Bones & Genes & Milk
I come from a long line of
sturdy frames, nice arch
itecture: I’m talking about
my thus far unbreakable
bones. And a genetic pre
disposition for the taste of
milk to quench a thirst, or
just about anytime other
wise, for that matter.
Milk. It really slakes a
thirst. Plenty of personal
evidence shows that a
tall, singular glass (or 2)
can function nicely as a
complete meal. I have
popped my noggin onto
the low-hanging arch of
a bus’ front entrance
maybe a total of ten
times at maximum
hoppity-skippity im
pact, it’s true – it
should be said, given
I’m spreading so much
truth, that I am quite
a clumsy dude – and
each time I’d stand
back upright, and
kind of slink up the
bus entrance steps
and into my seat,
with nothing but a
little bump atop my
head. There are
similar endings to
similar events from
toddler-dom to pre
sent. Thanks, for
example, to a yappy
nipper and an overly
afeared colt that I hap
pened to be atop, I’ve
shot straight up into the
sky and – I’m told in seem
ingly slow motion – flipped
a one-eighty at the apex
and bolted head down into
the ground, which happened
to be covered in gravel at
that particular spot, scaring
“the living shit” out of my
dad, who quickly hopped
off the mare and carried
me home where I was
given quite a bit of att
ention for naught but
another bump on my
head. I’ve walked
full speed into doors,
be they glass or wood
en, the porch door of
the home in which I
was raised (several
times), bathroom
doors, mall entranc
es, pasture gates and
pasture fences. I’ve
had my big toe get
caught between
the chain and gear
of my bicycle once,
and spun nearly all
the way back out
again before even
realizing what a
pickle I’d gotten
myself into, and
later the same eve
ning received five
stitches over the
top of said toe
while dad and
the doctor shook
their heads back
and forth in awe
of only the skin
being broken. I’ve
hammered thumbs
and forefingers, had
fingers slammed into
doors and caught in
electrically raised
car windows, so
snug I thought
surely they’d pop
right off my
hand and out
onto the inter
state, but never,
not even once,
has any crazy
clumsy collision
or accident of
such proportions
caused anything
but broken skin
or a lump on the
skull or bit of
discoloration
that quickly
faded away,
and here I
am a month
away from
double nick
els, never
having worn
a cast, or bro
ken even a pink
ie. And as far as
I’m concerned,
that’s a whole
lot for which to
be thankful.
