Age: 5
Date: Summer
Place: Good ol' Spanish Fork
The weather was warm, but it was also wet and rainy. That means it was near or during monsoon season. School hadn't started yet, so my guess is this all occurred in August of 1982. It should be more fresh considering what happened.
Shauna and I (and another friend, whose name I think was Trina, but don't quote me on that) went over to Bishop Lamb's house (next door neighbor to Shauna). The Lamb's had a cool backyard where their garden thrived and they had several apple trees. It was in one of these apple trees that we decided to swing after a rain storm.
Yeah, geniuses. I know.
I think everyone else went first and had a turn. It came to me, so I got the "peer pressure" from others to just do it. I wiggled my way out on the limb; it was a sturdy limb, but fairly high off the ground and on a hill. I was facing east with the hill falling to the west and began to swing. It took a few tries, but I finally started to get going.
That's when my hands became a bit too wet, and as I swung back my fingers couldn't hang on. My grasp quickly loosened and dropped me to the moist grass under the tree. As I hit the ground, my right arm slammed into the grass, followed quickly by my left arm and then my head meeting with both wrists as they crashed into each other a second time.
The pain! It was searing and hot. Tears immediately came to my eyes, but the fall had knocked the wind out of me, so my open mouth was silent. The girls in the tree said, "Whoa! No way! Holy cow!" And then Shauna said, "Katie? Katie! Are you okay?" Next thing I knew, she was out of the tree helping me off the ground, and we walked around the corner to my house with me crying the entire way and screaming if anyone tried to touch me.
When we got to my house, Shauna took me inside. My sister, Lisa, was the only one home at the time. She was supposed to be watching me, I think. In her usual fashion, she was talking on the phone as we came in the house and basically told me to shut up so she could hear her phone conversation. Shauna and I went into the family, where we sat for nearly an hour as I sporadically cried and moaned. After nearly an hour, Mom came home to me still sobbing and Lisa still on the phone. Mom chewed Lisa out for talking on the phone, demanded she hang up NOW, and checked in on me. I screamed bloody murder when Mom tried to touch my arms to see what was wrong.
The next thing I remember, we were at Dr. Judd's office and I was having my right arm put in a cast up past my elbow. I'd had x-rays which showed a break in the wrist and was told I'd be in that cast for 6-8 weeks. The left arm seemed to be okay for the moment. I don't remember much after that when we got home, but I'm pretty sure Lisa got in serious trouble, and I crashed on Mom and Dad's water bed.
A week later, I was still in pain and complaining to Mom. Out of exhaustion (I'm sure) she took me back to Dr. Judd's office. More x-rays indicated there was also a break in my left wrist. Another cast was put on my left arm up to my elbow, and we were sent on our way. I'm sure I was a sight to see.
But that's not the end of the story.
Oh, no. We don't do things the easy way around our house.
About a week or so after the second cast was put on, Shauna wanted to ride bikes. Dr. Judd told Mom there was to be absolutely no bike riding, skateboarding, or other "dangerous" activities while I had the casts on. We were wrapping them in old sandwich bags during bath time and being extremely cautious about keeping them clean. But what's a five-year-old to do? I mean, it's summer, for Pete's sake! Who wants to keep their kid cooped up during that time when they can be outside playing and out of their parent's hair?
So we got on the bikes. We started at the top of the block near my house where a hill started that was both big enough and small enough for a five-year-old. And then we began to race. I made it swiftly past our neighbor's house, past my house, and almost past the other neighbor's house when a van began pulling in the parking lot of the church on the opposite corner of the block at the end of the hill. Suddenly, I seemed to forget how to use the bike breaks, and I plowed into the neighbor's fence that separated their home from the church parking lot.
With the front wheel of my bike stuck in the fence and a cast on each arm, I had nowhere to go but down and no way to protect myself in the fall. Thankfully, I leaned to the left and landed face-first in the neighbor's grass. Phew! Right?
No. As I said, we don't do things the easy way.
I was stuck. And by I, I mean my bottom teeth. My teeth were stuck in the grass and there was no way for me to get out on my own. As much as I could, I tried to scream. It was a muffled sound. Who knew grass was such a good sound barrier? Anyway, Shauna had run to the neighbor's door and asked for help. Next thing I know, the pony tail in the center of my head has become the gripping device used to yank my face from the grass.
Somebody walked my bike home, bent wheel and all, and I was walked home to Mom where she took one look at my teeth and put me in the car to go to the dentist. After everything I'd been through, you'd think the dentist would have been more sympathetic. Is that even in their job description?
My bottom two front teeth were yanked, and the grass was dug out of the other two teeth next to those. My mouth was a bloody, painful mess - the perfect match to my still-painful and swollen arms. What a sight!
To make matters worse, Kindergarten started only a couple of weeks after that. You should have seen me trying to learn how to write with dysfunctional fingers, how to say the Pledge of Allegiance by using my somewhat mobile left arm to raise my completely inept right arm up to my heart, and how to "play" with the others kids when every time I turned around I practically took one of them out with one of my heavy casts. Plus, you know, my smile was already missing two teeth when most of the other kids hadn't even lost one.
That's a killer look for a five-year-old. It definitely added to self-esteem and increased capacity to make friends at school.
Yeesh.
It's a miracle I'm any kind of normal.
You're welcome.
Showing posts with label Summer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Summer. Show all posts
Thursday, July 30, 2015
Friday, June 26, 2015
Recipe: Bowtie Caprese Toss
I found this recipe online through Good Housekeeping, and it looks SO good. We really enjoy eating bruschetta with the toasted bread, fresh mozzarella cheese and basil, and drizzled with a little olive oil and salt and pepper. It's a tasty and fresh summer time dinner/treat/appetizer/snack that takes only a little time and doesn't heat the house up to boiling.
Since we've already had some 100 degree weather (and since we're in for a LOT more in the coming week), I thought this was a good way to enjoy caprese served cold. I haven't made it yet, but when I do I'll probably make some adjustments (because that's how I roll). It might end up being our go-to pasta salad. I mean, look at these ingredients. YUM, right?
Bowtie Caprese Toss
1 pint cherry tomatoes
1/2 teaspoon salt
12 ounces mini bowtie pasta (farfalle)
1 Tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
1 small onion
2 Tablespoons balsamic vinegar
2 Tablespoons water
1 clove garlic
6 ounces fresh mozzarella
1 green onion
1/4 cup fresh parsley leaves (Since I'm not a huge fan of parsley, I think I would omit this ingredient and put basil in its place.)
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
Directions:
In large bowl, combine tomatoes and salt; set aside. Heat covered 3-quart saucepan of salted water to boiling on high. Add bowtie pasta and cook as label directs. Drain pasta and transfer to bowl with tomatoes, stirring until well combined. Cool completely.
Meanwhile, in 10-inch non-stick skillet, heat olive oil on medium for one minute, then add onion. Cook one minute or until onion begins to soften; add balsamic vinegar and water, stirring to coat. Cover and cook 5 to 7 minutes or until onion is soft and almost all liquid has evaporated, stirring occasionally.
Uncover and add garlic. Cook 2 to 3 minutes or until garlic is lightly browned. Cool completely. Add onion mixture to pasta and tomatoes, along with mozzarella, green onion, parsley, and black pepper.
Doesn't that sound delish?! I can't wait to try it and hope to find time to make it soon.
I'd also like to add that Costco is so very good and so very bad for me. Costco has an amazing selection of cheese. They have fresh mozzarella that's already pre-sliced (works perfectly on that bruschetta!), and it would be so easy to dice up for this pasta salad. I was at Costco last night and noticed they have a selection of the cherry tomatoes as well. I should have bought some, but didn't. Another reason (excuse!) to go back, I guess. Maybe that will give me time to stand in the cheese aisle and dream up recipes for each of the cheese flavors. And yes, that is a true source of entertainment for me.
Since we've already had some 100 degree weather (and since we're in for a LOT more in the coming week), I thought this was a good way to enjoy caprese served cold. I haven't made it yet, but when I do I'll probably make some adjustments (because that's how I roll). It might end up being our go-to pasta salad. I mean, look at these ingredients. YUM, right?
Bowtie Caprese Toss
1 pint cherry tomatoes
1/2 teaspoon salt
12 ounces mini bowtie pasta (farfalle)
1 Tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
1 small onion
2 Tablespoons balsamic vinegar
2 Tablespoons water
1 clove garlic
6 ounces fresh mozzarella
1 green onion
1/4 cup fresh parsley leaves (Since I'm not a huge fan of parsley, I think I would omit this ingredient and put basil in its place.)
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
Directions:
In large bowl, combine tomatoes and salt; set aside. Heat covered 3-quart saucepan of salted water to boiling on high. Add bowtie pasta and cook as label directs. Drain pasta and transfer to bowl with tomatoes, stirring until well combined. Cool completely.
Meanwhile, in 10-inch non-stick skillet, heat olive oil on medium for one minute, then add onion. Cook one minute or until onion begins to soften; add balsamic vinegar and water, stirring to coat. Cover and cook 5 to 7 minutes or until onion is soft and almost all liquid has evaporated, stirring occasionally.
Uncover and add garlic. Cook 2 to 3 minutes or until garlic is lightly browned. Cool completely. Add onion mixture to pasta and tomatoes, along with mozzarella, green onion, parsley, and black pepper.
Doesn't that sound delish?! I can't wait to try it and hope to find time to make it soon.
I'd also like to add that Costco is so very good and so very bad for me. Costco has an amazing selection of cheese. They have fresh mozzarella that's already pre-sliced (works perfectly on that bruschetta!), and it would be so easy to dice up for this pasta salad. I was at Costco last night and noticed they have a selection of the cherry tomatoes as well. I should have bought some, but didn't. Another reason (excuse!) to go back, I guess. Maybe that will give me time to stand in the cheese aisle and dream up recipes for each of the cheese flavors. And yes, that is a true source of entertainment for me.
Sunday, May 3, 2015
Choking on Bacon
My mom graduated from college while she was still pregnant with me. She didn't start working full-time as a teacher until I was in Kindergarten. Prior to that, she held several jobs, but we were by no means wealthy. We never went without the things we needed, but if it was a want, you couldn't have it. My older siblings know and remember that fact a lot more than I do, but I do remember how far Mom could stretch a can of tuna fish to feed five kids and her and Dad. It was more Miracle Whip sandwich than it was tuna sandwich, but we didn't know the difference, and I don't think it mattered anyway. We were taught to be grateful for what we had.
Because of our monetary situation, it was rare that we ate things like bacon. It was too expensive, so the only time I remember eating it was when it was on super reduced sale or given to us by someone else (which I don't think ever happened). The same thing happened with hamburger and any kind of beef, pork products, and probably chicken as well, although chicken probably would have been cheaper and easier to come by. We ate a lot of rice and pasta dishes. And casseroles. And lots of vegetables and fruits because they were cheap at the time (unlike now where you can't eat healthy without giving up your firstborn and 12 batches of your own plasma) and because Grandpa Koyle's garden was full of them in the Fall. (Thinking of his fresh tomatoes still makes me salivate!)
There must have been a good sale on bacon during the summer that I was four. I remember I was four because I hadn't started school yet, and I was both excited and nervous to go to Kindergarten. I also remember that it was summer because my brother, Jon, was home that morning for some reason, and I was wearing shorts and a lightweight T-shirt. Mom had cooked bacon that day, and we were having bacon and tomato sandwiches for lunch. Sometimes (probably more than I knew) she would make lunch and take it to Dad at the dry cleaning shop. Other times, he would come home to eat, but more often than not he had a hard time getting away from that place (for lunch or anything else, including vacations).
I was standing in the kitchen as Mom finished cooking the bacon and started putting Dad's lunch together. I asked Mom what she was cooking and what we were having for lunch. With an excited smile on her face Mom replied, "We're having bacon! Bacon and tomato sandwiches."
My response (as always) was, "I don't like (fill in the blank here with any food item, and this time it was) bacon."
She assured me I would love bacon. It's not that I was necessarily a picky eater (was I?), but it was more that I was afraid of the things I didn't know. I wouldn't eat mushrooms because (I got words mixed up a lot as a kid) I thought they were mushworms, and by being mushworms it meant they were worm poop that had been "mushed" up into that shape. So you can see how new foods might have been problematic for me, right? Anyway, Mom assured me I would like bacon if I would just try it. And besides, she reminded me, it wasn't often we got to have bacon.
After a lot of coaxing and convincing (and probably some bargaining with something I wanted, like cheese), I decided to try the bacon. Mom handed me a piece that had been well-cooked (not burned, just not fatty) and said, "Now, be sure to chew it up really well. Just keep chewing and chewing and chewing until it's small enough to swallow, okay?" I stared at the bacon and nodded my head in the affirmative.
Who knows how long I stared at the piece of bacon before taking a bite? It could have been hours knowing me and my stubborn ways. Eventually, I took a bite.
It was kind of a big bite.
Mom noticed how much I bit off and reminded me again to chew it and chew it and chew it.
Yeah, uh huh, okay, sure Mom. I will chew this until the cows come home. I will chew it so well you won't even ...
... UH OH.
I had swallowed without chewing really well and there was a huge piece of bacon caught in my throat and I couldn't breathe and I was choking and the world was caving in on me and my eyes were going black and the room was getting small and ...
... then Jon reached around me and gave me the Heimlich maneuver. Where did he learn that?!
And then Mom was all over me. "Are you okay? Are you all right? Can you breathe?"
YES, thank you.
And on the floor was a balled up piece of bacon. Which Jon promptly picked up and threw away. Thank him! I couldn't have seen it for much longer without losing more than my bacon.
Things calmed down after that. There were no adverse effects. Jon sat down to eat his bacon and tomato sandwich, and I went with Mom to take lunch to Dad.
When we got home, I believe I ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch.
Or was it mostly Miracle Whip with a little tuna?
Either way, it tasted good to me and helped Mom keep her sanity. Win-win.
For the record, I really like bacon.
Because of our monetary situation, it was rare that we ate things like bacon. It was too expensive, so the only time I remember eating it was when it was on super reduced sale or given to us by someone else (which I don't think ever happened). The same thing happened with hamburger and any kind of beef, pork products, and probably chicken as well, although chicken probably would have been cheaper and easier to come by. We ate a lot of rice and pasta dishes. And casseroles. And lots of vegetables and fruits because they were cheap at the time (unlike now where you can't eat healthy without giving up your firstborn and 12 batches of your own plasma) and because Grandpa Koyle's garden was full of them in the Fall. (Thinking of his fresh tomatoes still makes me salivate!)
There must have been a good sale on bacon during the summer that I was four. I remember I was four because I hadn't started school yet, and I was both excited and nervous to go to Kindergarten. I also remember that it was summer because my brother, Jon, was home that morning for some reason, and I was wearing shorts and a lightweight T-shirt. Mom had cooked bacon that day, and we were having bacon and tomato sandwiches for lunch. Sometimes (probably more than I knew) she would make lunch and take it to Dad at the dry cleaning shop. Other times, he would come home to eat, but more often than not he had a hard time getting away from that place (for lunch or anything else, including vacations).
I was standing in the kitchen as Mom finished cooking the bacon and started putting Dad's lunch together. I asked Mom what she was cooking and what we were having for lunch. With an excited smile on her face Mom replied, "We're having bacon! Bacon and tomato sandwiches."
My response (as always) was, "I don't like (fill in the blank here with any food item, and this time it was) bacon."
She assured me I would love bacon. It's not that I was necessarily a picky eater (was I?), but it was more that I was afraid of the things I didn't know. I wouldn't eat mushrooms because (I got words mixed up a lot as a kid) I thought they were mushworms, and by being mushworms it meant they were worm poop that had been "mushed" up into that shape. So you can see how new foods might have been problematic for me, right? Anyway, Mom assured me I would like bacon if I would just try it. And besides, she reminded me, it wasn't often we got to have bacon.
After a lot of coaxing and convincing (and probably some bargaining with something I wanted, like cheese), I decided to try the bacon. Mom handed me a piece that had been well-cooked (not burned, just not fatty) and said, "Now, be sure to chew it up really well. Just keep chewing and chewing and chewing until it's small enough to swallow, okay?" I stared at the bacon and nodded my head in the affirmative.
Who knows how long I stared at the piece of bacon before taking a bite? It could have been hours knowing me and my stubborn ways. Eventually, I took a bite.
It was kind of a big bite.
Mom noticed how much I bit off and reminded me again to chew it and chew it and chew it.
Yeah, uh huh, okay, sure Mom. I will chew this until the cows come home. I will chew it so well you won't even ...
... UH OH.
I had swallowed without chewing really well and there was a huge piece of bacon caught in my throat and I couldn't breathe and I was choking and the world was caving in on me and my eyes were going black and the room was getting small and ...
... then Jon reached around me and gave me the Heimlich maneuver. Where did he learn that?!
And then Mom was all over me. "Are you okay? Are you all right? Can you breathe?"
YES, thank you.
And on the floor was a balled up piece of bacon. Which Jon promptly picked up and threw away. Thank him! I couldn't have seen it for much longer without losing more than my bacon.
Things calmed down after that. There were no adverse effects. Jon sat down to eat his bacon and tomato sandwich, and I went with Mom to take lunch to Dad.
When we got home, I believe I ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch.
Or was it mostly Miracle Whip with a little tuna?
Either way, it tasted good to me and helped Mom keep her sanity. Win-win.
For the record, I really like bacon.
Tuesday, May 20, 2014
Dangerous Liaisons
You know those HUGE black garbage bags that hold something like 13 or 15 gallons worth of trash? And they're nearly as tall as a human when you pull them out of the box? Those were used for incredible feats when I was a kid.
Growing up in a smaller community, we had irrigation days where ditches and yards would be flooded with mountain water run off. Certain neighborhoods had certain watering days to take care of their yards and gardens. The best part, however, was the water that filled the ditches.
You may be asking what that has to do with the black garbage bags. A lot, I tell you! A lot! One of the things we did most when I was a kid was grab one of those garbage bags and head for the ditches. You'd open up the bag, put yourself inside, and then sit in the ditch water until it filled the bag and sent you sailing down the ditch. It was a fast ride because the water moved fast.
The only potential problem was getting out of the ditch with your bag (and body) intact before you went under a driveway cover and got stuck. And probably drowned. Maybe this wasn't such a great thing we did in retrospect. Nah. Are you kidding?! It was great fun! And cheap.
Quite often, the bag would rip because it was so full of water. Plus, it was quite slippery, so trying to yank it out of the water with wet, prune-y hands was kind of difficult. The other difficult part was making sure you yanked the bag up and out of the water rather than dragging it. If you dragged it you would most likely be pulling against the asphalt and create tears in the bag. A few small ones were no big deal, but much more than that definitely decreased your speed in the water.
If there got to be too many holes in the bag, we'd sit on them instead and hold on for dear life as the water dragged us down the length of the ditch. That usually lasted at least a few more rides before a new bag was a necessity.
I remember getting caught under the driveway cover one time. My legs were stuck in the bag under the driveway cover, and I was really struggling to get out of the water. My heels were digging into the ditch to hold on to that garbage bag for dear life as my forearms were holding my entire body weight above the water so I could get out. I almost recovered with the garbage bag intact, but at the last second the water filled up the bag again and sucked it down the ditch to its demise.
It's amazing to me that we can't find such cheap summer entertainment now. Everything costs money, and summer entertainment consists of going to the movies where it's air-conditioned and comfortable. The good ol' days never knew of such a thing. Sure, we had movie theaters, but playing outside in the heat was what summer was all about. It was like a silent contest to see who could go to school in the Fall with the brownest skin. If you were lucky (like me) that tan would last year round with only the slightest fade when Spring came around.
I do, however, admit now that many of the things we did during summer break were pretty dangerous. After all, I could have easily drowned in that ditch had the bag not broken free. My arms could have given in and the water would have sucked me under. Or I could have whacked my head on the cement ditch and never come to. But those were the days when dangerous liaisons meant staying out of your mom's hair in order to avoid housework or chores. It was totally worth it - risking life, limb, and all.
Growing up in a smaller community, we had irrigation days where ditches and yards would be flooded with mountain water run off. Certain neighborhoods had certain watering days to take care of their yards and gardens. The best part, however, was the water that filled the ditches.
You may be asking what that has to do with the black garbage bags. A lot, I tell you! A lot! One of the things we did most when I was a kid was grab one of those garbage bags and head for the ditches. You'd open up the bag, put yourself inside, and then sit in the ditch water until it filled the bag and sent you sailing down the ditch. It was a fast ride because the water moved fast.
The only potential problem was getting out of the ditch with your bag (and body) intact before you went under a driveway cover and got stuck. And probably drowned. Maybe this wasn't such a great thing we did in retrospect. Nah. Are you kidding?! It was great fun! And cheap.
Quite often, the bag would rip because it was so full of water. Plus, it was quite slippery, so trying to yank it out of the water with wet, prune-y hands was kind of difficult. The other difficult part was making sure you yanked the bag up and out of the water rather than dragging it. If you dragged it you would most likely be pulling against the asphalt and create tears in the bag. A few small ones were no big deal, but much more than that definitely decreased your speed in the water.
If there got to be too many holes in the bag, we'd sit on them instead and hold on for dear life as the water dragged us down the length of the ditch. That usually lasted at least a few more rides before a new bag was a necessity.
I remember getting caught under the driveway cover one time. My legs were stuck in the bag under the driveway cover, and I was really struggling to get out of the water. My heels were digging into the ditch to hold on to that garbage bag for dear life as my forearms were holding my entire body weight above the water so I could get out. I almost recovered with the garbage bag intact, but at the last second the water filled up the bag again and sucked it down the ditch to its demise.
It's amazing to me that we can't find such cheap summer entertainment now. Everything costs money, and summer entertainment consists of going to the movies where it's air-conditioned and comfortable. The good ol' days never knew of such a thing. Sure, we had movie theaters, but playing outside in the heat was what summer was all about. It was like a silent contest to see who could go to school in the Fall with the brownest skin. If you were lucky (like me) that tan would last year round with only the slightest fade when Spring came around.
I do, however, admit now that many of the things we did during summer break were pretty dangerous. After all, I could have easily drowned in that ditch had the bag not broken free. My arms could have given in and the water would have sucked me under. Or I could have whacked my head on the cement ditch and never come to. But those were the days when dangerous liaisons meant staying out of your mom's hair in order to avoid housework or chores. It was totally worth it - risking life, limb, and all.
Thursday, May 15, 2014
Let's Start From the Beginning
Life is so busy, and I rarely find time to write anymore (journals have never been my thing), but this blog idea has been stirring in the back of my mind for some time, and there's no better time than the present to get going. Right? Right.
I thought it would be fun to just randomly write some of the fun, interesting, exciting, dull, scary, awful, crazy things that have happened in my life - from my earliest memories to my most current memories. Maybe one day I'll even do one of those "blogs in a book" when it's all said and done and have my own personal history completely written. Then, all those naysayers who think I don't do my own genealogy will get off my back. Not that anyone has really referenced my lack of doing genealogy, but those on the other side are frustrated with me, I'm sure. I digress ....
Let's start from the beginning then, shall we? This is the story of one of the first memories I have, and it happened when I was three. Man, I'm getting old.
First, it would be helpful to know that one of my best friends of all time is Shauna Leifson (now Leavitt). She was born nine months and 27 days after me. We have never not known each other. Yes, I know that was a double negative! Anyway, we went to school together, we grew up together, and our backyards were connected by a hole in a fence. Why would we ever walk around the corner to each other's houses when the hole in the fence was there?
Little did I know at the time (hello ... I was only three) that Shauna was my bad luck charm. It seems like, looking back, every time I got injured in some way she was there. Not that she caused the injury, you see, just that she happened to be in the vicinity when it happened. We laugh about it now, and we're still the best of friends. So no hard feelings about this earliest of memories, okay?
One summer day I was over at Shauna's house playing. I'm sure we were in her mother's hair and driving her crazy. We were creative little stinkers that stayed busy all the time. Maybe my mom had shunned me to Shauna's house that day? I'll have to check with her on that. We decided it would be fun to play outside (or we were told to go outside and play - not really sure which of those is more accurate). Shauna's aunt Colleen was there visiting Shauna's mom, and her car was parked outside in the driveway. If that wasn't an invitation to play inside the car I don't know what was!
The car was unlocked. Or it might not have even had locks. Another unclear detail. Either way, we got in the car. Shauna got in the passenger's side, and, because I was older and would have a license first, I got in the driver's side. Logical, right? Remember - we were three!!! So, we're buzzing along in the car doing heaven knows what when I notice the glove box between the driver and passenger seat in the center of the car. (It was an OLD car. I was three in 1980, so ....)
I leaned over and looked in, but found nothing of significance in the glove box (that I remember). Since there was nothing worth getting into there, I closed it shut. Shauna was looking at other things while I investigated the glove box and decided there were bigger fish to fry. It didn't take Shauna long to say, "Look!" She had the glove box open and her head was practically in it. Being the loving and mature friend I was, I shoved her head out of the way and said, "What?" At almost that exact moment, Shauna let go of the glove box "lid" and it pinched the side of my forehead as it closed.
One thing I do remember was a searing pain near my eye and then a feeling of warmth down the side of my face. I wasn't sure what Shauna saw, but she threw the passenger door wide open and ran towards the house as if she saw a huge tornado coming our way. It took me a second to gather my senses, and then I realized what had happened. The tears started to flow immediately. I ran into Shauna's house only to see her mom, Freda, coming to greet me. As she got closer her face got more smooshed and crinkled up. Somethin' wasn't right.
Next thing I know, I'm in Freda's bathroom. She's wiping red stuff off my face and telling Shauna to get back. Shauna looked like she was going to throw up or pass out - in which order, I didn't know. In what seemed like a very short time, the red stuff stopped flowing and Freda had placed a butterfly bandage on the side of my head. It still hurt, but heck, a butterfly bandage? You couldn't cry with one of those on your face, could you?
After that, I don't remember much. I vaguely remember sitting at the kitchen table while Freda called my mom. It wasn't long before Mom showed up and took me home. The whole fiasco, I thought, was over, so I told Shauna I'd see her later that day so we could play some more. She continued to look like she might burst into tears or vomit at any second, and I honestly thought she was just mad because she didn't get a butterfly bandage.
Mom didn't take me home. Instead, we ended up at the doctor's office. He promptly took off the pretty little butterfly bandage Freda had given me and gave me three stitches and an ugly brown Band-aid in its place. Who does that?! To a three-year-old?! The whole incident gave me a massive headache.
I didn't get back to play with Shauna that day. Freda was mortified that the accident happened on her watch. Shauna may have been given a talking-to about it - I don't know that for sure. I don't remember ever seeing Colleen's car again after that. In fact, I think they got a new car shortly afterwards. We laugh about it now. It's a joke when we say, "Remember that time Shauna slammed Katie's head in the glove box of Colleen's car?"
The scar is still there. It's tiny, but it's still visible. Occasionally, I will notice it when I look in the mirror. It's not a bad reminder of the events that day. It actually brings a smile to my face more often than not. The reason? Because I think how funny it must have looked in a bird's eye view to see that happen. (Yes, I'm one of those people that imagine what those in heaven look "down" and see as they're watching us crazy humans try to function and survive among the chaos and confusion that is mortal life.)
It must have been funny to watch a two-year-old take out a three-year-old with the simple letting-go of the lid to a glove box in an old car. If only it were as easy to take out a war enemy or a despised and annoying neighbor. "Come on over here and sit in my car with me. Let's have a nice chat." All the while saying underneath your breath, "I'm gonna get you for [insert some awful, annoying thing here], you little scoundrel!"
Hey - did Shauna and I find a quick solution to world peace without even knowing it?!
I thought it would be fun to just randomly write some of the fun, interesting, exciting, dull, scary, awful, crazy things that have happened in my life - from my earliest memories to my most current memories. Maybe one day I'll even do one of those "blogs in a book" when it's all said and done and have my own personal history completely written. Then, all those naysayers who think I don't do my own genealogy will get off my back. Not that anyone has really referenced my lack of doing genealogy, but those on the other side are frustrated with me, I'm sure. I digress ....
Let's start from the beginning then, shall we? This is the story of one of the first memories I have, and it happened when I was three. Man, I'm getting old.
First, it would be helpful to know that one of my best friends of all time is Shauna Leifson (now Leavitt). She was born nine months and 27 days after me. We have never not known each other. Yes, I know that was a double negative! Anyway, we went to school together, we grew up together, and our backyards were connected by a hole in a fence. Why would we ever walk around the corner to each other's houses when the hole in the fence was there?
Little did I know at the time (hello ... I was only three) that Shauna was my bad luck charm. It seems like, looking back, every time I got injured in some way she was there. Not that she caused the injury, you see, just that she happened to be in the vicinity when it happened. We laugh about it now, and we're still the best of friends. So no hard feelings about this earliest of memories, okay?
One summer day I was over at Shauna's house playing. I'm sure we were in her mother's hair and driving her crazy. We were creative little stinkers that stayed busy all the time. Maybe my mom had shunned me to Shauna's house that day? I'll have to check with her on that. We decided it would be fun to play outside (or we were told to go outside and play - not really sure which of those is more accurate). Shauna's aunt Colleen was there visiting Shauna's mom, and her car was parked outside in the driveway. If that wasn't an invitation to play inside the car I don't know what was!
The car was unlocked. Or it might not have even had locks. Another unclear detail. Either way, we got in the car. Shauna got in the passenger's side, and, because I was older and would have a license first, I got in the driver's side. Logical, right? Remember - we were three!!! So, we're buzzing along in the car doing heaven knows what when I notice the glove box between the driver and passenger seat in the center of the car. (It was an OLD car. I was three in 1980, so ....)
I leaned over and looked in, but found nothing of significance in the glove box (that I remember). Since there was nothing worth getting into there, I closed it shut. Shauna was looking at other things while I investigated the glove box and decided there were bigger fish to fry. It didn't take Shauna long to say, "Look!" She had the glove box open and her head was practically in it. Being the loving and mature friend I was, I shoved her head out of the way and said, "What?" At almost that exact moment, Shauna let go of the glove box "lid" and it pinched the side of my forehead as it closed.
One thing I do remember was a searing pain near my eye and then a feeling of warmth down the side of my face. I wasn't sure what Shauna saw, but she threw the passenger door wide open and ran towards the house as if she saw a huge tornado coming our way. It took me a second to gather my senses, and then I realized what had happened. The tears started to flow immediately. I ran into Shauna's house only to see her mom, Freda, coming to greet me. As she got closer her face got more smooshed and crinkled up. Somethin' wasn't right.
Next thing I know, I'm in Freda's bathroom. She's wiping red stuff off my face and telling Shauna to get back. Shauna looked like she was going to throw up or pass out - in which order, I didn't know. In what seemed like a very short time, the red stuff stopped flowing and Freda had placed a butterfly bandage on the side of my head. It still hurt, but heck, a butterfly bandage? You couldn't cry with one of those on your face, could you?
After that, I don't remember much. I vaguely remember sitting at the kitchen table while Freda called my mom. It wasn't long before Mom showed up and took me home. The whole fiasco, I thought, was over, so I told Shauna I'd see her later that day so we could play some more. She continued to look like she might burst into tears or vomit at any second, and I honestly thought she was just mad because she didn't get a butterfly bandage.
Mom didn't take me home. Instead, we ended up at the doctor's office. He promptly took off the pretty little butterfly bandage Freda had given me and gave me three stitches and an ugly brown Band-aid in its place. Who does that?! To a three-year-old?! The whole incident gave me a massive headache.
I didn't get back to play with Shauna that day. Freda was mortified that the accident happened on her watch. Shauna may have been given a talking-to about it - I don't know that for sure. I don't remember ever seeing Colleen's car again after that. In fact, I think they got a new car shortly afterwards. We laugh about it now. It's a joke when we say, "Remember that time Shauna slammed Katie's head in the glove box of Colleen's car?"
The scar is still there. It's tiny, but it's still visible. Occasionally, I will notice it when I look in the mirror. It's not a bad reminder of the events that day. It actually brings a smile to my face more often than not. The reason? Because I think how funny it must have looked in a bird's eye view to see that happen. (Yes, I'm one of those people that imagine what those in heaven look "down" and see as they're watching us crazy humans try to function and survive among the chaos and confusion that is mortal life.)
It must have been funny to watch a two-year-old take out a three-year-old with the simple letting-go of the lid to a glove box in an old car. If only it were as easy to take out a war enemy or a despised and annoying neighbor. "Come on over here and sit in my car with me. Let's have a nice chat." All the while saying underneath your breath, "I'm gonna get you for [insert some awful, annoying thing here], you little scoundrel!"
Hey - did Shauna and I find a quick solution to world peace without even knowing it?!
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