Memories ~
From Falls Church to Kilmarnock
© 2007 Abilini's Computer Services
Ice Hockey (1967 or 68)
Our neighbor’s, Boo (I don’t know how he got that nickname, his first
name was James) and Emily, have four kids, two girls and two boys; Billy (my
age) and Bobby (a year younger), we did everything together – once our chores
were done for the day.
One bitter cold day, in January, the creek was completely frozen over, and had
been for at least a week. Billy and I thought that we might be able to walk or
play on the ice. But, before actually attempting to walk on it, we first had to
see how thick it was. We threw rocks, lead sinkers, bricks and cinderblocks
onto the ice, to try and break it. Nothing we tried worked, so, I borrowed one
of dad’s old bowling balls. We were very clever. We tied a piece of heavy
string to the ball and rolled it out onto the ice. It didn’t roll very far,
because of the string, but we kept trying. Then one of us, I still think it was
Billy, came up with a better idea; we will tie a rope around Bobby’s waist and
let him walk out onto the ice. If, he breaks through, then we can pull him out
and we will know for sure that it isn’t thick enough. We tied him off, and he
started walking out, but before he got very far, dad grabbed the rope and said,
“What are you trying to do, kill him?” We said, “No, we are trying to see how
thick the ice is”. At that point, dad said, “Give me the bowling ball”, so we
did. Dad took the rope off the ball and threw the ball as high as he could. The
ball hit the ice and bounced, then, it rolled almost, to the center of the
creek. Billy and I looked at each other, and we both said, at about the same
time, “I’ll get it, and we ran out onto the ice”. We got to the bowling ball and
rolled it back towards dad.
Dad picked it up, and then got on the ice, himself. He walked gingerly,
listening carefully, for any sounds of cracking. He walked all the way out to
us, and then we heard a loud bang. Not the ice cracking, but Billy and Bobby’s
dad, Boo, fired a shotgun into the ice¸ near his house. He measured the hole,
so we thought, and then went back into his crab shed. About 10 minutes later he
came out and threw something onto the ice, towards us. Billy and I ran over to
see what it was; it was a hockey puck! We didn’t have any ice skates or hockey
sticks, but for several hours, we had fun on the ice. We never did hear any
cracking sounds, so we figured we were all right.
About, 3 pm, that same day we watched as Boo pushed a 1965 VW Bug, out onto the
ice. We thought he was trying to see how thick it was, so we went over toward
him. He told us to stop, so we did. He got into the car, started it up and drove
around on the ice, sliding all over the place. He told us later, that the ice
was more than 12 inches thick. He hadn’t just fired a shotgun blast into the
ice; he had fired a shotgun slug. The hole the slug made was 12 inches deep, and
it didn’t go all the way through the ice.
The creek was frozen solid for another week, and everyone, from our families,
moms and dads included, played ice hockey with us on the creek.