Friday, September 5, 2014

Knock Yourself Out

The appraiser came today to look at our house, with the VA inspector due next Tuesday.  Keep your fingers crossed for us!  We feel pretty confident that the house will pass inspection.  After all, Bob has gone over it with a fine tooth comb, looking for things to fix. We are as ready as we can be. Pretty soon we will be packing up the little we have left and making what may be our final move.

I really only remember one move as a child.  We had sold our home in Baltimore, MD and were moving to Gleeson St. in Framingham, MA. I was four years old, and recall my mom wrapping up the dishes and putting them in a large cylindrical packing container, like a barrel. I tried to climb in head first and Dad had to pull me out after he noticed my feet waving above the edge.

It was a long ride to Massachusetts, and as a child I was prone to motion sickness in a car.   I must have slept much of the way, because I remember being groggy, disoriented, and queasy as I ran into our new home.  The first thing Mom said as I started to explore was, "don't open the cellar door!" So of course I had to open it.  I lost my balance and fell all the way down to the bottom, waking up a few minutes later in a little cot in what was to become my bedroom.  I'm not sure if this was the first time I knocked myself out but it would not be the last.  I do recall that at age three I tried to ride my tricycle down the front steps in Baltimore but don't recall being hurt enough to lose consciousness. As a teenager I hit a car with my head while riding my bicycle home from school and was briefly unconscious.

Now that I know about head injury, I have often wondered if there were any lasting effects from what happened to me as a child.  Would my memory be sharper? I guess I'll never know.

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