Boating (2)

Rose Lake

The first time I got scared in a boat was at Rose Lake. I was still in grade school, and I had gone there with the Johnson's, the W. Gilman's, and I'm not sure who else. (I don't know if my family was there or not.) All I remember was that I had gone to the restroom, and when I came out - everyone was gone except for Paul Johnson and little S. Gilman. Apparently, everyone had gone to the other side of the lake, and we were going by boat.

Now this was not the pontoon boat that I liked to ride in. It was an ordinary cabin cruiser - albeit a smaller one. Once I got in, S G and I sat up in the bow, under some windows and hurriedly put on some life jackets. (Now I always wore a life jacket, even though the other kids thought it was silly. They believed that nothing was ever going to happen, but I didn't want to take any chances.) I helped SG, who was much younger than I - get his life jacket all strapped on, as we were zipping across the lake.

When we got to the other side of the lake, which many of you know - isn't that far, Paul started looping around, and around, and around. He was doing some kind of display for the crowd on the beach, but I was terrified. I thought the boat was going to tip over and we'd be pinned underneath in the bow. I was so dizzy and upset when we stopped, I swore I would NEVER ride in a boat again.


Coeur d'Alene Lake

A few years later, my family was invited by the Carvers to go boating on C d'A lake. I was apprehensive, but figured since my parents were going - that nothing would happen to me.
I thought, I'll give this boating thing another chance. (Can you hear the music from "Jaws"?)

We began our excursion in Harrison, I believe. C. Carver had either rented or borrowed a cabin cruiser from a friend, and the plan was to drive it from Harrison to Coeur d' Alene and back. This one was a bit larger than the previous boat, as it had a small galley in the bow that was a few steps below the deck. There were several seats on the deck and seating in the galley. The Carver's daughter, M, was there as well as her parents, my parents, my sister and I, but M's youngest brother B, may have also been there.

The trip started out pretty good for a boat trip. I don't know if we ever stopped to swim, or if it was a marathon trip (as some men are wont to do. The "Git-R-Done" syndrome.) But C. Carver was drinking and driving the boat, and we were all doing fine for a while. . .(Jaws music). . . Somewhere around Coeur d'Alene, C. was challenged by or did challenge another boater and the race was on. I can't remember if they were just speeding, but it seemed more like a "Game of Chicken." We were careening back and forth across this guy's wake. The water was getting rough already, but this game of chicken was scaring most of us.

Now, my dad is not a confrontational guy, and he may have suggested that C slow things down a bit and consider the women and children. (The children, I being the oldest, were all crying their heads off by this time.) We were pleading with our mothers to stop this mad man from killing us all.

There were a couple of times, that the boat nearly flipped as it caught a wake broadside, in an attempt to turn one way or another. I knew we were gonna die. (We probably didn't have life jackets that day either.) My Mom was sooooo mad! My Dad was mad, too, but there was nothing they could do to stop C Carver from trying to capsize all of us.

Finally, somehow, C decided it was time to get back to Harrison - we still had the full length of the lake to travel, but we got there without capsizing. My sister was so tramatized I don't think she has ever gone near a boat since. I have - but I haven't liked it! My parents both swore that they would never go anywhere with C Carver again.

So now, you know why I don't like boats. I guess, you could say I don't like fast boats with stunt drivers and drunks at the wheel. I am trying to get warmed up to the idea of my husband's speed boat, but it isn't easy.

Smelterville: My Sister

My sister R was about a year old when we moved to Smelterville. I can remember her walking on the sidewalk out front of our house with someone holding onto her hands. She must have had new shoes on, because she was "high steppin' it." Since I was nearly five years older than she, we didn't play together much. I was always going places with Dad and she mostly stayed home with Mom.

When she was old enough for a big bed, my parents bought a set of bunk beds for us. I was ecstatic! My friends, the Johnson girls in Kingston, had bunks. Their dad built them a three-decker set in their basement bedroom, and now I had a bunk bed, too. Since R was small, she had the bottom bunk, but I got the top one! The bunks were wooden with a ladder and a rail (to keep me from falling out). My rail just ran from the headboard to the footboard with space underneath -- I remember because L Johnson spent the night one time, and slid under the rail and fell to the floor. (She was okay).

I quickly learned how to climb up the footboards, so the ladder was no longer needed. (And R couldn't get hurt trying to climb up to my bed.) I loved playing on my top bunk, it was like having a space all to myself, where R couldn't mess with my toys and books. My friends and I could play up there without being disturbed and R couldn't get into my Barbie stuff.

A side note: The window in our room, instead of running up and down, was installed side to side, and higher than most windows. When the bunks were up against the window wall, the window was parallel to my bed and the sill was close to the top of my matress (may have been lower). I just remembered that I could lay in bed and see the lights from Nickerson Brother's blinking on and off, as I drifted off to sleep. It was very comforting.

But back to R. Sometime, when she was in diapers, R acquired a taste for soap. Now, as I mentioned before, I ate dirt when I was mad, but I was old enough to have a purpose. R ate soap, because she liked the taste. Now the soap was not likely to harm her, but it did lubricate her intestines, resulting in a tremendous mess for my mother to clean up. The soap at home was out of R's reach but the neighbor's wasn't. One day we were at the Jerome's house, and I needed to use the restroom. As I looked around the restroom I saw something that struck fear in my heart: There on the edge of the tub - was a bar of soap with a half-moon chunk missing. "Maaaaam, R's been eating soap again!" I produced the tell-tale bar, and we quickly exited for home in anticipation of what was to come.

R. was a cute little sister, but had a fiery temper. She started to bite sometime when she was around 2. She'd bite me when she wanted something and I wouldn't give it to her. I would reprimand her for biting and yell, "Maaaam, R bit me!"

Mom would reply, "Now, you be nice to her. She's your little sister." I got the impression that my mother didn't believe me, or she thought I had provoked her. (Since my mom was the youngest in her family, I figured she sided with my sister, who was the youngest in ours.)

Finally, the day came when my mom caught R biting me. She had latched onto my arm and for the first time Mom saw it. Mom was furious. She ran over to us, grabbed R's arm, and bit it herself until it turned purple. R screamed and Mom said, "Don't bite!" R never bit me again.

I'm not sure what time of year it was, but Mrs. R Gilman had come to visit my mom and the ladies were sitting at the table drinking coffee while they visited. R and I were eating candy - hard candy. They were rootbeer flavored disks, like LifeSavers -- but without the hole. R tried to swallow hers whole, and it got stuck. She was gasping for air, when R Gilman jumped up from her chair, ran over and picked R up by her ankles. She shook her up and down, until "plunk" the candy dislodged and rolled out onto the floor. My mom was in shock that her baby nearly died. (She had already lost one child). She ran over grabbed the candy off the floor, then ran back to the table for the rest of the candy pack, and threw them both in the wood stove. From then on we were only allowed to have LifeSavers with the holes in them. (After that I thought - Maybe that's why they are called LifeSavers.)