Shockingly True

June 6, 2009

I was three and my baby brother, Keith, was one. We were both in the living room. I was playing with a toy iron, pressing a washcloth on the small ironing board my mom had recently purchased for us. Keith was watching me. I loved mimicking my parents activities, and my mom ironed nightly it seemed.

I knew that Mom's iron would get hot, and mine wouldn't. I decided the problem was mine didn't plug into the wall. So I went into the kitchen and pulled open the drawer where the waffle core was kept. I had seen the big people plug one end into the wall and the other end into the waffle iron. Maybe it would plug into my toy iron too!

I walked into the dining area with the cord following like a sleeping black serpent. The baby saw the cord and chased it at a fast crawl. When I got to the wall outlet, I stopped, thinking how I would attach the other end to my toy. As I mulled over the possibilities, Keith caught up to the sleepy snakes tail.

He picked up the end and put it into his mouth. He was teething, and loved chewing on most anything. The plastic glossy end was too tempting. As I thought about the plug, he chewed. I pictured in my mind the steps I saw the big people take to make things hot. I ran them through my mind until I was sure I knew how it was done. Keith continued chewing.

I was a bit hesitant to plug the cord in, because I had never done it before. Mom had always warned me not to play with electric cords. But it seemed so easy. Did I dare do what my mother had warned me not to? Keith continued to chew.

Finally, I decided there was simply nothing to be afraid of. I pointed the plug at the tan electric cover and slowly moved my hand forward. I was hesitant. What if something went wrong? What if I hurt myself? Carefully I pushed it into the outlet. Just as I did, Keith decided to pull the core out of his mouth. But a short string of spit tethered him to the deadly snake. When I inserted the plug, I heard a scream. I instantly pulled the plug out with a jerk.

The circuit was only complete for a split second, but the results would last a lifetime. Keith sat on the floor crying. I stood by him, screaming for mom. Mom ran in to see what we had done. The evidence said all she needed to know. She called the doctor and he told her to get my baby brother to Emergency immediately.

Just as she was going out the door, my big sister came up the walk She was home from school. Mom gave her the gist of the situation in ten seconds and asked if she would watch me while they went to the hospital. The next thing I knew, Keith was being rushed down the street in the family station wagon, and I was left to my fears.

I saw the third degree burn on his chin and lower mouth. I knew I had done something very bad. My sister tried to reassure me, but I knew that everything was not alright. And it was my fault. I cried, I mourned, I regretted my foolish curiosity.

Dad went directly to the hospital, so nothing seemed right. Both parents were gone. My two big sisters and I waiting for an eternity to find out if my brother would live. I tried to think of something else, but the soberness of each moment would not let me. The fear in my heart would not allow for anything but guilt, sorrow and dread. At age three, it was pretty hard to take.

Finally, Mom called and said that Keith would be fine. The doctors talked to my parents about a new procedure involving skin grafts and plastic surgery. This was 1955. WWII and Korea had provided many opportunities to repair burns such as this.

The doctors did a fantastic job on his chin, taking skin from behind one ear to reshape his face. He is still the handsomest of we three brothers. But for the rest of my life, I will always be reminded of that foolish act I performed and how close to death my little brother came because of me.

Events like this turn us outward, to the lives of others. We stop thinking about ourselves, and concentrate on the needs of those around us. This can be a very healthy experience. To learn sympathy and even empathy is a lesson for all. It pulls us out of the mirror and into the world. It proves to us that we are not the center of the universe, but more like a small part actor in a big budget play.

This may have been my start of a lifetime of dedicated service to those around me. I am glad that my brother has had a good life to live. I am glad that I did not cut it short. I am also glad that I did not earn a life of guilt and regrets that day. If his diaper were wet, it would have killed him. Thanks for keeping us dry Mom. I owe you one.