In 1966 I was a senior at
South Tahoe High School (now the Middle School). One of my classes was Ecology and was team taught by
Mr. Harold Mapes and Mr. Al Hildinger.
Mr. Hildinger also taught a lapidary class during the evening adult education
program.
Our ecology class was taught
in the biology classroom of the science wing of our school. At the time, the school was laid out like a
giant letter “E” with the science wing at the top “arm” of the “E”. The administrative offices and library were
located along the main corridor representing the upright line of the “E” with
other classrooms off the other arms of the “E” shape. The science wing had five classrooms with the
biology/ecology classroom at the beginning of the hallway followed by the
chemistry classroom, two more classrooms, and at the end of the hall was the
physics room.
On one particular spring day
near the end of term with graduation rapidly approaching, Mr. Hildinger was
teaching our ecology class, as previously indicated, in the biology room. He was teaching the adult lapidary class in
that same room later in the evening and wanted to have his rock-saw moved from
the physics classroom at the end of the hall to the biology room and asked for
a volunteer to go get it for him. No one
volunteered. After waiting a few
seconds, he told me, “Please go get it.”
I said, “I don't want to. I'll
probably break it.” (I was not having a good day.) Handing me the key to the room, he said,
“Just go get it.” I left the room to do
so.
Upon arriving at the physics
room, I used the key to gain entry and immediately saw the rock-saw several
feet in front of me. It was basically an
electric motor looking to weigh in at about 30 pounds, attached to a mechanism
to hold a rock sample while a diamond tipped circular-saw blade would spin
while slowly moving forward and slicing its way through a rock sample. The result would be a thin slice of rock to
be turned into jewelry or other item of display.
The rock-saw was sitting in a
large 5 inch deep tray located on the top of a metal cart about 5 feet tall, 20
inches wide, and 3 to 3 ½ feet long. The
cart was supported by 4 spindly metal legs on small wheels with two metal
platforms located at the bottom and middle of the cart’s legs to provide
stability for the legs and thus the cart itself. Along with the rock-saw in the 5 inch deep
tray at the top of the cart was approximately 3 gallons of kerosene used to
cool the saw blade and lubricate the rock sample while it was being cut.
The whole contraption was
heavy and did not want to roll very well so I had to push hard to get it
moving. Fortunately, the cart was
aligned with its long axis towards the door so I was able to push and pull it
out the door into the hallway after draping the power cord up along the
rock-saw. It was not easy to get it out
the door because the wheels would not pivot.
I locked the room and prepared to complete the task.
Since I could not get the
wheels to pivot, I decided to push the rectangular cart sideways down the
hall. I began by placing my hands on the
top tray and gently pushing. Nothing
happened. I pushed harder. Still no movement. I pushed even harder. Finally, the cart began to move towards the
biology room some little distance away.
I passed one classroom. I passed the
second classroom. I was nearly at the
chemistry room door when Murphy's Law teamed up with the laws of physics and
gravity.
As I neared the chemistry room
door, I failed to notice that the power cord had fallen off the rock-saw down
to the floor. It landed in front of one
of the little wheels. When the wheel
made contact with the power cord it stopped turning and the leg it was attached
to stopped moving forward causing all the legs to stop moving forward. However, I was still pushing on the top of
the cart which did not stop moving forward.
By the time I noticed, the top of the cart was leaning away from me not
very far but beyond the center of gravity and inertia was in control. I could not hold it and pull it back to
upright.
Time slowed down as I watched
in horror as the momentum kept the rock-saw and cart top moving to the
inevitable conclusion. In less than
three heart beats it hit the floor with a resounding BANG
which echoed down the halls, around the corner, and alerted most of the
administrative personnel, librarians, and all the classes in the science wing
that the chemistry lab had exploded.
Instantly, it seemed, all the students in the science wing classrooms
began to empty out into the hall and I was caught like a deer in
headlights. As bad as this was, 3
gallons of kerosene were now flowing down the hall towards the chemistry
room. The floor having been depressed by
many years of students walking into the room, the kerosene made a 90-degree
right turn and began to flow into the chemistry room. I could envision a real explosion if kerosene
fumes reached a Bunsen burner.
When the mess was finally
cleaned up and I helped Mr. Hildinger lift the cart upright and moved it into
the biology room, he determined that the rock-saw was okay but the diamond saw
blade had been warped by the force of the fall.
It cost him $100 to replace but he never asked me to help out. This was my own personal experience with an Alexander's
Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day!
© 21 October 2014
About
the Author
I was born in June of 1948 in Los Angeles, living first in Lawndale
and then in Redondo Beach. Just prior to
turning 8 years old in 1956, I was sent to live with my grandparents on their
farm in Isanti County, Minnesota for two years during which time my parents
divorced.
When united with my mother and stepfather two years later
in 1958, I lived first at Emerald Bay and then at South Lake Tahoe, California,
graduating from South Tahoe High School in 1966. After three tours of duty with the Air Force,
I moved to Denver, Colorado where I lived with my wife and four children until
her passing away from complications of breast cancer four days after the 9-11-2001
terrorist attack.
I came out as a gay man in the summer of 2010. I find writing these memories to be
therapeutic.
My story blog is, TheTahoeBoy.Blogspot.com.
