Friday, October 3, 2003
Friday, October 3, 2003 |
| The
Sister's revenge
By Rick Ryckeley After a conversation last weekend with The Sister, I found out some important details of our growing up together. The innocent and defenseless little sister I grew up with was anything but. Us boys never did anything to deserve what she admitted she did to us; well, maybe we did do a few things to her first. There weren't many days around our house that we didn't hear Mom say, "Please, please, PLEASE!" Seems she said that all the time. "Will you please stop pulling your sister's hair? Will you please not put bugs down your sister's shirt?" and the one I liked the best, "Will you please stop giving your sister a cherry-belly?" You'd think with all of that pleasing going on, people would be happy. Well, some of us were; The Sister sure wasn't. After all, she didn't have much of a chance; it was four against one. Well, four against two; I think the parakeet was on her side. Our house at 110 Flamingo Street was crowded, very crowded. Older Brother Richard had the small room downstairs next to the front room. He had a room all by himself. Big Brother James lived upstairs in the first small room to the right. He had a room all to himself also. Twin Brother Mark and I had to share the small room next to Big Brother James, and Mom and Dad had the huge room at the end of the hallway. That only leaves The Sister and her room, or should I say, "The Princess Suite." From an early age I learned from Big Brother James that pigtails were meant to be pulled. Since The Sister was the only one in the family who had them, naturally we'd pull them. It was right after we started pulling her pigtails that the salt and flour started to show up in our beds. When it found its way into my bed, I blamed it on Big Brother James. We got into many a fight over it. The salt and flour in the bed? The Sister did that. With a household of four boys, one girl, two dogs, and a green parakeet that ate hushpuppies off Dad's head, there was never a moment of peace and quiet. Just ask Dad. There were always things getting broken, someone getting into trouble or someone getting yelled at. Everyone got into trouble and got yelled at in our house everyone but The Sister who lived downstairs at the end of the hallway in "The Princess Suite." Guess Dad gave her that room to keep us boys from picking on her. I got news for Dad; that idea didn't work too well. We always picked on The Sister. When I was five, The Sister got hurt playing the dryer spin game; but it wasn't our fault. It was Dad's. He said to include her in on any games that we played. After all, she did come down to the basement and asked if she could play. Who knew that ten cents and a commercial sized dryer could get us boys into so much trouble and get The Sister a broken arm? It was a few days after she got back from the hospital that air mysteriously started leaking out of our bike tires. I thought it was Down-the-Street Bully Brad. Air leaking out of the tires and flat bike tires for a month? The Sister did that. When I turned seven, The Sister broke her ankle, but that wasn't our fault either. As I remember, us boys were out in the back yard playing Giant Tractor Tire Ride. That's when you find an old tractor tire and roll it to the top of a hill, climb inside and have your brothers roll you down the hill. As long as you keep your arms and legs inside the tire, you won't get hurt, and that's just what we told The Sister when she asked to play. How were we supposed to know that, after rolling down the hill, she'd keep rolling past the swamp, hit the giant oak tree, fall over and break her ankle? It was right after she got back from the hospital that the Jell-O started to show up in our shoes. The Jell-O in the shoes? The Sister did that. The most surprising thing The Sister told me last weekend was how Dad found out about his new hammer. Dad had just bought a new set of tools and told us not to touch them, and as soon as he went to work, we did. I got his new hammer out and was busting rocks with it when the wood handle broke. I fixed it with duct tape so Dad would never know, but somehow he did. Seems The Sister told on me, and that's how I got into trouble. The next day The Sister got the first of many cherry-bellies by yours truly. That's about the same time the itching powder ended up in my underwear. Itching powder in underwear? The Sister did that. We all grew up (well, most of us), and us boys stayed in Georgia. The Sister moved four states away. Always wondered why. I guess I'll have to ask her about it during the next family reunion. I can't wait to see her; seems it's about time for another cherry-belly. [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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