It has been said I'm just not right in the head. Well, there just very well may be a good reason for that. You see I believe it was the summer of 62 when I, along with my brothers and sister were at Sammis beach. It was a beautiful day to play in the bay and catch those cool breezes off the water. Mom had packed a picnic lunch just like she did most days we went. My sister and I , not being very strong swimmers, played along the shoreline. Those brothers of mine however they were like fish ! Both of those guys could swim far and fast. They were just naturals and so they played out in the deep water.
On this particular occasion brother Dan was diving for clams. He went down and what he came up with is what we called a skimmer clam. Now we didn't eat those skimmers, we used them for bait. Oh, I heard of people eating them, especially the rims but not us. They were great for fishing for stripers and bluefish seemed to enjoy them as well. Anyway, brother Dan had this skimmer clams and hollered at me to catch. He threw that thing in a high arc toward were I was standing. I missed and it hit me square on top of my head. I immediately began to cry and rushed to momma. She says, bend over and I'll kiss it. Well, because a kiss from momma can cure just about anything. When I bent over the blood began to flow ! That clam cracked open on my skull and put a big gash in it. The clam cracked open I mean, not my skull, although that was later debated. There wasn't a concussion protocol back then, I was still conscious so I was alright. But the blood was flowing pretty freely and Mom, Mom is not someone you want in an emergency. She just starts to scream and just sits there !
It was a fortunate thing for me that the neighbor lady was there with us that day. Francis Rollings, Aunt Francis as we called her, was a calm , cool and practical women. She grabs a beech towel, soaks it in the salt water and presses it on my head. She says, hold that there and quit crying about it, you'll be just fine. Then she looks at Mom, who is still in shock and mumbling something and tells her, I'm taking this boy to the clinic ! That is all we had readily available to us at that time, the local clinic. It was great though, those Doctors there could do anything, we certainly didn't need any specialists. I remember riding in her Willies Jeep station wagon, you know the kind, and bouncing up and down that old chip and tar road heading into town. Wasn't any such thing as a seat belt to hold you in place. I held on with one hand while the other kept that towel on my head. Let me tell you that lady was moving. She would tell us kids, when you are in a hurry or feel like you might get stuck you had to " giver' the gun " and Aunt Francis certainly did " giver' the gun " that day.
When we arrived at the clinic they took me right in. No waiting around to see the doctor, I was making a mess, dripping wet, sand on my feet and all of that. I looked up to see who the doctor was and it was Dr. Abel. My heart skipped a few beats then. Dr. Abel, aka The Slasher, was staring at me smiling. Old Doc Abel was a nice enough man, he was a very good doctor in fact, but the rumor was he always cut you open for one reason or another. That is why the kids called him, " the slasher. " I normally saw Dr. Nugent but I guess he wasn't around that day. Then I thought, I'm already cut so maybe he won't cut me more. He took one good look at the wound on my head and said, we'll just put a few staples in it, you'll be alright. Staples ! I thought he was going to take a staple gun and just staple it back together ! I was too scared to speak. About that time Mom shows up having dropped the other kids off at home and enters the room. She has regained enough composure to hold my hand and reassure me that he won't be using a staple gun. I get fixed up and that is the end of that story.
I have begun losing my hair. Male pattern baldness is the clinical term. It hasn't progressed to the point of uncovering that scar. Yes, there is a scar there to this day. It was a direct hit and some say I haven't been right ever since. I did learn that if you get injured the last person to run to is Mom. I got bit by a mouse once, another story, and ran to Dad. Now he took action ! First he squeezed my hand to get the blood flowing, then he poured alcohol in that wound and squeezed some more. Had to get the poison and germs out you know. After doing that a couple times he put a Band-Aid over it and said, watch it close boy, if it begins to fester let me know ! I wasn't quite sure what festering meant, but I knew it wasn't good. I did keep a close eye on that for a while. It never did fester so the cure worked well. After that I wasn't so sure I wanted to go to Dad either. Well, somehow I survived my childhood.
On this particular occasion brother Dan was diving for clams. He went down and what he came up with is what we called a skimmer clam. Now we didn't eat those skimmers, we used them for bait. Oh, I heard of people eating them, especially the rims but not us. They were great for fishing for stripers and bluefish seemed to enjoy them as well. Anyway, brother Dan had this skimmer clams and hollered at me to catch. He threw that thing in a high arc toward were I was standing. I missed and it hit me square on top of my head. I immediately began to cry and rushed to momma. She says, bend over and I'll kiss it. Well, because a kiss from momma can cure just about anything. When I bent over the blood began to flow ! That clam cracked open on my skull and put a big gash in it. The clam cracked open I mean, not my skull, although that was later debated. There wasn't a concussion protocol back then, I was still conscious so I was alright. But the blood was flowing pretty freely and Mom, Mom is not someone you want in an emergency. She just starts to scream and just sits there !
It was a fortunate thing for me that the neighbor lady was there with us that day. Francis Rollings, Aunt Francis as we called her, was a calm , cool and practical women. She grabs a beech towel, soaks it in the salt water and presses it on my head. She says, hold that there and quit crying about it, you'll be just fine. Then she looks at Mom, who is still in shock and mumbling something and tells her, I'm taking this boy to the clinic ! That is all we had readily available to us at that time, the local clinic. It was great though, those Doctors there could do anything, we certainly didn't need any specialists. I remember riding in her Willies Jeep station wagon, you know the kind, and bouncing up and down that old chip and tar road heading into town. Wasn't any such thing as a seat belt to hold you in place. I held on with one hand while the other kept that towel on my head. Let me tell you that lady was moving. She would tell us kids, when you are in a hurry or feel like you might get stuck you had to " giver' the gun " and Aunt Francis certainly did " giver' the gun " that day.
When we arrived at the clinic they took me right in. No waiting around to see the doctor, I was making a mess, dripping wet, sand on my feet and all of that. I looked up to see who the doctor was and it was Dr. Abel. My heart skipped a few beats then. Dr. Abel, aka The Slasher, was staring at me smiling. Old Doc Abel was a nice enough man, he was a very good doctor in fact, but the rumor was he always cut you open for one reason or another. That is why the kids called him, " the slasher. " I normally saw Dr. Nugent but I guess he wasn't around that day. Then I thought, I'm already cut so maybe he won't cut me more. He took one good look at the wound on my head and said, we'll just put a few staples in it, you'll be alright. Staples ! I thought he was going to take a staple gun and just staple it back together ! I was too scared to speak. About that time Mom shows up having dropped the other kids off at home and enters the room. She has regained enough composure to hold my hand and reassure me that he won't be using a staple gun. I get fixed up and that is the end of that story.
I have begun losing my hair. Male pattern baldness is the clinical term. It hasn't progressed to the point of uncovering that scar. Yes, there is a scar there to this day. It was a direct hit and some say I haven't been right ever since. I did learn that if you get injured the last person to run to is Mom. I got bit by a mouse once, another story, and ran to Dad. Now he took action ! First he squeezed my hand to get the blood flowing, then he poured alcohol in that wound and squeezed some more. Had to get the poison and germs out you know. After doing that a couple times he put a Band-Aid over it and said, watch it close boy, if it begins to fester let me know ! I wasn't quite sure what festering meant, but I knew it wasn't good. I did keep a close eye on that for a while. It never did fester so the cure worked well. After that I wasn't so sure I wanted to go to Dad either. Well, somehow I survived my childhood.
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