we did exercises to songs like 'King of the Road' and the 'Popcorn Song'. Other days we'd spend a half hour running laps around the field in the back of the school.

On one of the days we ran laps around the field, it was late September and it was a hot, muggy day, one of the last ones of the year.

I was absolutely exhausted as I wore my full winter Beavers uniform and tried to run. Sweat was pouring down my little face from under the giant hat. My winter vest seemed to be overheating. I was tripping on the scarf as I ran. The more I ran the more I was feeling uncomfortable and sick.

As my head started to spin, sweat now began pouring down my face. When I reached where the teachers were standing I went to tell them I was feeling sick, but instead I just threw up at their feet.

Then I passed out.

Yes; apparently heat stroke.

The Russian Comrade had fallen.

I was quickly taken inside and my mother was called. She drove like the wind from Oshawa to come retrieve me and found me quietly lying on a bench in the secretary's room. I didn't say anything when I saw her; I just looked up at her with sad eyes, like a wounded puppy.

It was obvious she was feeling guilt like no other. This probably wasn't alleviated when the Principal took her aside and suggested she refrain from dressing me in winter clothes during the hot days.

Da Mom. Da.