Falling in Fayetteville

August 1959

After moving away from Mount Hope to Fayetteville in the early summer of 1959, we took a short trip back to Texas to visit family. When we returned to Fayetteville, we had a little time to settle in to our “new” house before the beginning of the fall semester of school. I would be entering the fifth grade.

The house where we lived was a very humble house even in 1959, but it is still there, over on Harvey Street, with people living in it last time I checked. I remember that my parents were renting it for $40 a month. It had a nice big porch with a swing, and several trees in the yard, so there was nothing wrong with it, really. It was within walking distance of the library, the elementary school, downtown, the Ben Franklin store, the bank, the movie theater, and a small grocery store where I was often sent to buy bread or Coke or whatever - usually on credit.

I don’t remember any girls being around to play with. There must have been some, but all I remember are three boys; one lived next door and two brothers lived in back of our house. I hung out with them a lot from the beginning. I could not see well enough to hit a baseball, but they were good-natured and never unkind that I can remember.

I was not good at sports, but I was a top-notch tree climber. In Texas, I had climbed my aunt’s pear and fig trees, as well as a tree of unknown variety in my grandmother’s yard. When we lived in Mount Hope, I climbed cherry trees and apple trees in the neighborhood. So, I had never seen a tree I didn’t want to climb. The house in Fayetteville had a huge sycamore right in the backyard, and I suggested to my three boy friends that we climb the tree and make a treehouse. All three of them immediately went into a panic — not because they were afraid of climbing trees, but because they knew something I didn’t: the tree was rotten. They tried to warn me. I can still hear their words: “Don’t climb that tree. It’s rotten.” But being the stubborn, fearless girl that I am, I ignored them and headed up.

When I was about 12 feet up, I looked down at them triumphantly. Then it happened. The branch that was supporting me broke and down I tumbled. I remember trying to grab two other branches on the way down, but they broke, too. By the time I hit the ground, I was out cold.

My dad had been sitting on the sofa in the living room, and it just so happens his line of sight went through the living room, the dining room, and the kitchen, and then straight out the back door. He saw me tumbling out of that tree, and naturally ran out to check on me. Still unconscious, I was carried to the car and then the doctor’s office, which was just a few minutes away. That’s where I woke up.

It was determined that I had an “impounded” arm injury — not really a broken arm, but apparently one bone got shoved into another when I reached out to break my fall. It was bandaged up, and I was taken home with instructions to rest for the remainder of the day. All the boys were there to check on me. My bedroom window was right next to the front porch, so my parents opened the window so the boys could sit on the window ledge and visit with me. They brought me candy and maybe other things I can’t remember, but I definitely enjoyed being the center of attention. And I remember thinking, even then, how nice they were. We remained friends throughout that year in Fayetteville, and I often wonder what became of them.

School started before my arm was healed, so I had to start fifth grade wearing a bandage and splint on my arm. Fortunately, it was my left arm, so I managed to do my school work with no problem.

So that’s the story about falling in the fall in Fayetteville. Fortunately, the wonderful friends in the neighborhood made it an event I remember fondly.

Related Thoughts in Regard to Healthcare

As it turned out, that school year was rather eventful, so I will tell more about it later, but I do want to offer a cautionary tale in regard to children’s healthcare.

My parents were wonderful parents — very attentive and responsible. However, if I had had glasses when it was known that I needed them, my life could have been a lot different. I was never able — even after getting glasses in junior high school - to make up for those missed opportunities to learn to hit a baseball. Whether it sounds like excuse-making or not, I think being unable to participate with other kids in sports leads to certain hindrances in social settings. It is my belief that getting kids involved in athletic and sporting activities at an early age is essential to maximize self-confidence and social skills, in addition to physical skills. I was first in a lot of things in my school years and in my life, but I was always last one picked on the baseball teams in P.E., and it wasn’t a good feeling. Sadly, tree-climbing was not part of P.E.! Now, it did not concern my parents whether I could hit a ball or not, but I can imagine some little boy being unable to hit a ball and the father being frustrated by that, unaware that the child needed glasses. I tried my best to be alert to anomalies like that as my kids were growing up, but even the best of parents is bound to fail sometimes.

Another thing about healthcare-- Despite the doctor’s skill, I am certain that my shoulder was dislocated in that fall. Forever after that fateful day, my shoulder was uncomfortable, and my arm and hand tingled occasionally. I played French Horn, and holding my horn up with my left arm was always slightly painful. I couldn’t sleep well on my left side at night because my left shoulder and arm were always painful. I do remember being treated for bursitis once in high school, but not much was made of it.

Fast-forward to 2018 after having several other falls over the years, the shoulder pain finally got so bad that an MRI determined I had a torn rotator cuff. Well, that may have happened just months earlier. However, the MRI revealed that there was a “Bankart’s lesion” in my shoulder joint, which specifically indicates having had a shoulder dislocation at some time in the past. For that to be there, it must have happened long before —like 60 years before! To this day, my shoulder injury has not been treated, but I will be seeing an orthopedist (#5) in August to see if something can be done (probably a shoulder replacement). I sure hope so because I am now at a point where I cannot even lift my arm and the pain is constant. Exercise is impossible because the cartilage is totally gone.

Looking forward to getting it fixed!