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Sometimes I wonder how I ever managed to be born
By ELB | March 23, 2007
Not too long ago Henry fell down and got a bump on his eyebrow/face area. There’s a teensy scar, but I’m pretty sure it’ll fade once we get him to the pediatric plastic surgeon. I told my Dad what had happened and this was his reply:
Some time in the future Henry and I will be able to show off our war wounds. I’ll show him the:
Scars on the bottom of my feet from stepping on rusty nails,
scar on my head from catapulting a chunk of concrete into it,
scar on my foot from hitting it with an ax,
scar on my left leg from sheetiron while sliding down the barn roof,
scar on my right leg from a packing strap while offloading artillary shells
(no Purple Heart, alas),
pencil lead in my arm courtesy of Jimmy Medlock* [This story always begins the same way, "I was in the lunchroom, looking out the window at a tree eating an egg salad sandwich."],
pencil lead under my eye courtesy of Mike Klepper,
cleat scars on my back courtesy of Mike Hall,
gravel scars on my back after sliding off the hood of a car courtesy of Mike Hudson who suddenly decided to do a quick 90 degree turn,
and the rock scars on my back from scrambling through a cave. This was soon followed by near death from hypothermia after getting lost in a blizzard.Then I’ll tell him about:
My groin wound from jumping off Gran’s porch holding the wrong end of a pointed stick,
my burned fingers courtesy of a too-short Black Cat fuse,
the mega forhead bump resulting in unconsciousness from a full speed encounter with an oak tree (what you get when you run while looking over your shoulder after tormenting your brother),
my shredded palms after climbing up out of a creek bed on blackberry vines to avoid being run down by a bull,
the saucer sized swelling on my belly after shooting my BB gun into a red wasp nest,
the rope burns on my hands after an unsuccessful rapel into a ravine (the resulting sprained ankle will not be worth mentioning since they were so commonplace from jumping out of trees, off the creek banks, out of the barn loft, and off the porch roof to scare Mom)
and the major full-body wrap around welt gained while playing with the bull whip we found in Mike Klepper’s barn**,Then it will be his turn to share his boyhood adventures, so give him a kiss for me.
Love you,
Dad
*Jimmy Medlock was the “inventor” of a game. You guys can try it at home! Swing on the swingset as high as you can go, then higher. Then, just as the swing hits its zenith, jump out. This game is called “Bail out, Medlock!” and never stops being fun.
**This one is my favorite. This is how the story played out:
Me and Mike Klepper were in the barn playing Lash LaRue. Klepper saw the whip first and did a straight back, straight forward whip snap which hit him in the back causing extreme pain. I took it and said, No, Lash LaRue swings it around his head like this before he whips.” Thus the full body wrap which also caused extreme pain.
Topics: Beans!, good times., Lists | 10 Comments »
March 23rd, 2007 at 10:42 pm
and people call those the good old days, and worry endlessly about the dangers of childhood now. “Don’t forget your helmet and knee and elbow pads, Timmy! Walking’s dangerous these days!” When was the last time you saw a merry-go-round in a park? Or a see-saw?? BRING BACK THE SEE-SAW!
Ahem. As a bumper sticker once said, “Scars are tattoos with better stories.”
March 24th, 2007 at 10:11 am
You and I are actually double lucky to be alive. Besides the stupidity we got into, it is nothing short of a cosmic accident that our fathers made it out of adolescence. Home made dynamite, anyone?
And I’ve still got a scar under my chin from the time you used Grandma’s water hose to propel me into the swing set. And on my shin from the time you dared me to jump off our aunt’s porch railing onto the rotten board. Aw. Family. I get a tear, ya know?
But I never did any permanent damage to my little sister. Nope. Never.
March 24th, 2007 at 1:12 pm
“Bail Out, Medlock” is a game I think everyone played in my childhood. Until one day when some first-grader broke his sternum (really don’t know how) and had to be taken away by an ambulance. After that, the “no jumping from the swings” rule was strictly enforced.
March 24th, 2007 at 10:24 pm
your dad is almost as awesome as my dad for the cautionary tale… did he ever make his own pipe bombs?
March 25th, 2007 at 8:34 am
I don’t know for sure about pipe bombs, but in the time he’s been my father-in-law, I’ve at the very least seen him construct a pretty spectacular potato cannon.
March 25th, 2007 at 8:39 am
He wasn’t so into pipe bombs, as he was into straight up dynamite.
Miz. H. up there is my cousin and she’s not kidding. She lived it too. Though I do not at all recall either of the incidents she mentioned. I do recall the time we were in the golf cart and I drove it over a sapling.
March 25th, 2007 at 10:46 am
When I was three, I stole the golf cart from Grandpa and drove it into the pond before bailing out and giving myself a minor concussion.
In ELB’s defense, she always ASKED before performing an action to get me injured. I was just too stupid to say no.
March 25th, 2007 at 7:43 pm
We played “Bail out, Medlock” all the time – at least until my friend embarrassed me by showing up with tin foil bracelets, belts and tiaras for us to wear (so we could mimic Wonder Woman). As a “trying to look cool” 4th grader, I was completely mortified. I’m ashamed to say I think I completely stopped hanging out with her after that.
Heidi, if you’re out there, I’m sorry I was such a shit!
March 26th, 2007 at 4:36 pm
My novel shall now begin: “I was in the lunchroom, looking out the window at a tree eating an egg salad sandwich.â€
March 28th, 2007 at 5:18 pm
Your dad should stay away from guys named Mike. We used to play a combination of “Bail Out, Medlock!” and Frogger on the swings. People got hurt all the time. It was awesome.