House that Jack Built

1702 8th Street, 1971

On one of those little streets on the North Side of White Bear Lake my family bought a house. Probably what all families need for a new start, a new town, a new home, my Dad was particularly proud of this accomplishment. There was a building contractor named Jack Bruin who built “roughed in” homes.. Not quite complete and the ambitious do it yourself-er could finish it to his liking as he wanted or could afford.. Keeping costs low, egos high and securing a place for us. Quite an accomplishment for my uneducated father at his blue collar life at the railroad fixing crossing signals and broken rails.

Our new place is a castle as far as I’m concerned. But in reality it is a cheaply built smallish 4 br split level entry house in goldenrod yellow with twisted wrought iron railings inside and out, especially featured between the dining room and living room. My mother thought that touch was modern and lovely. The carpet was molded and shades of brown and green and it had a little yard and a couple of plum trees in back. Quite nice in some simple little ways.

We moved in using a trailer my father built over a truck chasis and the neighbors as each house was finished, or not.. were similar folks.. Modest working folk who could barely afford, as we could.. these roughed in models 1 through 6 that dotted these little streets along 4th Street. We all felt fortunate, stressed and safe - all of those.

After living here for a while, my mom and dad made friends with the neighbors and these new people in our lives became our new local family. Dad was really smart with fixing things, and he liked to be called upon to advise other young men. While others on the block mostly had young children under 5.. my 3 brothers and I were a decade older at least. My oldest brother Doug was leaving for the Navy soon, Billy was just starting the 9th grade and Keith is three years younger than I am. Our family had experienced some setbacks over the years and we had arrived at the american dream a little later than some. But here we are.

Its Tuesday and Dad has come home late.. quite drunk and red faced with the Wiley’s new teacup poodle, Tootsie in a box. She aint staying dad says and we cant play with her. O k.

My mother had dinner ready two hours ago, but made us all wait to eat.. When dad hit the driveway we were all summoned to the table quickly to eat the Casserole my mom had made a tuesday thing. Dinner being late was not unusual to us kids. It was when it was, not a big deal.. So we rushed upstairs and sat down.. The food was not great but we all filled our plates and heartily started eating and filling glasses with milk. It was all normal clatter and chatter. After a couple minutes, it was quiet for the eating... everyone must be as hungry as I am I thought to myself. Suddenly the poodle in the box broke the silence. Oh oh... First a whine and then a whimper and then silence. And it would begin again.. Shortly it was all Whining and whimpering and it was building up steam.

“Shut up!” My father yelled. Silence in the box for.. one two three seconds.. then it started up again.

“SHUT the hell up! “ he yelled again. Silence for one two three seconds..
Oh please be quiet little dog I was praying hard hard hard. No luck. The box began to shake and scratches began and Tootsie was really turning up the volume to this whole protest. I held my breath.

“If you dont shut up I am gonna shut you up! “ My Dad then shoved the chair away from the table, and it loudly hit the wall behind him. “God Damn it! “ The little box became silent .. but I could tell it was too late. I held my breath tight.

We all sat terrified, trying not to stare, some looking into our plates as Dad reached into the box and pulled out the puppy by the scruff of her neck with a hard shake, cursing at the peachy rag of a dog dangling now from his meaty fist. The tiniest dog I had ever seen! Oh my god, my heart was racing. What was HE gonna do? Then he was gone. Dad had turned on a dime out the back door. The door banged louder than I ever recalled and then there was silence all around the table. We didnt know what to expect. Right here in suburbia... We waited... holding our breath and then... THUMP! THUMP! A bit of silence and then... Loud horrifying cries of a pup followed by my father yelling at it to “Shut the hell up!.” The wailing continues.

Moments late Dad entered the house with a bang of the screen door. He then wiped his brow. He looked directly at me and I was horrified as he threw a still-writhing apricot puppy tail in the ashtray in the center of the table and sat down to finish his supper. I watched it twist and turn for a few seconds and then it was still and I could hear my blood roar in my ears. I sat in silent horror.

“Damn, can you believe Wiley was gonna pay no damn vet no 40 dollars to get that tail clipped?! I’ll be damned all to hell, I told him I would do it for free.” He said, as he filled his mouth with food. “Vi, doctor me up another cup of coffee will ya?” quite naturally she complied, trying to smile a bit as not to ruin the evening. Oh boy.

My name is Ellen I am Eleven, I am in 6th grade here at Lincoln Elementary School. My Mother is plumb crazy and my father might be too if tonight is any clue.