“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. My last confession was a month ago and these are my sins …”
————
My brother Scott’s ’57 Chevy melted like candle wax.
Ooh, look at the hood, man! It’s so distorted,” I said to Scott.
We were like most boys our age – we had worked really hard on building our model cars. Painstakingly putting together all the plastic pieces. The smell of model cement lingering in the air – and no, we didn’t sniff it!
It was a boy’s world, and it was ours to destroy. We rarely painted our polystyrene works-of-wonder; there was no point wasting the time, or money, on detailing. As soon as we finished building our cars, my brother and I would venture into the woods, model cars in hand, and do what we did best:
Pyrotechnics!
We would bring our matches – readily available in any household, back then – find a secluded spot in the forest, and … start a small, controlled burn for our plastic masterpieces.
It was a sweltering day in the late ’60′s when the unthinkable happened. Scott had already completed a successful melt, and his ’57 Chevy model was looking sweet – nicely twisted. The doors folded into the middle of the body, the hood sunken in, plastic wheels like sludge in the dirt. A “melt” well done!
Now it was my turn. I built up a little kindling and set my ’62 Impala on top. It looked like a mini funeral pyre. Something like this:
Well … maybe not quite this large!
I grabbed my book of paper matches and pulled a single match out of the book. The only problem I had was that I wasn’t very good at striking the match against the striker on the bottom. So what I always did, was insert the match between the cover and the striker and pull the match sideways to light the match. Don’t be laughing, YOU! You know that some of you used this same technique, right??
As I pulled the match to the side, the match lighted. Unfortunately, so did the rest of the full book of matches. In a split second – that seemed to last forever – I saw a flash of fire in front of me … AND … the webbing between my thumb and index finger, engulfed in flames!
I flailed my hand in the air trying to put out the fire, and then pounded my hand against my pants. As quickly as it flared up, it was extinguished. But the damage was done. Looking at my hand, there were already large blisters appearing. And wow -searing pain started to register on my brain, now.
The first words that were uttered came from my brother: “DON’T tell mom! DO NOT tell mom! We’re gonna be in big trouble for playing with matches!” The words trailed off as I took off on a dead run. Normally Scott would have been able to outrun me, but the adrenaline was too strong. I ran that quarter mile home like an Olympic sprinter, and bolted through the front door.
I screamed out, “We were playing with matches … burned hand … matches … hand … burned … hurts!”
There were seven kids in our family – all a year apart. This meant that we were no strangers to the emergency room, and that Mom had the cool and calm of a trauma nurse. She packed us in the station wagon, and off we went.
This is all my brother and I heard on the way, and we were concerned: “I’ll talk to you boys after we get home.”
Well, the doctor remarked that this was a serious burn, and that I would not be able to get it wet for several weeks. This was really bad for someone like me who swam like a fish, at the local public pool, nearly every day. I got the wound cleaned, ointment put on, and my entire hand wrapped in a bandage, and we started for home.
It was a VERY silent ride home. Mom was undoubtedly mulling over what the punishment would be for this heinous crime. And yes, we were still worried. Anything but telling Dad. That was quite possibly worse than death.
We walked in the door at home and my brother and I tossed off our shoes and headed to our room.
“Where are you going??” Mom said, in a tone that stopped us in our tracks.
“Get your shoes back on, boys!!”
So … my mom did what any self-respecting Catholic mom would have done – made us walk the two miles to church, for confession!
Lol great post. A reminder of when things may have been less safe, but certainly a heck of a lot more fun. Nice read
Thanks, dys. It was a much different time. Surprised I lived through it sometimes.
I remember doing something with tom-thumbs and cow pats. Not possible anymore
Mr. 12 and friends sacrificed Dumbledore, Transformers and a rhino on rockets. Good exercise in how aerodynamics are affected by badly loaded rockets: they bombed! Fun times!
Ooh, I like the rocket idea! Never tried that one. Sounds like fun.
Just as much fun as hunting for the figures later… 2 out 3 located. Dumbledore still in the forest somewhere…. No doubt he’ll surface in the spring
MJ, are you my brother? Tacky as it may be, I need to make sure you read my piece on A Different Toy Story (http://fiftyfourandahalf.com/2011/12/06/a-different-toy-story/)
But, I also want you to know that I just finished posting a piece where I nominated you for some awards. Can you even stand it — you will have to read it to see what it is! http://fiftyfourandahalf.com/2012/01/02/the-envelope-please-part-ii/
You don’t have to read the first, but you DO have to read the second. I never thought I’d be a tacky tutu.
I am so sorry, Elyse. Looks like this comment got trapped in my iPhone (maybe following Steve Jobs).
I read the comment, but couldn’t reply because in my phone it said awaiting moderation. But not on my laptop. Weird, huh?? Anyway, yes, we are family based on your piece and our closeness in age.
And again, thank you so much for the nominations! You are too kind *she sends oscar via fedex*. Thanks for being a tacky tutu!!!
Actually your comments arrived on both my posts. I only care about comments and hit — not individual bloggers, don’t cha know!
OK, seriously ladies and germs. You are very welcome for the nominations. It’s the least I can do for my cyber-bro.
I believe that our G-I Joe models had a similar fate. We learned quickly that melting plastic is hot. My friend had the ED-Karma and took most of the hits in these adventures. How did we ever survive childhood before bike helmuts?
Oscar
We didn’t have GI Joes, otherwise I’m sure they would have suffered the same fate! I could have used a helmet!!!
I still have to light paper matches that way. That’s why I always buy wooden matches.
I know, me too. It always scared me to scrape it across the front of the matchbook!
Glad your hand was ok after a while! And I’m glad that your punishment wasn’t too bad, haha, I like the picture!
Thanks Brittany. It was a very indelible memory from childhood. And boy did that hurt!
That sucks, but that’s awfully funny that you made model cars just to burn them! Ha!
You know, I’m not sure why we came up with this idea. There were no video games and the parents wanted you out of the house, so we just did our own thing.
“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. My last confession was a month ago and these are my sins …”
It’s been a while since I last uttered these lines.
Sounds like you need to …!
That sounds like an incredibly adventurous childhood. I’m guessing the pain and punishment (and confessions) were worth it!
And yes, I lit matches by holding it between the cover and striker. I was afraid the flame might burn me if I did it the “proper” way. Good thing I never had to experience the lesson you did!
I needed lots of confession! haha
I tried to tell my wife when I wrote this post that there would be other “cover-lighters” out there.
Glad you were one too. I had the exact fear that you did.
MJ — That’s great. Thanks for stopping by my blog. I’ll start following yours. You gave me an idea for a post. I’ll be sure to give you credit.
My brother’s and my idea of destructive fun was to tape fire crackers onto the wings of those cheap dime-store gliders. We’d light the fire crackers and send the gliders off of a high porch and watch them blow up in the air. One friend thought it would be really cool to douse the gliders with charcoal lighter fluid first, but, unfortunately (or fortunately, as the case may be), it didn’t ignite. That could have been ugly.
Keep up the good work!
The gliders is a good one, my friend.
Don’t get me started on firecrackers! I’m so lucky I have fingers, hands, limbs – no kidding! We blew up EVERYTHING – from mailboxes to tin cans. Short fuses on M-80′s thrown to blow up in mid-air. The adult-me shudders just thinking about how stupid we were.
Thanks for following, poolman!
Ouch and funny at the same time. I had a friend who liked to put things in the microwave to see what would happen……
I am working my way through the We Blog group on FB. I look forward to getting to know you this year.
Thanks for taking the time to drop in on my blog.
I spent a good bit of time looking through some of your posts. You are a wily veteran to this here bloggin’ thing. I can learn from you, my new friend!
Look forward to more!
mj,
I have to admit I used to light matches in the same manner but never had this outcome, Thank God! I am a true pyro at heart. Even to this day I love to sit and watch the flames burn. When we lived in Oregon we used to have huge burn piles. I loved seeing how high I could get the flames. Thankfully you boys didn’t know about the flaming benefits of petroleum products!
Lori, there are many “cover-closed” lighters out there. I love fire too. The different colors of flames, the heat, embers. Combined with firecrackers, we were a terror to be around!
Burned and confession on the same day…wow. No wonder you turned out alright
.
It’s made for a pretty strong sense of right and wrong, that’s for sure
!
What a funny story. I think the most frequently exchanged line among siblings is “Don’t tell Mom…”
Thanks for sharing this, MJ.
Yes, with seven of us, those words were uttered all day long!
MJ….what a wonderful post! I love to read about childhood memories…and you have such a great sense of humor that adds to the telling! When I became a parent, and thought of all the near misses I had in childhood and adolescence, I had a massive fear that my children would do the same things! They did.
Thank you, Judy! Fortunately my kids didn’t have quite the penchant for destroying things that we did – at least as far as I know
!
Such a great post. You really pull me in….
Cheers
Thank you, my friend!
Very funny story Michael! Your brothers sound like me and my brothers as we loved to play with fire. And as the saying goes, if you play with fire, you will get burnt. Something I’ve experienced more time than I’d like to have!
Yah, we sound like kindred spirits, Joe!
You should have seen us with M-80′s, Blackcats, and other fireworks. Not a pretty sight!
Holy smokes that was funny! Fire hurts. Listen to your mom! LOL!
I do now, but it’s too late! The damage was done. Who knows how many times I hit my head as a child. It must have been a lot, since I’m not the brightest bulb in the pack!
Once I accidentally squirted model cement into my eyes! I spent a whole day with my right eye closed! Good thing none got into my cornea Hahaha
Oh my gosh … that’s horrible! So lucky you didn’t get on the eyeball.
As the ol’ sayin goes…Mama knows best! Just to let you know, my brother and some of his classmates decided to play with matches under the convent during school hours. If you think Mama was rough…try wriggling out of your bad pranks with the Mother Superior.
Ooh, bad idea, playing with matches under the convent. I would have gotten it from MS, and then from my parents if that happened to me at school! Paddled for sure.
I really loved reading this mj. Should I tell you my boys made a sparkler bomb and I asked them to film it? OK. I am suprised you made it too, but then…we were a different ‘breed’ back then.
I like your style, vixy! I probably would film it too!
But the CRAZY stuff we did back then … oh my gosh. We blew stuff up, destroyed, injured ourselves. How I have all 10 fingers, I’ll never know. By the grace of God!
Yikes! I am so glad you DO have all ten fingers, otherwise I might not get my post ‘fix’ from you as quickly
Thanks for the link up, my friend!!