We've had a lot of rain in the last couple weeks, some in torrential downpours, and seeing water standing in places where it shouldn't be reminds me of the time long ago when the vacant lot behind our house became a virtual lake after some very heavy rains. I was about eight at the time, which would have made my brother fourteen years old.
He and some of his friends spent an afternoon building a raft out of scraps they scavenged from the numerous houses under construction in our neighborhood. I, of course, was hanging around on the fringe of the activity like any other annoying little sister would do, but suddenly, the most amazing thing happened: the boys invited me to be the first one to ride on their raft. Predictably, as soon as it was launched, the raft sank with me on it. I got soaked.
Luckily, Mother was just leaving to pick Dad up at the train, so we hid behind the garage until she was gone. At the back door, my brother picked me up and carried me through the kitchen and down the hall to the basement stairs, so I wouldn't drip all over the floor. While I put my clothes in the laundry basket, he brought me a towel and dry clothes to put on.
At the time I didn't realize that I had been chosen for the maiden voyage because they weren't sure the raft would float, nor did I understand that my brother's subsequent gallantry was born of fear of the trouble he would be in. I just enjoyed conspiring with my big brother.
Several years later I saw an episode of "Leave It To Beaver" in which Beaver sinks in a boat built by Wally and his friends. A very believable story.
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