By Rick Ryckeley
Fayette County Fire & Emergency Services

If you buy a truck and the word gets out, you will be the first person called when there's a move afoot. And if you happen to have a new trailer to go with that new truck, you might as well leave it hooked up because you're gonna be using it. Such was the case last weekend during which something happened that made me remember another move years ago.

We moved into our new house in January, just before I turned seven. Mom had been crying for two weeks prior to the move. I guess she did not want to move out of the duplex and into our first big house. We thought Mom was crying because she had some sentimental attachment to the small rooms, leaking ceilings, drafty windows, and the small back yard that overlooked the swamp.

Years later, after my fourth move in one year, I realized why mom was crying she had too much stuff to pack and too much junk to throw away, and she did not know what stuff was to be packed and what junk was to be thrown away. She did not know where to start.

Dad had tried to ease the pain and stress of moving by telling her that the new house came with a brand-new washer and dryer. I thought this was a good thing because Mom suddenly turned to us and told all of us to go out back and play; she needed to be alone to talk to Dad in private. Mom must have been really excited about the new washer and dryer 'cause you could hear her shout with joy all the way from the swamp.

The new house had big rooms, hardwood floors, wood paneling, a big back yard, a creek at the bottom of the hill whose banks were lined with the tallest bamboo that we had ever seen, and everywhere there were small hardwood trees. These were the trees that, later in the year, would provide many hours of enjoyment for four boys going "tree riding" (a story for this spring). We boys told Dad that the new house was a dream come true; Mom told Dad to put the washer and dryer in the basement.

The new washer and dryer came in two large cardboard boxes, boxes that were of no use nor interest to us boys. No, we were waiting for the box from the new refrigerator Dad had promised to get Mom by summer (I think this had something to do with the washer and dryer incident). The granddaddy of all boxes the refrigerator box. What made this box unlike any other you might ask? Well, it was what you could do with it and how long it would last that made it so special. Not made of your ordinary cardboard, no sir, a refrigerator box was heavy-duty-reinforced-industrial-strength-cardboard almost indestructible, even for us boys.

The first of June came and so did our heavy-duty-reinforced-industrial-strength-cardboard box with Mom's new refrigerator in it. It was to replace the old, dark green refrigerator that made funny sounds and smelled bad when we opened the door. Mom said, "You kids will like the new one; it has an ice maker in the top."

I said, "There's plenty of ice in the old one." She said, "Iíve told you boys 100 times not to eat that ice. Our refrigerator is not self-defrosting, but the new one is."

I did not know what self-defrosting was, but in the confusion of moving refrigerators around, we all were able to eat our fill of refrigerator ice one last time. (The new ice came in cubes, not stuck to the inside walls of the refrigerator, and it just wasn't as tasty.)

We had instructed Dad not to cut the heavy-duty-reinforced-industrial-strength-cardboard-refrigerator box, but rather open the ends and slide the new refrigerator out so the entire box would be left intact. We told Dad we were going to the vacant lot next door to play steamroller.

Steamroller was played with two kids in the box crawling in tandem, rolling over everything and anyone who happened to get in the way, even little sisters. (We got in major trouble for squishing sister Deborah that day twice.) Across the lot we would crawl, over glass bottles, thick green briars, over boulders, snakes, and even small trees.

Nothing could stop us well, nothing except bees. As far as I know, the box is still in the middle of that vacant lot, in the middle of that thick green briar patch, and on top of the biggest yellow jacket nest we've ever seen. I thought the box was lost forever, and my days of playing steamroller were over until last weekend.

Why is it that every time you help someone move, they live on the second floor and they are moving to an apartment on the second floor? When I arrived at my friend's house, I found that she was able to find two additional co-workers to help with the move. We loaded the truck and trailer and rode across town to the new apartment, she said we had to hurry and unload everything because she was expecting a special delivery a new refrigerator.

The two other friends who helped her move got $100 each that afternoon. I got something much more valuable a new heavy-duty-reinforced-industrial-strength-cardboard-refrigerator box. Now all I have to do is find a vacant lot with a briar patch and no yellow jackets.

[Rick Ryckeley is employed by the Fayette County Department of Fire and Emergency Services. He can be reached at saferick@bellsouth.net.]

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