Broken Arm — Hive

It was a day in August of 1962 much like today. My mother brought me to visit my grandmother. I was her part-time housekeeper.

It rained in the morning while I vacuumed the stairs and cleaned the vents. At lunchtime we paused for a bbq sandwich and washed it down with a large Pepsi. They came in 16 oz glass bottles. Part of my weekly duties was to gather the empty bottles so they could be returned to the Safeway grocery store for the deposit.

Early in the afternoon my mom returned to pick me up to go home. The skies had cleared. I had a few minutes to play, sonI went to the neighbors back yard to play on their swing-set. I was hanging by my knees on wet metal bar when I slipped and fell.

My right arm broke both above and below the elbow joint. I picked myself up and headed back to grandma’s house.

My mom screamed when she saw my mangled arm hanging pretzel shape by my side. I didn’t feel much pain.

I spent the next day or two in the hospital and my arm was in a cast until November. The doctors were fearful that my 8 yr old arm would never grow again. When the cast was removed... My arm was as healthy as could be.

For my parents it was a time of hope and prayer. It was a day much like today.

Here is today’s beauty.