By the time my brother Jim, then Jimmy, was three years old he was in a body cast – okay not a whole body cast, but it covered both of his legs up to his waist and he couldn’t walk. He had something wrong with his knees, or feet, and had to be immobilized for six months.
Since Jimmy couldn’t sit, Mom had to feed him separately from the rest of us. Sometimes Dad would hold Jimmy sort of cross-wise across his lap while I scooped food into his mouth. But I was sloppy so that ended that.
Cindy got to hold the baby a lot while Mom lugged Jimmy around, and I was usually no help at all. Finally, probably in order to give me something productive to do, Dad got a Radio Flyer wagon and I was the chief wagon puller. I’d put Jimmy’s blanket and some toys in the wagon and off we’d go. Going down the sloped street was easy; however, I soon learned that if I wanted to get home in time for supper that I’d have to plan time for getting up the street as well.
The wagon became our dinner table for a while. Since Jimmy could lay on his back and look around, or lay on his tummy and finger his food into his mouth, we all gathered around him as we enjoyed our pot roast and mashed potatoes. Jimmy picked up the peas, one by one, and then loaded up on bread.
Before too long he was in walking braces – a la Forest Gump – and we were all back at the table again. Walking in braces was difficult, since his knees couldn’t bend. To this day, whenever Jim gets startled he gets a crick in his back – just like when he was wearing the braces and rushing stiff-legged to get away from the big kids that were scaring him.
Jimmy was a curious little guy; always interested in things that did something. Like the water spigot next to the front door. All he had to do was open the valve handle while he held the hose, and suddenly he was all-powerful. That stream of water was a great leveler. No longer was he subject to his sisters’ demands. If we got too annoying he just hosed us down.
Then he discovered that water was equally discouraging to his parents. “Jimmy, put down that hose and come here, “ Mom ordered. Suddenly, she was drenched. Not funny. Okay, very funny now, but not funny then. Okay, maybe a little funny then. At least to me.
Then, Mom commanded, “Lorrie, go get that thing away from him.” Not an easy task. See, whether Jimmy knew it or not, he was very tactical in his offensive front. He turned the water on full blast, then stood by the spigot as if protecting his source of power. No one could get near him to turn off the water without getting soaked. But Jimmy underestimated Mom’s strategic counter-attack. While I squealed and ran and dodged and Jimmy tried successfully to douse me, Mom slipped in and shut off his power source. Game over. Mom wins.
Mom won in other ways too. Sometimes Dad would give her the day off. That meant that Dad was in charge all day. Lunch was usually chocolate milk and Vienna sausages, and then we go on an outing. If we were on vacation, the outing was usually to the beach. Dad would bring bananas and a jug of water and off we’d go. Mom always worried when Dad was in charge – if he got engrossed in his Time magazine he’d forget all about us. It was great. We could develop all sorts of projects uninterrupted and uninstructed.
Despite Mom’s warnings that day, Dad got distracted and forgot to watch us. Since Jimmy was a water boy, he just couldn’t stay away from the inviting surf. He also couldn’t swim. As Cindy and I worked diligently on our sand castle, I would occasionally glance up to see where Jimmy was. He was okay. I’d go back to work.
Then Cindy noticed that Jimmy was gone. We headed down the beach to look for him. As we glanced back toward Dad, we saw a wet and sandy Jimmy running toward our sleeping father, who had a Time magazine over his face. We ran over to our little brother just in time to hear him say, “Daddy, yuw not a berry good boy watchew”. Apparently, Jimmy had been tossed in a wave or two and was most likely scared to death. But his accusation was more indignant than scared. And absolutely accurate. Dad was not a very good boy-watcher. He gathered us up and we left.
Sometimes we learned hard lessons on our own. One of the many times our car broke down while we were on vacation; we had to take a train to get home. Dad stayed behind to get the car fixed, so Mom took the four kids on her own. As she was struggling with the baby, Dave, and Cindy and I were playing Go Fish, Jimmy wandered around the train car. He stopped to watch a man smoke. I don’t think Jimmy had ever seen anyone do that before. I guess maybe Grandpa smoked, but I never actually saw him. He seemed to think that if I didn’t know about cigarettes maybe I would never try them. I never did, but I’m not sure that was why.
Jimmy was fascinated with the whole smoking ritual: bringing the stick to the lips, watching the tip glow, the circling smoke, the big puff. It was mesmerizing. The smoking man put his cig in the ashtray on the armrest as he turned the page of his newspaper. I’m sure he never saw Jimmy. Ever curious, Jimmy inched closer to the glowing rod. Carefully, Jimmy picked up the cigarette and put it to his mouth – wrong end in. Yeow! Lesson learned. Don’t put something on fire in your mouth, even if you are a water boy.
