Phil had typical boyish tendencies
by Claudia
One of the earliest memories I have of Philip was at the house we lived in by Sea-Tac Airport, in the area referred to as Bow Lake. He must have been about six or seven years old, which means I was about four or five. We were playing on the east side of the house by the garage when he asked me if I wanted to start a fire. He had gathered up some small sticks and leaves and various material and put them in a pile.
Philip lit a match, and we stood back and watched as the small fire began to grow. We were in plain view of the driveway, and this was right before our dad was expected to arrive home from work. At the time I thought his timing couldn't have been worse.
When Dad pulled up, he didn't bother to park the car in the garage or even close the car door. I don't think he shut the engine off. He just ran towards us yelling and began stomping out the fire. We started to run into the house but we didn't get very far. I still remember the look on Dad's face; it was pure panic. And then came the lecture. Philip and I both stood there, stiff as boards, and just listened until he got it out of his system.
He never asked me if I wanted to start a fire again. But he did teach me to ride a bike.
[to be continued]
