I really feel the need to balance my last post with one that celebrates and praises Capitalism. However, I want to do it right, and that requires time. I haven't got time right now to do it right, so let me just pop in here and say this: I have proof that my sister had rocks in her head. And yes, I will share this evidence. (Those with ADD can scroll down now, the rest of you will wait patiently for the setup.)
In 1984, my family lived in Park City, IL, just north of Chicago. On December 23rd of that year, the weather was mild for some reason (shut up, Mr. Gore) and my sister and I were driving my mother crazy. She explained that if we wanted to live to see Christmas, we would go to the park and stay there for at least an hour (the time it takes my mother to consume 2 vodka-tonics, I assume). So off we went to the park, about a half-mile away.
I was 10 years old, my sister was seven. When my own kids reach this age, I doubt I will feel comfortable sending them 100 yards away, let alone a half-mile. In 1984, it was common for kids to run around all day long, returning home only for food and serious bathroom needs. We didn't have video games that could be played all day long, we had three channels (four if you had aluminum foil, long arms, and good balance) and there was very little fear of kidnapping. Of course, if anyone had kidnapped my sister and I, they would have regretted it quickly. We weren't much to look at but we sure were bad.
Anyhow, we are at the park and alone. Who knows where the other kids were that day. We were bored, and it was too soon to return home. This is when bad things happen, right? Boredom has got to be the most dangerous state for anyone, especially morons like my kid sister and I.
This playground did not have wood chips to break your fall like most playgrounds today; it had pea-gravel. Tiny little rocks at a playground: freaking brilliant, huh? Man, we used to whip hand-fulls of that pea-gravel at each other all the time. I would love to meet the Einstein who came up with that idea.
Oh yeah, we're talking about my stupidity, not someone else's. I had this idea to launch pea-gravel and make it rain. My sister would scoop as much pea-gravel as she could onto the seat of the see-saw (teeter-totter, whatever.) I would then push down as hard as I could on the other side of the see-saw, launching the pea-gravel into the air. Sounds like clean, harmless fun, right?
I loved to make my sister mad. I lived for it. I was addicted to it. Some people have to get a crack rock, I had to make my sister mad. In this case, my sister was serious about getting enough rocks onto the seat of the see-saw before I launched the payload. Therefore, I figured I would get a kick out of launching before she was done. As my sister will tell you to this day: Big brothers suck.
I launched as hard as I could after she had scooped only a handful of rocks onto the see-saw. Unfortunately, her head was directly in the path of the see-saw. I thwacked her hard, right in the forehead. Blood was coming out immediately, as were the inhuman screams and wailing.
I felt bad immediately. I felt guilty. I was afraid of the trouble I would be in. I was panicked: home was a long walk with two bikes, a bleeding, wailing sister, and a truckload of guilt. We made it part of the way; someone called my mom while we were en route and she came flying down the road in the car.
She took my sister to the emergency room. They found a piece of gravel under the skin of her forehead, and another identical piece in her shoe. They put both under tape to use as evidence if ever the need should arise.
My sister recovered fine. It left a tiny scar that is probably gone today. Pictures from Christmas '84 has her head wrapped in gauze, and to this day she will not go to the park with me. Other than that, we were very lucky. Any brain damage she has was probably there to begin with.
I was going through a box of keepsakes tonight and found the rocks mounted in tape. I don't know how I ended up with them, but they make a nice blog entry in a pinch. Here is evidence that my sister had rocks in her head:
3 comments:
This is hilarious. I just stumbled upon your blog and must comment. I read the entry smiling and the end (picture) most certainly did not disappoint. Thanks for reminding me what the good ole days for us adults were like....when kids were kids.
It made me smile too. I wonder, does your sister read your blog--I'd like to hear her version!
This is in reponse to Terri whom would like me version of events.
#1 I don't have "rocks in my head."
#2 The only brain damage that was done was when my mother bang her pregnant belly with Larry into a door knob. I think that explains a lot.
My Version:
Larry and I did go to the park as said, and I started flicking the rocks off the teeter tarter. He thought I was whimpy and couldn't fling them far enough. So, I gave up my position and took his as putting the rocks onto the teeter tarter. That is when the fateful, excruitating pain set in. He didn't bother to check if I was in the way! I told him to wait, but did he? NO!!! I will forever be scared by this event. Like he said I will not join him on trips to the plpayground any more. When my son goes with him, I cringe. All he could think about the whole way home with me wailing, was how much trouble he would be in. Can you tell I am trying to make him feel more guilty? Anyways, I love him and he has more then made up for that fateful day. He is my favorite brother. Wait, he is my only brother. Love you Lar, and I forgive you. Do you forgive me for getting you smacked in the back seat one day on our way home?
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