How I Saved My Brother from Drowning

My father was an early 'developer' in our small town in northern Maine. He had considerable acreage across the street from our home, and had built three houses he rented out. The tenant across from us was Mrs. Hallett, an enormous lady--over 300 lbs--who could not find shoes big enough, and therefore wore bedroom slippers all the time. She found it hard to get around and really struggled to walk far. We children did her errands for pennies.

One particular year, we three children received boots for Christmas and, with the first thaw, a good-sized pond developed in the gravel pit back of Mrs. Hallett's house, then froze to make a decent skating rink. We didn't have any skates, but joined the others who did. As we slid and played on the ice it began to creak and tilt, and the next I knew, Johnny, my younger brother had slid into the center and down through a wide crack. Horrified, I saw Johnny disappear under the water. A moment later, his black boots bobbed up, but no Johnny. The boots were full of air, so they floated. I was frozen for a moment. I knew he would drown that way. I was only 7 years old and couldn't swim.
I didn't have much of a singing voice, but I did have a loud one. In that moment, the only thing I knew to do was holler. My scream, one long piercing note, began. Was anyone home to hear me? It was a working day, and I had no idea. But I screamed loud enough to crack a crystal chandelier. My heart sank. Only Mrs. Hallet seemed to hear me, and she staggered out onto her back porch in her bedroom slippers to see who was making that ungodly noise. What happened next was the miracle of the century. Dear old Mrs. Hallett, all 300+ pounds of her, was running down toward us in her bedroom slippers, through the icy slush, clad only in her cotton housecoat.

I stopped screaming only long enough to point to Johnny's black boots, still visible above the water, and shout, "There, there, he's drowning!"
Wiithout hesitation, Mrs. Hallett plowed into that icy pond, and pulled Johnny's boots, and him with them, choking and sputtering, out of the water. Cradling him in her arms, boots and all, she carried him up to her house for drying off.

Thinking back on that event, Mrs. Hallett was the real hero. But I like to take a little credit for having strong lungs at the right time.

The Sulky Ride

Relatives can add so much to your life! I had a full complement of them and they helped open my eyes to the possibilities you might otherwise miss.One relative I especially treasured was my aunt Gertrude. Married to one of my mother's brothers, she was a huge lady, probably weighing over 290 lbs. Her main reason for living was being a sulky racer! She had a lovely horse and a big shiny black sulky, and she raced on the ice in winters, on the large pond in town created by a dam. In summer, when she wasn't racing somewhere else in Maine, she practiced on the country roads outside of town. By the time I was eight years old, I was fascinated , and dreaming of riding in the sulky. I begged and begged that she would take me out in it. The day came, and I was finally allowed to go. Tucked in by aunt Gerty on the shiny black seat, off we went. It was glorious, and we seemed to go faster than even our two-seater car. Out into the countryside, proudly waving at farmers we passed. Then, it began to rain. The road became muddy, and we were flying. Unfortunately, so was the mud--directly into our faces!! I couldn't breathe or open my eyes for the mud, and my hair was one big mudcake by the time we returned to the stable. The old saying, be careful what you pray for, still stands true. I never asked again!!

A Cup of Sugar...

When I was a child of five, new people moved in acr0ss the street. I went out to play that morning, and there was another girl sitting in the gravel driveway, holding a cup and a spoon. She was digging dirt and putting it in the cup. I asked what she was doing. "Making a pie," she said, and began digging again. I said, "You're not going to eat it, are you?" "Well, she replied, "Mum said we will eat a peck of dirt before we die, so I'm going to get it over with." With that, she dumped the cup into a pile and started to fill it again, repeating the following measurements: "one cuppa sugar, one cuppa sh-t, one cuppa sugar, one cuppa sh-t." That was how I met my life-long friend Tillie, with whom I've never since swapped recipies, and whose husband did all the cooking for her after they were married.

School Recess

When I was a little over four years old, my mother decided I was old enough to go to school. She was a teacher, and had already taught me to read and write. This was a small town in Maine during the depression years. In those times, you could enroll in school as soon as your parents decided you were ready. So she sent me off to school on the first day. All went well until recess time. We were ushered outdoors. I took this to mean school was over, so I legged it for home! Needless to say, that was the one and only time I got away with it.