Secrets Between Siblings - The Broken Ashtray

Sibling Conspiracy

I have three brothers. One brother is fifteen months younger than me, the other two are identical twins born three years after me. I'm hazarding a guess that same as with any other siblings, we have secrets that only the four of us know. But I'm going to step from behind the veil and share with you one of our secrets that we've kept from everyone else but us. It's been close to fifty years since it occurred so we no longer have any punishment to fear. In fact, I think when I share this story with my brothers, we'll all have a hearty laugh. However, for our Mother, who is turning eighty-two next month, it will be coming clean after all these years, letting her know she wasn't the guilty party in this caper like she thought she was.

The Deed - Breaking the Ashtray

Thank gads we only broke an ashtray instead of one of Mom's prized hurricane lamps. But still, breaking that ashtray was a catastrophe. Our Mom was going to skin us alive when she found out.... or IF she found out. This ashtray was one of two special ashtrays that sat on the coffee tables at either end of our couch. They were very pretty hues of rust, yellow and orange and truly kind of large sized rectangles with five or six cigarette tracks on them. I'm not really sure if they were supposed to be for a convention of smokers or why they were so large and were made to accommodate so many smoldering cigarettes. But what mattered most was that they were our Mother's pride and joy -- those ashtrays and her hurricane lamps. Any time we were horsing around in the house pushing and shoving and running, we got lectured about what would happen to us if we broke those ashtrays or those lamps.

We were running through the house having great fun at tag. Our kitchen and living room adjoined one another and had doorways that connected them together at each end. That gave us kids the opportunity to run a loop through the two rooms as though we were Dale Earnhardts on a NASCAR speedway track. But.... only if Mother wasn't home. And that day, she wasn't home.

So, here we were running the loop, pushing and shoving to twist and turn to run the opposite direction when "IT" was trying to get the other three of us. I don't truly remember which of us was "IT" that day. I just know that when we turned to run and slammed into the corner of the coffee table and sent that ashtray flying off, we all sucked the air out of the room as we held our breath watching it fly. It hit the floor, did a few hops, and landed perfectly on the floor. We all let out our breaths thinking how close we had been to a butt whooping of all time. And then it happened. It just fell in half. We were shocked.

We ran up to it and looked down at it sitting there in two perfect pieces. It cracked at a weird diagonal. No chips, no missing chunks. Just a perfect break.

The Cover Up - Destroying Evidence of Our Crime

Brother Thomas immediately had the idea to glue it back together. Him and the twins helped my Dad often in the garage on woodworking projects. They used wood working glue to put pieces together. Thomas was confident this was our solution. I was all for it, since I was the oldest and in charge, I was certain my punishment would be the most severe for this ashtray fiasco.

Perfectly applying a neat bead of glue, Thomas pressed the two pieces together and held them. He said it needed time to stick and we couldn't clamp it like a regular wood project. So, he sat on the couch next to the coffee table and held it together while the other three of us just stood and stared. Somehow, I guess our stares were supposed to make the glue set faster.

After a bit, Thomas was satisfied it was going to hold. He instructed us to get a damp rag. This was so he could wipe off the surplus glue on top and bottom of the crack. Once he had it clean, he carefully placed the ashtray back on its doily on the coffee table. It looked perfect. You couldn't even tell it had ever cracked. We were home free.

Now that our crime was covered up, we decided to do something more docile than running through the house. We turned on the television to see if we could get a good signal for any shows. When Mom came home, we looked like innocent Cherubs although we felt more like cats that had eaten her canary.

Sibling Conspiracy - The Convenient Scapegoat

For weeks after, the ashtray sat innocently on the coffee table with our Mother never catching on to our crime. We got quite comfortable that we would never get caught.

Then something happened. Mom was vacuuming and got the cord hung. She pulled so hard she yanked the vacuum backward and hit the coffee table. It sent the ashtray flying to the floor. It cracked smack in half exactly where it had before. We kids froze. We just knew we were outed. Then we heard Mom's words.

"Damn it! I can't believe I broke my ashtray. I just knew you kids were going to break it the way you're always running around here acting crazy. Damn if I didn't be the one to ruin it!"

Jack pot! We were in the clear. "Hey, Mom. Do you think Dad's wood glue would fix it?" Thomas asked.

"Maybe. Run get it and let's see."

Once again the ashtray was mended perfectly and put back in its place.

Those ashtrays are now long gone and our Mom is turning eighty-two this year. We've never once told her the truth. We've decided this should be the year we come clean.

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