Once when I was eleven or twelve “this was in Tucson” I was at our neighbor’s house. Their daughter was a friend of mine from school. They were the neatest family, they were Mormon. I went to their church once and liked it. I had not been to allot of churches in my life up until then, but I liked their church. I thought they were rich. Of course I thought everybody was rich except us, but they had a maid that came in three times a week, so to me they were rich. I remember her name, it was Mrs. McNamara. Isn’t that funny I can’t remember my friend’s name, but I will never forget her maid. This day that I was over there, the maid was washing the windows and doing laundry. My friends little brother was a year or so younger than us and he had a crush on me. My friend and I were sitting on the sofa eating ice cream when her little brother came over to me and started putting pepper in my hair and on my ice cream. He was saying “You have black dandruff, you have black dandruff. I jumped up and started running from him trying to get him to stop it. I ran outside through the sliding glass door. And I do mean “through the sliding glass door” I thought it was open. Mrs. McNamara had done her job of cleaning the windows well that day. When I woke up, I was outside propped up in a chair. Mrs. McNamara was wrapping a ripped up sheet around my leg and hand. There was blood everywhere. I had run straight through that door. In fact I had gone so straight through it that the hole I left in the window, was only about fourteen inches in diameter. I was very fortunate. I had only gotten my hand and legs. Never a dull moment!
They called my mom and she drove up to their house, put me in the car, and drove me out to Davis Monthan Air force base. A Corman sewed me up. I got almost two hundred stitches. I still bear the scars from that experience. I was on crutches all summer.
I had to go back to the base hospital a year later to have plastic surgery on my hand. Apparently the Corman that sewed me up had left glass in my hand. That was just one of many visits that us kids made to the emergency room at the base hospital.
One time my little sister Darla was playing on this old “tilt a whirl” that we had. It was like a four way merry go round. You sat in the seat and it had pedals, four of us could ride it at one time. You pushed with your feet and pulled with your hands and made it go around faster and faster. It was fun, but old, rusty and falling apart. Darla somehow got her leg caught in some piece of loose metal and took a hunk of her leg out. I ran her into my mother and she put us in the car and rushed her out to the base. On the way there, a police officer tried to stop us. My mom stopped long enough to tell him that she was rushing my sister to the hospital and then took off. The officer got in front of us and escorted us out there. Then he waited for us and gave my mom a ticket. Honest! Darla had a nasty wound on her leg, and she bears the scar of that ordeal. We all have at least one scar from childhood.
My little brother David had a dirt bike. One day he got that thing going 75 miles an hour through the desert, and he hit a barbed wire fence, it took almost one hundred stitches to sew up the crease in his leg, “the crease that runs between your leg and all those other very important parts.” The Dr. said that if it had been any closer, he would have been a girl.
Billy got bit on the mouth by a dog, and almost took off his toe with a shovel.
Shelley was allergic to everything and one time she got bit by some black ants and she was swollen up like a watermelon, and one time she got bit by a squirrel and was going to have rabies shots in her stomach, but they found the squirrel because it was missing a foot.
Anyway with five kids, there were bound to be battle scars. We also had some other physically bloody thing happen in our young lives. One time my mom was driving along with all of us in the car. We came to an intersection and right in front of us, a garbage truck and a big gasoline truck had wrecked into each other. The guy in the garbage truck went through the windshield, and the gas truck turned over and spilled gas everywhere. The guy that had gone through the windshield had had his arm cut off as he did so. He was rolling around on the ground in all of this gasoline, screaming. It was horrible. My mom told us kids to keep our heads down, but of course we didn’t. We were stuck there because cars were behind us and the wreck was in front of us, so we couldn’t go anywhere. The police came over to my mom and asked her if she had anything to wrap this man up in until an ambulance could get there. We always had an old army blanket in the trunk and she gave them that. After it was over and they had taken the man away and cleared the road. The police came back over to us and ask my mom if she wanted the blanket back? She said no of course, I will always remember that.
One time we were driving along and saw a beautiful horse get hit by a train. It tore his back leg almost all of the way off. My mom took all of our shoe laces and made a tourniquet to put on the horses leg, but when the police got there they shot the horse and then asked her if she wanted the shoe laces back! I swear to god.
Experiences, experiences, we had many. We also had some pretty unusual meals when we got those creative juices flowing, or was it just hunger pains, or just five kids all saying “what’s for dinner?” By the last few days of each month, we had some pretty creative meals. I learned to make a meal out of just about anything. We have had chocolate chip pancakes, Goulash, Spanish rice, Peanut Butter and Syrup sandwiches, and tuna and cream of mushroom soup over toast. If nothing else it made me able to make a meal out whatever was in the cupboards. Cooking has been as big a part of my life as diapers have been
Once when I was eleven or twelve “this was in Tucson” I was at our neighbor’s house. Their daughter was a friend of mine from school. They were the neatest family, they were Mormon. I went to their church once and liked it. I had not been to allot of churches in my life up until then, but I liked their church. I thought they were rich. Of course I thought everybody was rich except us, but they had a maid that came in three times a week, so to me they were rich. I remember her name, it was Mrs. McNamara. Isn’t that funny I can’t remember my friend’s name, but I will never forget her maid. This day that I was over there, the maid was washing the windows and doing laundry. My friends little brother was a year or so younger than us and he had a crush on me. My friend and I were sitting on the sofa eating ice cream when her little brother came over to me and started putting pepper in my hair and on my ice cream. He was saying “You have black dandruff, you have black dandruff. I jumped up and started running from him trying to get him to stop it. I ran outside through the sliding glass door. And I do mean “through the sliding glass door” I thought it was open. Mrs. McNamara had done her job of cleaning the windows well that day. When I woke up, I was outside propped up in a chair. Mrs. McNamara was wrapping a ripped up sheet around my leg and hand. There was blood everywhere. I had run straight through that door. In fact I had gone so straight through it that the hole I left in the window, was only about fourteen inches in diameter. I was very fortunate. I had only gotten my hand and legs. Never a dull moment!
They called my mom and she drove up to their house, put me in the car, and drove me out to Davis Monthan Air force base. A Corman sewed me up. I got almost two hundred stitches. I still bear the scars from that experience. I was on crutches all summer.
I had to go back to the base hospital a year later to have plastic surgery on my hand. Apparently the Corman that sewed me up had left glass in my hand. That was just one of many visits that us kids made to the emergency room at the base hospital.
One time my little sister Darla was playing on this old “tilt a whirl” that we had. It was like a four way merry go round. You sat in the seat and it had pedals, four of us could ride it at one time. You pushed with your feet and pulled with your hands and made it go around faster and faster. It was fun, but old, rusty and falling apart. Darla somehow got her leg caught in some piece of loose metal and took a hunk of her leg out. I ran her into my mother and she put us in the car and rushed her out to the base. On the way there, a police officer tried to stop us. My mom stopped long enough to tell him that she was rushing my sister to the hospital and then took off. The officer got in front of us and escorted us out there. Then he waited for us and gave my mom a ticket. Honest! Darla had a nasty wound on her leg, and she bears the scar of that ordeal. We all have at least one scar from childhood.
My little brother David had a dirt bike. One day he got that thing going 75 miles an hour through the desert, and he hit a barbed wire fence, it took almost one hundred stitches to sew up the crease in his leg, “the crease that runs between your leg and all those other very important parts.” The Dr. said that if it had been any closer, he would have been a girl.
Billy got bit on the mouth by a dog, and almost took off his toe with a shovel.
Shelley was allergic to everything and one time she got bit by some black ants and she was swollen up like a watermelon, and one time she got bit by a squirrel and was going to have rabies shots in her stomach, but they found the squirrel because it was missing a foot.
Anyway with five kids, there were bound to be battle scars. We also had some other physically bloody thing happen in our young lives. One time my mom was driving along with all of us in the car. We came to an intersection and right in front of us, a garbage truck and a big gasoline truck had wrecked into each other. The guy in the garbage truck went through the windshield, and the gas truck turned over and spilled gas everywhere. The guy that had gone through the windshield had had his arm cut off as he did so. He was rolling around on the ground in all of this gasoline, screaming. It was horrible. My mom told us kids to keep our heads down, but of course we didn’t. We were stuck there because cars were behind us and the wreck was in front of us, so we couldn’t go anywhere. The police came over to my mom and asked her if she had anything to wrap this man up in until an ambulance could get there. We always had an old army blanket in the trunk and she gave them that. After it was over and they had taken the man away and cleared the road. The police came back over to us and ask my mom if she wanted the blanket back? She said no of course, I will always remember that.
One time we were driving along and saw a beautiful horse get hit by a train. It tore his back leg almost all of the way off. My mom took all of our shoe laces and made a tourniquet to put on the horses leg, but when the police got there they shot the horse and then asked her if she wanted the shoe laces back! I swear to god.
Experiences, experiences, we had many. We also had some pretty unusual meals when we got those creative juices flowing, or was it just hunger pains, or just five kids all saying “what’s for dinner?” By the last few days of each month, we had some pretty creative meals. I learned to make a meal out of just about anything. We have had chocolate chip pancakes, Goulash, Spanish rice, Peanut Butter and Syrup sandwiches, and tuna and cream of mushroom soup over toast. If nothing else it made me able to make a meal out whatever was in the cupboards. Cooking has been as big a part of my life as diapers have been
