"Where Fillmore County News Comes First"
Online Edition
Thursday, June 20th, 2013
Volume ∞ Issue ∞
- 8:58:04, Jun 18th 2013 - cabraden1 - I salute you Colonel Overland. Your were my c.o. at Rockville Naval Air ... [Read More]
- 7:10:46, Jun 13th 2013 - chipperlee - Seems to be a well written article, except maybe Silica Sand is used in ... [Read More]
- 12:02:15, Jun 9th 2013 - getthefacts - The problem here lies in the fact that girls were repeatedly told "if y ... [Read More]
- 10:45:32, Jun 7th 2013 - Jo mom for 6yrs - Mr. Ehler hit the nail on the head. I agree with the religious con ... [Read More]
- 2:47:58, Jun 7th 2013 - hello - Hello, it's time you wake up. There isn't a community nearby that doesn't offe ... [Read More]
- 9:06:21, Jun 6th 2013 - hello - Hello, it's time you wake up. There isn't a community nearby that doesn't offe ... [Read More]
- 2:05:29, Jun 6th 2013 - Kim Wentworth - The number one rule in a debate: 1) if the person from the opposite si ... [Read More]
- 12:42:18, Jun 4th 2013 - EW - For someone that is always spouting religious rhetoric, you try to come off as a ... [Read More]
- 11:32:18, May 31st 2013 - JO PLAYER - This is unfair to us girls. Morrie Miller is not getting canceled but J ... [Read More]
- 8:25:34, May 29th 2013 - RP - Why is Mr. Ehler involving himself with non-school activities? Is he going after ... [Read More]
Father and son
Comments
Monday, June 5, 2000
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.
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.