{"id":2297,"date":"2019-01-27T14:05:15","date_gmt":"2019-01-27T19:05:15","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/?p=2297"},"modified":"2019-01-27T15:06:57","modified_gmt":"2019-01-27T20:06:57","slug":"fwd-falling-we-all-do-it-uncensored-version","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/?p=2297","title":{"rendered":"Fwd: FALLING…WE ALL DO IT UNCENSORED VERSION"},"content":{"rendered":"
Will ANYBODY READ THIS?  I WONDER.  IT IS LONG…  A CAUTIONARY TALE ABOUT FALLING.<\/p>\n
IN THIS DIGITAL WORLD NOT MANY PEOPLE HAVE TIME TO READ MUCH.   WRITING THIS SEQUENCE<\/div>\n
OF HORROR STORIES\u2026ALL TRUE\u2026TOOK THREE DAYS SO I HOPE SOMEONE READS THE STUFF OTHER<\/div>\n
THAN MARJORIE.  I REALLY WROTE IT FOR KEVIN AND ANDY AND GRANDKIDS BUT CAN NEVER BE SURE<\/div>\n
THEY READ THE STUFF.
<\/p>\n

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<\/div>\n
FALLING:   WERE WE REALLY MEANT TO BE BIPEDAL?<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
alan skeoch<\/div>\n
January 2019<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
When I told Marjorie I was going to write a story about Falling, she wondered if I meant <\/div>\n
Falling in Love.  Not so.  Falling in Love would be a good story mind you but this sequence of<\/div>\n
stories is about falling and hurting yourself.  Rather I should falling and hurting myself.<\/div>\n
I am sure anyone who reads this story will have his or her own stories about falling.<\/div>\n
Why?  Because everybody falls.   The lucky ones fall in love.  Others just fall and bash<\/div>\n
up their bodies.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
FALLING:   CREDIT RIVER MISTAKE   1985<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cALAN, the ice on the Credit River is perfect.  One sheet of perfect ice from Port Credit to the Q.E.W. bridge.  Let\u2019s go skating\u2026I mean real skating<\/div>\n
not that baby circling stuff.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cWonderful idea\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cJust watch out for the cracks\u2026otherwise no problem.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Well, as things turned out there was one other nearly invisible problem.  Sand.  Wind blown sand.  I was skating as free as a bird\u2026moving with the wind<\/div>\n
on a great water day when  WHAM!  My blades hit the sand.  My skates stopped\u2026dead stop\u2026jettisoned me forward so fast that my nose hit the ice before my arms.  Some of<\/div>\n
you may not know that the human nose is not meant to be a skate blade.  Look below for my demonstration of this fact.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
This is the opening photo\/print essay on how falling has affected my life on this earth.<\/div>\n
‘Who gives a sweet damn about your life, Alan?\u2019  Good question.  if you feel that way<\/div>\n
then please do not read any farther.   But should you be like every other human being<\/div>\n
on the planet you will have fallen a few times. Sometimes with horrific consequences<\/div>\n
sometimes all you have to do is get back on your feet.  Some people never get back<\/div>\n
on their feet.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Makes a person wonder abut bipedalism.   Were we meant to walk on two feet?<\/div>\n
Our rib cages suit four legged life better.  Bi-pedalism has some good points\u2026i.e.<\/div>\n
we can read, write and lace up our skates.   But look at my nose?  Yuk!<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Falling!  Wow, have I ever had some bad falls.  Yet, I am still standing.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
alan skeoch<\/div>\n
January 2019<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

FALLING is as natural as sitting and standing but has more negative consequences.<\/p>\n


<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
FALLING:  THE DAY  I GOT DOORED\u2026RHYMES WITH GORED    1952<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
 I had a bad  fall was  back in 1952 when  I got \u2018doored\u201d.   I  was going into Grade 8 when Mom said that her friend  Vi  Couling<\/div>\n
needed an office boy at the Queens Park Parliament buildings.  What a wonderful opportunity so I cycled all the way downtown early each<\/div>\n
morning on my bike and then returned at night.  A long long bicycle ride.  Fourteen and  full of piss and vinegar\u2026energy to burn\u2026until that<\/div>\n
car door suddenly opened  in front of me in the rush  hour traffic on St. George Street.  The door cut into my shoulder like a machete<\/div>\n
cutting sugar cane.  Whomp!  I tumbled to the sidewalk and the front wheel of my bike got twisted.   I remember the woman who opened<\/div>\n
the door scream \u201cAre you hurt?\u201d  What to say?  \u201cNo, I\u2019ll be fine.\u201d  Others stopped.  Something was wrong with my body.  I could not lift my<\/div>\n
left arm\u2026it  sort of hung there.  No pain or at least not much pain.  The lady slammed the door shut and took off up  the street and the car<\/div>\n
melted into the traffic flow.   That left me and my bike half in the  gutter and half on the sidewalk.  The term \u2018doored\u2019 had  not been  coined<\/div>\n
back then.  \u201cSomehow, Alan, you have to get home.\u201d But home was a long way to the north west. My bike was  driveable once the handlebars<\/div>\n
were forced  back a bit.  My left arm however was not as easily remedied.  I could pedal  the bike with my right hand steering and braking.<\/div>\n
But it was not going to easy.  Nothing else could I do.  Finding help when hurt is not easy.  But there was  one thing I could do.  I could sing.<\/div>\n
And I did.  Lyrics from the King and  I. \u201cWhenever I feel afraid, Ihold my head erect, and whistle a happy tune so no one will suspect I\u2019m <\/div>\n
afraid.\u201d  Over and over again I  mumbled this song.  It took about an hour or maybe longer to wend my way from Queen\u2019s Park to 455<\/div>\n
Annette Street where  I knew mom would  be waiting. \u201cAlan, what happened, you\u2019re white as a sheet.\u201d \u201cGot hit by a  car door\u2026I think <\/div>\n
something is broken.\u201d  Mom  washed  me up and  we hustled by bus to St. Joseph\u2019s hospital where an X Ray revealed  I had a broken<\/div>\n
clavicle.  A simple  break\u2026the bone was in place.  A sling and some aspirins helped.  Next day I went back to work on the bus and street car<\/div>\n
which was  a lot less fun than whistling my way through the city by bicycle.  Jammed into a  rush hour crowd  proved to cause other problems<\/div>\n
when a pervert tried to rub up against me.  \u201cMy that man is  close to me\u2026almost like his hand is in my pocket.\u201d  His hand  was in my<\/div>\n
pocket!  His intentions were sexual.  He scared me more than being whacked by the car door.   What to do?  I got off the street car fast<\/div>\n
and waited for the next one.  That cost me a double fare.  Seemed it was safer on my bicycle\u2026and cheaper.   As soon as I could<\/div>\n
I got back on my bike.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Aside:  One amusing event happened on the job when Deputy Provincial Secretary R. J. Cudney called me to his office.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cAlan, we have a problem.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cYes sir.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cThere are ten marriage licences  missing.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cyes, sir?\u201d<\/div>\n
You have  been putting the great seal of Ontario on the licences  in batches of 250.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cI have \u2026 yes  sir.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cDid you notice any discrepancy?  Numbering is consecutive.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cNo, sir\u2026\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cThank you, Alan, you may go.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
What was really happening here?  Took me a  while to understand that the Deputy<\/div>\n
Provincial Secretary was checking to see if I has stolen TEN marriage licenses.<\/div>\n
Mr. Cudney never said that directly.  What in hell\u2019s half acre would i want with<\/div>\n
ten marriage licences?  Ten wives in the future, maybe?  In 1952 I could barely<\/div>\n
look at girls\u2026let alone future wives.  Mr. Cudney came to that conclusion and sent<\/div>\n
a man to check with the printer whose numbering system must have made an error.<\/div>\n
Missing marriage licences was a serious business.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
But why would I even be a suspect?  Good reason.  My job was a very responsible job.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cAlan, your job is to put the Great Seal of Ontario on all of our official documents\u2026this big silver seal\u2026goes in  a press like this.<\/div>\n
In addition, Alan I want to show you how to but a blue ribbon and  hot wax seal of letters of incorporation.  Shove this sharpened<\/div>\n
tool through the top left corner , made a cross with the ribbons, then melt the hot wax over the place where the blue ribbon crosses and push this seal into<\/div>\n
the hot wax.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
I did that job for the full Grade 8 summer.  Loved it.  I also sent many letters of congratulation for Golden Wedding anniversaries.<\/div>\n
Just for fun I sent several congrats with the big seal to my Grandmother and Grandfather on the farm near Acton\u2026maybe sent<\/div>\n
a dozen or so.   I think Mr. Cudney became aware of this juvenile indiscretion and ignored  it.  He was a very formal man.  I filled<\/div>\n
his water thermos every morning\u2026a silver jug kind of thing.  Formal relationship.  Office boy.  But He trusted me.  How do  I know that?<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cAlan, the CNE starts next week and I would like you to protect the Great Seal of Ontario.\u201d<\/div>\n
How do I do that, sir?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cYou will work nights\u2026all night\u2026guarding the Great Seal in the Government Building\u2026are you willing?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cyes sir.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cEvery night, all night long?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cyes sir.\u201d<\/div>\n
 <\/div>\n
Now that was a nice job.  All alone in the government building.  Not boring at all.  In the 1950\u2019s the government building was  full of interesting <\/div>\n
things.  One branch had a  demonstration involving a  long electric train.  I  loved  working that.  The central quadrangle was, however,   was the most<\/div>\n
fascinating because Lands and Forest brought in live Ontario wild animals in cages\u2026raccoons,  skunks, foxes, beavers\u2026and  many  fish tanks<\/div>\n
with pike, trout, pickerel\u2026maybe even a muskelunge.   As the evenings wore on I made a great discovery that really kept me awake and  interested.<\/div>\n
The open air quadrangle was alive with creatures other than those imported.  Rats! Lots of  rats\u2026black, brown, beige\u2026big, small\u2026shy and bold.<\/div>\n
So I would  hide behind a pillar and  count to fifty then peak out.  Rats  all over the place.  Once they saw my face they scampered away and disappeared\u2026.<\/div>\n
as if they never existed.  Mom made me a midnight meal and  gave me a thermos of milk\u2026I kept that away from the rats.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
I took the job very seriously but today in 2019, I have a second thought.  Just suppose someone wanted to steam the Great Seal of Ontario.<\/div>\n
And suppose that person decided the best time to steal would be at night.  Do you think a fourteen year old boy would  be able to prevent the<\/div>\n
theft.  Mr. Cudney did not arm me with a weapon.   That adventure seems very strange.  But it happened \u2026 after I was doored.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
FALLING \u2014 THE SEWER GRATE INCIDENT    1956<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
I loved my Humber Sports racing bicycle with hand  grip brakes,  But it failed to reciprocate the love one day On Evelyn Avenue.  I was racing down<\/div>\n
Evelyn heading for a visit with my friend Russ Vanstone.  Going as fast I could.  Now the tires and wheel rims of racing bikes are very narrow\u2026maybe<\/div>\n
an inch or so in diameter.  As it so happened  the open spaces in sewer grates is about 1.5 inches.  I discovered this the hard  way.  My front wheel <\/div>\n
suddenly dropped and locked in sewer grate. The bike stopped but I did not stop. I was catapulted over the handlebars and landed face first on the<\/div>\n
bricks and cement of the sidewalk.   My facial skin was ripped badly.  What to do?  I had to get home to mom who would know whatever first aid<\/div>\n
was needed.   <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cAlan,  what happened?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cI fell, bike got caught in sewer.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cYou\u2019ve got brush burns on face and  shoulders\u2026.bad  ones.”<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
That was all I remembered.  Mom stripped me and got me in the bathtub to gently remove the little stones imbedded in my skin\u2026not just on my face.<\/div>\n
Shoulders as well as I was  not wearing a shirt.  But that help I do  not remember.<\/div>\n
When I came to I was shocked to find myself standing stark nude in our bath tub while mom and her friend Ina were carefully cleaning me up.  Now<\/div>\n
that was embarrasing.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
FALLING \u2014 THE BROKEN BEER BOTTLE INCIDENT     1944<\/div>\n

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\"\"<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
During the 1940\u2019s we rented the second floor of a Victorian mansion that was on the corner of Gladstone Avenue and Sylvan Avenue.  The house was really<\/div>\n
inside Dufferin Park.  Gone now.  Living in the park was entertaining since there was a lot of gang activity.  Children left to do  whatever they wanted because<\/div>\n
their fathers were overseas fighting World  War II.  But that is  just speculation on my part.  The fact of gang activity cannot be denied however.  Two big gangs, Junction <\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n

  gange and Beanery gang liked to sort things out with fists and  weapons.  They did this regularly as I remember.  One weapon of choice was the long necked beer bottle. Grab<\/p>\n

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the bottle by the neck, slam the bottom on a stone or a cement light standard and Presto\u2026a very lethal looking weapon.  Held in the hand by the neck meant the<\/div>\n
sharp shards of broken glass could be rammed into an adversary.   After the fights the weapons were often discarded  in the park.  Discarding weapons  happened<\/div>\n
very fast once the police arrived.  One Saturday or Sunday afternoon mom took Eric and  I for stroll through the park.  We decided to play a game of Blind Man\u2019s<\/div>\n
Bluff.  A scarf or big handkerchief was tied around my eyes and my job was to find Eric.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cCan you see, Alan?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cNope\u2026nothing.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cLet me turn you around  a few times like this..\u201d I was pivoted<\/div>\n
\u201cNow try and find Eric. He is standing still near you somewhere.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cYOW!\u2026I\u2019M CUT\u2026BROKEN GLASS!.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
I tripped  on a tree root.  Even today I  remember the exact spot that it happened.  I fell and by chance<\/div>\n
one of the beer bottle weapons had been discarded near the tree root.  My left leg fell on the sharp shards<\/div>\n
cutting me badly.  Mom and  Eric were aghast.  I was scared\u2026would  I bleed to death?<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cAlan, come here, we will have get you to a hospital for some stitches:\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cStiches?  Hospital?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cYes\u2026fast.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cI am not going,\u201d  I began to run home.<\/div>\n
\u201cCome back here Alan.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
I ran up the stairs, past our landlady Mrs. Southwick, then into our big communal bedroom.  <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cRed, get Alan\u2026he cut himself in the park.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cWhere is he?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cIn the bedroom, under the bed\u2026holding on to the springs.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll get him.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Then Dad lifted up the bed and grabbed me wrenching me free from my<\/div>\n
death grip on the bed springs.  After that I do  not remember much.  But proof that ithappened is easy<\/div>\n
to find for the scar just above my ankle remains visible to this day.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
FALLING:  UNEXPECTED GYMNASTICS   1957<\/div>\n

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Just a short account but I have never told this story to anyone.  Every time I touch the back of my<\/div>\n
head I am reminded of a totally unexpected fall  I had  back in high school.   Gym class with either<\/div>\n
Dunc Green or Streak  McLelland gave me a kind of  confidence I did not deserve.  On the  day in<\/div>\n
question I finally mastered a box horse  somersault.  Made  me  feel pretty good so as I left<\/div>\n
school that afternoon I noticed a bar that ran along the high chain link fence that surrounded our<\/div>\n
football field at Humberside.  There was a gap in the fence so students could come  and<\/div>\n
go.  At the top of gap\u2026about 8 feet up\u2026was a bar running parallel to the ground. A challenge.<\/div>\n
I took a run, jumped up and grabbed the bar.  Expected to swing there like the high wire acrobats.<\/div>\n
But the bar swivelled.  And  I fell backwards, head down.  And landed  on the concrete below.<\/div>\n
Hit hard.  Was a bit stunned as  I remember. No one saw me.  I got up and continued home but<\/div>\n
did  not feel too good.  And there was a  bump on the back of my head.  That bump is still there.<\/div>\n
Not sure if the bump was because of the fall or whether everyone has such a bump.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
What I remember most about that incident is how stupid I felt. I took an<\/div>\n
unnecessary risk and  was  lucky the consequence were not worse.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
FALLING:  THE CROSS BODY BLOCK AND SMASHED FINGER   1958<\/div>\n

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<\/div>\n
I am not the greatest athlete in the world.  But football was one sport in which I excelled  in a very small way.<\/div>\n
Few people ever notice the way  linemen open holes for the glory boys\u2026half backs, full back, quarter backs.<\/div>\n
The linemen do  this by throwing their bodies against the defencemen on the other team.  We had  a marvellous<\/div>\n
coach at Humberside, Fred Burford, who knew how each of the 24 players on the field should act\u2026how they<\/div>\n
should step, turn, use shoulders or throw  cross body  blocks.  Short choppy steps so legs are<\/div>\n
coiled and ready to launch  the body.  Cross  body  blocks were used to take out outside linebackers  mostly.<\/div>\n
Nothing mean about the block.  Get close to the opposing player then launch body into the air parallel to the ground,<\/div>\n
try to hit him with your hip. Part of the game.  No ill will involved.  Football was a  science to Mr. Burford.<\/div>\n
I loved it.  And got qjuite good at the Cross  Body.  Except one day things went a bit awry when I threw a <\/div>\n
Cross Body, took out the Corner Backer but let one hand hit ground splayed out like a bull frogs hand.<\/div>\n
The ball carrier or someone ran right over my hand with their football spikes.  Smashed  my little finger..broken in<\/div>\n
several places.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
My poor little finger!   Sounds like such  a trifling thing\u2026a broken little finger.  But that finger had immense <\/div>\n
consequences to me.  First, was the operation.  Mom and  dad were both working so I travelled  to St. Jospeph\u2019s<\/div>\n
hospital by street car one school day.  I was in Grade 13\u2026a big year\u2026a tough year.   Missing a day  of school<\/div>\n
was a problem that late October morning but it had to be done.  Now, that is not the truth.  I could have managed<\/div>\n
quite well with that broken finger.  Some would say  I should have ignored the medical advice and cancelled the<\/div>\n
operation.  Too late when I was on that street car.  Let me put the events that followed  in dialogue form.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cDay surgery, young man, put on this robe.\u201d<\/div>\n
(Robe as  we all know is  a misnomer.  Half a robe is a better term.  Bare ass to the wind robe is even better.)<\/div>\n
\u201cNow we are going to prep you for the surgery, pull up your sleeve\u2026just going to shave<\/div>\n
your arm\u2026clean.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cWhy are you shaving my right arm when the operation is  on my left arm\u2026little finger?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cSorry, young man, wrong arm.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cBig needle!\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cLocal  anesthetic\u2026just feel a bit of a  prick.\u201d  That was an understatement with many meanings. Prick?<\/div>\n
\u201cThere, we\u2019ll wheel you into the hall \u2026 wait here until the doctor\u2019s ready.\u201d<\/div>\n
(Waited there a long time\u2026too long as  it turned  out.)<\/div>\n
\u201cOK, your turn now\u2026operating theatre.<\/div>\n
\u2018What are those people above me doing?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cWatching\u2026mostly interns\u2026future surgeons.\u201d<\/div>\n
(Doctor entered with several attendants)<\/div>\n
\u201cOK son, we\u2019ll have you out of here in no time.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cJust cut here\u2026length of finger\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cYOW!!!  HURTS DOCTOR\u2026REALLY HURTS!\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cWhen did this boy get the local anesthetic?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cAt 10\u2026\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cTen?  It\u2019s  now nearly noon\u2026needle  has worn off\u2026quick give <\/div>\n
him another shot.\u201d<\/div>\n
The  doctor did his job\u2026cut, cleaned, wired little bones back in place\u2026while I looked up<\/div>\n
at the half dozen faces looking down at me from their circle guest seats in the so called theatre.<\/div>\n
Not much pain after the second local  cut in.  I could live with it.<\/div>\n
\u201cThere, slap on the  cast and soon you can go home.  Anyone here to take you home?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cNope\u2026mom and dad both working.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cHow will you get home?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cStreet car.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cFine.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
As I remember there was a  street car line on Roncesvales  back  then\u2026hooked up with the Annette Street bus<\/div>\n
and got me home.  The cast was a little bit red at the tip.  Some blood oozing\u2026not much but enough to make<\/div>\n
me feel woozy.  Got home and  went to school\u2026maybe for afternoon classes.  Not sure about that.  What I became sure about<\/div>\n
was the fact I could no longer take notes\u2026couldn\u2019t write.  Cast on my hand was like a big club with a tiny wire tip sticking out.<\/div>\n
The wire held  the broken bones in place.  Eventually it was pulled out cleanly.  Successful operation but my high <\/div>\n
school career was affected.  No ability to make notes.  I am left handed.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
I felt OK. Even able to go back and play football.  In one of the games I made a really good below the knees  tackle of the enemy ball carrier\u2026took him<\/div>\n
down like a calf in a  rodeo.  Burford even congratulated me.  But looked  at me strangely.   Something was wrong.  A couple of weeks later both<\/div>\n
Burford and Griffiths, the football coaches  cornered  me in the second floor hall.  I did not think they even knew I existed.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cDoes that cast bother you Alan?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cnot particularly.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cDoes it affect your homework\u2026your note taking\u2026your classes.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cNot too bad, sirs\u2026.no\u201d<\/div>\n
(I lied, what else could  I do?  Later, much later, I realized the football coaches were getting flack about football injuries.  I was not<\/div>\n
the only boy with a problem.  One of my fellow team players had  taken a fit\u2026convulsions\u2026from a head  injury.   So the coaches were <\/div>\n
worried. Other teachers were questioning the football cult.  My dismissal of the problem must have made them feel a bit better. If they believed  me.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Causation states that for every cause there is an effect.  Bloody obvious, right?   Not quite so simple though.  When I  taught high school<\/div>\n
history I amended the principle of causation.  \u201cFor every cause there are multiple effects.\u201d  Consequences.   Well, the trivial matter of my<\/div>\n
broken finger had  lots of effects some of which I will record\u2026others i will not record because so  many good things happened that recording<\/div>\n
them here seems like bragging.   I counted  over 20 consequences  of that broken finger\u2026some negative  but most of  them terrific\u2026so terrific<\/div>\n
that I dare not send them to any readers lest they  consider me a big blowhard  like  that asshole  Trump.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
What seemed to be a tragedy ended up as one of the best years of my life.  To say much about that year would make me<\/div>\n
seem vain in the extreme so I have deleted the  consequences and inserted the Bad Joke below.  Would you do this<\/div>\n
to your mother?<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
BAD JOKE:  FALLING <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Our family lived on the second floor of 455 Annette Street in 1957.  A long staircase went up to our family home of three rooms.  Coming home<\/div>\n
from a football game one day Mom was waiting at the top of the stairs to hear from Eric and I about a game that day.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cHow was the game, Alan.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cEric got hurt.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
And I threw Eric\u2019s helmet on the floor.  Russ Vanstone had inadvertently run over the helmet with his 1956 Chevrolet.  Smashed it all to hell.<\/div>\n
Eric, Russ and I thought it would be a good joke on mom.  Now that was not a good idea.  But we were teen agers. the story sort fits this sequence of stories on falling.<\/div>\n
Mom did not scream but she did put her hand to her mouth as I remember.  Then Eric popped up the stairs.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Consequences of that broke finger:<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Deleted:  If Kevin or Andrew or grandkids want to know I will send an uncensored copy<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
1)  Pain for a  short time<\/div>\n
2)  Could  not write\u2026no school notes  or homework  done<\/div>\n
3)  Pressure on final Gr. 13 exams made my mind go blank in physics exam. <\/div>\n
I could not remember what the basic symbol, the letter \u2019s\u2019 stood for\u2026a critical situation<\/div>\n
4) My Gr. 13 average marks  dropped to around 70% which  was not enough for<\/div>\n
acceptance into university<\/div>\n
5) I  had choice of joining the work force or going back  to high school to improve my marks<\/div>\n
I  chose to go back although it was  embarrassing\u2026even felt humiliated<\/div>\n
6) Rejoined  the football team and was chosen captain<\/div>\n
7) Elected President of Boys  Athletic  Association<\/div>\n
8) Got suspended for a week along with Vic and Ted  for taking an afternoon to<\/div>\n
spot \u2026 look for weakness in an enemy high schools football team. Unsportsmanlike behaviour said VP Mr. Couke and he was correct I agreed.<\/div>\n
9) Reconsidered my life decided to use my spare periods as  a chance to read<\/div>\n
books  I had never had  time to read  as much before\u2026Eric Fromm, Charles Dickens (all his  novels), John  Steinbeck, Arnold Toynbee, Robert Service,<\/div>\n
Luke Short, Loren Eisley (sp?),<\/div>\n
Robert Browning, Robert Frost, John Wyndham, Dwight Eisenhaur biography\u2026lots of books\u2026devised a check out notebook listing number<\/div>\n
of  pages to be read each half hour\u2026often  exceeded my estimate\u2026had my head  in books for most of that year.<\/div>\n
10) Asked  head  of history Evan Cruikshank if I could write the Gr. 13 history exam by  home study\u2026got his permission.  Same<\/div>\n
applied  to the Gr. 13 English exam\u2026got permission from Roberta Charlesworth<\/div>\n
11)  Made many speeches in auditorium promoting yearbook,  athletics,  school dances, etc.<\/div>\n
12)  Had chance to consider my future\u2026university bound  but scared  about it\u2026mom was  a seamstress,<\/div>\n
dad was a  tire builder, thus a working class family so university was a novel experience. Was I biting off more than I could chew?<\/div>\n
13) was chosen for both football all star teams by Toronto newspaper\u2026Toronto Star, Toronto Telegram<\/div>\n
14) was chosen Head Boy for Humberside Collegiate Institute 1958<\/div>\n
15) Improved my marks and  was accepted  as a student at Victoria  College, University of Toronto<\/div>\n
16) was asked to make the farewell speech for Mr. Les Devitt, math teacher who, during WW! was a test<\/div>\n
pilot for Toronto made aircraft.  if he felt a plane to be unworthy he deliberately crash  landed the plane<\/div>\n
so no young man would  be endangered in a war combat situation\u2026fact unknown to students until then.<\/div>\n
17) Broke up with my steady girl friend\u2026we just went separate ways\u2026which led  to meeting Marjorie Hughes<\/div>\n
at Victoria College second  year sock hop.  We had good chemistry\u2026natural\u2026friend for life… became my wife. <\/div>\n
 If I hadn\u2019t broken that little finger we might never have met.  Marjorie had a lot of men to choose from.  I was  <\/div>\n
lucky even if undeserving at times.<\/div>\n
18) wrote a  play  about our 38th Rover Crew\u2026corny but a lot of fun.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n

   19) had long talks with Russ Vanstone about just about anything\u2026politics (he was s conservative, I was CCF or Liberal or nothing, Girls, <\/p><\/div>\n

  and a lot of talk about football.  Cemented s life long friendship.<\/div>\n
 20) Spent time with friend Red Stevenson, we were Rover Scouts \u2026 took our joint First Class journey near Van Dorf, a rural community north of Toronto that is<\/div>\n
now so totally urban that few can remember the farm barns once so common.
<\/p>\n
\n
\n
\n

<\/div>\n
FALLING:  ICE AT FARM\u2026BASHED  BACK OF MY HEAD  2010<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Just a short story here.  I was working alone at the farm one midwinter morning.  Snow had turned to ice  on<\/div>\n
the sloping fields and  I slipped.   Anyone who  has fallen knows that once the  fall begins  there is not much<\/div>\n
a person can do to stop it.  You  can  roll like a wrestler does but usually the fall is  so fast that little can be done.<\/div>\n
That was the case on that winter day in 2010.  My feet slipped forward and I went over backward and my head  struck<\/div>\n
the hard ice like a pumpkin hits the trash  bin  after Halloween.  It hurt.  But not that much really.  So I continued<\/div>\n
working and did not give too much thought about it until I dropped into the hardware store to get some lumber.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cCan  you take a look at the back of my head?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cJesus, you got a big slice there\u2026some blood,..flap of skin and hair…let me <\/div>\n
get our first aid  kit.\u201d<\/div>\n
And  the man who handles  lumber bandaged me up until I got home<\/div>\n
\u201cAlan,  we\u2019ll need  to see Dr. Bahiya at the Walkin In\u2026you need  stitches.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
And  so  my head  was sewn back  together.  Not really a big deal.   I wondered why there was so little blood for<\/div>\n
head wounds are supposed to be bloody.  Later, I went back and thanked the hardware guy.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
FALLING:  DROPPED OFF A SMALL CLIFF IN SOUTH OF  FRANCE      2014<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
(We were having a grand time in the South of France\u2026our own farm house for a week\u2026then WHAM!)<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Too many pictures here, I know that.   Who takes pictures when someone is injured?.  As fortune would have it, Kevin decided to document the<\/div>\n
experience.  Fortunately he was not present when the French nurse said  \u201cen face out non?”<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
(What was the worst part?  Coming out of the anesthetic. )<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cWhat a  great day\u2026sunshine in the morning makes me  happy as the John Denver song goes.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cA little early to get up, Alan.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cLet everyone sleep, I am going for a walk  and take some pictures of that Lavender Field down the road.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cBreakfast in an  hour.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
We had rented a French farm house about an hour north of Marseilles.  Beautiful area.  Soft sunshine, pastel painted villages,  lavender fields<\/div>\n
and even wild pigs.  No  English spoken\u2026really the old France before the descent of English tourists by the busload.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cDad, it would  be best if you did not try to speak  French\u2026:\u2019<\/div>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cBecause your accent is terrible and  you keep slipping English words into the conversation which confuses everyone.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cTo hell with you.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
So I was alone on my walk and climbed a small hill\u2026rock strewn hill that ended  in a rather steep decline on the other side.<\/div>\n
But the lavender field  was stunning.  I got out my pocket camera and  began snapping.  At the same time I was backing up<\/div>\n
to get a  better panorama.  Bscked too far\u2026feet stepped on a  whole pile of rounded pebble\u2026like ball bearings to my feet.<\/div>\n
Suddenly I was rolling\u2026faster and faster\u2026no control\u2026over the steep cliff face\u2026faster and  faster.  Then WHACK!  I  hit<\/div>\n
a tree halfway down the hill\u2026bounced off and continued the fall.  Heard something crack… Had time to think and protect my camera in my clenched<\/div>\n
fist\u2026hit a couple of rocks and  then fell about five or six feet to the road  below.  Landed  spread eagled.  <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cGod-damn-it-all -anyway, must have broken my camera,\u201d That was my first thought when I got my bearings.<\/div>\n
\u201cCamera is  fine,\u201d  Unrapped it from my clenched fist.  <\/div>\n
\u201cThen why sound of that crack?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cMy wrist\u2026right side\u2026broken.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
I took stock  of myself and the picture was  not good.  Quite a bit of  blood, broken wrist, bruised  legs,  clothes torn.   A car came by  and  swerved  to<\/div>\n
avoid me but did not stop.  Maybe I looked like a drunk.   \u201cGot to get back to the farm house\u2026drag myself\u2026cannot faint.\u201d<\/div>\n
Slowly made it back\u2026Knocked on the door\u2026why did I knock?  Don\u2019t know.   Morgan, one of granddaughters answered.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cWhat happened to you Grandpa?:  she screamed<\/div>\n
\u201cNeed to get to a hospital\u2026fell off a  cliff\u2026broke my wrist\u2026all  bashed  up.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cKevin, get the car\u2026must be a hospital around here\u2026a town?\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Found a hospital and was immediately admitted  and wheeled from emergency to a private hospital bed.  \u201cGod, this  is going to cost a lot of money,\u201d<\/div>\n
ran through my head.  But when hurt money does  not really matter.   A couple of doctors examined my wrist after the brush  burns  were attended to.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cVous avez besoin d\u2019 operation imm\u00e9diatement.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cOu?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cIci?\u2026aujourd\u2019hui  ou demain.?\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
I said my French  was  only fair, but in this crisis it got worse.  We agreed to have the surgeon operate the next morning.  No  mention of money.<\/div>\n
So I spent that night alone in a strange hospital in a foreign country in a nervous state.  Stupidly I  had asked them to put me under\u2026and anesthetic\u2026<\/div>\n
for the operation.  Wish that had  never been agreed.  When I  woke up later that day\u2026maybe early afternoon\u2026first person I saw  was Marjorie<\/div>\n
sitting on a  chair reading.  But I couldn\u2019t breath.  Had a mask on my face and maybe oxygen was being pumped at me.  But my lungs were out<\/div>\n
of  synchronization with the artificial  lung.  Sheer terror.  Made things worse.  I just could  not breathe.  Took a  few minutes for my lungs to take over<\/div>\n
  I remember that fear to this day.   Any operations that can be done using local anesthetics are welcome.  Knock-out is not.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
I do not know how long I was supposed to stay in the hospital.   Several days I think.  I managed to stay two more nights I think<\/div>\n
entertained myself in the dark hours of the night by singing.  Yes,  singing.  My brother says I cannot sing.  But I know better.  My version<\/div>\n
of Old  Man River  coursed through the halls.  \u201cOld Man River, he just keeps rolling\u2026keeps on rolling along\u2026\u201d    Not sure but I think one<\/div>\n
night I heard  another voice from somewhere nearby also  singing.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Finally, I just walked  out of the hospital.  Paid  my bill earlier.  Guess how much?  No, let me tell you. The cost for everything\u2026hospital bed,<\/div>\n
doctors  assessments,  washing, surgery, anesthetic, meals, surgery, nurses\u2026the cost was $2,000. That was all.   Terrific treatment too.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
One funny incident  happened while I was recovering.  My body was  badly bruised\u2026black on one side of my body, white on the other.  Like<\/div>\n
some medieval  clown.   At some point early on I had to take a leak\u2026had to take it bad.   Indicated such to the nurse and  she<\/div>\n
said  four words I cannot forget:  \u201cEn face ou non?\u201d   What did that mean?  Ahah\u2026she  is  asking if I need  to face the toilet or<\/div>\n
sit down.  If I have to sit down then she will have to help me take a leak.  Yuk!  I responded after a few moment thought, \u201cEn face\u201d<\/div>\n
I did  not add \u201cs\u2019il vows plait\u201d but got right down to business.  The nurses expression did  not change.  What a relief?  I could take<\/div>\n
a leak.  If I could take a leak  then I must be OK.  So, shortly afterward,  I just walked out of the hospital.  Kevin and  the<\/div>\n
rest of the family picked me up on the  road.  No, I was not half naked  wearing a hospital gown that made me bare ass  to the<\/div>\n
wind.  I had dressed  myself\u2026hurt a bit but did it.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
The final  insult came when we were back in England and discovered that Air Canada would not let me fly home until I was<\/div>\n
certified  as  air worthy by a  doctor.   I understand why.  Occasionally we  read of a passenger jet having to land in some<\/div>\n
distant airport because of a passenger emergency.  The hurts everybody.  So we got a doctor in London who examined  me<\/div>\n
gave the green light.  And finally we got home\u2026to my bed\u2026sorry, our bed.   Washroom right beside us where I  do not need<\/div>\n
to make the choice of \u201cen face ou non.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
The operation was a success.  Only difficulty was the temporary wires or pins  holding my wrist together were covered<\/div>\n
by my skin\u2026had to be cut open to pull the pins weeks later.  Really no big deal.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
FALLING    THE STEPS WERE INVISIBLE\u2026TORN ACHILLES TENDON     2017<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
(Torn Achilles tendon\u2026wheelchair and \u2018the plastic boot\u2019\u2026meant Marjorie had more work to do)<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
We  travelled  first class on British Rail from London to Sheffield. Supposed to be the beginning of a<\/div>\n
great family Christmas in England.   Nice  way to start.  Spacious seats, big picture windows,  private table,<\/div>\n
a light meal, and a super fast train.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Unfortunately things did  not work out as planned.  Gabriela had purchased a used Volvo from a car<\/div>\n
dealer in Sheffield.   Quite a fancy showroom in a converted factory.  Lots of  soaring stairways and great <\/div>\n
architectural  details to make car buyers feel special.  A nice walkway joined the two showrooms<\/div>\n
with excellent photos of  the old factory on both walls.  I walked  up the entry curved slope looking<\/div>\n
at the pictures.  And then I stepped  off into space. Flying in the air\u2026hurtling for s few seconds. Have you heard of infinite swimming pools that seem<\/div>\n
to stretch to the horizon. I expected the gentle curve walkway  would be the same at both ends.  It was  not.<\/div>\n
the far end had abrupt steps  downward.   I missed them and stepped off into space.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Fell about five feet down  on to a cement floor.  Twisted  as I  fell.  Ended up almost paralyzed behind  two new cars.  Could not get<\/div>\n
up as  my legs would not work.  Grabbed the back  of a car.  No help.  Finally three salesmen found me.  Some  blood from head<\/div>\n
and hand cuts but, worse,  legs wouldn\u2019t work right.  Especially left leg\u2026like it was broken.   <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cCarry or help me over this  ramp \u2026family over there.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cDad,  what happened?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cAlan, you are hurt\u2026how did it\u2026\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cDidn\u2019t see the steps\u2026thought I was on a ramp\u2026maybe I will get better if I sit down\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Never got better.  Very painful.  Could  not walk.  They bundled me up in the new car and<\/div>\n
drove back to London\u2026took about 5 hours.   Then Gabriela phoned the Highgate Private Hospital<\/div>\n
who took me  right away.  A very concerned doctor poked and  prodded while I lay  flat on my<\/div>\n
face trying to do what he asked.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cMove your toes on right foot:<\/div>\n
\u201cThere, how is  that?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cNow move your toes on the left foot\u2026move them.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cThey won\u2019t move.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cLooks like you have torn your Achilles  tendon.  We won\u2019t know how bad until we take X-Rays and<\/div>\n
see the surgeon who happens to be in the building.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
So began a whole bunch of things.  The X Rays  conformed  my tendon was torn badly\u202680% torn.  Just barely <\/div>\n
holding.  A specialist then fitted me with a huge plastic boot with rubber pockets that could  be hand pumped. <\/div>\n
Kevin phoned and rented me a  wheelchair for I could not walk.   Our joyous Christmas plans were put on hold.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Not all bleak though.  I was  able to drag myself\u2026or, rather, Marjorie was able to drag me to a couple of the Charity stores  <\/div>\n
that feature cheap clothes,  various discarded  hard  goods,  and  piles and piles of good  books.  We bought a big<\/div>\n
pile of each.  Kevin managed  to wheel me into a pub or two for a local pint of  ale.  <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
The best thing that happened was the wheelchair.  People do not look at you if you are in a wheelchair.  Other wheelchair<\/div>\n
people do look however and greet and share their grief.  I was not alone. It was  a  new kind  of existence. And we turned<\/div>\n
it into a bit of fun.  Various entertainers played flutes, sang songs, picked at guitars\u2026most had caps in hand  or on the <\/div>\n
sidewalk for donations.   Now this  gave me an idea.   Why not join them.  So Kevin, Marjorie an Gabriela  parked  me<\/div>\n
beside a tall lean man collecting money for Cancer.  I looked  part of the charity.  Put on a solemn face and turned  my<\/div>\n
baseball cap into a money pot.   Before my joke turned sour we dumped  the money in the cancer pot and  Kevin  wheeled  me <\/div>\n
away.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Back in Canada I was disappointed to learn that it would take another three months or moe for me to even consider walking<\/div>\n
normal.  And for most of that time I  had to wear the accursed boot.  At night, however, it could be loosened and eventually removed.<\/div>\n
Sadly I will never be perfect again I fear.  But damn close to perfect.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
That bit of bravado got me into deep trouble a year later at the High Park Curling Rink.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
FALLIING     SLIPPED ON THE ICE\u2026BACKWARDS WITH HEAD  HITTING LIKE A  GONG      NOVEMBER. 2018<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\"\"<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
My torn Achilles tendon was healing well.  I spent a lot of money doing therapy at $75 a crack during the summer and fall<\/div>\n
of 2018.  I wanted to be ready to curl again.   Monica had taken over my skip responsibilities and  she was good but I needed<\/div>\n
to take command again just to inflate my ego a little.  No more classy deliveries.  I was using the stick which made curling<\/div>\n
look like shuffleboard.  Hot shot curlers make snide remarks of those that use the stick  They believe we are not real curlers.   And<\/div>\n
they are right.  Amazing how they change their minds when they get older and  a little stiff in the joints and then have to<\/div>\n
use the stick as well.  Humbling experience.  In my case I kept wearing my slider. Slider?  That\u2019s a piece of slippery leather<\/div>\n
worn on one foot so a curler can slide down the ice a ways while delivering a rock.  <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Mistake I made was continuing to wear my slider on my right foot.  While at the same time I  was recovering from<\/div>\n
that torn Achilles tendon on my left foot.  Two feet that were handicapped.  But I managed to get back in the game.<\/div>\n
Got over confident as usual. Then one evening I threw a real killer take out rock.  Gave it all I could give.  Too much.<\/div>\n
I ripped up in the air\u2026two feet forward  and up\u2026head pointed down.  Then crashed to the ice.  My head hit with such<\/div>\n
force that the curlers at the other end of the ice stopped in mid stride.  Fortunately I was wearing a helmet that I got<\/div>\n
for a couple of dollars at a farm sale.   That helmet saved my life.  Yes, no overstatement.  Even with the helmet<\/div>\n
on I was  a bit stunned.  Hit so hard I cracked the helmet which takes some doing. So there I  was splayed out on <\/div>\n
the ice with helpers trying to help.  \u201cLeave him there.\u201d  \u201cGet him up.\u201d \u201cIs he conscious?\u201d  <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
They got me to my feet and then called the medics on 911.  \u201cThat\u2019s the rule, Alan, if a head hits the ice<\/div>\n
we have to call the Paramedics, so just sit here until they come,\u201d said Stephen Low, worried  I  would <\/div>\n
just drive home.   I guess it was a slow night because in no time I had four or five paramedics around me<\/div>\n
poking me and asking questions.  The teams came off the ice and  were suddenly quiet\u2026most unusual<\/div>\n
for loudmouth curlers.  I think they thought I was dying.  Admittedly I was a  bit confused. Medics do  that<\/div>\n
to a person.  <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
The silence bothered me.  Like being in a  funeral home.  Then I remembered a comment by Mark Twain<\/div>\n
commenting on a newspaper article the was wrong.  \u201cIt\u2019s OK, everyone, remember that comment by Mark Twain\u2026<\/div>\n
\u2018Rumours of my death have  been  greatly exaggerated.\u201d   I could feel the energy pour back into the room<\/div>\n
and  orders for draught beer were back  to normal.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
But my adventure was not over.  Stephen and his son  Andrew drove me home after I refused  to<\/div>\n
go to the local  hospital because \u2018my Dad said people only go there to die\u2019 (which he did himself strange to say).<\/div>\n
I will go to our own hospital,\u2026the Trillium in Mississauga.  It was there that the strangest thing happened.<\/div>\n
The triage nurse has to decide priorities\u2026i.e. who needs  care fast.  She noted my particulars\u2026birthday, etc\u2026<\/div>\n
then she asked:<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cAnd, sir,  what year is this?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cMust be 1979.\u201d<\/div>\n
(It was really 2018)<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
I do  not know why I said that.  Just a gut answer.  But it was wrong\u2026way wrong.  And the nurse<\/div>\n
put a little red  sticky  thing on my admitting bracelet.  That got me a Catscan an hour later.<\/div>\n
Came out all clear\u2026fortunately.  I was  impressed all the same.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n

<\/div>\n

  I was OK.
<\/p>\n

\n
\n
\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
FALLING    I MAY NOT BE THE BEST SKIER\u2026BUT I CAN CARTWHEEL    1965-1000<\/div>\n
\"\"<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
I forget when Marjorie put our ski equipment in the dump\u2026somewhere around the year 2000.  She had good<\/div>\n
reason to do  so.  She was a better skier than I would ever be as I came to skiing very late in life.  Too many<\/div>\n
other things to do\u2026like work for 35 cents an hour rather than ski at $100 a day (guess work).  When I did<\/div>\n
ski, however, I did a lot of falling.  My style at best became a modified snow plow.  <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Falls?  Lots of them.  Like the time a Smugglers Notch when I got going so fast I could not turn into the woods.<\/div>\n
That would be certain death so I sped down the hill.  Not quite all the way down.  My ski tips dipped and over I<\/div>\n
went into a cartwheel style.  Lucky no one was around and even luckier, I was unhurt.  Other falls?  At <\/div>\n
Blue Mountain I got ripping down again\u2026too fast to turn or use snowplow.  Came around a pile of stacked  snow <\/div>\n
at the bottom at the same time another guy like me came hurtling on the other side. Face to face, body to bodyl<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n
\n
\n
\n
We collided\u2026yes, face to face\u2026could have kissed each other.  The solid thump of our bodies<\/div>\n
 spread the impact.  Neither of us were hurt even though we were locked together like two bull moose<\/div>\n
in rutting season.  Then there was my first ski  venture up in North Bay at the Harris ski hills. Alone as  Marjorie<\/div>\n
was busy shopping.  \u201cLet me try your old  boyfriends ski hills\u201d  She had dated Sid Harris  for a bit.  Mike Harris,<\/div>\n
who became a right wing Premier of Ontario, was  the little brother.   That Harris  ski hill should have<\/div>\n
been declared a Ski Hazard.  The lumps on the hills were solid  rocks underneath.  I know because I hit<\/div>\n
many of them and  came back to North Bay with the bruises  to prove it.  My stupidest effort at skiing<\/div>\n
occurred outside Collingwood at the ski hill north of Blue Mountain.  These were steep hills for expert skiers or for <\/div>\n
those rubber bodied 12 year olds.  On that venture I made a big mistake.  I had one of my skis and one<\/div>\n
of Marjorie\u2019s\u2026a long ski and as short ski.  But I had paid my money so figured I would have to bite the<\/div>\n
bullet ski lob-sided.  I  did for a few body bashing runs.  Fell a lot that time.  Bottom line I never skied<\/div>\n
without a few falls.  Normal for most human beings I think.  Amazing that Marjorie, Kevin, Andrew, <\/div>\n
my brother Eric and his wife Judy are such hot shots skiers.  Eric  still skis at 78 years of age.  Loves it.<\/div>\n
In my glory days I think I  asked Eric why he wanted  me along on a ski venture. \u201cFor entertainment, Alan, entertainment.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
FALLING     FARMING IS DANGEROUS    1975<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
(Get the idea\u2026see Kevin and Andrew beside our old W6, Dad getting beams ready\u2026now imagine that bean across shoulders as the tractor moves forward\u2026no foot on clutch\u2026could not reach pedal)<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
(Our old barn had collapsed when we were kids\u2026needed rebuilding)<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cMarjorie, let\u2019s build a new barn?  I\u2019ve got the beams from a barn demolition\u2026we can do it?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cHave you ever built a barn?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cLearn as I go.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Well the lesson was a hard one.  Dad and I planted one long post beam that would be the beginning of<\/div>\n
the barn.  That was as far as I got. <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cBeam is in the wrong place\u2026pull it down.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
So I moved Old Red, my W6 1953 tractor near the post then tied a rope to the post and began<\/div>\n
to drive forward.  pulling down the beam.  It was a long beam firmly planted in a post hole<\/div>\n
 and as it came down it fell across<\/div>\n
the tractor resting on my shoulders\u2026dead centre.  The pressure was terrible.  Forced my foot<\/div>\n
off the clutch so the tractor kept inching forward and the beam exerted more and more pressure.<\/div>\n
I was being crushed.  Just below me were the boys\u2026watching.   Andrew and Kevin. They<\/div>\n
did not think anything was wrong.  But I was being crushed as the beam pressed harder and<\/div>\n
harder.  Thought I was about to die.  <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Then a strange thing happened.  Adrenalin kicked in and gave me strength I did not know was<\/div>\n
possible.  I squeezed out from under the bean and fell to the ground right where the boys  were<\/div>\n
standing.  They thought I was being funny.  Nothing funny about that fall.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
FALLING     ALASKA \u2014 FELL FROM AN S-52 SIKORSKY HELICOPTER     1960<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
We were doing geophysical prospecting on the barren lands of western Alaska.  Near the <\/div>\n
Bering Sea.   A vast land with few people but beneath that land is a gigantic copper<\/div>\n
body whose limits we were trying to measure.  To do so Humble Oil, an American oil<\/div>\n
company, had contracted two Sikorsky S52 helicopters to get our crew from point to point<\/div>\n
on the vast arctic tundra.   We had two ex military pilots one of whom woke us each morning<\/div>\n
with his voice on an battery powered bull horn.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cLet\u2019s get Fucking airborne!\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
A joyous greeting followed by the thumping and whumping of the helicopter blades as the<\/div>\n
huge machines warmed up.  We welcomed the sound.  And after a few weeks we got<\/div>\n
comfortable sitting with our feet dangling out of the cargo doors as the helicopter lifted itself<\/div>\n
skyward like a giant moose fly.  I got a little too over confident.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
One morning just as the helicopter was lifting off the ground I leapt from the<\/div>\n
pontoon to the cargo door as I had done many times before.  What I forgot that time<\/div>\n
was the reel of heavy base line wire on a pack frame on my back. It weighed about 70 pounds\u2026heavy.<\/div>\n
So when I jumped , I missed the cargo door and fell between the pontoon and the door.<\/div>\n
Fell straight down to the ground. Not as bad as that sounds\u2026.perhaps fell only five or ten feet <\/div>\n
 just as lift off was happening.  Hit the tundra back first since the reel and wire flipped me<\/div>\n
over.  Not too much danger landing on tundra in summer time.  Like landing on a twig made<\/div>\n
cushion of low plant life , moss and melt water.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
My biggest worry was when the pilot noticed and brought the helicopter back down.<\/div>\n
He was good\u2026imagine he had done lots of rescues in the heat of battle.  Landed, waited for<\/div>\n
me to throw the wire in the cargo door then jump back in.  And we got \u2018fucking airborne\u2019 again.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
There is no thrill quite like cruising through the air in an S-52 with your feet dangling <\/div>\n
in space as you look down at the earth.  None of us fell from that height.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
FALLING     IN OUR OWN LANE\u2026UNCONSCIOUS    2015<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\"\"<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Falling cannot be stopped once it begins.  Best a person can do is roll with the fall\u2026like a ball\u2026spread the impact around.<\/div>\n
That is fine to say but almost impossible to do sometimes.   One of my worst falls happened in our own laneway.<\/div>\n
There is a patch of asphalt that is a bit lower than elsewhere.  Water fills the patch.  And in the winter time that <\/div>\n
water freezes into an invisible slab of ice.  There had been a bit of snow falling overnight so the patch of ice<\/div>\n
was even less visible.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
I remember the airborne part of falling that day.  But not much else.  Knocked myself out for a spell of time.  Not sure how<\/div>\n
long but when I awakened I knew i was in trouble.  Dazed.  And some blood.  No glasses anywhere.   I managed to <\/div>\n
get to the front door:<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cMarjorie, I am hurt\u2026slipped on the ice\u2026need to go to the hospital\u2026get the car ready.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
And I sat down heavily on the front room couch.  Still a bit dazed.  Instead of the car, Marjorie<\/div>\n
called 911 and two burly medics helped me into their ambulance.  <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
I came around\u2026.do not remember any stitches.  <\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n

<\/div>\n

 \u201cAlan, we could not find your glasses until Woody nosed along a trail of blood.  Glasses were a long<\/p><\/div>\n

  way from where you thought you landed.  Must have dragged yourself.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
 I skirt that patch of ice now.  Avoid it… Like today<\/p>\n
\n
\n
\n
when I noticed Marjorie returning from shopping with two big bags.  <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cJust a second, I’ll give you a hand.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cYou stay right where you are, Alan, that pach of ice\u2026remember?\u201d<\/div>\n
So I did  (Fine husband you are Alan)<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
FALLING     FROM A LADDER    1990<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cI Would like that cauldron for our movie\u2026the one up there on the third level.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cJust a second\u2026get the ladder and get it down.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cThere\u2026pull it forward\u2026the ladder is slipping\u2026.OWWWWW!\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Now I cannot tell this full story because the results of the ladder moving would upset sensitive readers.<\/div>\n
Suffice it to say the ladder moved down about two feet with my body pressed against it.  Two feet below<\/div>\n
was an industrial sewing machine with exposed gears and other sharp parts. I hit this point and <\/div>\n
stopped the ladder.   But I was hurt\u2026how bad?   I could not say immediately because the movie<\/div>\n
set buyer was down on the floor.  She was young and enthusiastic and totally unaware of the<\/div>\n
pain I felt from that short fall.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n

<\/div>\n

  Censored:  Use your imagination or speak to me privately
<\/p>\n

\n
\n
\n

<\/div>\n
I was going to be OK.   I can say no more,<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Still standing\u2026most of the time<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
FALLING      NO JOKING MATTER:  SAD CASE OF WALTER HELSTEIN  1958<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
(Often our trails were almost invisible\u2026just a blaze mare here and there and then, at foot level, inadvertently sharpened saplings.<\/div>\n
Walter Helstein put one of these sharp spikes through his hand.  Nothing could be done to help him. No hospitals could  be reached.)<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Nothing funny about falling.   Really no laughing matter so let me apologize for the light remarks by<\/div>\n
telling you an experience that happened long ago when I began my work in the bush.  We were<\/div>\n
a crew of four dropped by a Beaver float plane in a remote part of the Groundhog River.  No line cutting crew<\/div>\n
so we had to cut our own lines with blazing axes.  That part of the Ontario wilderness had a lot<\/div>\n
of tag alder and scrub poplars growing.  When blazing a trail we would cut the brush with a <\/div>\n
downward stroke of our blazing axes.  So what?  The tag alders were not cut flush to the<\/div>\n
ground . They were slashed. End result is that a sharp spike was left where the slashing happened.<\/div>\n
Imagine hundreds of these spike along our trails.  Falling on them was certainly dangerous so<\/div>\n
we were cautious.  <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Walter Helstein was an older man recruited from a casual labour pool in Timmins or South Porcupine.<\/div>\n
He had no bush experience.  And he was not in the best of health anyway.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
\u201cWalter, never step on the wet logs that cross our trails\u2026easy to slip and fall\u2026so step<\/div>\n
over them.\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cWhy dangerous?\u201d<\/div>\n
\u201cThe Tag alder spikes\u2026fall one of them and it will go through your body like a Japanese jungle<\/div>\n
trap in World War II.\u201d<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
So Walter was warned but he was also unfit for our work.  We knew the danger.<\/div>\n
He stepped on top of a moss covered rotten tree that crossed one of our trails.<\/div>\n
He slipped and fell.  His right hand was impaled on a tag alder spike. Bad situation. We did<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n

  not know this had happened because Walter was slower thant Bob, Floyd and me.<\/p><\/div>\n

  We went back and there he was\u2026spiked.
<\/p>\n
\n
\n
\n
By then it was early September and the unnamed lake where we had our fly camp<\/div>\n
was thick with September fog.  No float plane could land even though we put an<\/div>\n
SOS kind of call through to Austin Airways in South Porcupine.  <\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Each night in our tent as the freezing wind blew rain in the tent flap and our tin stove<\/div>\n
belched out red hot heat from split birch cordwood\u2026each night Walter\u2019s pain then infection<\/div>\n
got worse and worse until by the 7th or 8th day when a plane finally landed, his arm was<\/div>\n
swollen badly and he was beyond any attempt at conversation.  He cried for s couple of <\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n

 the nights\u2026not tear type crying\u2026paint crying.  Then even that ceased.
<\/p>\n

\n
\n
\n

<\/div>\n
We never heard from Walter again.  Our camp was packed up a week or so later. <\/div>\n
By then Walter was in a hospital somewhere.  Apparently he spent most of the <\/div>\n
year in hospital.  Infection set in and there was danger he would lose his arm.<\/div>\n
I do not know what happened in the end.   Rumour had it that lying in a hospital bed was better than trying<\/div>\n
to dodge moss covered deadfalls and stiletto pointed alder spikes. There I go again, making<\/div>\n
light humour out of dark tragedy.  Sorry Walter if you ever read this.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
Falling is no joke.  If I have made light of Falling please read between the lines or,<\/div>\n
better still, go back to that first picture of my nose.<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
FALLING IN LOVE \u2014 WOULD BE A BETTER IDEA AND A BETTER STORY<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n


<\/p>\n

\n
\n
\n
alan skeoch<\/div>\n
Jan. 2019<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/blockquote>\n<\/div>\n


<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Will ANYBODY READ THIS?  I WONDER.  IT IS LONG…  A CAUTIONARY TALE ABOUT FALLING. IN THIS DIGITAL WORLD NOT MANY PEOPLE HAVE TIME TO READ MUCH.   WRITING THIS SEQUENCE OF HORROR STORIES\u2026ALL TRUE\u2026TOOK THREE DAYS SO I HOPE SOMEONE READS THE STUFF OTHER THAN MARJORIE.  I REALLY WROTE IT FOR KEVIN AND ANDY AND […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2297","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2297","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2297"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2297\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2297"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2297"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/alanskeoch.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2297"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}