by Philip Roy
We will come down to the lake to watch it fly. Some people say it won’t fly, but I know that it will. I wish that Helen Keller could see it fly, too. I still find it hard to read and write, but I will never give up. I wrote this letter out seven times. My father helped me. It is cold here now and the fields are all covered with snow. Thank you again for writing to me and sending me such a wonderful book. It is my favourite thing.
Yours truly,
Eddie MacDonald
My writing wasn’t smooth and flowing like my father’s writing. It wasn’t tall and straight like Helen Keller’s writing. It was somewhere in between. Part of me couldn’t believe that I had written it at all. But I had. I brought it downstairs and handed it to my father.
“Thank you,” he said. And that was all that he said.
For Christmas dinner we had turkey, potatoes, dumplings, carrots, turnip, beets, radishes, peas, stuffing, cranberry sauce, bread and gravy. For dessert we had apple and mincemeat and sugar pies. I ate until my belly was full, and then I ate until it was sore. I crawled upstairs, fell on my bed and listened to the snow tapping on the window like grasshoppers. The words of my letter drifted through my head. I could see each word clearly. I had memorized them all without even trying to because I had worked so hard on them. It really was like memorizing the shape of every leaf on a tree. But it was just one little tree. There was a whole gigantic forest around it.
Chapter 21
Now it was January 1909. Everyone was saying that the world was going to change so much we wouldn’t even recognize it anymore. It seemed to me they said that every year. But now, automobiles were going to be everywhere because the Ford Motor Company was making one that everybody could afford. It was called the Model T. There would be so many of them on the roads we wouldn’t even need horses anymore. I found that kind of hard to believe. Where would all the horses go? When I asked my father if we could afford a Model T automobile, he just laughed. “Don’t believe everything you read in the newspapers,” he said.
Well, I never read it; I just heard it.
In school, everything was pretty much the same. We started learning fractions in math. Some of the older students knew them already, but most of us were learning them for the first time. While Miss Lawrence explained what a fraction was, I stared at the pictures in the book, because that was the easiest way for me to learn. One picture showed a pie cut in six pieces. Another picture showed two pieces of the pie, and beside it was the fraction 2/6. Another picture showed four pieces, and the fraction 4/6. That looked pretty simple. If you added the two pieces to the four pieces, you got six pieces, which was the whole pie. In fractions, that meant: 2/6 + 4/6 = 6/6, and that seemed pretty clear to me. And that’s all that fractions were.
It got more complicated a few days later when we had to add fractions that had different bottom numbers, like 2/6 + 3/7. I struggled with that for a while, but eventually I got it. And I was the first one who did. Then we learned how to multiply fractions. I found that even easier. For me, math was like a puzzle that you had to figure out, like Zeno’s paradox. It was almost a kind of game. And it had rules that stayed the same and weren’t full of exceptions. It made sense to me.
But it didn’t make a lot of sense to some of my friends. And it didn’t make any sense at all to Jimmy Chisholm. I saw him wrestling with it in his head, and his eyes went up and down a lot, and his face got redder and redder, and he started to puff out his cheeks as if he was going to blow up. I saw him write the numbers down in his scribbler then erase them. He wrote them again then erased them again. Then he stared out the window and looked like he wished he was somewhere else. Boy, I knew that feeling. Finally Miss Lawrence told me to go and sit beside Jimmy and help him with his fractions. So I did.
After math, we had reading. I went from helping somebody else and feeling smart to not even participating. Miss Lawrence always left me alone to do my own work now. I could use my left hand if I wanted to, and I could look at whatever I wanted. She didn’t care. And now that she wasn’t reading about ancient Greece anymore but something really boring, I stopped paying attention when she was reading out loud.
But I was learning to read and write something, sort of. Every day, I opened up Zeno’s Paradox and read the first few sentences. “Zeno was a philosopher in ancient Greece….” I wasn’t actually reading though, I was just learning the words and memorizing them. I would say them in my head over and over and write them down. And every day I added at least one more sentence. At least I felt I was doing something like the other students. And I was learning, even though it was terribly, terribly slow. Maybe it would always be that slow, I didn’t know. But I wouldn’t stop. Helen Keller would always be blind and deaf, and that wouldn’t stop her. So why should I stop? I wouldn’t.
—
I knew that Mr. Bell was coming back in the winter. And Douglas McCurdy was bringing his flying machine and was planning to fly it over the lake. The flying machine was called the Silver Dart. Mr. Bell had already invited me to come and watch. And I wouldn’t miss that for the world. But January passed and no one came. What a long month it was! Day after day, I waited for news of their return, but they never came. And every day in school I studied fractions and memorized the little book until I could read the whole first chapter from memory. And every day I stared out the window and wondered when the Silver Dart would come to Baddeck. It was starting to feel like it never would.
Then one morning near the end of February, in the dead of winter, when everything was frozen and it was even too cold to snow, Miss Lawrence told us that we were going to have a special visitor. I thought, “Rats, the Inspector is coming again?” He wasn’t supposed to come so soon. Sure enough, in the middle of the morning, there was a knock on the door. Miss Lawrence’s face turned beet red. She started fixing her hair, straightening her dress and she raised her finger to her mouth to signal for us to be silent. And we were. She went to the door, opened it and in stepped Mr. Bell.
His face looked redder and his hair whiter than last I had seen him. He also looked taller and rounder. He took off his cap, nodded to Miss Lawrence and shook her hand. Standing next to him, Miss Lawrence looked really small.
“Class,” said Miss Lawrence. She was a little nervous. “We have a very special visitor today. This is Mr. Alexander Graham Bell.”
Mr. Bell took out a handkerchief, blew his nose and said, “Good morning, class!”
Nobody said anything. Everyone just stared until Miss Lawrence said, “Class?”
“Good morning, Mr. Bell.”
“I think I have a friend in this class,” said Mr. Bell, and he stared over the heads of the students until he saw me. He winked at me. “Yes, there he is. Eddie! Come up and say hello.”
I climbed out of my seat with my book and went to the front of the class. Mr. Bell held out his hand. “Hello, my dear friend. I see you’ve got the book I sent you.”
“Yes, Sir.” I shook Mr. Bell’s hand. He patted my shoulder with his other hand. I knew my friends were staring at me, but I didn’t look at them.
“How is the reading and writing coming along? You certainly sent me a good letter. Have you been reading this book?”
I took a deep breath. “Yes, Sir. It hasn’t been going too badly. But it’s a lot of work.”
He smiled and nodded. “Yes, yes, of course it is. But you’re doing it.”
“Yes, Sir. I memorized the first chapter.”
Mr. Bell raised his eyebrows and stood up straighter. He was really surprised. “You did?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Well, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I sure would like to hear that. Will you read it to us, Eddie?”
I looked at Miss Lawrence. Her face was still red. She smiled awkwardly and nodded her head.
“Okay.” And so I did. The first chapter was only four pages, so it didn’t take too long. Since I knew it by
memory, I didn’t have to look at the words. But I did anyway, so that it looked like I was reading. Maybe you could say that I was reading, in a way. But if everyone worked this hard to read, it really would take a couple of years to get through a whole book. I guess my brother was right about that.
When I finished, Mr. Bell clapped. Then everyone else clapped. Miss Lawrence clapped too, though she had a confused look on her face. She looked surprised that I had read so well, but maybe a little angry because she probably thought I had been pretending I couldn’t read. I would try to explain it to her later.
“That was marvellous, my boy! Marvellous!” Mr. Bell looked at the class. “Wasn’t that splendid?”
Everyone clapped again. Then Mr. Bell said that they would be flying the Silver Dart on the lake next Tuesday, and he invited everyone to come down and watch. He thanked Miss Lawrence for the welcome, said goodbye to the class, patted me on the back, winked and went out. I went back to my seat. I felt about ten feet tall.
Chapter 22
Everyone in Baddeck was planning to go down to the lake, step out on the ice and watch, even though many people didn’t believe the Silver Dart would really fly. Miss Lawrence cancelled school for the day so that all the kids could go. I was so excited. I was especially happy that my father would finally meet Mr. Bell. He joked that he was the only man in Baddeck who hadn’t met Mr. Bell yet. He had seen him from a distance several times but had never actually met him up close or shaken hands with him. One way or another something had always come up that prevented him from having the opportunity. Well, not this time.
The Silver Dart was supposed to fly in the afternoon, but people already started gathering on the ice in the late morning. My father went out to the woods early to cut some trees. He said he’d be back by lunchtime and we could all go down to the lake together then. He said that ought to be plenty of time. My father liked to be early but didn’t want to stand around all day waiting to see something that might not even happen. Even though he believed Mr. Bell was the smartest man in the world, he said he would have to see a machine carry a man into the air before he would truly believe it. My father remembered when the gigantic kite had smashed. He never saw the flight but went down to the lake the next day and saw the pieces wash up on shore. A lot of people thought that Mr. Bell was trying to do the impossible.
My mother spent the morning making a picnic that we could eat on the ice. We got our warmest clothes out and put blankets and furs in the small sled. We would walk down through the snow and pull the sled behind us. My brother and sister and I would bring our skates.
But by lunchtime, my father hadn’t returned. We waited and waited, until my mother got impatient. “Oh, well, isn’t that just like your father – he complains he hasn’t met Mr. Bell, and then he doesn’t show up when he has the chance. Oh, that man!”
We waited a little longer. We were all dressed now and sitting in the kitchen, sweating. Everyone was quiet, and you could hear the clock tick as if there was no one in the house.
“Okay, that’s enough!” said my mother. “Let’s go. Your father can catch up when he gets back. If we don’t go now, we’ll miss the whole thing.” It surprised me to see my mother so excited.
So we went outside and started down the hill. My brother and I pulled the sled, and my mother and sister walked in front. I kept looking back to see if my father was coming, but he wasn’t. When we got to the bottom of the first hill, a light wind on the top of the hill blew dry snow across the field, and you couldn’t see the house anymore. It bothered me that my father was not with us. I felt like we were abandoning him. As much as I wanted to get to the ice and see all the excitement, I didn’t want to go without him. So I stopped.
“I’m going to go back and look for Dad,” I said.
My mother stopped and turned around. “He might not come. You know your father.”
“I know, but he’s probably just on his way. And then we can catch up with you.”
My mother looked at me sternly. “Eddie. You will miss the first flight of a flying machine in the whole British Empire.”
I knew then that my mother really believed it was going to happen. This was a difference between my mother and father – my father had to see something to believe it. My mother didn’t.
“We won’t miss it,” I said. “We’ll catch up.” And I really believed that.
“Emily. Help Joey pull the sled,” said my mother.
I started back. “I’ll follow the horses’ tracks into the woods,” I said. “We won’t miss it.”
My mother frowned, turned around and kept going. My brother and sister followed her. I went up the hill as quickly as I could. Now I was worried we were going to miss the flight.
The horses’ tracks were easy to see. The sky was clear and the shadows in the snow were bright blue. The tracks of the sled made two blue lines that disappeared into the woods. I was glad the snow was crunchy and held my weight. If I were sinking with every step, it would have taken forever to get through the woods, and I would have been exhausted.
As I approached the woods, I saw the stones we had cleared from the unplowed field. They sat like soldiers guarding the entrance to the woods. Their tops were covered with snow. As I passed them, I expected to see my father coming toward me, pulling the horses and the wood sled. But I didn’t. I knew he wouldn’t have forgotten about the Silver Dart, but maybe he had lost track of time. After a while, I thought I might hear the sound of his axe cutting into a tree, but the woods were perfectly quiet. The only sounds I heard were the crunch of my boots and my breath.
I was surprised how far my father had gone into the woods. Now I was really worried we were going to miss the flight. I stopped again, held my breath and listened for the sound of his axe. But there was nothing but silence. That was strange; he couldn’t have gone that far. And then, in a little gully, I saw the horses. They were harnessed to the sled and standing still. But there was no wood on the sled and no sign of my father. Where was he?
“Dad? Dad?” My voice echoed through the woods. Then I thought I heard a muffled voice. It sounded like it was coming from behind a tree that was lying on the ground. I went closer to the tree and saw my father’s boots sticking out. He was under the tree!
I raced to the other side of the tree. My father was down in the snow, and the tree was on top of him. “Dad! Are you hurt?”
My father turned his head slowly and looked at me. He spoke, but his voice was weak with shivering. “Eddie. God bless you, my son. I’m stuck. The tree fell the wrong way. I was in too much of a hurry. I didn’t cut it right. I was trying to get to the lake….” He winced with pain. I came and knelt beside him. “Dad, are you going to be all right? Can I dig you out?”
“I think I’ll be all right. My chest and legs are sore. I’m just pinned. And I’m cold. I think maybe my arm’s broke. The tree hit me and knocked me down. But it’s not resting on me, thank God, it’s resting on that log there.” He pointed with his head. “If it slips off that log…. Heaven forbid.”
“What should I do? Should I go get help?”
My father grinned, then winced with pain. “Everybody’s gone down to the lake. And that’s too far, Eddie. I’d freeze to death by the time you got back.”
“Can’t I dig you out?”
“No, it’s all rocky ground underneath me. And it’s frozen. You can’t dig it.”
“Can I cut the tree?”
“My son, it would take you all day to cut through this tree. And the cutting would probably shake it off that log, and that would finish me.”
“Dad, what should we do? Tell me what to do.” I was really worried now.
“Do you know if McLeary went to the lake, too?”
“I don’t know.”
“He could help, I think. He’s an awfully strong man.”
As I stared at my father trapped under the tree, I tried to th
ink of the smartest thing to do. I took off my jacket and hat.
“What are you doing, Eddie? Put your hat back on. Put your jacket on.”
I reached down and pulled my hat onto my father’s head. “You need it more than me, Dad.” Then I wrapped my jacket around his shoulders and tied the arms in front of his neck to keep his face warm.
“Eddie?”
“I’m going to run home and down to Mr. McLeary as fast as I can. I’ll be right back, Dad. I’ll get help.”
“Eddie?”
“Just wait, Dad. I’m going as fast as I can.”
My father just dropped his head and nodded. I took off as fast as I could through the snow. I followed the horses’ tracks back to the farm. The horses would not have been any faster through the woods with all the snow. It was hard running in the snow, and I was out of breath, but I wasn’t cold. I didn’t bother going into the house because there was nobody there. I kept going right down the hill toward the McLeary farm. I just hoped and prayed that Mr. McLeary was home.
There was no one at the house, so I ran into the barn. “Mr. McLeary? Mr. McLeary?” There was no answer. I got such a sinking feeling then. My father was trapped in the woods, and I was all alone. Everyone was down at the lake, but if I went all the way down there and back, my father would freeze to death. I had to rescue him by myself now. But how? The only thing I could think of was to lift the tree off of him. At least that was something I knew how to do.
I raced into the room where Mr. McLeary kept his rope and pulleys. I pulled them down onto the floor and ran out and searched for a sled. I found one leaning against the outside of the barn. I grabbed the rope and pulleys and threw them onto the sled. Then I pulled the sled up the hill. It was a lot easier than carrying them. Back at our house, I ran in and grabbed my father’s heavy winter coat that he wore to church, then grabbed the rope, pulleys and chains from our barn, threw them onto the sled and headed back into the woods. It was the middle of the afternoon now, but you could already feel the twilight coming. I knew that the flight had taken place already or was taking place right now. But I didn’t care.