The Phonograph Motor

When I was about three years of age, we went to Emerson, Idaho one day to visit Uncle Frank and Aunt Annie Morgan.  Uncle Frank gave us an old phonograph motor.  It was a wonderful thing.  We would put string around all the glass knobs on the kitchen cupboards and then around the phonograph motor, this would turn all the knobs on the cupboard.  This was our factory.  You could wind it up, tip it up on it's side and it would crawl along the floor.  I felt that I was just as able as any one else when it came to running this wonderful machine.  One day, Mother and I were upstairs in the East bedroom.  She was quilting, I was playing with the motor.  I had it turned up on it's side, as one of the big wheels would turn around, there was a hole that would come appear.  As this hole would come around, I would stick my finger in the hole and jerk it out.  I had done it several times, before Mother saw me.  She told me that I had better not do it any more, as it would grab my finger.  I waited and watched and when she wasn't watching, I stuck in my finger again and it grabbed me.  I immediately began to scream and cry and holler.  Mother came running, she couldn't back the motor up, so she left me crying and ran down the stairs, outside to the shop, got a hammer, ran back to her screaming child and proceeded to break the motor to pieces so she could get my finger out.  When the older boys came home from school, they were really upset with me, because I was the one who caused the motor to be broken.  In thinking about the situation, I think that one of the older boys must have showed me how to do this wonderful daring thing.  Nevertheless, I still have the scar to remind me of that wintery day.