A couple of weeks ago, Squawky fell out of the bed. I heard the crash, boom. (He hit his head on the nightstand on the way down, thus the crash. The boom was from him hitting the floor) I jumped up and ran to the room. He was fine after a good hard cry. Those that know me well, know I'm not just soft and gooey on the outside, but soft and gooey on the inside too. So I reminisced about the other times members of my family got hurt that I remembered. . .
the time Monkey fell down cement steps at grandma and grandpa's house. I gracefully displaced the wifey to get to him in my rush. (her side of the story is a little different)
The time my brother threw my sister across the room and she got a gash right above her eye, after hitting our old console TV (look it up kids, it was before flat panels.) The thing I remember most that time was when she saw her own blood, the scream was as blood curdling as the girls in the scary movies.
The time my brother fell off the top bunk and cracked his head open on the stereo speaker. (I had whined to my mom that night that I never got to sleep on the bottom, and she forced him to sleep on the top. I still don't know if it was an accident or a set up?)
The time I broke my brothers arm while we were Karate Kid fighting in the front yard. He tried to kick (The Crane) and I grabbed his foot and tried to throw him up in the air.
The time . . .OK so you get the point.
But I have to tell you about this. I was in 7th grade (February 13th, 1987 to be exact, you will understand why I recall this date later.) my friends and I used to play this game that we called Bike Tag. (sometimes it was bike laser tag, when we could get the guns to work) We went to a school in Lakewood California called Gompers (yea, I know how does that ever get to be a name for a school right?) Needless to say I am one of the rare people who knows that Samuel Gompers was a guy who helped form the unions. (I guess that means I should have a natural leaning towards the democrat way, good thing I only went there for a year) The whole school was pavement. There was only grass on the sidewalk and where the marquee was, so it was perfect for riding bikes all over the place. The way the game worked was just like ped-tag, you know on foot. The person that was "it" had to ride all the way to the fence and the rest of us took off. We could ride anywhere on the school grounds and there was no safe place. You rode until you got tagged by the "it" person. I don't know if this is grounds for the claim of the original x-games, but we thought it was pretty edgy. Needless to say there were many a time that the way the "it" guy tagged you was by crashing into you. Believe me, you can learn a lot from those old '70's safety videos that teach you how to crash.
Anyway, while playing one day, my sister decided to tag along. She had a girl bike, pink and everything. She hated that bike. She kept getting caught and could not catch the others on it. So I wanted to help her out, I let her ride mine and I took hers. I liked her bike, it had a banana seat and everything. I would sit on the back part of the seat and have more power to pedal.
I was being chased by one of my friends and took a corner too sharp, I would like to tell you that the crash was spectacular, I don't know, I just know somehow I was on the ground and the bike was on top and I had a terrible pain in my leg.
I had a friends dad take me home and I hopped up the steps on my good foot until the last step where somehow I decided to hop on the hurt leg. It hurt more than the original crash. Since my mom was a nurse she decided my leg was not broken and I would be fine. I slept on the couch all night long, in misery. She finally gave in and let me go to the hospital. I got a cast all the way up to the upper thigh. I was 14, barely a teenager and I was already proving to my mom I was right and she was wrong.
The reason I remember the date so well is that all I could think of was that I had chocolates that I wanted to give to my girlfriend because it was valentines and it just wouldn't be the same if I missed giving them to her on that day. I talked my mom into taking me to the school after the cast.
I walked to the office in my daisy duke pant on one side and my curled super tight acid-wash pant on the other side. I asked if I could go to my girlfriend's class and give her the chocolates. They thought I was the sweetest little freckle-faced, red head they had ever met. They would not let me deliver the chocolate but would deliver the it for me.
Flash forward:When Squawk fell that night I thought I should blog about this but there was no great moment to wrap it all up. That final part that makes you feel like you got some meat with your salad.
So, I thought that was good enough to blog about, but then. . .
I was sitting with The Walker at basketball this Wednesday when I complained that I had a slight pull in my right quad. He complained that I had finally gotten him out to basketball again and I was going to get hurt and he would be stuck coming to basketball by himself. (you see, I don't mind passing to The Walker, it is soooo cute watching the little guy go in the lane and throw his little underhand shot up to the basket.)
The next game started and I got a rebound and starting driving quickly up the court. ( I can't call it a fast break, I am 34 and white, there is no way that can be called fast) While driving one of the other guys got his foot under mine. I rolled my foot heard a pop and now I have my meat for you.
During the longest days of my working year in which I will walk the most. . . I will be wearing a black shoe on the right foot because I have a black boot on the left for my broken foot. See the sacrifices I make for you.
So you look at the facts and let me know what do you think caused it? I of course blame The Walker.
"Hear" is a great sentimental piece by Irish Indie Damien Rice
