The Brick (A Short Story Out of Minnesota, 1952) Reedited 3-2009

(Kiddy-Corner, Farm, 1952)call in a bulldozer to level the land out, and then
I was only five-years old back then, when thisgot one of those big tractors with a scoop on it
occurrence took place: the 'brick,' the situationto dig out a big hole, which she did in both cases,
that led to the brick, this is what the story isshaping the pool to look like one of those old
about, a simple medium sized brick, used forcast-iron bathtubs.
cobblestone streets, or building houses or buildings.The water must have been several feet deep at
My brother Mike was seven years old, and wethe deepest end, when it was filled up to the rim
were living at that time, at a boarding farm calledall along its sides that is. From the most shallow
Kiddy-Corner in North St. Paul, Minnesota (duringend it was but a few feet deep, and as you
the weekdays, we'd stay over night, until theswam inward a gradation appeared, making it
weekends came when my mother would pick usdeeper as you went from north to south it would
up after work (she worked at, Swifts Meateventually go over my head at the other
Packing Plant in South St. Paul) and take us to herend-way over my head by a couple of feet. As a
small apartment on Iglehart Avenue, over on theresult the gradual increasing steepness became a
Cathedral side of town).challenge to all of us small kids wanting to swim
The antagonist in this story is really unknown, butfrom one side to the other, or one end to the
I will share with you the story, and perhaps weother.
can narrow it down to a few names, if not one.Well, during this process of building the pool,
Steve, the owner's son Janet Riddle's boy, wasdigging the hole, bringing in materials, and so forth
about eight or nine years old at the time, had aand on, I really couldn't do much, or for that
sister named Jill, she was ten or eleven years old.matter, remember doing much, but I helping to
Jill used to come into my bedroom: about dusk, Icarry a brick or two, at a time: laying them down
was on the top bunk in the far back room of theon the extending tiles.
large house, so she had a hard time reaching me,Let me explain: after the hole was dug, they put
but she did: poking that needle or pin into me, shesome kind of rocks in it, and other things, and
was my anatomist, we all seem to get one orthen tar if I recall right: then put more tar over
two in our life times, if not more.the tiles: roof tiles, or so I remember them to
On occasion, her mother told her to stop, and sobe-scratchy roof tiles at that and around the top
when she did stop, she used psychology 101 onrim where the tile extended bricks to hold it
me, she'd come in with the needle, wake me up,down.
and say she was going to stick me, but didn't,The pool was perhaps fifteen feet wide, eight
building up a fear factor I do believe, until that gotfeet deep, and thirty feet long. Under the tiles
remedied.was that black tar again-that I mentioned, and I'd
Jill's mother, Janet who owned the foster farm, aput a brick on the tiles sticking out like weeds,
stern and strong, if not bold woman, had to dealthat seemed to bend around the dirt, and tar
with a jealous daughter, to say it kindly, and Iunder it, the tiles that stuck up that is. At any
suppose it was not much different than manyrate, the brick would hold it down, so it would not
children, seeking her mother's attention.get ripped, or torn apart, and one rip led of
It would seem we stayed at the farm so much,course to another, and bigger ones, and then
Janet almost accepted us as family, whichyou'd have to find where the hole was and tar it
eventually resulted into being our home, hence, soback up again, and so forth and so on: so it could
it would have appeared to an onlooker, let's saybecome significant, should you not use preventive
Jill.measures.
During those days, months and years, at theWell, during the building process, Mike, Jill, and
foster-farm we'd help build a big swimming pool inSteve were up their playing around by the pool,
the back of the farm house; Janet ownedtrying to help, and so were the other kids: a few
perhaps four acres of land behind and around theof the workers, likewise, and myself. When I
house, and was forever fighting with thelooked up this one early afternoon, when I looked
authorities over the right to have us children stayup to see what the disturbance was, I saw
overnight. I never knew quite, what the problemeveryone was staring-and Janet saying:
was about, and she never said, it was just a"Who did it, who threw the brick?"
thorn in her side from the county it seemed.Tears came from my eyes; I saw my brother
But as I was about to get into, Janet decided todrop to his knees, his hands over his eyes and
make a swimming pool in the backyard, way backthen his head: blood coming from his scalp. No one
in her acreage, by what I called 'the fence,' wheresaid a word (I'm not sure I knew what to do but
the cow meadow started, adjacent to hercry, helpless I felt), but the memory would stick
property.into my mind, as well as Mike's I'm sure.
In those far-off days it was not easy to build aWell, we all survived that awful day, but it was a
pool, you just didn't call up the pool man whensad few days after that.
and if you decided to have one built. But you did