Kris

Kris_and_Emy_in_Carolina_Winter_Woods
Originally uploaded by kterkan

It was four years ago today that my wonderful sister passed from this mortal coil. I could tell you all of the really great things about her, which would all be true, but I'll tell you a few of the more wicked aspects of her sense of humor. Now both of these tales occurred when we were both very young, and as such may be colored by a little sister's pique, but as the storyteller I am allowed to remain the virtuous injured party.
Kris had this book by A.A. Milne, "And Now We are Six," and I being of a somewhat romantic nature, had decided that I must wait until I was six before I read this particular book. I must have talked about it quite a bit, because on my 6th birthday Kris performed one of her best practical jokes. While we were waiting at the babysitter's house for my mother to pick us up after work, Kris told me that I was a special girl and that I wasn't going to turn six, but instead was skipping directly to seven. Now this was coming from someone who taught me how to tie my shoelaces, and how to whistle. She was an authority. I was alarmed, and panicked thinking that she might be right. I went to the babysitter for reassurance, but instead Joan confirmed my sister's version of the story. I was beside myself. Joan and Kris kept up the charade for the whole afternoon, which when you are six, seems like a lifetime. By the time my mother arrived I was in tears and told her my sad tale. She had to get them to tell me it was just a joke, but as you see I've never quite recovered from the shock. The book itself was a disappointment, and I don't think I ever finished reading it.
The second story is not one of misdeeds, but of how Kris and I managed to work together. Those of you who know me well, may remember that I have a scar across the top of my nose. I received said scar when I was 1 1/2. My mother, sister and I were lunching at the house of my mother's friend Sue. After lunch, Kris and I remained inside while Sue washed the dishes. I have a fairly clear memory of the events, as it was probably the most traumatic thing that happened during this period of my life. I was crawling around on the floor and I decided that it would be a great idea to place my feet against the base of the table, which was one of those pedestal style tables with bench seating. At some point the table began to fall. I remember the ketchup bottle sliding towards me, and my mother's friend turning to stop the table from falling. After that all I remember was my mother soothing my tears. Years later when I was recalling this story with my sister, she happened to mention that while I was crawling on the floor she was sitting at the table kicking the the tabletop from underneath. Since that time I've always believed that between the two of us we created the perfect fulcrum. We always accomplished great deeds together.