An Arm and Two Legs

I remember breaking my arm when I was young. I think I was around 5 years old at the time. A neighbor named Tommy was giving "rocket rides" on another neighbor's lawn. This involved him lying on his back and bending his knees so the "rider" would have a seat on the soles of his feet. He would then swiftly kicked with both feet, sending the hapless rider into the air. It was fun until I came down on my arm and broke it. I don't remember any real pain, but I remember freaking out at the startlingly new shape of my arm. My dad yelled at Tommy, and I came to his defense, saying it wasn't really his fault. I'm not sure if I did this because it was true, or if I didn't want to rock the boat as far as the neighborhood pecking order went. Tommy was an older kid, after all. Both motivations probably came into play.

I had a plaster cast which was soon befouled with grime and signatures. It's hard to suddenly become less mobile, especially when one is young.

Later on, I would lose one of my pet snakes in that same lawn. It was a Ringneck snake and was, if memory serves, one of the first snakes I'd ever caught. Being not much bigger than a worm, it managed to wiggle its way into the lawn and disappear.

That lawn was bad luck.