by Mark Critch
Dad had a very interesting youth. Here he is as a baby with his cousins Frank and Alice. The only reason a formal portrait exists is that they won it in a “beautiful baby” contest. I’d hate to see the other contestants. It seems that dad was born wearing a suit, but I guess that came in handy when he was emceeing shows on base during the war. Here he is with mom in his relaxing weekend suit.
Sometimes we managed to go out and see the sights near home. There was lots to see: boats and rocks.
My childhood was marked by three larger than life forces: the Catholic church, VOCM, and Misty the cat.
My very first taste of the stage. From the moment I became the colour “yellow” I knew it was an actor’s life for me. You can tell by the look on my face here with Ms. Flower Fowler, I was going to find a way to get into trouble doing it.
Dad loved his job at VOCM and it was always fun hearing him on the radio. It was only when I went to school that I realized not every kid can say that.
Both VOCM and the Church seemed like members of our extended family. Despite being a “recovering Catholic,” I have many good memories.
We may not have had a lot growing up, but we always had more than enough. Christmas in particular was always a fun time in the Critch household.
There wasn’t much excitement on Kenmount Road, so we relished anything out of the ordinary. When the road got paved it was worth documenting. But visits from Tippie the dog were always a treat.
A couple drawings from my grade school scribbler wherein I ask Jesus to keep us united in love…and to heal my sprained wrist. Otherwise, I had everything I needed.
My whole life, mom was always ready to laugh and smile.
“Good God! What are the chances?” Me and dad, both playing Hamar the innkeeper, roughly forty-five years apart.
My first work as a writer and performer with Cat Fud. This was my university education. I graduated with a bachelor’s in making faces.
There’s nothing more important than family. Here we are together, all grown up, at mom and dad’s house on St. Clare Ave. The family certainly has grown since then. Mom and dad were ecstatic to become grandparents to Lucy, Will, and Jacob. But we never stop needing our parents. This is the last photo taken of mom, the night before she died.
What can I say? We were very well knit.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I have always been blessed with wonderful people around me. My luck held out once again while I wrote this book. A special thanks to all hands at Penguin Random House, but especially to my editor, Justin Stoller, for his expertise, support, and kindness; and to my agent, Madeline Wilson, for lighting the fire and keeping the flame alive. At Penguin, Scott Sellers, Nicole Winstanley, Kara Carnduff, Dan French, and Leah Springate all played big roles.
A huge thanks to Stephen Osler for his design and re-creation of my school photo backdrop (which he offered to do for free the second I asked him if he knew where I could get a carriage wheel) and to Ray Fennelly for his expert lens, years of unfailing friendship, and wonderful laugh.
Thanks to my fiancé, Melissa, and my son Will for patiently reading each chapter as they were written while I sat and nervously counted your chuckles. And an extra thanks to Melissa for finding so many branches of a family tree that I always thought was a shrub. I’m eternally grateful that you agreed to add another leaf, as well. Thanks to my son Jacob for reminding me of the youthful joy of creation as you make your way forward in your career.
Thanks to my friend Tristy Clark for getting me out of more jams than I can remember ever since I was fifteen years old. Thanks to my brother Mike for putting up with me, watching out for me, and giving me my taste in music and comedy. I will always look up to you, even though I think I am taller than you now.
And thanks to all my teachers and schoolmates. Despite the silly stories in here, you were all wonderful. I hope that comes through.