| Memories |
| Head Trauma |
| I would usually wait for my brother Stan to come home to tell me what he had learned at his boy scout meetings. He would come home after dark and I could see him from blocks away by his tiny headlight flashing from side to side as he pedaled up the hill on the way home. Boy scouts were a big part of Stan's life back in the 1960's. He was excited about becoming a scout of the highest rank. Every chance he would get, he would study his boy scout manual trying to acheive the next higher rank working his way up the ladder. He would avidly go to the boy scout meetings which were held every other friday from 7:30PM to 10:00PM. The biweekly meetings would take place at out local lutheran church which was about 4 blocks by bicycle, as Stan preferred. He faithfully rode his trusty old bike everywhere he could.. The bike had seen better years, but Stan had keep it in top notch shape and according to him it was the best bike in the neighborhood. Stan's bike was not only a form of transportation but a utility vehicle. Stan had fashioned a hitch on the back of the bicycle so he could attach a trailer from which he built from his old soap box derby. The trailer worked well for hauling loads that would take a long time and more than one person to carry by hand. He had mounted headlights and tailights on his bicycle and trailer so he could travel anywhere at anytime. His battery operated lights used 2 small C cell batterys for illumination which were costly for a poor family and sometimes the lights could be very dim before the batteries were replaced. Stan's hope was to procure a generator type light so he wouldn't have to keep replacing the expensive batteries. At that time batteries had short life spans and needed to be replaced often. One friday night Stan was late coming home. Our parents had gone out to a dance as they had done many friday nights and us childern were home under supervision of our older sister Pat who was then about 14 years old. Thinking that Stan had a late meeting I waited patiently for him to return. Hearing sirens off in the distance didn't seem to connect at the time until a phone call and a tearful voice from Pat that there had been an accident, Stan had been hit by a car and was taken to the hospital in an ambulance, they had said he was unconsious at the time.. Pat hurridly called our parents at the dance and informed them. They left immediately for the hospital and my mother said she would call when she had word of his condition. We waited expecting the worse staring out the front window into the dark waiting for some clue of Stan's condition. The house seemed so cold and lonely, my brothers and sisters huddled around quietly sobbing and praying that his life would be spared. Finally around midnight the phone rang again, a call from my mother. She told us Stan had received a traumatic head injury and there was danger of a possible blood clot to the brain, so they had to watch him closely.. That night was a long one and in the morning our mother called and informed us that Stan would be spending a few days in the hospital. He was conscious and seemed to be doing okay. My mother stayed at the hospital for a few days while he was still in under constant care. The bicycle was brought home by our father and it was in brutal shape. The steering forks were twisted back until they touched the frame and the front wheel was crushed and tire shredded. The handlebars were distorted into an abnormal shape and the headlight was smashed and almost unrecognizable. We learned that a local boy from the addition across the highway had been driving down the same service road that Stan had used to ride home. The driver had been driving without headlights in the dark and drove head on into Stan's bicycle. The driver apparently was distracted and had not seen the small headlight until he was right on top of the bicycle. It was also noted that the boy had no drivers license and no insurance. My mothers fellow workers had taken up a donation for a new bicycle for Stan and the day after he was released from the hospital was presented with a brand new bright red and white Schwinn bicycle. Stan had a swollen face and a stiched up laceration on his forehead but this didn't slow him down much, he was out riding the new bicycle a day later. About a week later he came home with a used generator with tailight and headlight from a junk bicycle. Batteries going dead was never going to be a problem again. Though Stan had said his headlight was working fine that night of the accident, the newly aquired light would be much brighter and he would be seen much easier at night. It wasn't long before the homemade bike trailer was painted the same color as the new bike and traveling behind it hauling parts that Stan had procured for his next project. Another incident had happened to Stan about 5 years previously, which left a scar on the top of his head. Not far from our house in the small town of Lake Benton, Minn. was a small farm with horses. We had spent a lot of our time playing in the old horse barn and petting the tame horses, giving them sugar cubes to make freinds with them.. My older sister and brother were allowed to ride the horses around the stable yard. My brother was never satisfied with the little ride around in a circle and frequently he would catch the horses when they were out in the pasture, baiting them with sugar cubes and then ride them around the hillsides out of sight from the owners. There was a white horse that was pretty spunky and didn't like to be ridden. The owners had forbidden any of us from riding him worrying about the liabilities involved. Stan would alway say he was going to ride that horse someday if he could catch him. One night Stan was late coming home for supper and knowone knew where he was. He had not come home after school. My mother called all of his freinds that she knew of and they had informed her that the last time he was seen was at school. Everyone waited until dark not knowing whether to be worried or mad at him. My father left to drive around town looking for him. The local policeman was informed and there was no clues as where he could be. Finally at about 11 PM at night Stan came stumbling through the door, his clothes full of dust, dried blood and dead grass clinging to his hair and shirt. A big red whelt stretched across his forehead and a large swollen bump on his scalp. He told us he had been knocked unconsious while riding the white horse in the pasture. The horse took a detour under some low branches and brushed him off and his head struck a rock. He said he woke up and didn't realize what had happened or where he was for a few minutes. He said he had a terrible headache and sat down while my mother gave him aspirin and bandaged up his head. After his refusal to go to the hospital my mother made him stay awake for well into the night to make sure he was okay. My father gave him a lecture and told them how worried he had made everyone. He was grounded for a week and was to be right home immediately after school.. My father forbade anyone from riding horses after that. That never discouraged my brother though, whenever he got a chance he was back after that white horse determined to ride him again.. He was always doing something that was dangerous and risky. He never realized how all of had worried and what he put the rest of his family through when something terrible happened to him. |