Week 8 Theme
Will they believe I have a headache? No, of course they won’t! Well, I don’t care – I have one and that is that and who wants to go to a party with a headache – not me! I do have a headache – don’t I…
I’m sure their Halloween party with be fun – I could pop a few Advil, leave and still make it to see all the costumes; my family is such a hoot at these parties but I don’t know…my head really hurts – I think…
It’s quite likely he will be there; he would sigh loudly and roll his eyes when I walked in and that would be the start of it. He would cock his head to the side, prop his foot up on an end table, rest his elbow on his knee and stare me down before he spewed out, “Look what the cat dragged in.” Plus, I’m sure they will all be smoking inside since the rain is coming down so hard and that will make my head hurt worse, it is a migraine now – well, I’m pretty sure it is…
Everyone will gather in the basement around the pool table and mini bar and they will laugh and act foolish; he will stand along the edge of the group – a bottle of Bud in one hand and a pool stick in the other but he won’t play; he will make small comments about how his night is ruined because I showed up. I will stay upstairs, with the sober folk, massage my temples and make it known my head is really hurting and I should leave early – it is the pain in my head why I wish to leave, I’m pretty sure…
They will understand if I just don’t make it, they know I would go if I could; when they hear how bad my head hurts I’m sure they will urge me to stay home, rest and feel better…No, no they won’t. They might speak sympathetically and pretend to believe me but they know he and I don’t get along – some will think I’m a chicken for avoiding him, some will think I’m rude for not letting bygones be bygones and others will turn the other cheek and pretend they don’t care one way or the other but none of them will be genuinely concerned for my state of well being - for having to endure this excruciating headache…
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
Week 7 Theme
Week 7 Theme
Dearest Treesha,
I’m thinking of you today; my mind is wandering after our short but pleasant visit and I’m feeling a bit like Anne – if only my gables were green – right?
I appreciate your encouragement, criticisms and thoughts on the stuff I showed you; it was sweet of you to take the time to read it all. Your looks resemble mum when you smile while your read – she has the speckled red in her cheeks too and calls it Rosacea but I think you wear the red sweetly, like you call onto the color to naturally rouse your inner Dianna.
I’m not sure that you are a Dianna though, not a Marilla either but it’s ok because I’m really not an Anne but your recollection of Gil’s advice is well received and I think will give it a go.
What do you think it would have been like if we had grown up together closer in age? Perhaps, sister, you would not advise me the way you do if we were closer together and I might not admire you the way in which I do.
Everyone seems to look up to you in a way; maybe it is because you are the only one of us who moved away. I mean you joined the Navy, traveled the seas and have the stories to prove it. That’s pretty cool. I wish I could go to Italy too – just once would be nice, I’m sure Sicily was neat but if I got to go I would go to Venice…just imagine streets of water! I’m sure glad you didn’t stay that far gone, it’s nice having you within driving distance but – 6 hours away – really? You could have considered the gas prices – hee hee. I do completely DIS-agree with everyone who says you are perfect, please don’t misunderstand me – I’m not trying to be rude. (Your are Practically Perfect in every Possible way – Not! Hee hee) Ok, so your yard is more managed than mine, and your dishes are always done on time and I was not able to find any dust (yes, I looked – so there :p ) but your not perfect because….I saw a hole in your sock! Yep, that’s right your big toe was sticking out and you thought when you tucked your foot behind your leg that I didn’t notice.
Oh guess what! You inspired my creative side with yours, after you showed me those craft books you made I got thinking and I was on the chapter of our book where Anne accidentally gets Dianna drunk and I decided to make cordial! I loved all the blue glass in your kitchen so I decided to recycle a blue glass wine bottle to put the mix in – I’m actually making two so I can bring one to you sometime….then maybe I will accidentally get you drunk! How funny would that be – I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drunk…or even have a drink. That’s kinda cool actually and I’m really glad you don’t smoke or probably the books you loaned me would stink too much for me to bear reading them. Plus, Anne would never smoke.
You know, I think your hair is like hers - not the orange carrot color but the strawberry blonde shade but your hands are like mums and I’ve always imagined mums hands to be like Marilla’s.
Wow, I really do babble on and on don’t I, it’s just a sign that our visit was too short. I miss you immensely my beloved sister – we are true kindred spirits you and I (how corny does that sound!) Well, I’m off now to go write a Rollins Reliable story….or maybe I’ll think of you and your advice and write about the people I know and love. Till next time sis…
Cordially yours,
Teffitee (your Anne)
Dearest Treesha,
I’m thinking of you today; my mind is wandering after our short but pleasant visit and I’m feeling a bit like Anne – if only my gables were green – right?
I appreciate your encouragement, criticisms and thoughts on the stuff I showed you; it was sweet of you to take the time to read it all. Your looks resemble mum when you smile while your read – she has the speckled red in her cheeks too and calls it Rosacea but I think you wear the red sweetly, like you call onto the color to naturally rouse your inner Dianna.
I’m not sure that you are a Dianna though, not a Marilla either but it’s ok because I’m really not an Anne but your recollection of Gil’s advice is well received and I think will give it a go.
What do you think it would have been like if we had grown up together closer in age? Perhaps, sister, you would not advise me the way you do if we were closer together and I might not admire you the way in which I do.
Everyone seems to look up to you in a way; maybe it is because you are the only one of us who moved away. I mean you joined the Navy, traveled the seas and have the stories to prove it. That’s pretty cool. I wish I could go to Italy too – just once would be nice, I’m sure Sicily was neat but if I got to go I would go to Venice…just imagine streets of water! I’m sure glad you didn’t stay that far gone, it’s nice having you within driving distance but – 6 hours away – really? You could have considered the gas prices – hee hee. I do completely DIS-agree with everyone who says you are perfect, please don’t misunderstand me – I’m not trying to be rude. (Your are Practically Perfect in every Possible way – Not! Hee hee) Ok, so your yard is more managed than mine, and your dishes are always done on time and I was not able to find any dust (yes, I looked – so there :p ) but your not perfect because….I saw a hole in your sock! Yep, that’s right your big toe was sticking out and you thought when you tucked your foot behind your leg that I didn’t notice.
Oh guess what! You inspired my creative side with yours, after you showed me those craft books you made I got thinking and I was on the chapter of our book where Anne accidentally gets Dianna drunk and I decided to make cordial! I loved all the blue glass in your kitchen so I decided to recycle a blue glass wine bottle to put the mix in – I’m actually making two so I can bring one to you sometime….then maybe I will accidentally get you drunk! How funny would that be – I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drunk…or even have a drink. That’s kinda cool actually and I’m really glad you don’t smoke or probably the books you loaned me would stink too much for me to bear reading them. Plus, Anne would never smoke.
You know, I think your hair is like hers - not the orange carrot color but the strawberry blonde shade but your hands are like mums and I’ve always imagined mums hands to be like Marilla’s.
Wow, I really do babble on and on don’t I, it’s just a sign that our visit was too short. I miss you immensely my beloved sister – we are true kindred spirits you and I (how corny does that sound!) Well, I’m off now to go write a Rollins Reliable story….or maybe I’ll think of you and your advice and write about the people I know and love. Till next time sis…
Cordially yours,
Teffitee (your Anne)
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Week 6 Theme
Vertical paneling hangs on all four walls; it is a sage green on the bottom and a vanilla cream on the top, separated by a sage green chair rail. The window treatments are all white; white framing, vintage white lace curtains and a faded white pull shade.
The light treatment; floor lamps and lamps mounted to the walls are all brass with a cream colored lamp shade; they use the new energy efficient light bulbs in each one. You must turn them on by hand; the light switch on the wall seems quite useless.
How long does it take for white to fade? Brass to rust? Who left the grease smudge on the vanilla cream wall?
The TV hangs from a black metal rack attached to the wall about four feet above the floor. Rug covers the floor, commercial grade brown rug. One table, one dresser and one night stand are placed around the room; they have a dark, laminated wood grain finish.
Two double beds take up the most space, resting on simple metal frames; white sheets and hospital corners. Rose covered bedspreads draped over each.
How many bear feet have walked across this brown rug? How many bibles are sold for night stand drawers? Who put the cigarette burn in the bedspread?
A white squared drop ceiling hangs above with a pattern like an ant farm. One small mini fridge rests beside the doorway to the bathroom and a silver coat rack is mounted to the wall behind the only door out.
One mirror hangs from the wall next to the TV and two pictures of mountains hang above the beds. The window shows a view of the parking area and a place outside for people who smoke.
How much weight does it take to break three coat hangers? How many people steal the batteries to the remotes in their motel rooms? Who received seven years of bad luck for breaking the mirror?
The light treatment; floor lamps and lamps mounted to the walls are all brass with a cream colored lamp shade; they use the new energy efficient light bulbs in each one. You must turn them on by hand; the light switch on the wall seems quite useless.
How long does it take for white to fade? Brass to rust? Who left the grease smudge on the vanilla cream wall?
The TV hangs from a black metal rack attached to the wall about four feet above the floor. Rug covers the floor, commercial grade brown rug. One table, one dresser and one night stand are placed around the room; they have a dark, laminated wood grain finish.
Two double beds take up the most space, resting on simple metal frames; white sheets and hospital corners. Rose covered bedspreads draped over each.
How many bear feet have walked across this brown rug? How many bibles are sold for night stand drawers? Who put the cigarette burn in the bedspread?
A white squared drop ceiling hangs above with a pattern like an ant farm. One small mini fridge rests beside the doorway to the bathroom and a silver coat rack is mounted to the wall behind the only door out.
One mirror hangs from the wall next to the TV and two pictures of mountains hang above the beds. The window shows a view of the parking area and a place outside for people who smoke.
How much weight does it take to break three coat hangers? How many people steal the batteries to the remotes in their motel rooms? Who received seven years of bad luck for breaking the mirror?
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Week 5 Theme
I grew up here on this little chunk of land in Hancock and I’ve roamed all 10.75 acres of it for the last thirty-two years; ventured across the boundary lines and familiarized myself with almost every square-inch within a five mile radius, so it came without surprise when my husband and I chose this place to set up residence and settle.
Through the pines, across the brook, around the beaver damn and back again, my siblings, nephews, neighbors, my husband and myself built some of the best recreational trails around…for the adventurous at heart. We take our snowshoes, cross country skis, dirt bikes, 3 & 4 wheelers out on them, not to mention just simply hiking them on foot with the kids and dogs for hunting or for adventure. It’s been an unspoken agreement with our bordering neighbors that property lines are redundant, only meant for the town tax collectors; thus we share the scope of our swampy, muddy, mossy terrain. The land is rich in history, not the history you will find in a text book, but a sort of natural history; for along side of, mingling with and beyond our trails are portions – reminiscent reminders of our kin who played here before us. Just sixteen paces left of the tallest knotted pine are the remains of my father’s and uncles aged smoke shack, along the outskirts of the cedar swamp is granddad’s old tree house, and just beyond the junk yard is the massive mud pit bordered by maples all donning carved hearts and initials of past romances, our tree is at the back side of the pit, at one time it blended with the others but now it stands a bit ragged and wounded – a few limbs are missing and it is split near the top from lightening, it has been hit twice (that I’m aware of) by 3-wheelers but it still stands strong – a few scars but nevertheless strong, ironically enough the tree seems to have mirrored our marriage in a sense.
My mother often says, “what does not kill us makes us stronger”, she doesn’t say it for religious reasons, more so because she sees the practicality in it. She’s had lots of opportunities to test her theories, raising eight kids doesn’t come without tribulations; she may have been lucky with me (I may be the exception here – the black sheep of the family) however, my husband fits right in with the rest of them – catastrophe could easily be his middle name.
It was a cool spring morning, two springs ago, when Little John brought over his Honda 250 for us to borrow for the weekend. He quietly backed his pick-up down the drive and rolled it off the back without a word; Mike was still asleep but I was up and stepped out onto the porch, Little John nodded his head at me, smiled and was gone – I felt like the first kid awake on Christmas morning and I had just seen Santa. I quietly slipped back into the house, kicked off my slippers and threw on my Mucks, I didn’t care that I was wearing my night clothes – sweat pants and a flannel nightshirt would be just fine, I flew back out the door and climbed on the 4 wheeled, big red ATV, turned the key and felt it rumble to life. I didn’t want to linger long, at 6:00 a.m. its’ low rumble echoed like a great Maine grizzly attacking the chickadees and I knew in moments Mike would be out the door to steal it away from me, so I kicked it into gear and was out of there! I went the long way around, to hopefully avoid waking him up, down past our neighbors (I’m sure they loved me for this), pass the beaver pond, down through the pines, deep into the back woods I raged through some of the last remaining snow and darted out into the clearing behind the junk yard…the mud pit!
A light frost remained in the ground and the mud was crunchy below the tires, a few puddles had a light layer of ice that I thoroughly enjoyed smashing through and splattering in and out of. It took a few tight donuts in high gear to really get the ground worked up, the pleasure of molding it into fine workable clay felt almost as exciting as foreplay (ok about as equally exciting), with dark mud starting to spit up onto my legs and icy, murky puddle water spattering onto my face – I was having the time of my life! My teeth started chattering, not because it was cold but from the extreme vibration that traveled from my grip on the cracked rubber handles wrapped in duck tape, up my arms straight into my head; the beast was wildly throbbing, yet I held strong - knowing from past experiences how easily one of these could go up on two wheels and flip right over.
My peripheral vision caught a cluster of Alder trees bending and bowing, I dropped gears and slowed to a stop – just before me, less then ten yards away, was a small dotted fawn, his little ears were perked straight up and he was staring right at me. I sat frozen, motionless, staring right back, enjoying the moment but concerned with what bigger friend of his might be accompanying him on his little outing. Seconds past, then a tree branch snapped behind us, startling him provoking him to dart deep into the woods. I remained frozen, a bit frightened, wondering what caused the tree to snap; my eyes frantically scanned the range of view I had without turning my head. I heard a faint rustle of the bushes but could see nothing, I contemplated revving my toy back to life and speeding out of there but fear (or curiosity) kept me frozen still. My heart skipped a beat when I heard the mud suctioning around the new intruders steps as it apparently advanced towards me from behind, my mind was racing on what to do – what to do, I’m sure my brain was still rattling around from all those donuts I had been spinning in and that is why I was not thinking clearer or faster. I had seen bear tracks down here before, heck I had seen them on most all of our trails, why did I think this was a good idea to come out here alone. I was trying to remember what I had learned to do in a bear attack…play dead – right? Just then I felt it, the weight added to the back of the 4 wheeler – I gasped, hot breath heated the back of my neck – sending shivers down my spine, I took one last breath in and then…there it was - a strong paw slamming down onto my shoulder! This was followed by a loud boisterous laugh and I turned and came face to face with my husband. Seeing the fear on my face and my ghostly white appearance (despite the mud that I was covered in) he doubled over laughing himself into a tizzy and muffled out the words, “Serves you right!”.
That was it - my fun was over, he promptly regained his composure, lifted me off the drenched seat and instructed me to stand back and watch a pro at work. As I backed off, trudging through the rutted up, muddy ground towards an old weight bench he fired the beast to life and lurched it forward, triumphantly spinning circles around me. I made it safely to the rusty weight bench and sat – pouting. He just grinned ear to ear and gunned the ATV forward, diving in and out of the trees, nearly missing them, dodging under low limbs and climbing two tires up onto heaps of rocks…all the things I didn’t do (not because I’m a chicken mind you but because I do have some basic common sense) regardless, he enjoyed his carelessness that he calls a pro at work (I call it showing off). I guess he noticed that I was not that impressed for he switched gears and decided to turn up the ground a bit more – working over my donuts he began to spin several of his own. He was not as cautious as I had been, he climbed up onto the seat, resting on one leg – bent at the knee under him while the other was straight back, holding onto only one handle while waving at me with his free hand…he looked like a bear on a ball in the circus, however I couldn’t help but grin a bit. This small grin only encouraged him and he gave it some more gas, cut the corner even tighter and went up onto two wheels – tilting the rig and almost losing his balance, anxiously he tried to regain composure but it all happened too quickly. He lost control of the ATV, without his grip on the handle it spun recklessly out of control, headed towards a tree – our tree – smashed into it, climbed part way up it and then spilled over backwards. There Mike laid, sprawled out, mangled and twisted with a four wheeler on top of him.
I gushed across the sludge and muck to him, pushed with all my might and got the majority of the weight off of him but I stopped dead when I saw his leg, bent in the wrong direction, curled up around the wheel! (I had no idea legs could bend this way!) Thank god for cell phones, so where the heck was mine? (Back home on the charger.) I darted through the woods to our closest neighbors and pounded on the door, J.D. answered in just his boxers. Breathless, I couldn’t produce words. Instinctively (he knew Mike well and this was not the first – or the last time – we knocked on his door), he grabbed his phone and called an ambulance, threw on his work boots and a sweatshirt and followed me back through the woods.
Mike was breathing but shock was setting in and he started to shiver, J.D. and I did what we could to reduce his pain and keep him calm. We didn’t dare move the ATV in fear we would really mess up his leg but we, wrapped J.D.’s sweatshirt around him to try to warm him, talked and joked with him to keep him awake and alert. The ambulance crew found us with ease (this was not their first trip down there), they arrived carrying their gear through the trails, even prepared for the muddy territory; Ken lead the way. Ken always seemed to be on duty when we called (I really should consider inviting him to dinner sometime), he works quick, is familiar with Mike and really knows how to handle a variety of situations with skill and ease. They had Mike boarded and on his way to the hospital in record time.
When I arrived at the hospital, the Doctor on call informed me he was fine, a few cuts and scrapes and a severely damaged knee but nonetheless fine. They wanted to keep him for a few days and prep him for surgery; he had shattered some bone, torn some ligaments and needed a complete ACL repair. He assured me Mike would be okay, that he was lucky and that he would be out of work for only about six months (only!). I knew this news would not settle well with Mike, he is not a man to be kept down – I was right, he scoffed when the doctor repeated this all to him but little did both Mike and I realize at the time, Mike was lucky and should have listened and took some down time.
Mike did go through with the surgery (there was no way around that) but to be without work for six months – he was going mad! He tried to move around and go to work, he was painting at the time and tried, boy did he try, he even attempted to hop up a ladder, however, the coursing pain shooting through his body humbled him and he painstakingly realized he was homebound for now but he did not rest – he “was not a man to be kept down” as he put it….so, this ATV accident, knee surgery and six months of ‘down’ time was really - just the beginning…
Through the pines, across the brook, around the beaver damn and back again, my siblings, nephews, neighbors, my husband and myself built some of the best recreational trails around…for the adventurous at heart. We take our snowshoes, cross country skis, dirt bikes, 3 & 4 wheelers out on them, not to mention just simply hiking them on foot with the kids and dogs for hunting or for adventure. It’s been an unspoken agreement with our bordering neighbors that property lines are redundant, only meant for the town tax collectors; thus we share the scope of our swampy, muddy, mossy terrain. The land is rich in history, not the history you will find in a text book, but a sort of natural history; for along side of, mingling with and beyond our trails are portions – reminiscent reminders of our kin who played here before us. Just sixteen paces left of the tallest knotted pine are the remains of my father’s and uncles aged smoke shack, along the outskirts of the cedar swamp is granddad’s old tree house, and just beyond the junk yard is the massive mud pit bordered by maples all donning carved hearts and initials of past romances, our tree is at the back side of the pit, at one time it blended with the others but now it stands a bit ragged and wounded – a few limbs are missing and it is split near the top from lightening, it has been hit twice (that I’m aware of) by 3-wheelers but it still stands strong – a few scars but nevertheless strong, ironically enough the tree seems to have mirrored our marriage in a sense.
My mother often says, “what does not kill us makes us stronger”, she doesn’t say it for religious reasons, more so because she sees the practicality in it. She’s had lots of opportunities to test her theories, raising eight kids doesn’t come without tribulations; she may have been lucky with me (I may be the exception here – the black sheep of the family) however, my husband fits right in with the rest of them – catastrophe could easily be his middle name.
It was a cool spring morning, two springs ago, when Little John brought over his Honda 250 for us to borrow for the weekend. He quietly backed his pick-up down the drive and rolled it off the back without a word; Mike was still asleep but I was up and stepped out onto the porch, Little John nodded his head at me, smiled and was gone – I felt like the first kid awake on Christmas morning and I had just seen Santa. I quietly slipped back into the house, kicked off my slippers and threw on my Mucks, I didn’t care that I was wearing my night clothes – sweat pants and a flannel nightshirt would be just fine, I flew back out the door and climbed on the 4 wheeled, big red ATV, turned the key and felt it rumble to life. I didn’t want to linger long, at 6:00 a.m. its’ low rumble echoed like a great Maine grizzly attacking the chickadees and I knew in moments Mike would be out the door to steal it away from me, so I kicked it into gear and was out of there! I went the long way around, to hopefully avoid waking him up, down past our neighbors (I’m sure they loved me for this), pass the beaver pond, down through the pines, deep into the back woods I raged through some of the last remaining snow and darted out into the clearing behind the junk yard…the mud pit!
A light frost remained in the ground and the mud was crunchy below the tires, a few puddles had a light layer of ice that I thoroughly enjoyed smashing through and splattering in and out of. It took a few tight donuts in high gear to really get the ground worked up, the pleasure of molding it into fine workable clay felt almost as exciting as foreplay (ok about as equally exciting), with dark mud starting to spit up onto my legs and icy, murky puddle water spattering onto my face – I was having the time of my life! My teeth started chattering, not because it was cold but from the extreme vibration that traveled from my grip on the cracked rubber handles wrapped in duck tape, up my arms straight into my head; the beast was wildly throbbing, yet I held strong - knowing from past experiences how easily one of these could go up on two wheels and flip right over.
My peripheral vision caught a cluster of Alder trees bending and bowing, I dropped gears and slowed to a stop – just before me, less then ten yards away, was a small dotted fawn, his little ears were perked straight up and he was staring right at me. I sat frozen, motionless, staring right back, enjoying the moment but concerned with what bigger friend of his might be accompanying him on his little outing. Seconds past, then a tree branch snapped behind us, startling him provoking him to dart deep into the woods. I remained frozen, a bit frightened, wondering what caused the tree to snap; my eyes frantically scanned the range of view I had without turning my head. I heard a faint rustle of the bushes but could see nothing, I contemplated revving my toy back to life and speeding out of there but fear (or curiosity) kept me frozen still. My heart skipped a beat when I heard the mud suctioning around the new intruders steps as it apparently advanced towards me from behind, my mind was racing on what to do – what to do, I’m sure my brain was still rattling around from all those donuts I had been spinning in and that is why I was not thinking clearer or faster. I had seen bear tracks down here before, heck I had seen them on most all of our trails, why did I think this was a good idea to come out here alone. I was trying to remember what I had learned to do in a bear attack…play dead – right? Just then I felt it, the weight added to the back of the 4 wheeler – I gasped, hot breath heated the back of my neck – sending shivers down my spine, I took one last breath in and then…there it was - a strong paw slamming down onto my shoulder! This was followed by a loud boisterous laugh and I turned and came face to face with my husband. Seeing the fear on my face and my ghostly white appearance (despite the mud that I was covered in) he doubled over laughing himself into a tizzy and muffled out the words, “Serves you right!”.
That was it - my fun was over, he promptly regained his composure, lifted me off the drenched seat and instructed me to stand back and watch a pro at work. As I backed off, trudging through the rutted up, muddy ground towards an old weight bench he fired the beast to life and lurched it forward, triumphantly spinning circles around me. I made it safely to the rusty weight bench and sat – pouting. He just grinned ear to ear and gunned the ATV forward, diving in and out of the trees, nearly missing them, dodging under low limbs and climbing two tires up onto heaps of rocks…all the things I didn’t do (not because I’m a chicken mind you but because I do have some basic common sense) regardless, he enjoyed his carelessness that he calls a pro at work (I call it showing off). I guess he noticed that I was not that impressed for he switched gears and decided to turn up the ground a bit more – working over my donuts he began to spin several of his own. He was not as cautious as I had been, he climbed up onto the seat, resting on one leg – bent at the knee under him while the other was straight back, holding onto only one handle while waving at me with his free hand…he looked like a bear on a ball in the circus, however I couldn’t help but grin a bit. This small grin only encouraged him and he gave it some more gas, cut the corner even tighter and went up onto two wheels – tilting the rig and almost losing his balance, anxiously he tried to regain composure but it all happened too quickly. He lost control of the ATV, without his grip on the handle it spun recklessly out of control, headed towards a tree – our tree – smashed into it, climbed part way up it and then spilled over backwards. There Mike laid, sprawled out, mangled and twisted with a four wheeler on top of him.
I gushed across the sludge and muck to him, pushed with all my might and got the majority of the weight off of him but I stopped dead when I saw his leg, bent in the wrong direction, curled up around the wheel! (I had no idea legs could bend this way!) Thank god for cell phones, so where the heck was mine? (Back home on the charger.) I darted through the woods to our closest neighbors and pounded on the door, J.D. answered in just his boxers. Breathless, I couldn’t produce words. Instinctively (he knew Mike well and this was not the first – or the last time – we knocked on his door), he grabbed his phone and called an ambulance, threw on his work boots and a sweatshirt and followed me back through the woods.
Mike was breathing but shock was setting in and he started to shiver, J.D. and I did what we could to reduce his pain and keep him calm. We didn’t dare move the ATV in fear we would really mess up his leg but we, wrapped J.D.’s sweatshirt around him to try to warm him, talked and joked with him to keep him awake and alert. The ambulance crew found us with ease (this was not their first trip down there), they arrived carrying their gear through the trails, even prepared for the muddy territory; Ken lead the way. Ken always seemed to be on duty when we called (I really should consider inviting him to dinner sometime), he works quick, is familiar with Mike and really knows how to handle a variety of situations with skill and ease. They had Mike boarded and on his way to the hospital in record time.
When I arrived at the hospital, the Doctor on call informed me he was fine, a few cuts and scrapes and a severely damaged knee but nonetheless fine. They wanted to keep him for a few days and prep him for surgery; he had shattered some bone, torn some ligaments and needed a complete ACL repair. He assured me Mike would be okay, that he was lucky and that he would be out of work for only about six months (only!). I knew this news would not settle well with Mike, he is not a man to be kept down – I was right, he scoffed when the doctor repeated this all to him but little did both Mike and I realize at the time, Mike was lucky and should have listened and took some down time.
Mike did go through with the surgery (there was no way around that) but to be without work for six months – he was going mad! He tried to move around and go to work, he was painting at the time and tried, boy did he try, he even attempted to hop up a ladder, however, the coursing pain shooting through his body humbled him and he painstakingly realized he was homebound for now but he did not rest – he “was not a man to be kept down” as he put it….so, this ATV accident, knee surgery and six months of ‘down’ time was really - just the beginning…
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