As I began to edge my way into the Summer of 1972, I was beginning to get the itch to move my 21 pound 8 oz body around. By June, I was beginning to pull myself up into a standing position. By August, I would be standing without support. But in between these periods, I was particularly fond of scooting about in my walker. Oh yes, the fateful walker.
July was a busy month for me. I began to utter my first words at the age of nine months – these words being Daddy (my very first word), Mama, dog, ball, bye, tea, car, and pop. For some odd reason that I cannot explain, I have the vaguest of vague recollections of using the unusual word tea at a very early age. My favorite toy was the rack-o-stack, a wobbling peg on which you could place multi-colored rings. I loved stuffed animals as well, but was notorious for eating the fuzz off of them – and calling all of them dogs – no matter what kind they were.
Taking a bottle in my high chair
Eight months and feelin’ fine…
Lounging with Dad inside John Glenn…
…and enjoying a Summer outdoors
In my trusty rusty stroller
But by far, the event that most everyone who was around at this time will remember was when I fell down the stairs at Grandma and Grandpa Murphy’s house on Cunnington. It was a lovely July day and my Mom had dropped me off at Grandma’s to be babysat as she went off to work at Connelly and Company. There was a gate that should have been closed blocking off the flight of stairs that led from the upper level to the front door. Mom forgot to close it and Grandma forgot to check it.
My uncle Jim, who was almost seventeen years old at the time, heard a tremendous crashing, thumping, screaming, nightmarish noise from out of a sound sleep. That noise was me tumbling ass-over-teakettle down the full flight of stairs. Being asleep on the lower level, Jim was the first one to get to me, and certainly Grandma followed soon behind. All the way down the stairs, the walker had been folding up on me and slamming me in the face. Something on the walker, or perhaps the ground below, had put a huge gash into my ear. By the time everyone reached me, I was a bloody mess.
My Mom was called and she rushed over to Grandma’s and they hightailed it to Dr. Thesing’s office, where I was promptly put into a straightjacket so that they could tend to me. My teeth had gone through my bottom lip and I had to have stitches in my left ear (my aunt Darlene still recalls that she was expecting to find a piece of the missing ear at the bottom of the stairs). But none of this compared to my overall appearance, as I sported two black eyes and a hugely swollen lip – which nearly disabled me from drinking a bottle.
As the doctors tended to me, they also brought my Grandma into a separate room before she had a nervous breakdown of her own. She was petrified that my Dad would be furious and never let her see me again. She told me this story herself many times. My Mom knew that he would not react quite that way, but held off calling him at work just the same. She waited until I had been stitched, cleaned up, and taken home before she called him with the news. When he came home and took one look at me – even in the ‘cleaned up’ state – he broke down crying.
The aftermath of the walker incident
Hanging out at in our cottage in Curtis, Michigan as the black eye begins to fade
I don’t remember any of this, but I am constantly reminded that it was probably this fall down the stairs that made me so ‘touched in the head.’ I also still sport the scar in my left ear from this catastrophe.
My first big vacation will be coming up in the next posting…
I remember this story very well. Mom felt terrible beyond words. Our precious little baby boy was hurt really bad. Even though Diana had Cathy and Lori by then, we were still new to the idea that our babies could and would have accidents. Now after all our childrens accidents and our grandchildrens accidents, you’d think we wouldn’t react as much when unfortunate things happen, but we still do. Whenever a child gets hurt, we hurt, but it’s even worse when it happens on your watch.
Bev
January 5th, 2008
Are you sure the “Hanging out at Bill and Dottie’s as the black eye begins to fade” photo wasn’t at your Grandpa and Grandma’s on their lower level?
Dad
January 5th, 2008
I still remember that day. It was absolutely awful. I was almost as worried about Mom as I was about Brad, as she was absolutely frantic and so afraid we wouldn’t ever let her babysit again (of course that never happened!) It was a terrible accident that really could have been much worse than it was, so I was very thankful that there was nothing broken or badly hurt, except of course the scarred ear which just went along with the scarred forehead a few years later. I don’t recognize the setting of the “hanging out at Bill and Dottie’s”, it could have been at Mom and Dad’s – not sure.
Barb/Mom
January 5th, 2008
I really don’t think the “hanging out at Bill and Dottie’s” picture is at Mom & Dad’s on Cunnington. That floor wasn’t our floor and I don’t recognize the blue rug or couch. I think our lower level floor was carpeted.
Bev
January 6th, 2008
Since no one – including Bill or Dottie – can identify the house where I hung out while my black eye faded, I have changed the photo caption on the picture.
Brad
January 7th, 2008
Mystery solved! That photo was taken inside our cottage in Curtis, Michigan.
Brad
February 20th, 2008