.....I had always liked to take things apart because I had this tremendous curiosity to see inside things in order to understand how they worked.
My earliest memory of this curiosity was from when I was about four years old. We used to keep a few pet goldfish in a pond outside. Eventually the fish would succumb to the forces of nature and would need to be disposed of. But there was one particular fish that had to undergo an impromptu autopsy because I wanted to see what it looked like on the inside. I invited all my friends on the block to come see the wonders of nature as my dad was kind enough to dissect this tiny little aquatic creature and point out some of the major organs.
When I got older my interests turned from the biological to the technological. I got hold of a pair of pliers and a wirecutters and began to wreak havoc on whatever deceased appliance I could find. I would salvage whatever parts I could identify with the hopes that someday I could eventually put something back together. My typical victims were walkmans, but I was truly stymied that fateful day when I attempted to dismantle a toaster.
The story unfolds with me vacationing with my grandparents on the beautiful Caribbean island of St. Croix. My grandmother had just bought a new toaster and was planning to retire the old model to the landfill when I intervened.
My first feeling was of excitement. My craving to dismantle electrical appliances was heating up again. I set about my task with high spirits, although as I continued my hatchet job I became more and more crestfallen as this toaster was not about to let itself be dismantled without a fight. I managed to remove a few rusty screws, but they apparently had served no purpose as I still needed a hammer to finally reveal the meat of the appliance.
My spirits were finally raised when I spotted entire sheets of mica amongst the entrails of the machine. Finding mica, to me, was the equivilent of finding gold, and I knew that I had to try to salvage it. This appeared to be a simple enough task. The mica was wrapped up in a few strips of metal resembling tinsel. So without pausing I grabbed this "tinsel" with my unprotected hands and gave a good tug.
The first piece tore nicely, and I moved on to the next one. After giving a pull I was surprised that nothing seemed to have happened. Then I looked down and realized the error in my calculations. As I saw this thick, red liquid oozing out of my fingers I realized that the metal strips were a lot tougher than they looked.
"Grandma! I'm bleeding!" I remember calling out, instinctively. As I said this I suddenly realized what had happened. My grandmother, seemingly on autopilot, whisked me immediately to the sink. Then simultaneously she rinsed my wound under the tap, poured a bottle of peroxide over the fissure, and held my hand above my heart.
Only a few moments had passed before I found myself crouched down in the back of the car as she rushed me to the hospital. Visions of the entire circulatory system, subject of that year's seventh grade science curriculum, flashed before my eyes.
My cut wasn't serious. Only my thumb was injured and there was no permanent damage other than a handsome scar. A tetanus shot eliminated any chance of infection and five stitches mended the tear I had made, but I couldn't go swimming for a week.....
One of the essays written for undergraduate admissions to the University of Pennsylvania in Fall, 1991. Unfortunately, and dare I say foolishly, they turned me down! But that's ok, I had a great time at UC Berkeley, so nyah...
c. 1991, 2001 Cathy Gellis
cathyg@csua.berkeley.edu
www.csua.berkeley.edu/~cathyg