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97. Bathtime Fun

Written on January 30, 2009

My brother and I had so many adventures as lil ones in the bathtub. It would generally involve us beating the shit out of each other, with the occasonial floater emerging. My story for the day comes all the way from the state of Tennessee, my father had been transfered there and our little Canadian family was thrust into the d-d-durty south. The year was probably 1990, and very well could have been my earliest memory. When a Boston Bruins (dad’s fave team) game was on my dad would often put us in the tub and then watch the game from across the hall. To appropriately describe this story a good background knowledge on how my dad watches hockey is necessary. My dad has unconscious quirks, the most obvious of which is whenever a defender blasts a shot from the blueline, he screams “boom!” The is amplified when the Bruins are on the powerplay and actually becomes an non-sensical grunt of satisfaction. Anyway, the Bruins were playing this night and so my brother (who was like 20 months old) and I (a snot-nosed 3 year old) were left to frolic in the waters of our upstairs bathroom alone. My brother in a fit of excitement smashed his head on the faucet and really hurt himself, he was bleeding and visibly confused and disoriented. I grabbed him to see if he was alright and he clearly wasn’t, he wasn’t responding, wasn’t crying, just sinking lower and lower into the water. I screamed for my dad, “Dad, Ben hurt himself pretty bad!” To which he replied, “just a second.” I tried my best to hold him above the water, but my efforts were proving futile. I yelled again, “Dad, he’s bleedng everywhere, I’m struggling to hold his head up, he’s sinking! he’s sinking!” My dad then responded with a phrase that well forever live in Walker family infamy, “Quiet! The Bruins are on the powerplay… BOOM!” If Bourque hadn’t netted one at that moment, my brother very well could have drowned. My dad, as soon as he realized what was going on, obviously was very concerned and addressed the situation. But seriously, Bourque doesn’t score… brother is dead.

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