Free Fallin’ (a shout out to Tom Petty)

By Pat Fule Random Thoughts

Ladders are my nemesis. There’s no escaping it… they lay in wait every time I need to use one. They all must talk between them… you know how ladders can be. They know that for whatever reason, I have no fear of them, even though they’ve done horrible things to me. Why I continue to climb them when I know no good will come of it is also beyond me. They conspire to get me, one way or another. Case in point… 1976.
It was hot day and my task for this one blazing Saturday was to paint the Fule garage, a two-car garage with a two-tone 1960s siding job. I was pretty cavalier that day, as no ladder had hurt me – yet. I had finished one side of the incredibly bright white siding, and it was time to move my painting “peanut stand” to the shady side of the garage. My brother was causally roasting himself in the sun, using the ever popular (at the time) coconut bronzing oil. You know, the stuff designed to ratchet up the sun’s rays to NOVA temperature. In other words, my brother was basting himself for the afternoon’s broil. I was cocky, too cocky. I had no problems with Mr. Ladder on the first part of my painting chore, and I really didn’t feel like taking the paint bucket and brush off the ladder shelf, and I sure didn’t feel like closing the ladder up either. While my strategy was time and effort saving, it was also dumb. I lifted the open ladder with the paint bucket and brush on its little shelf and began to carry it all around the garage. My staggering shuffle brought incredible laughter from my brother. You see, the ladder had tipped, and the whole bucket had dumped on my head! I was ticked off and thrown the ladder down, with the whole bucket of white paint dumped on my head! My face was covered… even the bucket handle had dropped around my chin (I had less of those back then, damn that middle age!). I was wearing a “safety helmet” of paint, and I staggered to the garden hose to the wailing laughter of an older brother. When I looked back at my trail of white, to the prone ladder, I felt it mock me for the first time.
Ladders are patient, they tell their pals… like crows do. It was 1987 now, and I was trying to be a handy man. Big mistake. I decided (why, I’ll never know) to check the fireplace chimney for something I didn’t even know. I had set up the ladder, gotten to the roof and realized there were a few screws missing on the chimney cap. I had worn out two requests with Debbie to hand me two different screwdrivers, and she had warned me she was not going to deliver me a third… she was taking a bath. I knew it was time to get down and so I went to the ladder to descend “from Everest.”
To my utter surprise, the ladder clattered and retracted into itself! Somehow, I had climbed up the ladder and it wasn’t locked. It cascaded into itself and as it shrunk in size, to my horror, it fell at great speed toward our family room window! Luckily, the ladder had clattered into itself and had shortened, so that when it landed it was short of our window. I was stranded on the roof, I couldn’t even ask for help because Debbie was in the tub. I had to kill about 30 minutes on the roof, waving to neighbours, pretending to repair non-existent problems. Now I know you won’t believe this, but I was sure I heard a little ladder giggle below.
It took 10 long years before the next jerk ladder move, but ladders are a patient thing. Now I was a new homeowner, giving that same damn ladder another chance. I was at the top, passing up that really itchy pink insulation up to a friend who was installing. He heard a muffled yell as I fell, and he called down to me asking if I was all right. I wanted to talk, but the wind was knocked out of me. I already began to itch, and with scrapes and scratches, I limped to the house. I kicked the ladder and hurt my foot. Well played, ladder, well played.
This brings me to yesterday. For a couple of weeks, we’ve been tolerating a stupid “chirping” from a smoke alarm. I had climbed a ladder last week, and replaced one, but I’m sure this smaller ladder was “in cahoots” with my bigger one. Nothing had happened, but that’s what ladders do. They can afford to be patient. Yesterday, another alarm was chirping and I now believe it was also in on it. One big mistake was that I was alone in the house, and I am no handyman. I climbed as far as I could, and with the higher ceiling in the hallway, I couldn’t reach. So, do I quit? No, I move the ladder closer to the wall (as if that would help me) and climbed back up. I realized I still couldn’t reach the alarm and climbed to the last rung I could. Still no luck, and reality hit me. I should get down. Climbing down one step the ladder tipped. I was headed toward our stair railing to the basement. When the stupid ladder and I hit the railing, somehow, I went the other way and crashed backward into the wall. My right elbow went through the drywall, with a loud “thunk!”
My left foot was entangled in the ladder and I crashed to the floor! They say your life flashes before you at times, but the only words that hit me, were: “I’m alone!”
I didn’t know how hurt I was, but I knew my ankle and elbow hurt. Then I looked back at the gaping hole I had put in the wall. I can’t even fix that, I thought. That’s when the title of this column popped into my head… “Free Fallin” by Tom Petty was all I could think of. That, and climbing back up, so I could choke that smoke alarm that was still chirping! But that ladder was not getting me again. I’m now thinking of a gun license for that stupid alarm, and then the ladder.

(Random Thoughts is a slice of life humorous column that appears in the Strathmore Times, written by long-time resident, current mayor, husband, father and grandfather – Pat Fule. He is also a former town councillor, high school teacher and coach. If you would like to get in touch with Pat, you can send him an e-mail at Pat.fule@shaw.ca)