"Where Fillmore County News Comes First"
Online Edition
Sunday, May 19th, 2013
Volume ∞ Issue ∞
- 5:56:33, May 18th 2013 - modgudur - I guess the child is anti-gun control since Obama went to all that trouble ... [Read More]
- 9:27:41, May 16th 2013 - caal girl - Nice outfit on you. I loved some of the dresses but am holding my breath ... [Read More]
- 2:03:34, May 14th 2013 - - Thanks for sharing the trip with us! ... [Read More]
- 4:12:01, May 9th 2013 - Amanda Ziebell - Wow! Thanks to the Fillmore County Journal for this kind story. For a ... [Read More]
- 11:47:30, May 7th 2013 - EW - ramble.....ramble.....ramble..... ... [Read More]
- 10:25:25, May 7th 2013 - Thunder6 - Great article! I love to see the Youth of Fillmore County receiveing acco ... [Read More]
- 6:52:10, May 6th 2013 - Jason Sethre, Publisher of Fillmore County Journal & Olmsted County Journal - Maryh, ... [Read More]
- 7:29:56, May 5th 2013 - maryh - Where are OCJ's available for pickup...other than at the new office? ... [Read More]
- 2:41:47, May 3rd 2013 - Remark1976 - Mrs. Buckbee, I just looked up Senate File 796 and in it there are said p ... [Read More]
- 2:22:20, May 3rd 2013 - Remark1976 - Mrs. Buckbee, how do you come up with $1.1 billion that trout fishing bri ... [Read More]
29
How will you keep your kids busy this summer vacation?
Father and son
Comments
Our oldest son had an accident at work last week. He got his finger caught between two parts of a hydraulic punch. The business of the world stopped for two days as we focused on the questions of what and when and where and how long. His injury is serious enough to be life-changing for him, but not life-threatening.
When something like this happens, we get a swift kick that reminds us of the things that are really important. You don’t need to be around a hospital emergency room very long to realize that your problems, serious as they may seem, are likely overshadowed by another’s suffering just beyond a curtained enclosure. Indeed, within days, our shock and pain came into perspective when we learned of another family who had lost a son of exactly our son’s age in a recreational vehicle accident. We hug our son more often, though more carefully so we don’t hurt his hand, than he has been hugged in years. We are all in pain, but we are all here. Our heartbreak over an injured body and delayed dreams will heal soon. Our hearts go out to those families whose healing has just begun and will go on for years.
I talked to one of my brothers about the accident. He marveled that something similar or worse had not happened to one of us as we grew up on the farm. It was strange to hear him tell me that. He is the youngest of the four of us brothers and the one who suffered the most injuries. He fell down a hay chute and got a concussion when he was about four years old and followed that up the next summer by falling face-first into a sharp sickle. Fortunately, the sickle was not operating at the time, but he still ended up with a bunch of stitches in his face and the scars that go with them.
When I think of the number of times we came close to getting badly hurt, it makes me shudder. I recall standing on the drawbar of a tractor that my brother was driving too fast through the field. I lost my balance and fell helplessly toward the spinning tractor tire. Just before I would have fallen into it and been dragged to the ground under it, I felt my father’s big hand grab my jacket and pull me upright. He said nothing and neither did I. We both knew how close I had come and there was nothing that needed to be said.
Aside from my younger brother’s mishaps, there were few serious accidents on our farm. Other families in our neighborhood were not so fortunate. George seemed to be missing more fingers every time I saw him. Lavern died under a tractor that tipped over on him as he crossed a creek. Ralph met his end as he tried to repair a hay chopper. Stanley lost his life when his tractor slipped off an icy road. All of these accidents occurred in less than seconds, but changed the course of the future for the victims and their families.
My son’s accident changed our relationship. As I sat with him in the emergency room, he described the fear he felt when he realized just how badly he had been hurt. I felt in that moment a parent’s worst failure; being unable to protect your child from just that fear. Tears came to my eyes. I hugged him there on the gurney and cried on his shoulder. He patted my head with his good hand and said, "It’s all right, Dad. I’m going to be all right." As he comforted me, I was suddenly cut loose in time. For a second, I was thirty years younger and he was the dad. I also got a glimpse of myself as a helpless old man leaning heavily on his adult son. In less than a minute I came back to the present, but for a brief moment, I felt that my son and I were the same age and were feeling the same thing at the same time.
It is important to be there when your kids are ready to help you grow up, but nobody ever told me that being a parent was going to hurt this much.
When something like this happens, we get a swift kick that reminds us of the things that are really important. You don’t need to be around a hospital emergency room very long to realize that your problems, serious as they may seem, are likely overshadowed by another’s suffering just beyond a curtained enclosure. Indeed, within days, our shock and pain came into perspective when we learned of another family who had lost a son of exactly our son’s age in a recreational vehicle accident. We hug our son more often, though more carefully so we don’t hurt his hand, than he has been hugged in years. We are all in pain, but we are all here. Our heartbreak over an injured body and delayed dreams will heal soon. Our hearts go out to those families whose healing has just begun and will go on for years.
I talked to one of my brothers about the accident. He marveled that something similar or worse had not happened to one of us as we grew up on the farm. It was strange to hear him tell me that. He is the youngest of the four of us brothers and the one who suffered the most injuries. He fell down a hay chute and got a concussion when he was about four years old and followed that up the next summer by falling face-first into a sharp sickle. Fortunately, the sickle was not operating at the time, but he still ended up with a bunch of stitches in his face and the scars that go with them.
When I think of the number of times we came close to getting badly hurt, it makes me shudder. I recall standing on the drawbar of a tractor that my brother was driving too fast through the field. I lost my balance and fell helplessly toward the spinning tractor tire. Just before I would have fallen into it and been dragged to the ground under it, I felt my father’s big hand grab my jacket and pull me upright. He said nothing and neither did I. We both knew how close I had come and there was nothing that needed to be said.
Aside from my younger brother’s mishaps, there were few serious accidents on our farm. Other families in our neighborhood were not so fortunate. George seemed to be missing more fingers every time I saw him. Lavern died under a tractor that tipped over on him as he crossed a creek. Ralph met his end as he tried to repair a hay chopper. Stanley lost his life when his tractor slipped off an icy road. All of these accidents occurred in less than seconds, but changed the course of the future for the victims and their families.
My son’s accident changed our relationship. As I sat with him in the emergency room, he described the fear he felt when he realized just how badly he had been hurt. I felt in that moment a parent’s worst failure; being unable to protect your child from just that fear. Tears came to my eyes. I hugged him there on the gurney and cried on his shoulder. He patted my head with his good hand and said, "It’s all right, Dad. I’m going to be all right." As he comforted me, I was suddenly cut loose in time. For a second, I was thirty years younger and he was the dad. I also got a glimpse of myself as a helpless old man leaning heavily on his adult son. In less than a minute I came back to the present, but for a brief moment, I felt that my son and I were the same age and were feeling the same thing at the same time.
It is important to be there when your kids are ready to help you grow up, but nobody ever told me that being a parent was going to hurt this much.
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