Space the final frontier

The now familiar phrase has become a part of the language since the renowned cult show Star Trek® (not, I dream of Jeannie®) first aired in the U.S.A. in 1966.  It was later seen by many of we overseas viewers, fascinated with space, in the following decade. Back then it probably took at least five years to even be broadcast in New Zealand (if it was allowed and met the government controlled media standards), compared to the incredible ‘Fast tracked from the US’ where the overseas screening is seen in Australia the following day that it was seen in the USA. The simple phrase and indeed the individual word ‘Space’ reflected the thought that I felt many times, living in the slightly crowded bedroom of four boys. “Space”. The word went straight to my core. Not the thought of ejecting my brothers into space (although I can’t deny that idea hadn’t passed through my mind on the odd occasion), but, the very idea of having an area larger than a couple of meters to spread out into. To put my things. To be able to put something down and not have it shifted or moved. To be able to leave something unattended and know that a curious younger brother won’t play, squash or break it.

It was clear ‘space’ was not going to happen for me for a long time. There was always the thought that one of my older sisters would move out and I would ‘inherit’ one of their rooms. But no, only one did, and the other three ended up with the other two rooms and they stayed. So there we were, in our early years, the boys all sharing the long end room at the back of the house. We had the odd break with a school camp, or the very occasional trip away. We built things, we played games and we sometimes studied (certainly not as much as we should have). Every now and then a serious illness would reduce our number by one or sometimes two for a few days, but we were seldom alone in the room. Except perhaps, when we were going to receive a serious punishment.

There you are. You were probably wondering when I was going to get back the awaited punishment. The finale to the kite and injured brother story begun back in March. Well, I guess we have arrived there again. Just to recap. My brother, having suffered a serious impact injury, from a thrown wooden stilt (thrown by me while trying to free a tree-stuck kite), to his head. Resulting in loss of his consciousness and a major slicing of his scalp.  And me carrying him home in fear for his, and my life (knowing I was in real trouble for causing this accident), through the back street from the park as he bled profusely in my arms. He was taken off to the hospital in an ambulance. I was sent to my room to wait for the return home of my father.

(continued tomorrow)