Knocking Down the Shed

My grandparents had 80 acres of the original farm when I was a kid and we lived on the back 40. Tucked away in the woods was our little trailer that we called home for years. Having no basement or garage for storage, we kept a steel shed along the fence row that was used to keep the horses on the property.

After my dad left, mom decided to do a few things to improve the look of our home. The summer I was 14, she bought a new aluminum shed, complete with a roof that did not leak. Our task was to cut apart the steel shed so it could be easily hauled off. Hacksaw in hand, I began to slowly reduce our shed to easily disposable pieces.

This usually was an activity I undertook when I was bored. I guess the matter was not urgent at all but was probably more of a make work project devised by my mom to keep me from getting in more trouble. Whatever it's origins, one Saturday left me with a scar on my knee still visible 30 years later.

I was cutting apart one of the support beams for the roof. I am afraid this sounds more impressive than it really it, the shed itself was maybe 20' by 20' with a roof that was 6' high. As I cut throughout the final piece of steel, the beam gave way and the sharp edge I had just exposed slashed down my knee, leaving a nasty looking gash. Luckily, the cut was not deep and was fairly clean. A little self-administered first aid was in order because I had a golf game scheduled with Gumpy.

As soon as Gumpy pulled up, he saw my leg and I knew I had made a mistake. I should have worn jeans even though it was pretty hot out. He took one look at the gauze wrapped around my knee and panicked. I learned a few things about my Grandfather that day. One is that he would move heaven and earth to help me if he could. The other is that he was horrible in an emergency.

Immediately his panic set in. My mother went to a shower for the daughter of one of her friends. Ema's whereabouts was unknown. In this land before cell phones, we were unable to reach anyone by phone. This began the frantic run to the neighboring town of Nashville where I thought the shower was. When we could not find Mom, we made the mad dash back to the farm where we waited for Ema to come home. Meanwhile, all I wanted to do was go play golf. I felt fine.

When Ema and my mom finally came home, they determined that my wound was just a flesh wound that did not need urgent medical attention. It was only then, a few hours after he saw my knee for the first time, that Gumpy could relax. I think he really could have used a methignal!