The Icicle

   This is the classic family story about Eric and the icicle written up a few years ago and told for many years before and since. When I was in the fourth grade and nine years old, my Mom got a job as secretary in a law office which was not too far away.

    From the time we got home from school until Mom got home a little after 4:30, we kids would be on our own. There was a phone number where Mom could be reached - but only only only if we had an absolute true emergency! Mom's boss would not like it if his secretary was getting phone calls all the time from her children – or so that was what we were told, of course, so we wouldn't be making nuisances of ourselves.

     Clark was in first grade at this time, and Eric was not yet old enough to go to school. A neighbor, Rita, who lived two houses away on Valley Circle Lane, was going to watch Eric during the day, and when the bus was heard dropping us off after school in the afternoon, Eric would walk home.

     One day in the coldest part of winter – winter in North Boston, New York meant lots of snow, high snow drifts, and cold – very cold, Clark and I got home from school and took off our boots in the back room – the room between the garage and the kitchen. It was getting to be about the time Eric would show up – and when Eric appeared at the door – his upper lip was split open and blood was gushing and gushing out! After walking home, he got to the back door and glanced up and casually grabbed one of the big icicles that had been hanging from the eave. The icicle came loose, slipped through his hand and sliced through his lip!

     Eric was crying and bleeding, and I did not know what to do. I thought I should maybe call Mom, but what if this was not enough of an emergency? Then she would be mad.                Finally I decided to call Rita, and she could tell me if it was the kind of emergency to call Mom about. Rita and her husband came right over to the house, and Tom took Eric to the doctor who was just down the street from the law office. Then he called Mom. A few minutes later, Mom walked into the doctor's examination room and fainted!

     Eric got some stitches and a dandy scar. I got a talking to about the fact that what happened to Eric did indeed constitute a genuine emergency. But there was never again an incident quite as serious as that one.

After I wrote this story in September of '08 (and found an older rendition of the family classic written in '88) Mom sent a paragraph that she had written up about those early days of my being in charge – this incident took place in the summer – so we were not in school, but the three of us were home all day, and here is Mom's paragraph: There was the summer Dad and I decided we no longer needed a sitter and Denise was old enough to be in charge. How well I remember that very first day after walking home from work and seeing Clark and Eric sitting on the front lawn, looking very sad and weepy. I asked what the matter was and they replied that Denise had not allowed them into the house for the entire day. After asking if they had lunch they told me Denise had opened the door at noon, handed them each a sandwich and closed the door. I believe a short briefing with Denise on the meaning of being in command ensued.

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