When I Was Young And In My Prime - Plot & Excerpts
He collects them. There is, for instance, a whole set of broken arm stories: the time he was examining the chimney and the ladder fell, and the one when Uncle Nick fell from a tree during an ambush while playing Cowboys and Indians (the branch snapped—Two limbs broken in one go, Grandpa used to say). And of course there’s the one where the boy tripped Grandpa with his hockey stick when Grandma had her class out to skate on the irrigation pond. Not to mention the famous lesson Grandpa taught the boy. That time he broke his wrist so thoroughly his hand flopped against his forearm and, if I have it right, the only available doctor was drunk and set the bone wrong and it had to be rebroken a few months later. It seems to me they were always breaking their arms so hard their bones came through the skin. And it wasn’t just broken arms. Sprains, concussions, missing fingers, bleeding noses, dislocated shoulders. Accidents, fights. Bravery and foolhardiness of all kinds. Farmhands, relatives, friends, neighbouring farmers, adults, children—all were swollen, bruised and bloody.
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