By Rick Ryckeley
Fayette County Fire & Emergency Services

With four brothers and one sister there never seemed to be any peace and quite at our house (or a dull moment just ask our parents). We just seem to always get into trouble especially when our sister Deborah was around (you would think we would win sometimes, it being four against one, but no - sisters always win - sisters were always right).

Growing up, I never could understand why we were constantly in trouble, on restriction or going out into the back yard next to the swamp to pick out switches. Most of the time, we were just trying to help - us being innocent little boys and all. We never deserve any of the punishments or whuppins we got. Just ask us, and we would tell you we didn't.

Well, thinking back, I do remember there was that whole dryer incident that did get us into a lot of trouble. But it really wasn't our fault; we were just doing what Dad said, "Make sure you play with your sister."

Dad came into some money and decided the way to get rich was to build an apartment complex (This was the first of many ideas that he had to get rich). When he finished building, he had ten apartments and a long basement, which he divided up into storage for the tenants and a small laundromat.

When Dad had to do work on the apartments, he let us come with him so we could play with the other kids. When he started to work, he would always say the same thing: "You boys make sure you let your sister play."

We all said, "Yes, sir" (back then you always said "yes, sir" to Dad) and with that he would send us to the basketball court out back to play which we never did. When Dad was out of sight, we always head to the vacant lot next door. My brothers and I would spend the better part of the morning searching for bottles in the tall weeds of that vacant lot. Then, we would return them to the store down the street to get the money we needed for our afternoon entertainment.

After eating lunch at the DQ, Dad would return to work, and we would head for the basement. In the basement Dad had installed three washers and two dryers, the large commercial size that were coin-operated and ran off of dimes (another one of Dad's gonna-make-it-rich ventures). With a pocket full of dimes, we would disappear for hours in the basement to play dryer spin, and none would have been the wiser if the sister hadn't come down to see what we were doing that ill-fated Saturday afternoon.

Big brother James had the idea that we could ride inside one of the commercial driers as long as we didn't cut the heat on. James had a lot of good ideas like that when we were growing up.

"Don't worry, it's safe," he said (thinking back, it seems that he said that a lot, usually right before someone got hurt). "The dryer had a large glass door which you can open from the inside if the spinning gets to be too much for you to handle ... that is, if you're chicken."

Well, that was it. He said the magic word, and I was no chicken, so into the dryer I went. Round and round I tumbled, nickels falling everywhere, and when I pushed the door open, I found that I did not last even five minutes. No one ever did, not even James. No one, that is, until the sister came down to tell us that Dad was looking for us at the basketball court.

Deborah asked us what we were doing and could she play. Remembering what Dad had said, James told her all about how to play dryer spin except he left out one small detail: "If the spinning gets too much for you, all you have to do is push on the door and the dryer will stop."

Come to find out this was an important detail not to leave out. As sister tumbled around and around, it seemed that she was enjoying her dryer ride. We were all amazed that she went well past five minutes. She went longer than any of us - a full eight minutes! When the ride was over she got out, threw up, fell down, and broke her arm. That's when Dad came into the basement.

After they came back from the hospital, Dad lined us boys up and asked, "Okay, who is responsible?" My Dad seemed to ask this question a lot when we were growing up.

When no one answered, he asked me, "Rick, who is responsible for putting your sister in the dryer?" I told him that he was. He told me to go out back next to the swamp and pick out my switch. I guess he did not like the answers from my three brothers either because they soon joined me looking for their own switches next to the swamp.

We never got to played dryer spin again, but we did learn two important lessons that I remember to this very day: it takes eight minutes of tumbling around in a dryer to make your sister sick; and you sure can get into a heap of trouble with just one dime.

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

Back to the Opinion Home Page | Back to the top of the page