DON'T RUN IN THE HOUSE

I have written a book of true short stories of my youth that is not yet published but I want to share one of those stories with you now. How many times did your parents tell you not to run in the house? Well my brother and I heard it often, but boys will be boys.

DON’T RUN IN THE HOUSE

In the corner of our living room, we always had a stove that was about two feet away from the walls. First, we had a coal stove. It was replaced by an oil burner and finally changed back to a coal stove.

     My mother was always fanatic about heat and I believe if she kept it any hotter the skin would have melted from our bodies. I do remember that our cocker spaniel used to lie in front of that first coal stove.

     I’m sure everyone has heard it and my brother Jim and I heard it many times, “Don’t run in the house.” Boys will be boys as the saying goes. One day after school, while my father was at work and mom was out somewhere, maybe shopping, I’m not sure. It was an afternoon of chasing each other around the house.

     On this particular day as I chased Jim, he ran behind the stove when the unthinkable happened. Jim’s butt hit against the sheet rock wall that had seen years of intense heat. The years of intense heat had made the sheet rock soft and brittle. As Jim moved away it revealed the perfect imprint of butt cheeks in the wall. I can still remember the look on our faces.

     We both knew that this wasn’t going to be good when the parents got home. I don’t ever remember being spanked, but the yelling still rings in my ears to this day. “How many times have we told you not to run in the house?” They kept repeating it over and over. I don’t know how many times we heard it, but I guess we should have heard it at least one more time that day.

     We would spend hours running around outside, but that day for some reason we just started running around in the house. It has been well over sixty years. When something like that happens and you are a little boy you just know it’s going to be a bad day. Now well over sixty years later my brother and I get a good laugh about it.

     I remember years later when I had a little boy and he came running into the kitchen telling us that water was running all over the floor. I ran after him and he pointed to the hot water heater. He had opened up the valve for the drain but when water started pouring out he ran to us rather than closing it. I sit here writing this with a smile. My son, Tom, was the adventurous type when he was a little boy. It just reminds me so much of myself.

Copyright   Larry W. Fish   2017