September 02, 2001 - 19:06 MDT

THE WONDERING JEW

Head Bumpin'

A biography of a klutz like me would be just a list of all the head bumps and the location where each bump occurred.

Oh, very early in my life I remember whacking my head on something and running, crying to Mom. Her comforting until the heavy hurt subsided was enough then. Then I went into the stage of life, all too often mentioned by the adults around me, "Too old to cry, too young to cuss." Holy cats, what a bummer that was, no true outlet for a kid coping with head bangs.

The altitude of things that my head collided with got a bit higher as I grew older, unfortunately so did my head rise to new heights. I was still bumpin' my head on things a bit higher off the ground.

An example: The house I spent from age of awareness until about 16 or 17 years old had swing in windows just the right height to whop my head on the corner when I rose too close to the wall. Then we moved to a new house with the ground floor high enough that there were windows in the basement. I soon discovered those booby traps when the warm weather began. Those windows swing out from the first floor and the lower corner was just the right height for me to crash my head into.

Then all through life was the random factor operative. It seemed that Murphy was dogging my footsteps. If there was any possible way for me to bump my head, anywhere, it was a foregone conclusion that I would come away with an acher. Never at that time did I knock myself out, but managed to collect a bunch of screaming Ow-ies. I failed to watch out for things like that, concentratiing on my desired goal made me indifferent to the possibility of making myself punch drunk and hurting.

Finally I did learn to be cautious and somewhat protective to my brain box. Thereupon my time was spent in bumpin' my figurative head on the hard corners of life. Stubborn, wrongheadedness might be the word or words. There was a teen stage arrived at by me, maybe a little ahead of time, when I knew everything, and I could not get hurt. Yeah, right !

A lot of fantastic head bumpin' took place in those years, I was the star on that team. As I grew older yet I began choosing my opportunities more carefully, but Murphy was with me. Sporadic incidents were just spacing the hurts out and mental hurts did not have to have bandages - nor were they things to elicit sympathy from any one.

The echoing phrase ricocheting in my skull, "Ya' shudda known better !"

Then as I got into the dating game, I would also bump my heart at the same time. Each time was the final blow, my life was ruined never to be enjoyable again. The old, "Go away world and let me soak in sadness, don't just stand there grinning !" seemed to be the avocation of a number of us boys.

Then as I entered the work force the dangers of head bumpin', both physical and mental multiplied logarithmically and my watchwords were, "Lookout, duck, swerve, and for God's sake keep your mouth shut !"

When I married and the kids came on the scene it seemed that head bumpin' came looking for me. Once while at work in a dead air space which was about 120 degrees F. I raised up from my working position and knocked myself out on the stem of a steam valve which was just above me. For a while I had the Job complex, "Why me oh Lord ?" Until I realized it was up to me to find my way on my own on the small stuff, but I can see his hand in my continued survival.

The last occurence (up to now) was the auto accident we were in while coming home through Wyoming. That was a hummer, gave me the sorest head I ever had. I was too darn busy trying to cope with a broken neck and the rest of my injuries to feel sorry for poor little me.

Now I seem to go with the flow, laid back and knocking off of the Head Bumpin' . . . . . . .

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