Wednesday, March 6, 2013

A Sea of Ice or Maybe a Boat


The setting for today’s story is Wichita, Kansas, on a January day in 1941. In three months, I would celebrate my fifth birthday and my brother—whom I’ll call Billy in this story—would turn two. On this particular cold winter day I took his hands in mine and said, “Let’s play Rescue!”
         Mom had no idea what that game entailed, so she gladly helped us into our snowsuits, galoshes, caps, and mittens. We traipsed outside to the backyard of the Victorian house in which we rented an apartment.
         In that backyard sat an abandoned cast-iron bathtub with a porcelain interior and claw feet. Inside the tub, from side to side and back to front, was a sea of solid, and yes, slippery, ice—about a foot thick.         


         “Billy you get into the tub and stand on the ice,” I commanded my brother. “You be a pirate. The bathtub’s a boat. I’ll be a little girl on an island. You rescue me.”
         I helped him climb up onto the bathtub and stand on the ice. He grinned widely. Retreating to the far end of the snowy yard, I shouted, “Help! Mr. Pirate! Please rescue me!”
         My little brother waved at me. “Billy help!”
         “Put your hand over your eyes and stare at the island,” I ordered, showing him what I meant. I demonstrated walking up and down and peering right and left and all around. He followed my actions, slipping just a little on the ice.
         “Now say, ‘Land Ahoy!’”
         “Land Ahoy!” he shouted. His pronunciation wasn’t on target but he could shout loud enough to suit me.
         “I’m here! Mr. Pirate! Rescue me!”
         He started to climb out of the tub, but I shouted, “No! Not yet. Walk on the ice some more. Like the boat is moving! And keep looking for me!” Once again I demonstrated.
         So he began to walk back and forth on the ice. Slipping. Sliding, Falling. “Ouch!” he shouted, trying to stand upright, but his feet kept sliding out from under him, so he fell on his bottom again and again.
         “Billy, get up,” I ordered. “You’ve got to rescue me!”
         Billy met my order with a loud wail: “Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!” 
         Before I could get him to stop crying, Mom came hurrying outside to investigate.


         You must know the rest: Mom lifting him out of the tub, singing his favorite song to him; Mom saying, “Anna Dolores Ready, you get in the house right now!” Mom following me as I tromped down the snowy path, tugged open the front door, trudged down the hall, and entered our apartment.
         “Why?” she asked me after we’d taken off our snowsuits. “Why did you do that to your little brother?”
         “Cause he’s a good pirate. And the tub is a boat.”
         “And the ice?”
         “The sea.”
         “Your brother could have fallen and hit his head and been hurt,” she told me.
         “But he’s got a hard head. You said so yesterday.”
         “Ice is pretty hard too and it can crack a head open.”
         This was a new thought to me: a cracked-open  head. Interesting.
         “So what do you say to your little brother?”
         I looked at Billy who was smiling at me. Every time we went to the store, women stopped my mother and said, “What a beautiful little boy!” I was always proud of his golden curls and deep blue eyes and infectious grin.
         “I’m sorry, Billy,” I said. “Let’s play another game. An inside one.”
         So it was that the afternoon ended with Mom setting up the card table and throwing a blanket over it and the three of us sitting in our homemade tent and having a tea party. Much different from being rescued by a pirate. But satisfying nonetheless.

Postscript: During the first few years of my life I was what my grandmother called, “a naughty little girl.” If you have time, click here for a story about my running away when I was about three.  Click here for my lighting a campfire in the apartment hall a month or so later.

Both photographs from Wikipedia.


58 comments:

  1. Hmmm, I think you were anything but a naughty little girl. Imaginative, compassionate, thoughtful, yes. Naughty? No.

    I kept waiting for you to decide to trade roles with Billy and be the rescuer instead of the damsel in distress. And then you became that, anyway, when he hollered for your mother. What a great memory!

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    1. Dear Kari, I remember exactly where that tub sat, next to a tree. And the snow and the view over the lot next door. I always remember settings really well and often I remember exactly what was said (or I think I remember). Sometimes I just remember the gist of what was said and so the dialogue in my stories may not be 100% accurate, but it's authentic. Or so I believe. Peace.

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  2. Oh, Dee, what an imagination you have! I love how you had the whole scenario thought out and were directing your little brother in it.

    And what a sweet sister you were after your mom corrected you. I hope you and your brother were able to continue that loving relationship.

    Your descriptions gave me a 20/20 view of all the action. You do it so well and concisely that it's like we are right there with you. I love your writing~

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    1. Dear Shelly, thank you for your kind words about my writing. My brother and I both grew up listening to the stories our parents and relatives told. And both of us became storytellers. He's so good at it that I often find myself laughing unto tears! Peace.

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  3. A sweet story of brother and sister playing happily together. Sometimes games get a bit rough, it happened to all of us.

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    1. Dear Friko, we were good friends when he was little but when he got to be about ten or so he and I started arguing a lot. And yet when I went away to college--just 60 miles away--he missed me. I know because when I came home for my first visit he swung me up in a fireman's lift, twirled us around, and sang at the top of his lungs, "You Ain't Nothin' But a Hound Dog," which was his favorite Elvis Presley song at the time! Peace.

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  4. Your memory is amazing and you tell a story so well.

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    1. Dear Arleen, thank you. I think it's the Irish in me! Peace.

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  5. You write so well that I can really picture the scene. I doubt if you were truly naughty -- more likely inquisitive.

    Love,
    Janie

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    1. Dear Janie, I really was inquisitive and have remained so. I suppose that's why I like to do research and to write historical novels--or at least to write the manuscripts for them! Peace.

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  6. My brother was two years and a half years younger, but we never played together. He sat under the dining room table and pushed his wooden toys around imaginary roads. I played with the children next door. Once I sprained my ankle and once I got the chicken pox. And much, much more. Great childhoods.

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    1. Dear Joanne, my brother is exactly three years and four months younger than I. When we were little there were no other children close by and so we played with one another.

      I'd love to read some of your childhood stories and learn if you've always been creative. I so like your writing that I encourage you to think about every so often telling us some childhood story that relates to what's happening in your life now.

      I sent a friend to your blog the other day. And she's a follower now!!! Peace.

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  7. You brought us right there with you--& I enjoyed our "play date"!!

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    1. Dear Fishducky, thank you! I enjoyed it too! Peace.

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  8. I agree, you weren't naughty just imaginative.There is no way someone your age could recognize any possible dangers. The writer/director in you started early.

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    1. Dear Arkansas Patti, yes, that aspect of my life did start early. Sometimes my parents would--lovingly--call me "Little Miss Bossy Pants" because I was always creating games in which my little brother had to take part. That is, he took the part I assigned him! Peace.

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  9. What older brother or sister doesn't put a younger sibling in some kind of 'situation' at one time or another? That is just the way it is in families...

    I always felt my my mother loved one of my brothers much more than she did me --or my older brother. (That's the brother who molested me. He had the wool over her eyes somehow ---and that's why she didn't believe me when I told her what he had done to me. He was 12 yrs. older than me.)

    Thanks for sharing this crazy story. You had a great imagination, didn't you????? ha ha

    Hugs,
    Betsy
    Started my new Photo Blog today. Check it out. http://betsyphotoblog.blogspot.com/

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    1. Dear Betsy, I went to your new photo blog and thought that photo of Yellowstone Canyon was gorgeous. The colors of the canyon rock layers and the river itself wending its way through those rocks for thousands of years. Thank you for sharing that with us. Peace.

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  10. I especially love the part about the three of you playing together afterwards. A very well told story with a happy ending! :-)

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    1. Dear DJan, I can even remember the little cups Mom used for our tea party! Peace.

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  11. Sometimes you wrap your own deeds in a bit of a harsh package, but you are generous & understanding of the "naughty" deeds of others. You were having fun. Kid fun. With the life you had(at times), I am glad you were able to have some kid fun. No flagrant acting out for you..even though, perhaps, at times there should have been.

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    1. Dear Mary, strange that you should say I wrap my "own deeds in a bit of a hard package." Why? Because just today a friend of four decades said, "Dee, you are so hard on yourself." And the truth is that probably until the day I die I'll be fighting the demons that say I'm not lovable.

      As to "kid fun," there'll be another posting soon about the fun I had with my best friend in grade and high school. Peace.

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  12. Oh Ms. Dee, I have fallen so completely in love with you. I really look forward to getting to know you better. Keep writing, please.

    My baby is two and his sister is six. You can imagine how much warm fuzzy that added to this story for me. Thank you.

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    1. Dear Therese, I'm so glad you liked the story. Thank you for your kind words. Peace.

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  13. Dee, It sounds normal to me. Kids just pretend things and act it out. What five year old ever thinks something will be dangerous. Look how much healthier playing out in the snow is than kids sitting in the house watching the tube. Nice story.

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    1. Dear Manzanita, it does seem to me that children today don't play outside or with one another the way we used to. Often, or so it seems to me, some parents spend a lot of time entertaining their children instead of encouraging them to be creative. I so hope that many families sit down together and play games and put together jigsaw puzzles. Some of my best memories are about doing that with Mom, Dad, and my brother.

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  14. This story made me smile. I can see my girls doing the exact same thing at our house. :)

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    1. Dear Emily, I'm glad you smiled. And I can see your two girls doing this! Peace.

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  15. I had a younger brother also, and we played, like you did, with me being the boss and always in trouble with our mother. I lovely memory to share.

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    1. Dear Crystal, I think I liked being the boss! Did you? Peace.

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  16. wow, you had me there, i was afraid he was going to fall through the ice!!

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    1. Dear Mimi, no he didn't fall through the ice. It was really a solid block. But if he'd fallen and hit his head on the ice or the faucets, then this story wouldn't have had such a happy ending. Life never ceases to amaze me. All the bad things that could happen and don't. I have so much to be grateful for. Peace.

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  17. THis is just an adorable story, Dee. I really chuckled at how you had to coach your brother to be the pirate. You had all the moves, and he needed a director! I think we were raised in an era when a curious child was often labeled a naughty child. I get so delighted when I watch how patient my daughter is with her two girls. They can be "pills" at times, just like all children, but their mom recognizes how much of what they get into is simply because they are experimenting and curious! I continue to hold a little ache in my heart for the many things you went through as a child, and the harshness of your grandmother. But it's also good to see what a dear friend you had in your brother. I hope the two of you are still good friends. oxo Debra

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    1. Dear Debra, I see that you are now able to leave a comment under your blog name. What happened? How did you fix it????

      Your thoughts on your daughter's raising of her two girls--your grand-daughters--really made me think. It is so true that children experiment.

      There's a wonderful posting about raising children on a blog I read. I think you would really enjoy this post. Kario, the writer, is someone I keep encouraging to find a way to get her essays on current affairs and child-rearing published for wider distribution. Here's the URL for it: http://the-writing-life.blogspot.com/
      Wednesday, March 6, and Thursday, February 28, are her two recent postings that I think will really speak to you.

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  18. Oh Dee. Not naughty. Curious, inventive, and loving. Just what the best sibling relationships are built with.

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    1. Dear EC, my brother and I do have, I think, a good adult sibling relationship. We know that each is both loved and accepted by the other. Peace.

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  19. You were so darling! This reminds me of Ruby :)

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    1. Dear Elisa, I can't think of a better human being to remind you of than Ruby. Thank you. Peace.

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  20. What an imagination you had to commandeer both a bathtub and a brother in a game of "rescue; a game that more children play than we might imagine, for we all have that fear and need to be rescued.

    My sister and I decided one night to play Kiddieland. Kiddieland was an amusement park. We went once or twice, but, there wasn't much money for going more often, so, we decided to play at the rides. The only problem was that we turned out the lights in our tiny bedroom and then thought we would go on a ferris wheel, twirling each other around in the dark. She fell and hit her head, cutting it. Fortunately, no stitches were needed and a lesson was learned.

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    1. Dear Penny, thanks so much for sharing the game you and your sister played. It's too bad she fell and hit her head but it sounds as if all turned out well. Tell me, after the incident did you play "Kiddieland" with the lights on????? Peace.

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    2. After all the commotion; the crash, my sister crying, my mother scaring us even more over screaming over the blood that dripped down my sister's forehead (just a surface wound), and my poor dad trying to calm them down, he looked at me and said "Whatever made you think you could play Kiddieland with lights off, Penny? You're smarter than that." and that was all he ever needed to say to me.

      I find it interesting at this stage of my life that I can't find my car keys, but can recall my father's words. I enjoyed your story of pirating, Dee, as well as revisiting a memory of my own because of your telling it.

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    3. Dear Penny, on your blog in the past couple of months you've posted news about your sister's surgery and some memories you share with her. I'd so enjoy reading a posting of yours about this incident in your life. You write with such warmth that your readers would really respond to it. Think about it. Peace.

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  21. How delightful! Bless poor little Billy! I hope he finally got his feet under him!

    Card tables are invaluable.

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    1. Dear Susan, "Billy"--my brother--did get his feet under him very early as a child and became and independent and quite responsible human being. And was a wonderful storyteller he became. He can make me laugh like no person can. I'm blessed in being his sister.

      And yes, card tables are invaluable! Peace.

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  22. What is so wonderful about this story is how imaginative our lives were in the days before television and video games -- and also how often we were allowed to get on with our playtimes. I love that bathtub full of ice becoming a pirate ship. And your little brother trying so hard to please you! And I do have to laugh at the demanding older sister giving the orders (I was much the same with my siblings and was also often called 'bossy'!) It is also reassuring somehow to know that your childhood also has a wealth of 'treasured' memories that so special and happy.

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    1. Dear Broad, my mom and dad sometimes called me "Miss Bossy Pants" and so you and I have something more in common! I do have some wonderful memories of being a child. I posted two or three of them in the summer of 2011. I've always thought that everything works out to good for me. My mom taught me to look for good and to find it in every situation. I've tried to do that so even when some of my childhood seems dark, I have been able to find something good that came out os me. Mostly, I think it made me a more compassionate and empathetic person. At least I hope I'm like that. Peace.

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  23. I started to read this yesterday afternoon but ended up shutting the laptop and giving up but hey I am back this morning and it has been read and I will tell you that you are not a naughty girl just a normal little girl............with a younger sibling to torment I mean play with........lol

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    1. Dear Jo-Anne, ah! I like your sense of humor. I did "torment" my brother. But when we got older, we did, thank heavens, become good friends. No tormenting then, just a lot of good-natured joshing. Peace.

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  24. What a lovely little story. :-) You weren't naughty, Dee, you were four! Small children have no sense of danger for themselves or for others. I can remember my sisters and I taking risks that now horrify me, but we thought nothing of it.

    My mother used to do the same with blankets over the table or a clothes horse and we played tents for hours.

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    1. Dear Perpetua, I used to love playing tents, as you must have also. So many games and much whispering! Peace.

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  25. “But he’s got a hard head. You said so yesterday.”

    Is it wrong that I laughed out loud? :)

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    1. Dear Juli, the truth? I laughed out loud as I wrote that line! Peace.

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  26. My little bro and I played that same tent game. Usually on a Sunday morning when parents chose to sleep in. We had no TV.
    My mom dressed us up in snow suits my dad had brought from a US business trip before we immigrated to Canada. Once out doors in real snow i figured these were very cool suits so I guided my little brother through lots of snow to a snow covered creek. I decided we should walk on it but sent him first 'cause he was smaller, and he was to test if it would hold us. I forgot to plan what if!!
    Well he ended up cracking through thin ice, got stuck and I struggled hard to free him. We both ended up soaked and very cold by the time we got back home. Of course I was blamed.
    I was naughty.
    But the reality was is I lacked some of the adult's wisdom that they imagined I already had.
    I knew about ice testing and weight but not about the danger if I miscalculated.
    When my brother went through I didn't even care about my going through the ice too> I just needed to get him out to safety. Not a hero! We could both have drowned had the water been deeper. And we had not been forewarned.
    The snow suit somehow created a false sense of warmth and security. That experience taught us both a lesson in life!

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    1. Dear Heidrun, that's it, we seemed like such wise little children! I suspect your mother simply expected too much of you. But you truly were a savior that day. I so hope that neither you nor your brother got pneumonia. Thanks for sharing this story. I so enjoy learning about the "trial and tribulations" that other bloggers had that are brought to mine by my own childhood happenings! Peace.

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  27. What a lovely story. Sadly, it also illustrates the change that took place in you later. Here you were a playful, tough little girl. Then your spirit got harmed and it took a long while for it to return. At least that's what I gather from reading about your childhood.

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    1. Dear Inger, yes, it does illustrate the later change. I truly was a happy little girl. And then the seeming abandonment of my mom and dad, and I became shy and quiet and afraid of my own shadow. Only years later did I come out of the shadows and let myself be me again. I'm in wonderment that you've picked all that up from these simply weekly stories. Thank you for your friendship, Inger. Peace.

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  28. You were a sweet little girl. I wish you could have known that in your bones back then.

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  29. Thanks for this glimpse into a childhood day with a satisfying end. I'm glad you had the fun of make-believe, and your creativity has stayed with you. Interesting how we wonder about things our parents say, like the phrase about a cracked-open head. I recall trying to picture such things, with intriguing results. Take care, Dee, in your health trials. I'm sure sorry you're experiencing them.

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