MARY'S IN THE WELL

Writing about Nellie in the window well reminded me of the time niece Mary fell into the well at the farm.

Toddler Mary with her mother Joni

It was the summer of 1963. My sister Joni was staying at our house with her little girl, Mary, just 22 months old. Mary was a solid chunk of a toddler – sorry, but that’s part of the story. And Joni was very pregnant – also part of the story.

We called it the well, but it was – and still is – a cistern. It was dug by my uncle, Ernest Robinson, in 1936 to give my grandparents a water source at the back door. Originally it had a wood cover, but about 1960, my dad replaced that with a cement cover and fashioned an opening with the top of a garbage can. The garbage can lid became the cistern’s lid.

So, on this summer day in 1963, we went to the farm – Mother, Daddy, Joni, Mary, and me. I was 14. I don’t remember the specifics of why we were there, but perhaps we were cleaning the house for Papa Portfors’ birthday party (late July). We hadn’t been there long when somehow Mary wandered onto the cistern. Suddenly she grabbed that garbage can lid and looked defiantly at her mother. (You know how two-year-olds are.) “No, no, Mary!” Joni said, and with that, Mary threw the lid and took one step back, falling straight into the cistern.

Well, there was nothing pregnant Joni could do about it. Nothing was said, but Mother moved calmly and quickly. “Vance, Vance,” she called to my dad – and he wasn’t far away. “Mary’s in the well.” While Daddy came running, Mother grabbed the old handmade wooden ladder standing nearby and carefully let it down into the well so that it was in place when Daddy reached the cistern. Down he went into the darkness.

Of course, for a few quiet moments, we didn’t know what was happening. Had Mary sunk to the bottom and Daddy would have to dive for her? Just how would this play out? But shortly Daddy called out, “Here she is!” and then, “I have her,” and we were so relieved. He later said he found her on her back more or less treading water. He grabbed her by the front of her dress and lifted her up to Mother. We quickly wrapped her in a towel and set her on Joni’s lap. We were all dazed initially, but eventually Mary began to cry, and I think we even thought that was positive.

Mary

We always felt it was a miracle that Mary wasn’t hurt on her way through that opening. And there was no coughing or sputtering, so she evidently didn’t take on water. 

So, the story has a happy ending. Mary grew up to be a delightful lady with a lovely home and family of her own. KW