Refrigerator Boxes

But the funny thing is that none of the grownups who had these necessities were doing any of those fun things back then, as they rarely seem to do them now. All they seemed to do was work, worry, and talk about things that you couldn’t even imagine being truly interested in. Think back in your mind to a time when it was more important to know how far you could throw a dirt clod or jump a bike, than how much money was in the account at the end of the week.

It was a time when you would beg to have the left over tree trimmings to build a fort in the grass. Often leaving it up until the leaves had all fallen off and rendered it useless for hiding from a bedtime call by your mom on a long summer evening. Forts of all kinds were made, and each type of fort that was built held its place of infamy. First and foremost, there was the classic and always reliable “refrigerator box fort”. Although the boxes were few and far between, when one did show up it was a prized possession. There was nothing like the feeling of cutting a door into its side, climbing in and pulling the top down tight leaving just you, sitting on the carpet and staring up at the smooth brown confines. Smiling at the knowledge that there wasn’t a soul in the world who could touch you or even know what you were up to in there.

Eventually you would graduate to what I like to call the “junkyard” phase of your ‘fort building’ life. In this phase mobility was paramount, and living next to a bunch of trash hoarding rednecks was also a big plus. Lots of spare car hoods, plywood, and things that you couldn’t even describe were piled up to form the rooms, entryways and lookouts of your fort. This is where you and your trusted friends could fend off local invaders.

But any one who grew up north of the south, or had any chance to play in snow, was at one time or another fixated with building winter forts. There was a natural progression from the standard rolled up snow ball fort to the ultimate winter fort, the Igloo. Nothing could compare to the perfection of the igloo as a fort. It wasn’t one of those batteries-not-included kind of toys. It was a fort that was just laying out there in your yard a foot or more deep, just begging to be built. We must have built a dozen renditions of igloos growing up. No matter the effort we were always left with what felt like a substandard version. Usually including structural support with plywood under a huge pile of snow and a snake hole for an entryway. Once inside, it was often just big enough that you had just enough room to turn your head sideways, and possibly roll over onto your back. This was quickly followed by the command for your buddies to drag you out by your feet and take their turn, since there wasn’t enough room to turn around. It was also often topped off with a spray or two from the hose to make it invincible by morning. The latter being rarely appreciated by parents in the spring when the cracked and frozen hose was all that was left on the brown March grass to remind us of our winter fortress.

I remember having a conversation over and over with my friends in which we would talk about what we would do if we had a hundred dollars. Forget millions, because if $0.25 bought a candy bar, then a hundred dollars would pretty much buy anything we could ever need. Oh, the things that we would buy....a bulldozer to make bike jumps and dig a swimming hole in the back yard, a giant fire hose for water fights, or a whole store full of candy. One of my wishes was to buy my own igloo. I didn’t even know where to get one, but man would that be cool!

So when last December 25th I discovered that the Christmas present I was opening was an “Igloo Maker” and not the shirt and tie I had guessed, I nearly peed my pants! It’s so good when Christmas feels like Christmas! I felt just like the kid in ‘The Christmas Story’ when he got the Red Rider BB Gun. I couldn’t wait to go outside and shoot my eye out! I barely beat the dogs out into the back yard to try it out. The rest of the clothes could wait, I already had enough ties to choke me for a lifetime.

So I did what any kid does in this situation. I called one of my buddies. One that I knew shared my feelings about forts, and adventures. One who also probably needed a break from being a grown up. With little prodding we were set to head out the next morning.

We drove up the pass that next day until the snow rose over our heads, and had we gone any farther we would have fallen into Idaho. A lack of snow would not stop us from our destiny!
Winter smiled on our exuberance, and as we tramped out a circle in the snow for the base of the igloo the sun beamed its’ approval. As we unpacked the contraption to get started the excitement was already building. We tramped out the base of our igloo together before getting started with the first level of the wall. While one of us brought snow the other carefully smoothed out the walls, taking great care as if we would be graded on neatness, or try to enter it in a science fair when we finished. As the 3rd and 4th layer were placed on top of the previous layers, Todd was no longer able to get out of the center and we had to start working on the entry tunnel.

In a kids mind, igloos are ideal forts for several reasons. The first is that you are virtually invisible inside of one, and the other is that the only way in or out is through a tunnel.

Building an entry tunnel is tricky work however, and we fussed over it together, both believing in the high probability of the wall above the tunnel crashing down at any time. This belief was based on a lifetime of experiences with sand tunnels and scrap lumber bridges over creeks. All of them letting us down just when we thought we had finally built something real. Thus leaving our sand pits full of sea water, and our socks soaking up the creek we had tried so hard to stay out of.

So when we initially broke through a small hole in the entry tunnel it was a careful chore to hollow it out until I was able to crawl through it successfully. At this point we knew the first of the two “igloo impossibilities” had been conquered. The second of which is the timeless childhood igloo question, “how come the top doesn’t just fall in?” This was asked before we knew anything about keystones, physics, or a guy named Newton who had described the rules to follow to prevent your igloo from collapsing.

Funny thing was, here we were, two college educated guys now possessing most of the previously missing knowledge, still asking the same question as our igloo’s walls began to curve skyward and inward.

“So, do you think it’s going to cave in?” Todd asked as we stood taking a look at our progress.

“Probably.” I laughed. “But, I have a good feeling about this one. And,” I paused “if it does work, this will be our coolest fort ever!”
So onward and upward we went, alternately we worked as the snow packer or inside wall shaper as our walls were getting high enough to defy the very laws that we thought physics should be obeying. When it became apparent it would clearly not cave in as the last two rows were being placed, we became somewhat giddy. We were chanting and singing and bringing on the snow. Alternately, we were climbing in and out of the entry tunnel. Each sticking our heads out of that last little bit of a hole that was still left in the top of the igloo and laughing out loud at our good fortune.
So when Todd packed the final snow brick on the top, it was no surprise to hear his laughter echoing around the inside of our new winter fort. I couldn’t wait any longer and crawled inside with him to examine our newly finished palace.

In an instant I was inside of that refrigerator box all over again. Looking up at those smooth white walls and smiling that the rest of the world was now out there. We sat cross-legged with our heads spinning and our eyes taking in the reality of our creation.

We were untouchable in our joy at that moment. We laughed like 8 year olds. Laughing about nothing and everything at the same time for a few surreal moments

And then, as if it had only been days since we had built our last fort, Todd knew exactly what we should do.
“We gotta get our stuff and sleep here tonight!” He blurted out.
“Absolutely!” I replied.