Calamity Me
I’m not very big on astrology. As a Capricorn, I’m aware it’s an earth sign, but I don’t know much more. I’ve always considered myself sure-footed and not accident-prone. However, lately I’ve been thinking about some of the mishaps I had as a kid. The more I ponder, the more alarming episodes I recall. So I decided to paint two impressions of childhood incidents that repeatedly came to mind — hence my attached “Calamity Me” watercolor.
In both cases I was about 5 years old. In occasion No. 1 I fell from our home’s second-floor porch. The balusters were probably too far apart. (By code, balusters are now to be spaced 4 inches or less so kids don’t get their little heads stuck between them.) But since I don’t remember exactly, I’ve painted my calamity as though three of the vertical wooden pieces gave way. Thank you, lilac bush in full bloom, for saving me. No wonder I’ve always loved smelling those beautiful, fragrant flowers.
Recollection No. 2 also involves an accidental fall. Dad had taken me to a scenic setting complete with a grist mill. He figured I’d like the big red wheel turned by diverted water. I did. But while awed by the spinning behemoth, I lost footing and slid into the dark water. I went fully under and sensed the murky blackness. Then suddenly a strong arm reached in — deus ex machina. Dad pulled me out. In appreciation, I’ve painted him standing beside the solid aluminum frog he had crafted.
I thought of other childhood mishaps. I remember being under the first-floor porch, having removed the loose, diamond-shaped wooden lattice that Dad had installed to keep nuisance animals out. I crawled under and was silently and invisibly amused as I eyed everyone frantically searching for me. This wasn’t an accident but a case of naughtiness. Thereafter Mom called me mischievous. Another true and more serious accident lay ahead, occurring when I ran down the driveway and, as you might suspect, got hit by a motorist. I broke my leg and found myself being toted around by Dad until it healed.
Now for my adult smashups, long forgotten about. Ready? I was hit in the head by a baseball player swinging a practice bat. Concussion? Maybe. While bicycling at Boston’s Esplanade, I hit a stray, unleashed black dog and broke my right clavicle. Concussed? Probably.
I had to teach myself to write left-handed. Also while biking, a passenger in an automobile opened the right door just as I was about to pass the car. I hit the door and catapulted right through the window. Fortunately it was fully open.
Another time, while working in a vacant building, I sank into a hole down to my knee. Talk about having “the big one,” as Redd Foxx would utter in the ‘70’s TV show “Sanford and Son,” grasping his heart, looking skyward. On another occasion I fell backward while schlepping work equipment up an escalator at the T. I went a quarter way down the blasted thing. Worst of all, no one offered assistance as it was rush hour. Lastly, I tripped and tumbled onto my face, twice, while crossing streets, trying to beat WALK signs. The second time resulted in my reluctantly being rushed by ambulance to the hospital ER only one mile away. Result: I was OK, but I did receive a $1,500 transport charge. Insurance reneged.
So why am I telling you all this? I’m convinced we’re all accident-prone to some degree but not as much as we may think we are, either more or less. Sure, Capricorns are alleged to be steady on their feet while Geminis are lighthearted and carefree. But I bet folks of both persuasions have the same average number of accidents. Now if you’re willing to fund me to investigate fully and write a formal report, let’s talk.
