History 2- just the good stuff

Starting at birth leaves a long, long history to relate, and I don't want to digress into a history book, boring most of the populace, so I will serve up only the juicy meals of time gone by. Expect little snacks, lunches of variety and occasional full course meals. My life, along with family, is chock full of oddities, excitements, foolishness and adventure. We shall go where every man has gone before. Be prepared, it's a bumpy ride........... I promise to offer up snippets so as to prevent overload.

In a previous post I offered up a couple of scenes related to barnyard antics involving cracking my skull and clotheslining myself on electrified barbed wire, so I need not mention them. I was maybe 8 when that stuff happened. I could talk about fabricating a spear using a broom handle and a knife, bridling our pony, "Peanuts" and mounting him with the spear, at 8 or 9 years old with the idea of riding the mile or two to my cousins house, carrying his birthday present crosswise as I traveled, taking a short cut through the woods, across a stream and between closely growing trees- too close-, snapping his gift across my lap, but I find this escapade too typical of my youth so I won't mention it.

Sometime in 1965 or 1966, after my dad had built a playhouse for my sisters, replete with window treatments, wood siding and a shingle roof, we watched from our laundry room as a tornado snatched it from its slab like Dorothy's house in The Wizard of Oz, after which it was decided by mom that we pull the wood landing inside our garage and dive into the crawlspace. Did I tell you tornadoes are LOUD? Well, they are.

From a dark place in my memory, I reluctantly bring back a Saturday in 1966 when I stepped into the garage (I might have been beckoned by my mom, hysterical), to find the car running, my dad lying underneath. My mom asked me to open the overhead door, but it was nailed shut. She had turned off the car and was pulling my dad from beneath. He was unconscious. I recall a bottle of booze on the floor. I helped mom drag him outside through the back service door. She called an ambulance and he recovered from the incident, but my mom probably lost a little of her mind that day. I was young enough to be unsure of the true nature of the event. This is my story, so I tell it, and at the outside chance (and that is very outside), that he reads this, I say truth is truth, there's no denying it. An impact is an impact. I'm just glad he didn't succeed.

So, life rolls on, bumps all over the place.

To be continued.............