I wanted to start a series on the blog that I’ll call Flashback Fridays. One Friday a month I’ll post a story from my past. If you want to know more about my childhood, or if you knew me during my childhood, you will want to keep coming back. You never know, if we were kids together, you may be one of my victims.
And now the first victim…
Sheelagh moved in about a mile down the road from us one summer. Where we come from that was practically next door. I remember the day I met her quite vividly. I was weeding my two rows in the garden when a girl came out of nowhere and said, “Hello!” I think I said something about her bob haircut commenting that she looked English. Her response, “What do you expect. I’m English.” I’m sure after working in the garden in the hot sun I had some kind of hairdo that could not be associated with any country!
Sheelagh and I became fast friends and often spent summer days together riding bikes or going to the pool.
Then there was that one day.
When most people think of shingles they think of the few that may need to be replaced on the roof of their house, or even that dreaded itchy rash that is related to chicken pox. Not at our house, though. Whenever any of my siblings even say the word “shingle”, we all cringe and think of Sheelagh.
Across the street from my house there was a dilapidated barn. My brother and his friends used to play there until someone thought it was a good idea to tear it down, leaving an even more dangerous mess. There were plenty of slivers, scrapes, bumps, and bruises among other injuries when the barn was in pretty good shape. Afterward the injuries just got bigger.
Billy and his friends discovered the old shingles, that had once protected the barn roof, made wonderful Frisbees. You could literally throw them hundreds of feet. That was farther than any plastic Frisbee could go.
Billy and his friends were having a good old time flinging them at Sheelagh and me. I do have to admit, we were throwing them back and it was all in good fun. But you know the old adage, “It’s all fun and games until somebody gets hurt!”
Well, someone did get hurt. Sheelagh. Billy threw a shingle and it hit her right in the forehead. I was too busy having a good time throwing shingles to notice at first, but all of a sudden I heard her scream! I turned around to see her holding her head and blood dripping down her arm and off her elbow. I never saw two boys run so fast in my life. Billy ran to the house to get a wet paper towel, which really didn’t do a whole lot of good, and Sheelagh’s brother got on his bike and pedaled home as fast as his legs could take him.
After a trip to the emergency room and a few stitches Sheelagh was almost as good as new; however, the scar on her head was left as a reminder.
Sheelagh and I have remained friends even though there’s much more than only a mile between us now. (Thank goodness for the Internet!) After that memorable day we were no longer able to play at the barn. We did learn a very valuable lesson through all that though: shingles really do make great Frisbees. You just need to remember to duck when one is coming your way.