It was summer. Summer on the farm near Bruce, Alberta in 1944 or 1945. Brother Ben and I liked to play in the poplar trees that grew south of the farm house. We played close to the path that led to the outhouse, then it continued on to our Mother’s second garden spot.
We were barefoot. Likely Benny (as he was called when he was a boy) was about four and I was five. Our sisters Trudy (later she was called Gertie) and Alice were about eleven and eight.
Benny got a sliver in the bottom of his foot. He hobbled into the house to show our Mother. She had a good look at it, I looked too. It was a fair-sized sliver, like part of a toothpick but darker, under the skin. I don’t remember seeing any blood. Anyhow Benny wasn’t crying, maybe we even went back outside and played some more, I can’t remember.
After supper the kitchen table was completely cleared. Mother must have told Dad about the sliver, maybe he had a look at it. They were getting ready for the sliver removal. Like I said, it was summer, there was still lots of light.
I was becoming quite interested in the procedure. They took off some of Benny’s clothes. He began resisting somewhat. I seem to remember a pair of farm pliers on the table. I don’t remember seeing any other tools the ER surgeon had with him or within his reach.
They got Benny on the table and onto his back. Benny was now resisting fiercely. Mother was bent over his chest and trying to pin down his arms. Benny’s feet were pedalling an invisible bicycle, hard and fast. Dad was looking for an opportunity to dive in and restrain him. Benny was hollering too, loudly.
I don’t remember having any feelings of empathy for my brother, none. I was more interested in the event and the procedure. I was standing back a little out of the way but close enough for a good view. Our sisters were not around.
On the table, the hollering and kicking continued.
There was a muffled whirr coming from right behind us. Someone was coming down the stairs from the bedrooms very quickly. In a blur, Alice passed me, her arms raised. To my shock and horror she attacked Dad, pummelling his shoulder with both fists.
None of us would ever have even thought about attacking Dad! He was a strict but loving father. His punishment could be swift and sudden. You didn’t sing or whistle or misbehave at the table. You never complained and you never talked back. Any of these could have resulted in a quick unexpected cuff on the back of your head.
Alice was pummelling Dad! Benny immediately quit hollering and kicking. I got out of there, I shot back up the stairs where Alice had just come from.
It became quiet downstairs.
I never saw the sliver being removed. It was taken out, there were no after-effects, no medication was required. All was normal the next day, the incident was never mentioned and was soon forgotten.
Alice became a Registered Nurse, a good, caring one I’m sure. I believe she had a lot of empathy for her patients.
Dad passed away in October, 1999 at the age of 94. The evening before the funeral service, the immediate family gathered at the funeral home in a room with Dad’s open casket. It was a time of quiet reflection. We shared some of our memories. We cried a little. We had all loved and respected our Dad.
We left together. Alice was walking beside me. I don’t know why or what made me ask her, then and there.
I said, “Alice, there’s a strange memory in my mind from long ago. It seems to me that Dad was going to take a sliver out of Ben’s foot and you came flying down the stairs and attacked him. I’ve never mentioned it to anyone. I’m wondering if it even really happened.”
Alice stopped abruptly. She paused, and then she sighed deeply. “Yes it did, and I’ve been trying to forget about it for the past 55 years!”
We laughed a little and then we both cried a little.
Ben cannot remember the incident.