A letter to South Whidbey:

To the editor:

I’ll be 56 soon. But when I was 8, my parents took 6-year-old brother Steve and new born sister Shelli and me to Useless Bay to visit the Rutherfords.

Mickey Rutherford was raising her sons Bob and Steve in a tight little house on the beach in the shadow of Double Bluff. Two or three houses down the boardwalk was another Rutherford, but I don’t recall the relationship.

Unlike Mickey, that branch of the family had an outside pool on the bay side, and a horse corral on the road side. Nonetheless, up and down the row, Useless Bay was joy to me.

One day by the pool, I saw an escaped horse charging toward the pool area. Upon seeing the pool, it skidded trying to stop but ended up in the pool with soon surprised swimmers.

The horse was pulled out but it was my first time seeing a train wreck in the making.

Useless Bay was cool for me. Down the beach was a World War II Quonset hut. I remember looking out past the bay and seeing Navy ships.

We wrapped fishline and a hook around a stick and floated out on driftwood logs to dangle for flounders; hot sun beating on our backs. We had BB guns fights on the beach. Nobody got hurt seriously, but they did sting. We smoked driftwood, but I didn’t enjoy that too much.

Two years later, my parents farmed us out to the Aimes Family while they sorted through their personal differences. I attended South Whidbey Elementary and had piano lessons at a nice lady’s house near the school.

The Aimes’ house was upland in a field and they had a cow that was milked daily. It was cool how the cream separated out in the jug to be ladled out. Then they moved to a house on a bluff above the water. From the main road, there was a long driveway through the deep woods before clearing out to rows of peach trees and a yard where we played tackle football. The peaches were delicious but you had to look out for the worms.

On the backside of the house was a small yard and a zig-zagging set of stairs down the steep bluff to the beach. All along the stairs, we’d reach out and pick huckleberries that were everywhere.

At the beach, there was an extensive bulkhead. I learned to swim at high tide when we had a 4-5 foot saltwater pool. At low tide, we set crab traps with flounder and garbage bait.

I believe we were in a rented house, but Joe Aimes built out the attic where we slept with the Aimes boys. Joe hunted deer on the island and came home with ducks.

The Aimes were working to make ends meet and whatever my Seattle city folk parents paid, helped with the overall household budget. You never heard a complaint about money, but you always knew that completing your chores were important to making life work as well as it did.

I’ve carried a bit of remorse for many years.

One day, Joe Aimes was cutting big evergreens on the road side of the property. He told us boys to go to the other side of the road. We did, but chopping down a big tree with an axe takes a long time and I didn’t want to wait. I crossed back across the road and hid behind a tree so I could see the tree fall.

I looked back to see brother Steve and the Aimes boys motioning me back. I almost darted but decided it was too dangerous; better to stay behind the tree.

Chop, chop, chop, then a crack, and I peeked out just as the tree contacted the left side of my skull knocking me unconscious to the ground.

At the time, South Whidbey had one ambulance and one hearse. The ambulance was busy that day so the hearse was dispatched to give me the ferry ride to Seattle.

I didn’t see the tree that hit me. Had I died, I think it would have been an excellent way to go. But I was a little boy unconscious in the back of a black hearse on a ferryboat to Ballard General.

In route, I awoke to see a Dad and son looking at me through the window. I have never, to this day, seen such expressions of shock. That put me right back to lala land.

I had a plate installed in my skull and leg into a cast. I came out OK and excelled in sports though doctor Wolfgang Klemperer said I never could play contact sports.

Last I heard, the Aimes family moved to Bellingham but I have never been in contact with them since that day. I know Joe Aimes carried guilt for my stupid actions. I want him to know – chest thump, chest thump – it’s on me.

I owe more to the Aimes for what they provided me and my siblings then I can ever repay.

Jay Page

Anchorage, Alaska