It is time once again for Flashback Friday with Linda of Mocha With Linda. This is the meme that takes us back in time. In Linda’s own words:
This meme’s purpose is to have us take a look back and share about a specific time or event in our lives. It will be fun to see how similar – or different – our experiences have been!.
Participating in this meme and reading everyone’s answers is one of my weekly highlights. Grab the button and the link and come play along. Linda’s theme this week is:
Were you prone to accidents and injuries when you were growing up? Did you ever break a bone? Knock out any teeth? Get stitches? Have you ever ridden in the back of an ambulance? Did you ever have surgery or spend any time in a hospital? How did your folks treat injuries and illnesses? With lots of TLC or by telling you to get a stiff upper lip? Was there a particular home remedy that your mom (or dad or whoever!) used or any “traditions” involving injuries or illnesses? What’s the worst injury (or illness) you had when you were growing up?
Linda asks too many questions. It will take me a week of posts to answer them all. I’m going to tell you this one: How did your folks treat injuries and illnesses? Specifically, I am going to tell you about an incident at Aunt Flo’s.
After my mom died my Aunt Flo (technically not my Aunt, but my mother’s best-friend) would have us kids come and stay with her for two or three weeks every Summer to give my Grandmother a break. Aunt Flo was a single mom long before it was fashionable. She had 4 kids of her own, and she always picked up a dozen or so kids from the neighborhood.
One particular Summer when I went to Aunt Flo’sher three boys, Jimmy, Tommy and Scotty, all teens, were buidling a tree house. Ruthy and I wanted to help them but we were labeled “babies” and ordered to stay on the patio.
That sets the scene — now for some back ground. Aunt Flo was always surrounded by kids and she had no time for tattling. If you said something to Aunt Flo like, “Tommy hit me!” Aunt Flor would respond, “Go hit him back!” And there begins my tale — finally!
Ruthie and I were watching the boys. They really looked like they were having fun and we wanted to join them. Tommy picked up a 2×4 and turned around to hand it to Jimmy. Scott had bent down to pick something up and he stood up at just the wrong time. Tommy hit him in the back of the head with the 2×4.
Ruthie and I immediately ran to the back door and yelled for Aunt Flo. She came to the screen and said, “What?! Stop shreiking before you scare the neighbors!”
Ruthie yelled, “Tommy hit Scotty with a board!”
Aunt Flo said, “Tell Scotty to hit him back.”
I said, “He can’t. He’s hurt.”
Aunt Flo said, “Is he bleeding? Is anything broken?
Ruthy and I looked at each other and shrugged. “Well, no.” we said.
Aunt Flo said, “Well then go play and don’t worry about it.” She started to turn away and then she stopped. “Wait a minute, ” she said. “Why didn’t Scotty come tell me himself?”
And I said, “Because we can’t wake him up!”
Okay, that story isn’t about me, but it may clarify for some of my readers why I nonchalantly write about things like falling out my second story window, riding my bike off cliffs, and catapulting out of trees. It might also explain why I had four tetanus shots in one Summer (four different accidents while in the care of 4 different adults). I wasn’t accident prone. I was an accident waiting for a place to happen.