Let the Scarring Begin!
I have an impressive collection of scars, despite the fact that I’ve never played hockey or rugby. Yes, I’m clumsy. I’m not proud of that fact, simply resigned to it. It’s been there from the start. I’ve never had impressive hand-eye coordination, probably because as a 
kid I used my hands more to turn book pages than to throw balls. Or because I’m perpetually lost in thought. In this, I identify (a smidge) with Professor Albert Einstein, who was reportedly so oblivious to his surroundings that he often walked through a fish pond on his way to class at Princeton. Although, in my case, it’s not quantum mechanics but storytelling that sets me adrift. I spilled coffee on myself while I was thinking up this blog post. And it occurred to me (while spilling coffee on myself) that each of my scars represents not just a butterfingered moment, but a small revelation.
My first lumpish revelation occurred in Downey, California, a suburb of spread-eagled Los Angeles. It was summer, and my best friend forever (or for a year or two, same difference), Stevie, was on vacation. So, out of desperation, I condescended to play with 2-year-old Cheryl from next door. I began acting out a half-baked swashbuckler, leaping about in piratical jeans and juice-stained t-shirt. Cheryl was anxious to join in. So, when I shouted, “Fire the cannons!” she picked up the nearest cannon ball, an empty milk bottle, and hurled it with buccaneerish gusto.
The cannon ball exploded spectacularly. Against my bare foot. Which responded with an even more impressive explosion of blood. No fake Hollywood stuff for us—we went in for real blood! As Mom rushed me to E.R., I had three revelations:
- Now this is an adventure!
- Adventures have costs
- Don’t stage pirate movies with toddlers
Decades later, Cheryl found me on Facebook. How she remembered the name of the hulking 6-year-old pirate who played with her when she was 2, I have no idea. But she did. Hence, her friendship—not Stevie’s—is now officially my longest-running. And the adventure continues…
I have the scars to prove it!
To read my next Scar Story, click here.
Loved this one! I have the clumsy gene too. I don’t know if there isn’t a single day that I wouldn’t find at least a bruise on my person somewhere. Some of them I can recollect how I got them; others, I don’t have a clue. Thanks for sharing. It gave me a good laugh.
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Mitch dear, the site is not allowing me to comment.I put in my URL and it refuses to POST demanding a URL!!!ugh – Kafka rules!Love and light ~mimi
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Hi Mimi. Well, I’m reading your comment, so something must have come through. Sorry it was exasperating for you! Kafka, hmm? Well, my life’s been odd enough, but I haven’t turned into a cockroach so far.
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I am also a clumsy person, so I can relate. However, in all fairness, I don’t think it was clumsiness that caused your spectacular foot injury. It was your decision to play pirates with a child who took the game very seriously and had very good aim.
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Thanks for wittily defending me, Ann. And you’re probably right about this scar, but not about the ones that came later!
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Your story resurrected one of my own–my best clumsy moment which occurred during high school. A guy I really liked had finally asked me out. We stopped by his house on our way (so his parents could meet me? Never did ask). As we were leaving I tripped on the threshold of the front door and landed in a heap on the porch. Both knees got skinned; but I never admitted that to him. I did sport great scabs for a couple of weeks. My pride was injured far worse than my knees, and I thought for sure our relationship was over before it even began. Imagine my relief when he asked me out again. We dated for two years.
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Hah! Well, you’re the image poise now, Nancy.
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Great line: ” as a kid I used my hands more to turn book pages than to throw balls.”
Today, kids play more hours of video games than turn book pages. I met a young woman on a plane recently who said she “doesn’t read.”
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Yeah, “don’t read”ers are a mystery to me.
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Hi Mitch, I got a new link. it looks very similar but different; https://theshowerofblessings.wordpress.com
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Laughing and I can relate! I find myself often clumsy with words—with scars to show! 🙂
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That’s an awesome story. Facebook has a way of letting people get connected to people from long ago. That’s how I finally met my birth mother, and my half siblings.
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How awesome for you indeed.
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A what a story-teller you are!!!!! Love it! Please do keep up the pirating!
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Arrr, that I will! (Thanks, Dawn!)
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