'A Memory Frozen In Time'

Story ID:	1240
Written by:	Bonnie Jarvis-Lowe
Organization:	Retired RN/Freelance Writer and Photographer
Story type:	Family Memories
Location:	Port Saunders, Newfoundland and Labrador Canada
Longitude:	48* 10' North
Latitude:	54* West
Year:	1959
Person:	My Brother, David.

‘A MEMORY FROZEN IN TIME’

Anybody who owned a ‘Mary Maxim’ sweater years ago, when they were all the rage, can tell you with pride what color their sweater was, who knit it, what the pattern on it was, and if it was buttoned or zippered. I clearly remember mine being a beautiful burgundy color, the pattern was curling rocks and brooms and it had pretty red buttons all up the front. I can almost feel the collar brushing my face as I describe my sweater. I was around twelve or thirteen years old, and just beginning to be aware of what the popular clothing of the time was, and would be so proud when I had something that was in style.

My one brother, in a family of four sisters, was just five years old when he had his special sweater. David’s sweater was a beautiful blue with a white reindeer pattern on it. It had a zipper and it was a battle to get him to keep his sweater on and keep him warm.

After school on winter days, during that hour or two of the day that still has twilight in the Northern parts of our Newfoundland, it was my duty to take David sledding, or skating, and make sure he was kept safe. The plan was to occupy him until he ran off some of his high energy, and was mellow enough to play inside the house. It was during those twilight winter hours that I would wonder if being the big sister was a good thing, or a bona fide lifetime burden.

David marched to his own drum, loved to wander and was curious of everything in his world. Time meant absolutely nothing to him. He had a will of iron, loved everything and everybody and was in constant motion. I would gladly stay in school and clean erasers all night sometimes rather than face this agile and fiery five-year-old.

Then I had the ‘wake-up call’, and one I will never forget. Forty years after the event I can still see the sled, and that blue sweater, disappear under a passing car. Thankfully, with so much snow, the car was driving slowly. When I saw that sled disappear, my heart, I am sure, came to a complete standstill, and then the pandemonium began!

All of this was my fault. I just knew it! I was supposed to be caring for him and he had met up with Dennis Lowe, one of his favorite friends, and they were sledding on the hill beside the pool parlor. Many children had gathered at the hill, using all sorts of materials on which to ride down the steep incline. Canvas, cardboard, tin, plastic and some had real sleds, like David and Dennis. With those sleds, those two adventurers could go faster than anyone else. Even those using old barrel staves couldn’t keep up with them.

After watching them do two or three runs down the hill, the clacking of the pool balls inside the warm pool parlor was too much for me to resist. I ducked inside, just in time to see my school mates starting a game. Deciding, in my adolescent mind, that I could observe David from the big window at the front of the parlor, I took the pool cue and started playing a game I loved. The boys seemed fine, I was warm, and we were having a great game until I casually glanced out the window to see that precious blue sweater and my beloved brother disappear under a car. The car was driven by one of David’s teachers who was terror stricken by what had happened. But it was not his mistake, the boys were coming down the hill really fast and instead of stopping on the bank of snow, they kept on going across the road. Playing their own little game of ‘Snow Chicken’!

I was as panicky as my twelve-year-old mind, body and soul had ever been. I should have known, if I had used common sense, that you could not leave David for a minute. But at the age of twelve common sense is in short supply sometimes. My inattention was the cause of this, and Mr. Teacher was horrified.

I adored my younger brothers and sisters and was hysterical that David was badly hurt or maybe worse. I got down on the ground and tried to crawl under the big car, digging snow as I went, calling my brother’s name. I have no recall to this day how I got from the pool hall, down the steps to under the car. It must have been at lightening speed.

There was no answer from David as I kept calling his name, and by then his friend, Dennis, was in tears. I remember yelling “Go get Dad!” as I kept crawling through the snow.

By this time some men had arrived and were determining how to jack up the car. That is all a blur to me. Dad arrived and tried to get me out from under the vehicle, but no way would I stop until I got to David. I wanted David, or I wasn’t going anywhere other than jumping into the icy sea.

Soon I could hear mumbling, and then I heard a tiny voice say “It is really dark in here BABA!”, David’s pet name for me. I started to cry as though I would never be able to stop. The men got the car lifted, and David was relatively unscathed. My relief, mixed with guilt, was overpowering as Dad drove us home.

The teacher was calming somewhat, Dad was worried, but as a policeman he maintained his composure, and I was a babbling idiot! We were very lucky that day, because the sled stopped when it hit against the front tire of the car. But for a long time I would wake from dreams of vivid recall of an incident I would never forget.

My parents took David by Jeep, during a snow storm, to a hospital hours away from where we lived as it had X-ray services. They discovered he had a fracture of a small bone in his foot, a fracture that healed a lot faster than my guilt-ridden, broken heart.

The ‘Mary Maxim’ blue sweater David was wearing that day is still at my parent’s house. When I see it, I have to hold back the tears, tears like I shed on that cold winter day when I neglected my duty forty-two years ago, a day when I came so close to losing my brother through my inattention.

Yes, David’s ‘Mary Maxim’ is carefully stored in Mother’s Treasure Chest. David is the father of three children of his own now and is very safety conscious. He still marches to his own beat, still calls me ‘BABA’ from time to time, and he is still adored by his mother, four sisters, two daughters, and three grown nieces.

He never wears a blue sweater if he knows I am going to be around.

He can’t stand the tears!

A very relieved sister-
Bonnie Jarvis-Lowe