Our home on Limekiln Lake was a great and secure place to grow up in. Our family was very close and there were little cares beyond the weather to change our patterns.
But as a first grader, I found myself in a pickle on one particular mid-summer day.
It was a day gone wrong as I discovered I had put dirty clothes back into my drawer instead of the hamper.
My mother found the dirty items: mud puddle-soaked socks and pants that had worm guts wiped on the knees.
“How did these get in here?” she asked.
Of course, like any seven year old, I fibbed. I told her I was not sure how they got in there.
I’m not sure why I did what I did but the jig was up.
My mother had grounded me to my room to wait for my father to get home from work to mete out the sentence.
I knew I was going to be in a bunch of trouble for not telling the truth, so decided I would run away rather than face the consequences.
I carefully slipped out the back door, crept around the house to the garage, and made off on my bike as fast as my legs could take me.
I had no plan or direction in mind, I just knew I needed to make a fast getaway.
My friend Eddie had an old car parked by the bunk house that I thought might be great for staying in, but I had already passed the driveway.
Still pedaling, I decided to park my bike behind a large rock and sit and think out a good plan.
I was there a good half-hour when I heard my father shouting out my name as he drove along the roadway.
My face ran white with fear. I almost couldn’t breathe as I hid behind the massive rock.
When his voice began to fade I hopped back on my bike and made a dash for home.
The ferns were thick there and got caught up in my spokes. They pulled at my sneaks as I put myself back on the road.
It was my hope that my absence had gone unnoticed.
But life does not always work out as planned. I was met at the door by my mother who had an unhappy look on her face.
I made the slow march down the hallway to my room and waited for what I knew would be a terrible moment when my father arrived. I was pretty sure I was in very big trouble.
I’m not sure that any seven year old is capable of making an informed decision on what is the right thing to do.
But in terms of the big picture I knew I was in trouble…big trouble.
I can still hear my sister reminding me of the fact as she peeked into my room and said, “You are in big trouble.”
I had never really been in that much trouble before and I sure didn’t like it.
When my father finally got home I’m not sure who was more scared, he for not finding me, or me in anticipation of the imminent spanking.
I can say it was the only time my parents ever had to issue a spanking on Limekiln Lake.
Mitch Lee, Adirondack native & storyteller, lives at Inlet. ltmitch3rdny@aol.com