On Sun, 03 Jun 2007 06:05:10 GMT, Robert Allison
wrote:



That reminds me of when I was a kid. I was about 6 or 7 and
loved Rocky the flying squirrel. I got up on my dads shop
(single story, thank god) with a bed sheet. Can you see
what's coming?

Yes, I can.

Tied a corner around each ankle then held the other two
corners in my hands and jumped. Did a belly buster onto the
grass and knocked the breath out of myself so bad I thought I
was going to die.

I've been think it was silly, the warning seen on a Superman costume:

"CAUTION; Cape does not enable wearer to fly."

But I guess not.


When I was in the fourth grade, the church between my house and the
school was building a concrete wall around its big hill, cutting out
some of the hill at the bottom and filling in the space at the top.
(and building a set of steps in the middle, so that people could walk
up the steps from the parking lot, instead of going way around or
sliding on the grass) About ten feet high. There was soft dug-up
dirt at the bottom, but if I jumped out too far, there was a curb and
the cinder parking lot. If it didn't jump out far enough, there were
6 inch pieces of rebar sticking out, that the stone facing was going
to be attached to. (I don't know why the bars were so long. Was
there stone facing that was that thick, or did they cut it off shorter
after putting on the stones? I wasn't there to watch the day they
added the facing.)

On my way home from school one nice spring day, one or two kids were
jumping off the wall. So I did too. I was the opposite of a reckless
kid, so I don't know why this especially. During the second try, my
brother was walking home from high school and he caught me, and told
me not to do it, and told my mother, who told me not to do it. This
was the only time in 5 years that my brother ever saw me at all on his
way home from HS.

The next morning on my way to school I jumped again, and missed the
curb and missed the cinders and missed the rebar, but broke my leg,
right at the ankle, because there was a stone or rock in the soft
dirt. I knew immediately that I'd broken it.

So I just sat there. One of my classmates came by, and he went to get
the school nurse, who wouldn't come to help me because it wasn't on
school property. This was 1956. !!

In the meantime someone told the church's minister who lived right on
the other side of the parking lot from the church. He picked me up
and took me to the hospital, where I was by chance referred to my
uncle's brother, unless may he was the only orthopedist at the
hospital (50,000 people in town. Only one hospital afaik).

My mother had gone to a doctor's appointment in the next town, 20
miles away, which was verrrry unusual since there were doctors in our
town, and going 20 miles away was considered a trip. This was the
ONLY day in my 12 years of public school that my mother was out of
town (except when my father was dying, and then my mother hired a
housekeeper for a week or two, while she was away) and even this day
she had hired a maid just so there would be someone at home. So when
my mother comes home from the doctor, she asks the maid, Where's mm?**
And the maid says to her. "Well... I don't know how to tell you this,
Mrs. mm"... Yeah, yeah, my mother says, and the maid managed to drag
out the news until my mother was frantic. Just tell her I have a
broken leg. The way she told it, my mother was afraid I was dead or
in a coma or paralysed.

**By some strange twist she called me by my email local part, even
when I was a child. mm was also her last name at the time.

So my mother gets back in the car to go to the hospital, and she's
zoming down Mercer St., the only street I ever saw repaved in the 10
years I lived in my home town. And as part of the concrete paving,
they left a big hole around the manhole, 3' x 3', with nothing in it
until they extended the manhole 4 to 6 inches higher to be even with
the new pavement. And in those days, they didn't put barricades
around holes in the road, because I'd walked by there a dozen times
and there never any cones or anything. On a normal day, my mother
wouldn't hit the hole, but this day she wasn't looking at every little
thing, and of course she did. We had a 4 door '52 Hudson with a
typical high roof, and no seatbelts of course in 1957, and she went up
so high she hit her head on the roof of the car. She must have been
at least a foot off the seat. (in those days the steering wheel
didn't keep one's thighs from going up either. Plenty of room in
those cars.)

Anyhow, my leg healed fine and everything is fine.

Robert Allison
Rimshot, Inc.
Georgetown, TX