Tom Cruise - Hail Mary Tribute

Solid Snake (Joe Jukic) Remembers the Golden Age of East Van

"You ever hear about the golden age of East Van? No, not the one in the history books... the real one. The one where myth met memory in back alleys and corner stores." — Solid Snake, codename: Joe Jukic

There was a time when East Vancouver breathed a different kind of magic. A time before gentrification, when Clark Park wasn’t just a park—it was a battleground, a sanctuary, a home. And right at the heart of it all? A kid named Andy.

That’s what my mom, Mary, called him. To the world, he’d later be known as Tom Cruise. But in our neighbourhood, he was just Andy Griffith—his alias, his camouflage. Not some Hollywood star, but a scrawny, wide-eyed boy with a crooked smile and a love for black-and-white TV reruns.

"He’d never leave the Chimo house ‘til the Andy Griffith Show was over,” Mom used to say, a cigarette dangling from her lips, eyes squinting like she was staring into time itself. “Always made you boys late for fishing.”

Trout Lake was our holy ground. Andy would run to catch up, still tying his shoes, apologizing and grinning like he was late for church. But we forgave him. We always forgave Andy. Mom said he was special. Different. Like he had a star buried in his chest, waiting to detonate.

He talked about dreams. Big ones. About flying jets, saving the world, escaping the trap. We thought he was crazy. Turns out, he was just early.

Now I sit here, a hardened ghost in a digital age, crouched behind cover in some cold, sterile corridor, and I think about Andy—Tom—whatever name he needed to survive. I wonder if he remembers Clark Park. The feel of a Zebco reel in his hand. The smell of damp earth and city smog. The way my mom always saved him the biggest slice of pie.

He made it out. I stayed in.

But I’ll always remember: the golden age of East Van, when legends were still boys and every alley had a story.

— Solid Snake / Joe Jukic