It was fun to be part of the North Shore Hospital Auxiliary open house on Saturday, September 12. It was wonderful to see so many former doctors, nurses, and staffers and to hear stories of how the hospital came to be. The hospital auxiliary did a great job spreading the word about the open house with an advertisement filled with tidbits of news from 50 years ago. However, the picture of the “old” hospital brought an entirely different sort of memory to my mind.
Seeing the picture of the old, one-story, flat-roofed hospital reminded me of a scary experience. Not one that happened inside the hospital, but outside in the parking lot!
It’s a very early life memory, so I may not have all the details exactly correct. But I don’t want to talk to my mom to clarify the memory, because she will probably be appalled that I’m sharing this story. This column is no reflection on mom’s parenting skills—it was just a very different world when I was a kid. Remember when I was growing up, children weren’t even seat belted in cars, much less placed in car seats. We didn’t wear bicycle helmets and we walked barefoot everywhere. There were numerous hazards that we were lucky to survive.
Growing up I spent quite a bit of time with two of my cousins, a brother and sister, who will remain nameless to protect the innocent— and the guilty. However, I will let you know that this brother and sister are still living in Grand Marais—one is a local businessman and the other an elementary teacher. My girl cousin and I were very good friends and her brother—well, he did what little brothers do—he bothered us immensely. I have very distinct memories of us girls laying on the floor coloring and the bratty young boy trying to stomp on our fingers! So it is no surprise that he is the protagonist in this near-disaster.
What I recall is that my cousins were spending the day with our family because their mother was in North Shore Hospital having just given birth to their baby sister. My mom needed to bring something to their mom. And instead of trooping into the quiet hospital with three noisy kids, she told us to stay in the car (remember it was a different world back then!).
Immediately my young boy cousin decided that he should “drive” the car while she was gone. He hopped into the big bench seat and pretended to drive. He jerked the steering wheel from side to side and made the appropriate “Vroom! Vroom!” noises.
His sister and I knew that this was not a good idea and we urged him to get back into the back seat. But, being the belligerent little brother, he simply ignored us and decided to fiddle with the shifter. Although we didn’t know what was happening at the time, as a grownup I now know that he moved the lever from park to neutral. At the time, I just knew that he had made a serious error.
We all felt a surge of terror as the car began to move, rolling backward down the hospital driveway, picking up speed. We all grabbed a hold of something, screamed and held on for dear life.
Fortunately the wheel had been turned—either by mom when she parked or by my young boy cousin when he was playing—so the car didn’t coast directly down the paved driveway onto the main road, but made a half circle, spinning us across the lawn and into the ditch.
My little boy cousin, the troublemaker, leapt over the front seat into the back to pretend that he had nothing to do with the disaster.
I don’t remember mom’s reaction— although I vaguely recall crying tearfully, “He did it!”
I don’t think we were in trouble. The incident probably frightened our parents as much as it did us. Relief that we survived probably protected us from the spankings we deserved (well, one of us deserved!). I don’t remember how the car got out of the ditch.
I just know that we were very lucky kids!
You can learn many things from children. How much patience you have, for instance.
Franklin P. Jones
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