Open Writing

November 5 1959. I’m eleven now and have been for three weeks or so, give or take a day. Its cracker night tonight, and dad isn’t home yet and I don’t have any crackers. It’s getting dark and they’ll be lighting the Scouts’ bonfire soon. I can hear some crackers going off already. And dogs. Listen to the dogs!

I suppose dad isn’t going make it home in time now and I figure he had to work late. I might as well head off to bed. I am just getting in, when – hey! That’s dad’s car pulling into the drive. Quickly I get out of bed and dress again. I meet him coming in the front door. “The crackers” I exclaim, looking at the bag of crackers he has. Quickly! I run down to the bonfire. Look at the crowd. Mums and dads, other kids, Alan, Ken and George.

The fire’s just getting going. I’m not too late. Look! There’s a sky rocket in a bottle. Oops! It’s fallen over! Whoosh! It’s off, straight at the crowd, but it didn’t get anybody, because they parted like a hairdo. Sky rockets don’t go very well along the ground but it was fun to watch anyway. Here’s another sky rocket but the stick’s broken and fixed with a bent stick from a little tree. There are spinning-wheels, jumping-jacks, watch them! and Roman candles. Lights, colours, sounds and the skyrockets high in the air! But the bent stick skyrocket went everywhere except the sky. Listen to the noise, and the dogs.
The fire is really crackling now. Hot, can’t get too close. Guy Faux is about to go. There he goes with a shower of sparks swirling up after the skyrockets. I’m wondering about the tunnels that George and I made in the pile during the week. George was spiked by some Palm leaves and had to go to the doctor.
It’s not so noisy now, just the occasional cracker going off, but still, listen to the dogs. I’m out of crackers now, so I’ll go home. There’ll be heaps to find in the morning, if I’m early enough. Dad will wake me in the morning.
“OK dad I’m awake” With a bag and a box matches, I head down to the smouldering bonfire. Look, there are live crackers dropped everywhere. Hey! A penny banger, but the wick s damp. It lights and fizzles slowly along, then a half inch to go- FIZZ! Quick throw, hand back- BANG! That hurt. Tom thumbs don’t do that. And listen to the dogs again. The bag’s nearly full, so I have to get home to show dad the crackers I’ve found, before he goes to work.
I’m in the front door but something is wrong. Dad is pacing the house. The pain! He is holding his chest. I showed dad my bag of crackers. “Yes” he says, with a little smile.
I didn’t know what to do then, but I do now. Don’t pace! Don’t pace! Lay down! Rest! Dad finally did lie on his bed, and mom rubbed his back. Georges’ dad called the doctor but none could come.
Dad didn’t make it. Mom, hysterical and traumatised was sedated. I was taken next door to be with George. I later saw dad on the stretcher being passed through the bedroom window because the stretcher was too long to be carried through the house.
I can’t hear the dogs any more.