I was born on the 24th day of July, which according to family legend, was the hottest day of the year. According to the “stories” of Arthur J. Knight, it took my mother a couple of days to try and force me out into the world. Other old wives tales debate this fact, but the general idea is trouble always finds me. I was supposedly born a perfect sized child with green cat eyes, blonde hair, and a streak of klutziness that has followed me for years.
When I was 5 after hearing stories of cold weather, tongues, and steel posts, the dreaded deed was done. Do not attempt this at home kids, and yes, warm water works best.
At age 6 I didn’t see a car coming and got hit by a car trunk. Arthur Knight’s stories say I flew up higher than neighbour’s roof, and I put one hell of a dent on that trunk. I woke up on the couch with Dr. Roy telling everyone I would be okay and my grandfather offering me a Davy Crockett cake and some Classics Illustrated Comics about Jesus. I was “Queen of the Wild Frontier” with biblical tones for a few days.
At age 7 I put a Quebec tin license plate on the back of my tricycle and fell off the sidewalk while speeding up the street. When I got back on my bike I noticed I could see my leg bone. The license plate corner had gouged a huge hole in my thigh.
“No stitches were needed”, said Dr. Roy.
They were trying out new special bandages and I was basically first on my block to try them. It was such a wonderful idea they did away with them within the year. To this day I have a huge scar that looks like a pair of lips on my inner thigh.
Skateboards became the rage and I owned a wooden one with tin wheels. I have vertigo, yet I went up and down that almost 90 degree hill with the best of them. I fell a few times, but received only small scrapes. My neighbourhood friends thought it was funny to see this chubby kid with the blonde flip hairdo going down that hill at death defying speeds. That was because I kept my arms out straight screaming at the top of my lungs as the skateboard travelled downward.
One day Reverend Peacock’s handsome sons came to skate and I got on my board humming “Jimmy Mack” and awaited my turn trying to impress them. I had no idea that childhood friends Russell and Randall were hiding in the bushes that day.
No, not one single idea at all.
Days later our parents had just settled the “snake incident” and I thought the two of them were finally going to leave me alone. Half way down that hill they jumped out of the side bushes screaming at the top of their lungs. Needless to say I fell off, rolled down the rest of that hill and took half my knee cap off.
End of skateboard career.
End of impressing the Peacock boys.
End of my life I thought as people talked about this for months.
Years pass and every second day seems to be filled with stubbed toes, bruised elbows and paper cuts. Yes paper cuts. They can be quite painful you know.
Let’s see – I have slipped down a back staircase with ballet shoes much like a water ride. Then I tried to tape a 50 pound box on a broken wooden TV table and it fell and broke my toe. Seven months pregnant with son number two I laughed when I saw the 100 foot wall of fabric in my old sewing factory tilt. Forty minutes later I was buried under it with a metal pipe crushed into my back. Then I once did the splits in my store without warming up and heard a “pop” that broke windows around the world and I could barely walk for days.
The best one was falling down the basement stairs years ago and then finding out that Aleve* was no longer available in Canada. I swear everyone heard my voice for blocks in Shoppers Drugmart saying,
“What do you mean it’s banned in Canada because it could cause heart attacks?”
Yes, I will live another day, another hour, with stubbed toes, bruised elbows or another paper cut as:
My name is klutz and Jimmy Mack is never coming back. Now I don’t move that much anymore and it’s just the flu– over and over and over LOL
lindaseccaspina 