When not riding my snazzy Schwinn, I would join the kids in the neighborhood on my skates. In those days, the skates were made of metal with leather straps and clamps on the front. You used a "skate key" to tighten the clamps once you put your shoe into the skate. Most of us were very adept at putting our skates on and getting up to speed.
We lived on Radnor Avenue and there were about sixteen houses on our side of the street. The next street to the east was Albury which had a similar number of homes. At the north end of the block was Los Arcos with Stearns Street on the south. Each day we'd race around the block as fast as possible. We didn't have any digital timers or anything but I seems like after six or seven laps we'd take a break and get something to drink. This went on all the time during the spring and summer.
For some reason, our laps were always done in a counter clockwise manner. So we'd fly south on Radnor, make a left on Stearns, Albury, Los Arcos, and then a final left back on to Radnor. On each lap we'd pick up the speed and attempt different strategies on the go to put distance between one another.
One day, the neighborhood was amazingly quiet as we began our race around the block. On my second lap, approaching the left turn at Los Arcos, I noticed that someone had placed a toy rifle in the middle of the sidewalk. Instantly, I increased my effort and speed to enable a clean jump over this obstacle! When I lifted off I felt too much upper body weight moving forward. Without panic, I attempted to pull back to insure a safe landing. When the front wheels of my skates hit the ground first the momentum carried me forward and before I could gain my balance I was down. I hit the ground hard on my right wrist and felt it throbbing as soon as I stood up. Undaunted, I continued skating for a couple more laps but my speed was down and the pain was beginning to really bother me.
After taking my skates off, I went in and told my mom what happened. It seems to me we waited for my dad to get home from work before going to the ER. They took several x-ray's of my wrist and determined the bone was cracked but not completely broken so they wrapped it and put me in a sling.
Now this was my right wrist and I am right-handed. This is the hand I did all the math and other work with at school. Did this injury mean that I would no longer have to do school work? A kid can only hope that was the case. Wait a minute, my teacher told me "you'll just have to learn to do your work with your left hand!" She wasn't kidding ... dang, Miss Felo how can a kid do that? For the next six weeks I did all my writing, drawing, and other school work left-handed! It wasn't pretty but she gave me good grades for making an attempt!
The story doesn't end there. About three weeks into my recovery I was walking from our garage down the driveway with two friends. I was in the middle as we proceeded down the driveway holding one of my model airplanes. All of the sudden, I felt a sharp pain on the top of my head. Instinctively, I felt my head with my left hand to see what it was and when I brought my hand down it was covered with blood!! All three of us ran to the front porch with me screaming for help. My mother came out and rescued me. Off to the ER again and wouldn't you know it the same doctor and nurse were there. So they shaved all around the spot of the injury and three stitches later I was back in the car on my way home with a big piece of white gauze stuck to my head. When we got home, there was dad with the hose and a bucket of soapy water cleaning my blood off the front porch! Later that evening we learned that little Janie next door had picked up a fairly large rock and tossed it over the fence with all her might!
On Monday, I went back to school with my arm in a sling and the white patch on my head. That really gave the kids something to laugh about! I vaguely remember Miss Felo teaching a history lesson about the American Revolution and seeing a picture of the fife and drum corps with the soldiers all bandaged up!!
