My Falls

                     

 

     Yesterday, at my studio in Anderson, I walked out to the dumpster to investigate a large, metal, door sticking out of the freshly dumped, dumpster. The door was wedged tight inside that metal box. It hung there, not all the way out - not all the way in, like some kind of weird passage way into a world beyond. I had no idea where this door came from but figured my local, trash pickers would be along shortly to pry it out and haul it away for the metal. Bless their hearts - they've saved me a lot of grief. 

     I was in a good mood. The morning had started at the end of a good night's sleep. I was ready to take on the day. I turned from the dumpster and started back toward the pavement. Suddenly, my right foot caught on a chunk of wood protruding, barely half an inch, from the dirt. I started to fall. Surprised, I remember thinking, "Can this be happening?" I moved my left foot into position to catch myself. That move might have worked too, if I hadn't brought my freshly freed - right foot - up to gain my balance but instead tripped on the edge of the concrete driveway. I was the victim of a double trip! The picture above is sort of what it looked like except I could see the individual specks of concrete particles edging closer to my face. For the life of me, I cannot tell you how this happened, other than pure instinct, but I remember thinking "Get your hand up to protect your face!" And my right hand slammed into position and saved my face and eyeglasses. For the rest of the day, my hand ached and could take very little pressure. Even turning the keys in my car's ignition brought grimacing pain.

     My loved ones all asked about me going to have my hand seen about but we all know how I feel about going to the doctor.  I said "I'll wait and see."

    This hesitancy got me to thinking about the last fall I had almost two years ago. My husband and I were walking our dog along a trail I'd cut through a thicket on our farm. He was telling me profusely how to train the dog to heal, sit, etc. At some point I'd had enough of his lectures. So I turned and huffed off back towards home. The sun was setting, I was pissed and hurrying. So I failed to see the small stump sticking out of the ground. Boom! I hit the ground like a sack of spuds! 

     My ribs were in pain for days. I eventually went to the doctor and got xrayed only to find out that these old bones can take a beating. Nothing broken, just bruised and radiated! 

     Yesterday, as I worked away on an art project that is weeks behind schedule. I started thinking about my falls. Suddenly I began to laugh out loud. My memory went back to my Grandma Stevens. She was always such a great story teller. She was born in 1893. She knew about life during the horse and buggy era. She told of mica mines in the mountains of North Carolina. And using dynamite boxes to make all sorts of play gear.  In her later years, she began to tell the stories of her various falls. When she was 9 years old, she fell as she climbed up to a cliff to gather hen eggs. A twig she'd been using to pull herself up, gave way and she landed on a big, flat, rock, on the back of her head.

     When she was 11, she made a sled and put it on a creek, frozen over with ice. As she started to climb into it - boom - down she went onto the back of her head again.

     And another fall she mentioned, happened when she walked out onto the front porch, fell off the porch onto her stomach and lost her breath.

     My grandmother wrote about her falls - among other things- and we were left with a nice journal of many of her trials and tribulations.  She chronicled about 15 different falls or accidents in her life. So after my falls, I got out her journal to reread about  some of her falls. The one below is a very significant accident. She was around 40 or 50 years old when it happened. She wore support hose for the rest of her days as a result of this and I can still see her changing her bandaged legs - some 30 or 40 years after the "9th accident" happened. In her own words:
 

 "Still at Clinchfield - I had a wash house out back yard had in a furnice a large black wash pot an old wringer washing machine started washing one day got them all through the first watter one of the children called me it was time to come in and make biscuits for dinner I then picked up an old 8 lbs lard bucket diped it in that old black pot got it almost in the boil come out and spilled that boiling water on my legs and feet had silk hose when I pulled them down part of the skin come off my legs I had to have a Dr that time it was 8 weeks before I walked this is my 9th acident.
I Remember."

     She was tough.  It made me feel sad for her, having to deal with such a horrible accident. My little trip is miniscule in comparison.  I woke up this morning with my right hand feeling better but because I took a tumble, and remembered her with her many falls, it was like having her here to comfort me.