The Hole Part 1 I understand why it was there. I mean, I’m not stupid. It was there for a convenience. It made perfect sense, the floor of the bathroom closet sat right over the laundry room. So yes, it made sense to put in a laundry chute. The part I wonder about is why it became to be known as, “The Hole,” and why that name stuck. Just the name, “The Hole” had an ominous sound to it. You couldn’t ever picture something called “The Hole” to be a good place. It was like the word pit, or the word dungeon. These words have their own weight, their own mood, their own image that they evoke in your brain. Pictures connected and entwined with them in our minds eye. It’s one of the things you have to love about the English language, not just the meaning of a word, but the imagery it brings to mind. It’s powerful. So how such a word, a dark word if you would, became associated with our laundry chute I can not understand. I remember the day my father cut the opening. He had his tool belt out, so you knew right away this was serious work, not just some lame repair. Also there were power tools, always a good sign. My brother Frankie, he was ten at the time, two years older than I am. He was always Dad’s helper, there to hand him tools and learning how to change the electric saw blade, draw chalk lines and how to make relief cuts. Cool, useful stuff like that, and he loved learning it. Me? Me, I was content to watch, I didn’t seem to have any natural talent with tools, nor did I have the drive or desire to learn that my brother did. So I watched, watched Dad as he marked out the space, using his chalk line, its silver body and wind up handle always made me long to go fishing. I watched as he took his drill, lining it up in the one corner and drilling down and into the floor wood chips flying out in A small gyser My baby sister, Ruthie, wondered by at that moment, asking her ever popular question “watz zat?” as she watched dad handle the drill. Ruthie was only four, and a bit of a handful. Mom said she kept her busier than a box full of monkeys, a thought that never failed to make me laugh. She was in the phase where everything she saw or was told brought one of two questions fro her, “why?” or “waz zat?” Dad just ignored her, he was busy showing Frankie how he was going to make the cut, and promising to maybe let him run the saw a little. Mom stopped by to “check progress” she said, but also to gather Ruth before she pestered dad to much. “Come on chickie” She said to Ruth, come help me in the kitchen. Ruth answered with a predictable “Why” but took mom’s hand and let herself be lead away. Dad was setting the saw up now, and as promised he would let Frank run it. He placed the saw blade in the hole he drilled and started cutting, explaining to Frank as he went. “See.. see Frankie? You want to stay just inside of the line. Use it as a guide, but leave the line. Understand?” Frank nodded, his eyes bright and excited, he looked with fascination at the saw. “Yeah Dad. I can do it.”
Posted on: Wed, 18 Sep 2013 15:07:37 +0000
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