Not one girl in our grade twelve graduating class can remember who pinned the nickname on Cindy Bindler. It was not unusual for a member of the Bindler family to have a nickname. In fact, every Bindler seemed to have one, although sometimes you have to know them for some time before you catch on. Cindy and I had been best friends for almost two years before I caught on. Because our birthdays are only two days apart, we have had joint birthday parties since grade one and have over the years shared all sorts of girl things. First crush, first kiss and that really grown-up stuff. When I say everything, I mean everything. Lest a boy happen to stumble across this story, I won’t elaborate. I wouldn’t want the little darling to die of embarrassment.
As for her father’s nickname, the only thing I have ever called him is Uncle. As for her mother, well, I do know her nickname but only because I happened to have been present when she earned it. Mama Bindler’s nickname is a badge of courage. It is an inspiration for all girls. You may find it hard to believe but her nickname was the inspiration for a hockey trophy.
It was a pleasant Saturday afternoon in January. In Donalda, which is in Alberta about 100 miles east of the Rockies, it’s usually pretty darn cold at that time of year. Instead of the usual thirty or forty below, it was probably only about minus fifteen or twenty that particular afternoon, the result of a Chinook that had blown in, the night before. We were playing ice hockey in the field behind the Bindler house. It was the girls against the boys. Because we were short-handed, Mama Bindler was filling in. The girls were leading three goals to zero. The boys were beginning to fret a bit. It wouldn’t do their macho reputations any good if they were to be beaten by the girls.
Dad Bindler was referee. I still do not know what his given name is; I wonder if he could readily recall it or if he would have to look it up on his driver’s license. Allow me to digress for a moment because I can’t help but chuckle every time I think of the nickname of Cindy’s older brother. Ever since he learned to drive, he has been Mustang Marvin. He is crazy about cars. Then there is her mother, Dolores Bindler. Did I mention her nickname? Well here it is. Bet you a million, you would never in a million years figure out how she came to be called Paris Arm Mama. Some of her really close friends call her Pam. We kids content ourselves with Mama but the bravest among us sometimes call her Paris Arm.
The Bindlers are a crazy family. I am not implying that they are certifiably insane. They’re just a bit wacky. They are consistently wonderful though. If you ever happen to drop in on them anywhere close to dinnertime, Paris Arm Mama will unobstrusively fetch another plate from the cupboard. It’s taken for granted that you’ll be staying.
Life at the Bindler’s house is filled with ups and downs just like at my house and perhaps even yours. For the most part the family is upbeat. They put a positive spin on just about every situation any member of the family happens to be caught up in. Sometimes there are what could be called downers such as the time that, Cindy Sugar Snaps (oh darn, I meant to save that for later) brought a boy home to dinner. He was very smart, having won a scholarship to Harvard to study bio-mechanical engineering, whatever that is supposed to be. He was, if you ask me, just a little bit too stuck up and just a little bit too superior as well. Also, he was far too shy to cut the mustard. I didn’t think he would go the distance with Cindy Sugar Snaps and I was right.
Cindy is out of his league. She has a voice like honey, a tongue that puts Gillette to shame and hair as soft as a cloud of cotton candy on a lazy summer’s day. Her face is so beautiful that more than one male teacher has forgotten what he was about to say and has spent the rest of the hour talking to the ceiling rather than to the class. One look at that face and the train of his thought never arrives at the station. You get my drift. I was right, Mr. Harvard might have been off to an Ivy League school but as far as girls were concerned he was clearly destined for the minors.