Breaking cardinal rules

The sun dipped below the horizon of 110 Flamingo Street as the orange and purple hues of dusk crept across the night sky. Thirty minutes later, I climbed the last hill before turning down our street, knowing that I was in trouble for being late.

In hopes of somehow making time reverse itself, I pedaled as fast as I could until finally reaching the bottom of our driveway. Breaking one cardinal rule was bad enough, but breaking two in one day was unthinkable. Even Big Brother James had never done that.

“Make sure we know where you are going, and make sure you are in before dark,” were rules that until now had never been broken. And I had just broken both of them. Gasping for breath, looking up at our house, I saw three police cars with blue and white flashing lights – it was only then that it hit me. Somebody must have died.

Thankfully, no one had died, but the look on Dad’s face at the top of the driveway glaring down as I struggled with my bike up the steep incline told me one thing. Someone was about to — me. But in my defense, growing up with three brothers and one sister, I wasn’t the only one who broke the rules and got into trouble. Now that I think about it, seems one of us was always doing something wrong.

Like the time The Sister turn our white dog into a red head. We all thought fluffy really looked good, but when Mom returned from the grocery story she didn’t think so. She waited until Dad got home from work to decide what to do about it, thinking any punishment that would be forthcoming would be from him and not her.

“She’s your daughter,” was the answer he gave, “you punish her.” On the surface, I’m sure Dad thought this was a good tactic to take. But a backward glance with forward looking eyes, it wasn’t the best decision he made. There were four of us boys and only one sister. It wasn’t long before he had to eat his words. And I thought he didn’t eat all of those dinners because he was upset with getting mad at one of us.

It was Older Brother Richard who told Mark to holdup the dartboard. I told him it wasn’t a good idea, but, growing up, my twin brother seldom listened to me. Looking back, it was probably a good survival choice on his part.

Mark the human dartboard worked really well until the third game. That’s when his arms got tired. Later that day, Doc. Jim said he’d never seen a kid with nine dart holes before. Bad thing about it was I would’ve won that last game if he’d stopped crying.

Mark also caused his share of troubles. He was the one who started that game of tag inside the house that sent James to Doc Jim’s with a broken big toe. He was hiding behind the swing door when it happened. James, not Doc Jim. Mark was trying not to get tagged and ran through the kitchen, slammed into the door. It swung opened and smashed into a barefoot James.

We learned two things that day. First, Mark really was bad at tag. And second, not to play tag inside the house without shoes on. I think Mark learned something else, but I don’t really know what. All I remember was Dad had him out in the yard for the next four weekends. Each time he came back inside he didn’t want to play tag anymore. Guess he was too tired from all that yard work.

But no one broke more rules that James. Seems he was always getting into trouble for something. Like the time he told us it was okay to melt all the candles in the house for a Mother’s Day present. I had to go to the hospital after that incident. At least I have a nice scare to remember the look on mom’s face when she saw my hand was all covered in wax.

James was also the one who told us that Super Glue could be used to stick Barbie dolls to wood paneling. It also worked really well to stick Mark’s hands together and my foot to the floor. Don’t ask me why; it was a double-dog dare. But even as bad as these transgressions were, no one had broken any of the cardinal rules until me.

Mom and Dad had called the police an hour earlier, only after they had returned from the second search of the neighborhood. They called my name as they slowly drove up and down Flamingo Street, but I didn’t hear them. I was one street over on the Duke of Gloucester at the vacant lot.

You see there was this giant boulder that was begging to be rolled down the hill. All it needed was someone to dig out the dirt in front of it and give it a push. But how the giant boulder accidentally smashed Mister Moody’s car is a story for another time. This story’s about breaking two cardinal rules in one night.

I never did understand Dad when he said, “This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you.” How could it? I was the one getting whooped with a belt. He sent me to bed without supper that night; guess Dad thought if he was too upset to eat, so was I.

It may seem harsh by the child-rearing standards of today, but I learned my lesson well. Even now when I see the sun dipping down past the horizon and I’m not home, I’ll call The Wife and let her know. She loves me and doesn’t want anything to happen to me either.

Guess that’s why we have rules in the first place — to keep people safe.