The Party Crasher

For Recreation during the lean years of the depression, my parents played cards or bingo or, in the summer, went on fishing trips. They sometimes had friends over to our home for a pleasant evening of cards.   A couple with the unlikely name of Mr. and Mrs. Wickersham was a favorite for this activity.  One winter evening the Wickershams came over for an evening of pinochle.  Daddy set the card table up in the front room and Mother made simple refreshments.  My sisters and I were sent to the back bedroom for the evening.  My parents subscribed, I think, to the belief that children should not be seen or heard when they had company.  We were instructed to stay in the bedroom and to play quietly with our paper dolls or color in our coloring books.  Most of all, we were to keep quiet and not get into trouble.  We were banished, in other words, to the back bedroom which belonged to all three of us.

In our bedroom was a small closet.  It was jammed, of course, since it held the belongings of three girls.  In the top of the closet were two shelves, and above them was an opening to the attic.  None of us had ever been up in the attic, but each of us thought it would be a great adventure to go there.  Though getting there would be precarious. It would involve stepping on the high shelves, pushing  the wooden cover to the opening aside and lifting our body up through the opening. We often discussed it. "I bet I could do it."  I told my sisters.  I thought Bonnie, my older sister was too fat to do it, and Martha, my younger sister, too little.  "I bet you can't," said Bonnie.  "Can too," I countered.  "OK" said Bonnie, "I dare you."  That was all it took for me.In our bedroom was a small closet.  It was jammed, of course, since it held the belongings of three girls.  In the top of the closet were two shelves, and above them was an opening to the attic.  None of us had ever been up in the attic, but each of us thought it would be a great adventure to go there.  Though getting there would be precarious. It would involve stepping on the high shelves, pushing  the wooden cover to the opening aside and lifting our body up through the opening. We often discussed it. "I bet I could do it."  I told my sisters.  I thought Bonnie, my older sister was too fat to do it, and Martha, my younger sister, too little.  "I bet you can't," said Bonnie.  "Can too," I countered.  "OK" said Bonnie, "I dare you."  That was all it took for me.

It was tedious, but I managed.  I used a chair to make myself tall enough to reach the shelves, then pulled my body up till I could rest on them in a sitting position.  With no trouble at all I shoved the cover aside and hoisted myself up through the opening.  It was dark and somewhat ominous up there, but I quickly became acclimated.  There was no floor in the attic, just rafters that were attached to the plastered ceiling of the house.  I blithely "walked the rafters" which were quite narrow.  I gleefully called down to my sisters, "See, I told you I could do it."  I  was feeling quite smug with my accomplishment when suddenly, my foot slipped off the rafter I was standing on.  It slipped, with the full weight of my body onto the plaster in between.  It didn't stop there.  It crashed right through the ceiling.  Most unfortunately, it happened that it crashed through the front room ceiling exactly above my parents' card party.  The plaster crumbled, and my leg went through the hole my foot had made, so that  it was dangling through the ceiling just above the card table.

As the crumbled plaster went splashing into the beer the card players were drinking (it was homebrew that the Wickersham's had brought; they made it themselves), my Daddy looked up at the shattered ceiling and said, "What in the H--- is going on!"   What indeed?  Oh, nothing much.  One daughter's leg just came crashing through the ceiling.  And they thought we were playing paper dolls! The pinochle party quickly ended.  The Wickershams hurriedly left for home. Daddy and Mother rushed to the back bedroom and to the closet and ordered me to come down RIGHT THIS MINUTE.  Mother admonished me severely and told me I could have been killed.  Daddy got the ruler and administered what I still consider to have been a very serious spanking. It was weeks before I was back in the good graces of my parents. They were slow to forgive me for my destructive behavior, and for crashing their party. Daddy also had to mend the plaster, not an easy task.  And it took a while for the scratches on my leg to heal as well. 

All told, it was not a pleasant experience.
But it was certainly unforgettable.