Falling Through the Kitchen Ceiling

It seems as if most people are enjoying these stories of mine, and that makes me very happy. I enjoy spreading happiness and good will to as many people as I can. I chose to be happy, rather than angry or dis-satisfied, many years ago, and that decision has served me well. Oftentimes, as I remember and try to put down on paper instances of my life, I struggle as I try to write them down because of the tears of joy and laughter streaming down my face. I hope you enjoy this little story as much as I do.

My thoughts this early Wednesday morning return me again to my childhood. As I have previously stated more than once, we had purchased my grandparent’s place in Broughtontown, Lincoln County, Kentucky, and were attempting to re-model the entire place. We hadn’t moved in yet, so the date was probably sometime in the early spring of 1972.

Daddy had determined we needed to tear down an old chimney located in the kitchen. My grandmother had used a wood stove to cook with for many years, and this old chimney had done its job well, but would no longer be needed. The roof was leaking around the edges of this chimney and since we were not going to use it anymore, we decided to just tear it down. After the chimney was removed, we could repair the roof and eliminate the leak.

As in many old houses of my youth, people had always used a lot of wallpaper. Nearly unbelievable to me is the fact that they also used wallpaper on the ceilings. I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been to wallpaper a ceiling, but they did it, and they did it often. Our kitchen ceiling, along with several other ceilings in our house was covered with several layers of wallpaper. I realize the wallpaper covered a lot of cracks and holes in the ceiling, but it always seemed to me to just be so dangerous as it oftentimes hung down loosely over an old wood stove.

My grandparents had bought their house in Broughtontown in April 1928. At the time, it consisted of 4 rooms, along with a nice upstairs. The front two rooms, as well as the stairway and entire upstairs, was covered with bead board. Even the ceilings had bead board on them in these rooms, and it was beautiful. We were always so thankful it hadn’t been covered with wallpaper. A large old chicken house had been pulled up to the back of the house and attached to the rest of the house. After it was remodeled, this large room had become the kitchen.

I had climbed up onto the roof and began to tear down the chimney which protruded above the roof. It was easy work and I soon made my way down to the roof line. As I removed each brick, I tossed them off the back of the house to a pre-determined place in the back yard. Everyone knew what I was doing and stayed out of that part of the yard. After I got to the roof line, I reached down into the chimney and continued to break off the individual bricks. Everything was going just fine.

After I made the hole in the roof large enough, I climbed down through the hole where the chimney had been and stepped onto the ceiling joists. As I examined the flooring underneath me, I realized the kitchen ceiling, under all those layers of wallpaper, was actually one-inch boards nailed across the joists. I could safely and comfortably stand on these sturdy oak boards, rather than balancing myself on the joists as I continued tearing down the chimney.

I could hear mom in the kitchen just below the ceiling where I stood. I think she was preparing us a sandwich or something for lunch. She could hear me in working in the attic just above the kitchen. In just a split second, the boards I was standing on gave way and I fell about halfway through the kitchen ceiling! Mom screamed, and I about had a heart attack. Luckily, the heavy back door of the house was opened back against the chimney. As I fell, both of my feet landed perfectly on the top edge of the door after I had fallen about 4 feet. Unbeknownst to any of us was the fact I had been standing on a trap door in the ceiling, long since obscured by the many layers of wallpaper. The only thing keeping it closed was an old bent nail, which had given way after I stood on it.

To say mom and I were surprised would be an understatement. There I stood on the top edge of the door, perfectly fine. Mom was momentarily scared to death, but we both soon had a good laugh. I have always been thankful the old back door was open, and that my feet miraculously landed on the top of the door, instead of me straddling it.