THE FIRE
The effects of playing with matches affected me personally when I was five years old. My parents had gone to Santa Rosa to celebrate their 20th wedding anniversary with my father’s Uncle Chris and Aunt Anna Ketelsen. They were married the day after my folks’ wedding on August 4, 1929 and Dad had stood up with his Uncle Chris so it was fitting for them to celebrate their special day together. My oldest brothers, Robert and Leroy went with them and Paul and I stayed at home with Rachel Gomes who was our live-in care giver.
Paul was the most curious person I ever knew and had quite an investigative mind. At an early age, he could take apart a lawnmower and put it back together. In our two story home, we also had a basement which was finished off with six rooms used in my family’s business. At the back side of the basement, we had a laundry room with the old wringer style washing machine and shelves containing various products just waiting to be explored. As the story goes, Paul got a glass jar, filled it with water, struck a match and put it in the liquid and as one would suspect, the fire was extinguished. Then he repeated the experiment with a match in a jar of cleaning fluid. This time, the fire did not go out and soon the fluid got too hot for him to hold. He attempted to pour the fluid out into the wash tub but it got too hot for his hands and he dropped the jar. The fluid splattered onto us and we suffered 3rd degree burns on our legs. He had been taught in school about the drop and roll procedure to put out a fire, but all I knew to do was to cry for help. Rachel was reading a book out in the back yard and at first assumed that Paul was just teasing me but when she looked up and saw me, she immediately picked me up and ran up the back stairs and put me in the kitchen sink where she poured cold water on my burns. My friend and playmate, Joan Perry was with me and watched the experiment but escaped getting burned and skated home, about 4 houses down W Street, to tell her mother. Soon the sirens of the ambulance could be heard – I suppose Dorothy Perry was the one who called and we were both whisked off to the Sacramento County Hospital. As young as I was, almost 6, I was startled to see the ambulance go through a red light and then I reminded myself that they could do that.
I remember lying on a table and having a cool salve spread on my legs and having the hanging flesh cut away. My legs were burned below my knees and to some degree, on my thighs. My right arm was also burned (not as badly) and the thing for which we always gave thanks was the fact that I had been wearing a dress and the hem of my dress and my hair were singed.
My father often called his office to check for messages and when he called that day, he was told that his two children had been burned in a fire and that they were in the hospital. He did not know how badly we were burned or where and Mom later told us that the trip home was one spent in silence. I can imagine. Robert and Leroy were a little irritated that their visit with their cousins were cut short. Mom was also embarrassed when our picture appeared on the front page of our local newspaper – The Sacramento Union since they were away at the time and even though we were in good care, she thought it reflected badly on them.
Mom and Dad brought me a new red plaid dress on one of their visits and after our release from the hospital Dr. Binkley (who also had delivered me) came to our home to change our bandages. Another incident I remember centered on my mother being criticized for allowing me to wear slacks to church. It seems this woman didn't know I had been burned and Mom had me wear slacks, perhaps to hide the bandages. The other thing I strongly remember was being told that the scars would probably disappear by the time I was fourteen, but alas, I still have them to this day. Some kids are anxious to get their driver’s license – I was just waiting for the time when my scars would disappear.
The effects of playing with matches affected me personally when I was five years old. My parents had gone to Santa Rosa to celebrate their 20th wedding anniversary with my father’s Uncle Chris and Aunt Anna Ketelsen. They were married the day after my folks’ wedding on August 4, 1929 and Dad had stood up with his Uncle Chris so it was fitting for them to celebrate their special day together. My oldest brothers, Robert and Leroy went with them and Paul and I stayed at home with Rachel Gomes who was our live-in care giver.
Paul was the most curious person I ever knew and had quite an investigative mind. At an early age, he could take apart a lawnmower and put it back together. In our two story home, we also had a basement which was finished off with six rooms used in my family’s business. At the back side of the basement, we had a laundry room with the old wringer style washing machine and shelves containing various products just waiting to be explored. As the story goes, Paul got a glass jar, filled it with water, struck a match and put it in the liquid and as one would suspect, the fire was extinguished. Then he repeated the experiment with a match in a jar of cleaning fluid. This time, the fire did not go out and soon the fluid got too hot for him to hold. He attempted to pour the fluid out into the wash tub but it got too hot for his hands and he dropped the jar. The fluid splattered onto us and we suffered 3rd degree burns on our legs. He had been taught in school about the drop and roll procedure to put out a fire, but all I knew to do was to cry for help. Rachel was reading a book out in the back yard and at first assumed that Paul was just teasing me but when she looked up and saw me, she immediately picked me up and ran up the back stairs and put me in the kitchen sink where she poured cold water on my burns. My friend and playmate, Joan Perry was with me and watched the experiment but escaped getting burned and skated home, about 4 houses down W Street, to tell her mother. Soon the sirens of the ambulance could be heard – I suppose Dorothy Perry was the one who called and we were both whisked off to the Sacramento County Hospital. As young as I was, almost 6, I was startled to see the ambulance go through a red light and then I reminded myself that they could do that.
I remember lying on a table and having a cool salve spread on my legs and having the hanging flesh cut away. My legs were burned below my knees and to some degree, on my thighs. My right arm was also burned (not as badly) and the thing for which we always gave thanks was the fact that I had been wearing a dress and the hem of my dress and my hair were singed.
My father often called his office to check for messages and when he called that day, he was told that his two children had been burned in a fire and that they were in the hospital. He did not know how badly we were burned or where and Mom later told us that the trip home was one spent in silence. I can imagine. Robert and Leroy were a little irritated that their visit with their cousins were cut short. Mom was also embarrassed when our picture appeared on the front page of our local newspaper – The Sacramento Union since they were away at the time and even though we were in good care, she thought it reflected badly on them.
Mom and Dad brought me a new red plaid dress on one of their visits and after our release from the hospital Dr. Binkley (who also had delivered me) came to our home to change our bandages. Another incident I remember centered on my mother being criticized for allowing me to wear slacks to church. It seems this woman didn't know I had been burned and Mom had me wear slacks, perhaps to hide the bandages. The other thing I strongly remember was being told that the scars would probably disappear by the time I was fourteen, but alas, I still have them to this day. Some kids are anxious to get their driver’s license – I was just waiting for the time when my scars would disappear.
