The Best Birthday Ever

Birthday Party - Seven Years Old
Originally uploaded by kristinafh

As a parent, you always hope that your child is filled with great memories of their childhood. I'm sure that my mom, who became a parent at the ripe old age of 17 years and 3 months, had that in mind when she threw me a birthday party in our dinky, 800 square foot home on Cedar Crest Circle.

To the right is the only picture I have of that day. My three best friends from first grade were there (counter clockwise) Ericka Couch, Lisa Smith, and Beth Fruechtenicht. There's a board game sitting in front of us...but I couldn't tell you what it was and without this picture, I wouldn't even have remembered that I had The Flintstones for birthday hats and blowers. I couldn't tell you what was on my cake - if I had one number candle or seven.

What I do remember - as though it was yesterday - is that I was a very happy girl. I don't know if you can see that from my face, but gosh, I was happy.

And why was I happy? Two specific reasons - the guests and the best birthday present that I've ever received in my entire life.

The guests were my three best friends from Indian Village Elementary school and also, members of my family (aunts, uncles, cousins + my mom's cousins and their kids). All of us, squeezed together in that small amount of space sounds claustrophobic, doesn't it?! At the time, it didn't seem anything but fun. I'm sure that my mom, though, was frantic and worried because later on (much later on as an adult), she told me that she ran out of cake and food because so many people showed up that she wasn't expecting.

I probably received a fair number of birthday gifts that year but you know what - that's a blur to me. The only gift that really mattered is what my parents got me.

For the big event, I was shuttled out on to the front porch area (this area wasn't a "porch" per se as much as it was an enclosed part of our house - like a mudroom - with no heat). I was instructed to face the outdoor window and no peeking!!! That window had a view to my neighbors houses across the street - the Wooden's and the Boice's.

I remember the crowd of people who were all standing behind me, waiting for the revelation of the big moment. And then my mom said, You can turn around now.

My smile was the biggest smile you can ever imagine and I squealed with delight. It was everything I ever wanted - a big girl bike. It was a lime green bike...equipped with a white flowered basket, multi-colored plastic streamers hanging out of the handle bars, and a banana seat.

That bike stayed with me for most of my childhood. If it would have had an odometer on it, it would have had thousands of miles racked up on it because as a kid living on Cedar Crest Circle - that's what we did. We rode our bikes. We didn't have to have a destination...we just rode them. Sometimes we rode them by ourselves (in a circle - Cedar Crest, Pinecrest, Cedar Crest) and sometimes we rode in a pack....taking the same route, perhaps stopping at Scott''s Court to play a game of kickball, or sneaking off to play in the forbidden ditch (catching tadpoles), or making our way up Sandhill to play in the area that would later take the life of our friend Delores.

There was a third reason why this was the best birthday ever. It was the last birthday I remember where I wasn't conscious of my father's drinking issues. At my party, I didn't remember that he wasn't there until just before the unveiling of my bike. I didn't remember that he was drunk off his ass and he brought people to my party that I didn't even know.

And why didn't I remember these things? Because my mom made sure that I was distracted so as not to notice. She wanted my birthday to be the kind of birthday that all little girls deserve to have....one filled with lots of happy memories. It worked.

Mommy, it was the best birthday ever and as long as I live, I will never forget how special I felt that day.

1973: Tragedy on Sandhill

Photo from ACPL CONTENTdm also found in the Journal Gazette, Sunday, April 15, 1973, Page 1A

I've shown you this map before. It's a map of my neighborhood and then some of the names of the families that lived in it during the time I was growing up there.

As I've mentioned in another blog entry, the kids in this neighborhood - well we spent the majority of our time outside. Nature was our playground. The ditches - the trees - the fields - and all other undiscovered territories were ours for the taking.

Something that may have been unique to our neighborhood - I'm not sure. Because each family had a ton of kids, the lines that separated who 'played' with whom was quite blurred. So in other words, I may have been in first grade, but it was socially acceptable for me to hang out with the fourth and fifth graders as long as I wasn't the only first grader in the bunch.

And that's because usually the fourth and fifth graders had younger brothers and sisters which they were obliged to entertain/keep an eye on so we were always in close proximity to one another during play time.

Another factor was that in the early 70's, we all went to the same school - Indian Village Elementary. For a period of time, it was K thru 6th grade, and we all rode the same school bus together.

In April 1973, we all had ants in our pants. We wanted Spring to arrive and the weather had been doing its usual Indiana thing. One day, it would be in the 30's and 40's, the next day it would hit the mid 60's. Once though it made it past 45 degrees, the kids in our neighborhood - well let's just say we were pretty famous for dumping our jackets and coats into a pile once out of the view of our parents. We didn't worry - they'd be in that stack before we returned home. Not like anyone was going to steal a jacket!

Friday, April 6 was a beaaaaaaaaaautiful day. I think it hit the mid 60's and when the bus let us off at our stop that afternoon, we were all about the weekend and playtime.

After walking through the door, kissing my mom hello and dropping off school related stuff, I immediately ran to the garage to pull out my light green, banana-seated bike with its tassels on the bars and the basket in the front. Where was I off to? I was meeting up with some of the kids at the corner of Cedar Crest and Pinecrest. We had some new, undiscovered territory to be charting.

There were mountains behind the houses on North Cedar Crest. Well, they looked like mountains to us. And not only were they great for climbing but they were also great for digging purposes. You could hide things in unusual places. You could even pretend to be an explorer, sandblasting a hidden cave, and finding a treasure that would make you really really rich. (Rich enough that you could buy Andy's gas station grocery store and you could eat all of the free candy you wanted.)

Delores Brouse who lived on Pinecrest was dubbed 'cool' for two reasons. First, she lived right next to one of the ditches and as I mentioned before - that automatically elevated your status in the neighborhood. Second, she was the resident expert about the mountains behind North Cedar Crest. Her dad worked for some construction place (later I found out it was Earth Construction and Engineering located on Engle Road) which was back in that same area, moving the piles of dirt around so that new buildings could be up.

So on that Friday, April 6, about a dozen of us kids set out to the "mountains". Our mission? It wasn't clear initially but within the first ten minutes of being up there, someone threw out the idea of building a 'fort'.

Forts are kind of a big deal to kids. We built them in our bedrooms with blankets and comforters hanging over chairs and tables...we used our toys to stack up walls of protection...I think you get the drift.

So on this fort thing - it wasn't an organized - everyone do a job and create one fort. We broke into smaller groups (without thinking about it), and we proceeded to do our own things. It was a ton of fun. The dirt that made up the mountains was pretty different from the dirt in our own backyard. In our backyard, dirt was pretty hard - and clay like. This dirt was more sandy but had enough strength that we could make it pack together.

When I went home that night, my dad was pissed at me. And he even yelled at my mom. I was dirty, but that wasn't the issue. He was angry that I was up in the "Sand Hill" area. He said it was too dangerous and I was not to go up there again. I even got the belt that night.

Some other kids must have gotten in trouble too because attendance (so I heard) at Saturday's festivities, dropped off. I remember riding my bike with Colleen Wooden, around the circle (i.e. Cedar Crest, Pine Crest, Cedar Crest) and wondering if there was any possible way we'd get in trouble if we just sat in the back yard of of one of the kids who had a house that butted up against the mountain area.

But, we were soon distracted and we ended up hanging out with the Beckstedt boys, playing in their ditch (they also owned prime real estate!).

And soon the whole mountain thing passed from my brain because one thing that I did not do was cross my father (on purpose).

A week later, on Saturday, April 14, there was a knock on our door. A policeman and two neighbors came into our house and I don't think that I've ever been so scared in my life. All I could think of was that I was under arrest (but for what - I wasn't sure). It was cartoon day - that really messes with your brain when someone like a policeman is standing in front of Scooby Doo.

They went in another room with my parents. I couldn't quite make out what was said. But then, I was called in.

insert dramatic music.

My mom, who looked as white as a ghost, called me over.

Kris. You aren't in any trouble. The police are going from house to house in the neighborhood to talk to the kids who played with Delores Brouse up on Sandhill over the past couple of weeks.

I think all of the blood drained out of my body.

They have some questions - can you just answer them. You aren't in trouble. It's important you tell them everything you know and don't worry about being in trouble with me and dad.

Well gee - I better not get in trouble because I had not been back to the mountains since the belt!

So the policeman asked me questions like - what did we do when we were up there? We were building forts. And did I know the location of the forts? Yes, they were up in the mountains. Sorry, I just thought that was funny...adults can be so confusing to kids. He specifically wanted to know - did I know which fort Delores had been working on and where it was located on the mountains?

I did and I drew them my own version of the map. Delores and her 'team' had the more elaborate fort. I think that is because they were "older" and had more experience at this fort building thing.

After my map, my dad and I and the policeman and one of the neighbor men, rode over to the moutain area. There were fire trucks and bulldozers and lots of other things that I'd never seen before. Neighbors, kids, policeman, fireman, other folks were there - tons of people.

It seems that we were all confirming (the kids involved), where the fort was. And why did anyone care? I guess that Delores was missing.

Missing? The first thing I said was, maybe she went home to go to the bathroom. That just tells you how naive I was.

My dad took me home and my Saturday went on, pretty much as normal but me and my sister were not allowed to go outside. My mother thought that it was too chaotic.

Later that day (around supper time), the Davis's (they lived next door to the Brouse's), came over and told us that Delores had been found. She was dead. She had been up on the mountains, playing with two other kids and because the dirt was so sandy, it had collapsed and she had fallen into an area that was hollowed out from fort building. Dirt covered her and she suffocated. She could not get out. They say she had tried, but she couldn't gain enough traction.

Delores Irene Brouse was 12 years old and in fifth grade at Indian Village Elementary School.

It was the first major death in my life that I ever had to deal with. For several nights, I would wake-up, trying to catch my breath because I was dreaming that I was suffocating.

When I went back to Fort Wayne in May, I went by the area - the first time ever - and thought back through the events of April 1973. The area is well developed with tons of roads and established businesses. It wasn't difficult though, for me to look down at the houses on North Cedar Crest and then to quickly visualize where our mountains were and where specifically the forts were built.

I was sad, of course, but then, I thought about how thankful I was that my dad did what he did. Not that I advocate the use of a belt :) but he got his point across to me. And literally, it probably saved my life.