| The Lathe |
PresentFocus "Explorations in Awareness"
| The only constant in life is change |
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As I stood crying, embraced with my sister, I wondered what those 38 years might have been like, had I
known. Thirty-eight years it took me to overcome my fear. I didn’t even know it was my deepest fear until it
became the only thing left. Something so big, so powerful, it had become the weight of the world threatening to
crush me into nothingness. When push came to shove, deep down inside I knew I might fail. When it most
counted, John wouldn’t be there. Someone might die because I could do no better than fail them. That is what
I learned 38 years ago as I saw my sisters head slowly being pulled into the lathe by a thick strand of her long
brown hair neatly wrapped around the dull steel screw that ran the whole length of this massive machine;
certainly massive by a 10 year old boy’s standard.
My Step Father and his friend brought my sister and me to a machine shop where the adults had business. To
keep my sister and I occupied, I was setup on a metal lathe with my sister watching. Having received a total of
two minutes of instruction and two minutes of supervision, I start cutting slots in scrap pieces of threaded stock.
A few minutes later, being only faintly aware of adult conversation elsewhere in the shop, I am startled by my
sister’s urgent voice. With mounting fear she says, “John, my hair is caught.” I immediately move to calm
myself; turning back to the machine, I try to turn it off. I realize that I cannot remember how to turn off the
machine. I cannot even remember if I was told how to turn off the machine. When I looked at the machine,
there were so many controls, I felt confused. My sister’s voice cut like a knife through my rising fear. Here
head is only eight inches away from pulled into the lathe and crushed between the crossbars. “Help, my hair is
caught!” I can feel my eight year old sister trying to remain calm as I turn back to the controls. I start at the top
and begin working my way down the machine, trying different controls, while attempting to remain calm. As I
look further down, I see the long red handle and remember that I did know how to turn off the lathe. By this
time, my step father and his friend have arrived.
“TURN IT OFF, TURN IT OFF” screamed my step father. I was deathly afraid of my stepfather, who was an
alcoholic and frequently assaulted me both mentally and physically. At this point everything became chaotic.
Renee screamed “HELP ME” in an anguished panic that just tore my heart out. I looked over and thought, “Oh
my god, her head was only two inches away from the crossbars!” I felt a rush of energy into my body like I
have never felt before. I was deathly afraid of my stepfather and I started jumping up and down while expelling
several short guttural breaths of air. I saw my hand sweep past the power handle. Renee’s head was barely
more than an inch from the crossbars that were sure to crush her. As the machine powered down and the
screw completed its last couple of revolutions or so, I hear this awful ripping sound, like Velcro slowly
separating. Renee stood up having just ripped a 2 inch thick rope of hair from her scalp. My step father began
berating me, making sure I knew how poorly I had acted and the consequences of failure. I never spoke of the
incident again until January 2007.
As I stood in the garage, with my sister, I decide that I needed to come to terms with this. I could not live with
it by myself anymore. Renee I said, “I have always felt bad about what happened at the lathe when we were
kids”. She looked at me somewhat puzzled and said, “What do you mean”? When I finished explaining my
perspective, ending with “I could have killed you”, Renee responded “Oh no, you were my hero.” Now it was
my turn to be puzzled, even dumb founded. She went on to explain. “You were facing the machine trying to
turn it off. I could see what was happening behind you.” While I was facing the lathe, Scotty’s friend, the
manager of the shop, ran over, turned white as a sheet, and froze. Scotty ran over, started flapping his arms in
a panic while screaming at me to shut the machine off. Renee informed me, “You and I were the only ones
acting like adults”. I put my arms around my sister and started to cry. It seemed like I had just been born. I
felt life inside like I had never experienced before. I was finally complete. A new beginning to grow from and
really live life! For a moment I wondered how to respond in my newfound happiness. I looked at her with a
smile and said, “We are even now … you have just given me life.” I have always been her big brother in love
and support through her life tragedies, like when she said my support through the loss of her 18-year-old son,
saved her life. Now it was her turn to represent the gift of life in tragedy. She looked into my eyes, seeing me
in a way that only a sister can, smiled and hugged me tighter.
As I stood crying, embraced with my sister, I wondered what those 38 years might have been like, had I
known. Thirty-eight years it took me to overcome my fear. I didn’t even know it was my deepest fear until it
became the only thing left. Something so big, so powerful, it had become the weight of the world threatening to
crush me into nothingness. When push came to shove, deep down inside I knew I might fail. When it most
counted, John wouldn’t be there. Someone might die because I could do no better than fail them. That is what
I learned 38 years ago as I saw my sisters head slowly being pulled into the lathe by a thick strand of her long
brown hair neatly wrapped around the dull steel screw that ran the whole length of this massive machine;
certainly massive by a 10 year old boy’s standard.
My Step Father and his friend brought my sister and me to a machine shop where the adults had business. To
keep my sister and I occupied, I was setup on a metal lathe with my sister watching. Having received a total of
two minutes of instruction and two minutes of supervision, I start cutting slots in scrap pieces of threaded stock.
A few minutes later, being only faintly aware of adult conversation elsewhere in the shop, I am startled by my
sister’s urgent voice. With mounting fear she says, “John, my hair is caught.” I immediately move to calm
myself; turning back to the machine, I try to turn it off. I realize that I cannot remember how to turn off the
machine. I cannot even remember if I was told how to turn off the machine. When I looked at the machine,
there were so many controls, I felt confused. My sister’s voice cut like a knife through my rising fear. Here
head is only eight inches away from pulled into the lathe and crushed between the crossbars. “Help, my hair is
caught!” I can feel my eight year old sister trying to remain calm as I turn back to the controls. I start at the top
and begin working my way down the machine, trying different controls, while attempting to remain calm. As I
look further down, I see the long red handle and remember that I did know how to turn off the lathe. By this
time, my step father and his friend have arrived.
“TURN IT OFF, TURN IT OFF” screamed my step father. I was deathly afraid of my stepfather, who was an
alcoholic and frequently assaulted me both mentally and physically. At this point everything became chaotic.
Renee screamed “HELP ME” in an anguished panic that just tore my heart out. I looked over and thought, “Oh
my god, her head was only two inches away from the crossbars!” I felt a rush of energy into my body like I
have never felt before. I was deathly afraid of my stepfather and I started jumping up and down while expelling
several short guttural breaths of air. I saw my hand sweep past the power handle. Renee’s head was barely
more than an inch from the crossbars that were sure to crush her. As the machine powered down and the
screw completed its last couple of revolutions or so, I hear this awful ripping sound, like Velcro slowly
separating. Renee stood up having just ripped a 2 inch thick rope of hair from her scalp. My step father began
berating me, making sure I knew how poorly I had acted and the consequences of failure. I never spoke of the
incident again until January 2007.
As I stood in the garage, with my sister, I decide that I needed to come to terms with this. I could not live with
it by myself anymore. Renee I said, “I have always felt bad about what happened at the lathe when we were
kids”. She looked at me somewhat puzzled and said, “What do you mean”? When I finished explaining my
perspective, ending with “I could have killed you”, Renee responded “Oh no, you were my hero.” Now it was
my turn to be puzzled, even dumb founded. She went on to explain. “You were facing the machine trying to
turn it off. I could see what was happening behind you.” While I was facing the lathe, Scotty’s friend, the
manager of the shop, ran over, turned white as a sheet, and froze. Scotty ran over, started flapping his arms in
a panic while screaming at me to shut the machine off. Renee informed me, “You and I were the only ones
acting like adults”. I put my arms around my sister and started to cry. It seemed like I had just been born. I
felt life inside like I had never experienced before. I was finally complete. A new beginning to grow from and
really live life! For a moment I wondered how to respond in my newfound happiness. I looked at her with a
smile and said, “We are even now … you have just given me life.” I have always been her big brother in love
and support through her life tragedies, like when she said my support through the loss of her 18-year-old son,
saved her life. Now it was her turn to represent the gift of life in tragedy. She looked into my eyes, seeing me
in a way that only a sister can, smiled and hugged me tighter.