Friday, August 29, 2003
Friday, August 29, 2003 |
| Sometimes
you need to sweat the small stuff
By Rick Ryckeley Frantically, Mom told the firefighters that they needed to get a stretcher. The firefighters with all their medical equipment tried to keep up with Mom in the darkness of the backyard as she ran up to the lake. At the base of the giant oak tree, illuminated only by a small campfire, six boys were standing in a circle. When the boys looked around and saw the firefighters, the circle parted, and there on the ground lay one dirty, crumpled-up little boy with a broken arm, still crying. But this is the end of the story, not the start. This story started three weeks before at Cliff Condos. Cliff Condos was the massive three-year dig into the 30-foot cliff two doors down from our house on Flamingo Street. The developer of our subdivision had deemed the lot to be unsuitable for building, but it was just what we had been looking for. An entire cliff made out of sandstone! We dug hand and foot holds from the base of the cliff up 15 feet and then started to dig into the side of the sandstone cliff. Well into the second year of the dig, we had completed the great room and two bedrooms. Early one morning, I was digging with Neighbor Thomas and Twin Brother Mark when Big Brother James climbed up the cliff and said, "Hey guys I've got a great idea!" Oh no, I thought, whenever he has a good idea, I get hurt. I must admit, for once, Big Brother James's idea didn't sound so bad, and it didn't sound like anyone would get hurt. Boy, was I wrong! Big Brother James said that we should take a break and move our construction team from the vacant lot of Cliff Condos to the base of the giant oak tree up at the lake. He said he wanted us to build a tree house. Goofy Steve liked the idea because he was tired of being thrown off the top of the cliff onto the pile of soft dirt at the bottom. Twin Brother Mark and Neighbor Thomas liked the idea because they were the ones doing most of the digging. I liked the idea because I would be able to use Dad's new hammer. The neighborhood lake was located just above the swamp that was directly behind our house. Since we spent so much time up at the lake swimming, skipping rocks and swinging on the rope swing, it just seemed logical that we should build a tree fort and live there. We asked Mom, and she said it was okay, but I just think she wanted us to stop digging. She walked off saying something about how all that fine dirt kept tearing up her washing machine. The tree fort was gonna be the best ever; Big Brother James had picked out the largest oak tree he could find. It had smaller limbs near the bottom, perfect for climbing. It would be easy for Older Brother Richard to climb up with tools and stuff. He was the best darn tree climber in all of Flamingo Street - maybe even the entire world! The giant oak tree forked into two huge trees, branching apart about 20 feet up perfect placement for a tree fort where no girls were allowed. The oak tree overlooked the fishing lake, and that was good. We could see when it was time for us to swing on the rope swing. The oak tree was at the edge of The Forest, and that was not so good. Every kid on Flamingo Street knew that The Forest was haunted. When construction started, Big Brother James told everyone what to do. Twin Brother Mark and Neighbor Thomas toted the lumber. Preston Weston was the saw man. Brother Richard and I climbed up in the tree, nailing the boards while Goofy Steve stayed on the ground. Goofy was afraid that he would fall out of the tree and get hurt so he stayed on the ground and handed boards up to us. A short three weeks later, our tree fort was finished. Big Brother James had thought of everything. He had Older Brother Richard build a three-foot railing all the way around so when we slept we wouldn't roll off and fall. He had me nail short pieces of boards up the tree for a ladder. He even had Booger build a roof so when it rained, we would stay dry. But, most important of all, he tied off a rope for quick escapes, just in case a certain someone came lurking around. This was the best tree fort ever, and to finish it off, Bubba Hanks painted a sign at the bottom of the tree: "Tree Fort, Girls Keep Out." That night Mom said it was okay for us to sleep up at the fort. With sleeping bags, hot dogs and all the fixings for s'mores in our backpacks, we headed for the fort. When it got dark, we started a small campfire, roasted the hotdogs, ate s'mores, and had one great flaming marshmallow fight. When it came time for bed, we all climbed up the wood ladder I had built. Big Brother James went first then Older Brother Richard, Twin Brother Mark, Neighbor Thomas, and then Booger. Candi wouldn't let Preston come; she said if girls weren't allowed in the tree fort, neither was he. Bubba Hanks didn't come either; he didn't have a sleeping bag. Goofy Steve said he didn't want to climb up because he was afraid that he would fall and get hurt. He spread his sleeping bag out at the base of the tree, crawled in and zipped it up to keep the bugs out. I was the last one to climb up the wood ladder, and right when I reached for the top rung, it pulled loose! When I hit the ground, everyone heard the scream and looked over the railing at me looking up at them. The scream didn't come from me, though. I would've been seriously hurt or even killed if I hadn't landed on Goofy Steve in his sleeping bag. Unfortunately for Goofy, my landing broke his arm. Looking back, I guess nailing that last board of the ladder with only two nails instead of four was a small detail that really was important. I know if you asked Goofy Steve, he'd tell you that it definitely was. [Rick Ryckeley is employed by the Fayette County Department of Fire and Emergency Services. He can be reached at saferick@bellsouth.net.] |