I replied "Oh absolutely, I do. My dad does the same kinda thing"
He smiled. "There's nothing like sitting back havin' a cigarette, or a toke, and fly fishing"
"Didja wanna burn one?" I asked, fiddling with the joint in my pocket. We were in the hotel parking lot, and no one was around to be bothered by it. After all, this was Edmonton before legalization where you were bound to catch a sour eye or two your way.
"Ah sure. Where you from?"
"Vancouver" I replied whilst I lit the joint (sorry for using the word 'whilst').
"Oh yeah, I lived there from '72-'94. I was there for the first Stanley Cup riots"
My eyes widened. "No way! I was there for the one a couple years back"
As I passed him the joint, he put one of his hands in his front jean pocket, took one big puff, and rocked back on his heels. I don't say it to be mean, but he was a real 'yee-haw' type. He passed the joint back and started "I remember I was shoe shining, making a killing that day. Y'see I've worked a lot as a shoe shiner. I would charge a nickel-a-shine meanwhile a whole tin of polish only cost you a dime. Y'see, I worked during that Tuesday night, and my, how quickly the whole riot started, and how quickly it was shut down"
"Yeah, I think the riots lasted quite a while, these last ones"
"I remember the cops had the place shut down by 6:30pm. They had everyone on Robson street, and just shut 'er down block by block. I didn't mind, found two $50 bills on the road, a stack of jeans
some looter had stowed away"
"What a haul!"
"That wasn't even the best part. I found a box stashed in the corner of a parking lot. A plain tin box. So I open it up and there are four silver dollars. King Richard on them, from before World War 2. Four of 'em. You know how much they sold for?"
I was eager to know. "How much?"
"$85"
"Holy shit"
"Yeah, not at all a bad day to be shining shoes"
- Marion Jane Lefevre, 2020
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