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Biography
A few months after Tims
death we found a beat-up, stinky old duffle bag with an army issue
canteen, wooden matches, a hunting knife and some rolling papers. We
were lucky and somewhat surprised to have also found a taped together
Hilroy spiral note book and an unmarked Floppy Diskette tucked neatly
into the bottom.
I think back to the numerous people who were fascinated with Tim
always saying he should write down his life story. They new that they
had met or known an original. One of those people you meet once in a
life time. He really had a cult celebrity type status where ever he
went. If you met him once you would not soon forget him.
Well he listened and somehow felt compelled to start writing his story
down. I think it was therapeutic for him, an expression he was proud
of because he did not know how to read or write until much later in
life. I can still picture him in the back of my office hen pecking at
the computer, click, click, click with this sly devilish but
pleasurable expression on his face lost in his own world.
We have managed to pull together "The Early Years" as they were
already typed out for us. The later years will take some time to
transcribe as that's what lies between the covers of the old Hilroy.
You see the later years are the real crazy, painful ones and they will
come in time.
So in the mean time we thank you for
checking into Tims life and if you have some stories, antidotes
or lessons you would like to share - well
feel free to express yourself and
see
what others have said.
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The Autobiography of Timothy
James Boutilier
The early years ( part 1)
On September 10th Nineteen hundred sixty-two at 6 am just in time for
breakfast. I was born in Barrie at the Royal Victoria Hospital. The
first place I remember living in, is Holly, Ontario, a small town west
of Barrie Ontario with a population of 150 people. I remember going to
town in the rumble seat of dads old toy. He has always had a thing for
cars and to this day still does. I also remember getting two licorice
for one cent. We didn't live there long maybe a year or two. We then
moved on to 163 Collier street in Barrie. I was now old enough to go
to school. Coderington public is where I started kindergarten. Before
the year was finished we moved on.
Stroud, Ontario is just south of Barrie. It was primarily farming
territory and that's what we did. We had some cows, pigs and lots of
room for kids to play. I remember one time I wanted a sheriff's outfit
with the star, spurs, holster and six shooter. The ladies at the store
keep telling me that I needed one more dime after another. Finally
after a few trips back and forth I ended up with the kit. I guess she
wanted me to work a little for my cowboy stuff. Some things don't come
easy. Mom was glad because it kept me busy all afternoon. Ed and I
would play in the barns, fields and with snakes and boomerangs. I
didn't go to school here because they didn't have a kindergarten.
Then we moved back to Barrie.
It was too 225 Grove street East and the year was about 1968. I went
back to school at Maple Grove public. I never found school to be my
thing. I seemed to be in trouble a lot The class clown Kind of guy. I
had a few good friends, Doug, Jimmy, Bobby, Larry and his sister
Marry. I could go on for ever but I won't. One time me and a few of
the boys were walking out to Willow Creek. When we hit the corner of
St. Vincent and Cundles Rd where there is an open field. We had seen a
groundhog go down its hole so we stuffed some dry grass down the hole
and set fire to it to smoke him out. Something went wrong, the whole
field went up in fire. So we high-tailed it through the field with the
fire after as. We made it to the bush and kept on going through the
bush for about four or five miles and made it to Willow Creek. We then
played for a while and hitch-hiked back into Barrie passing the place
where the fire was. The fire was out but did it ever burn lots of
ground. We just hid in the back of the truck we got a ride in.
On summer holidays my family would do a lot of camping. Dad and his
father, my Grandpa got an old orange coloured school bus and made it
in to a camper to sleep about seven people. One summer mom, dad, and
all six kids plus mom's, mom Nana and dad's dad, Gramps, drove all the
way out west to British Columbia and back. I got a cowboy hat and
played around like one. I had a rope and tried to lasso everyone and
everything in my path. We stopped in a camping grounds in the
mountains and Ed, Laurie, Kim, and I went on horse back through the
foot hills. We stayed there for a few days then started to head back
home. Grandpa Martin died about six mouths later. He was a wise old
man who had been through many experiences in life. He fathered ten
children.
Once we camped just outside of Parry Sound at Oastler Lake Provincial
Park. Ed, Doug, and I went in to the bush and started to cut down some
trees with my dads new ax. We went back to camp to change our clothes
when a forest ranger asked Doug and I if we were cutting down trees.
We said yes then took him to where the trees were. But I led him to
some far off place were we had never been before. I showed him a tree
that Ed and I had seen blown down by wind. He said that there were no
cut marks in the tree from the ax. So the fast thinker that I am, I
told him that my dad didn't allow us to use the sharp side of the ax.
He believed us and left us alone. It is a good thing because dad would
have killed us if he would have seen the fines for all those trees.
We did a lot of swimming up at Oastler park. One time an older man
jumped in and forgot to take off his glasses. When he came up they
were gone. I swam down to the bottom and got them. He gave me and my
two friends one buck each for getting them. Big money back then.
My uncle Gary gave us some BB and pellet rifles one year. Ed and I use
to set up dad's empty beer bottles and shoot them down. Dad didn't
like this too much so we did that only once. I guess I should tell you
a little about my family. Ed is the oldest boy and my only brother. He
is five years older then me. Then comes Laurie, Kim, and myself, Tim.
We are all Boutiliers then there is Wendy, and last but not least
Tracey who are Martins. You see Jack Martin came in to the Boutilier
family about the same time I did. So he has always been my father and
in this book and my life he will be refered to as my father and dad.
My blood father was off doing the army thing. So mom and he split up
when we were little. After Wendy and Tracey were born mom and dad
tried to get married but dad Boutilier would not divorce mom. In 1978
they finally got married. |
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