I was raised on a farm along with brothers and a sister. Our playground was the farm yard and the adjoining fields. We were on the go all day playing here and there. There was machinery in the yard that was an invitation for kids to play on and have accidents. Much of the machinery was abandoned and not used. There were numerous outbuildings which provided play activities. Sometimes the chickens were chased. Sometimes the rooster chased us. Every tree in the yard was climbed at some time or other by little kids. Many forts and tree houses were constructed. In the summer gardens were visited and raided.. You get the picture. Life in a farmyard provided many opportunities for playing.
Now one thing that was abandoned on the yard was an old model T Truck. It was the ancient kind with a canvas top. The frame of the cab was wood and the canvas was attached to the wood. There was a windshield but no side windows. Of course, from time to time we played in this old truck. The relic promoted lots of imagination and play.
When we were around four or five we were having fun one day. I was inside the truck standing on the seat lifting my sister. My head was sticking up in the canvas making a bump. Many times we took tools from the shop for our play activities. My brother had a heavy hammer from the shop. When he saw the bump in the canvas , he decided to smooth it out. Wham! He hit me square in the head. Of course I howled and the blood pored from a gash on the top of my head. So off I went to the house howling my head off. I think he soon did his howling as he probably go a spanking.
I was left with a scar and a bald spot. This incident became one of the family stories that was told over and over again with a fair amount of laughter. It was a complete comedy of innocent errors.
So at age four or five I received a heavy shot to the head which became one of the many nine lives I've lost.
I'm sure many of you have had incidents from your childhood which innocently turned wrong .