Odd Anniversaries
Apparently, fifty years ago (probably about next August) my mother had an accident. While walking on a window ledge (stupid child) she swung her leg and busted the window. She didn’t feel any pain, so it wasn’t until she walked awhile and one of her sisters noticed she was trailing blood did she know she was injured. If it weren’t for grandpa’s quick thinking and ability to tie a good tourniquet, my mother would have bled to death. My aunt thought this was a good reason to call and have a lovely conversation. My mom enjoyed it anyway.
I write about this because another family member (the husband of the aunt who called) nearly died fifty years ago as well, a few days before the music died. This is the reason my aunt remembered that my mom had almost died that year as well. Anyway, my uncle was hurt pretty badly. He was a farm boy and was sixteen at this time. Turns out, he got his hands caught in a grind belt (I think this is what my mother called it) in some machine dealing with the harvesting of corn. He was pulled in towards where the not so nice stuff happens to the corn. His arms were broken in five places, and he hit his head hard enough that he was sent into a coma for two weeks. No one knew if he was going to wake up. When he did, the very first question he was asked was, “How do you feel?”
His answer?
“With my fingers.”
As my mom said, “Even at sixteen and just out of a coma, he was still a smart ass.”
I write about this because another family member (the husband of the aunt who called) nearly died fifty years ago as well, a few days before the music died. This is the reason my aunt remembered that my mom had almost died that year as well. Anyway, my uncle was hurt pretty badly. He was a farm boy and was sixteen at this time. Turns out, he got his hands caught in a grind belt (I think this is what my mother called it) in some machine dealing with the harvesting of corn. He was pulled in towards where the not so nice stuff happens to the corn. His arms were broken in five places, and he hit his head hard enough that he was sent into a coma for two weeks. No one knew if he was going to wake up. When he did, the very first question he was asked was, “How do you feel?”
His answer?
“With my fingers.”
As my mom said, “Even at sixteen and just out of a coma, he was still a smart ass.”