Stories of My Life: Pride Goes Before a Fall

I, like others in my family, enjoy joking about all the ridiculous superstitions that people have. Once, while walking down a sidewalk we came across a ladder propped against a building. We proceeded to joke and made a great show of not walking under the ladder because that would be a horrible thing and would mean bad luck. Of course, we dripped sarcasm. However it was rather funny because a group of people walking behind us, overheard our conversation and started talking about it too.

And thus, when I talk about a certain event of my life, I usually poke a little fun at superstition too, because after all, it did happen on my 13th half-birthday, and 13, as we all know, is a very unlucky number. (Not!)

That day, we were invited to go roller skating with another family we knew and their other friends. Neither myself or my brothers had ever roller skated to speak of. That is, we'd done it for a few minutes on carpet before. This however, was an actual skating rink; nothing close to carpet, and, in my opinion, not nearly as safe.

However, when we got their, my brothers and I came to the mutual agreement that, since we were there to roller skate, we might as well roller skate. The rink was oval. On three quarters of the oval were walls which blocked access onto the rink. On the last part of the oval was a large open space where there were no walls, or rails, or anything to hold on to. And this, naturally was the only way to get onto the rink. It was truly stepping, or rolling, out in faith.

We all half slipped, half rolled our way to the safety of the wall, and using it to hold us up, we began to actually work on learning how to keep our balance. Our friends meanwhile, were going circles around us, figuratively speaking. And then, alas, the wall ended. We were forced to cross that huge open stretch with no help from anything. Needless to say, our first couple of dozen circuits around the rink were not something I would want anyone to see. After that however, we all started gaining confidence.

By now, nearly two hours had past and our parents had just told us to do one more loop and then we were to leave. I was just at the beginning of the wall, which I still used a little, but not much. I have to say, though I don't like to, that just moments before, I had been teasing my brothers about how much better I was doing than they were. I guess that should have warned me.

When I reached the end of the wall on my last loop, I told myself that when I did the open stretch, I would really do it. You know, no sitting down, no slipping, lots of confidence. "I can do this" I remember thinking.

I thought it again when I was three quarters of the way across the open stretch. The end was in sight. Unfortunately, I rejoiced to soon. I forgot the rule about bending my knees and leaning forward at the same time. I leaned back just a very little. I didn't really even realize at first that I was on the ground. The action of falling didn't seem to have occurred. Nonetheless, there I was, on the ground, with my legs twisted up.

Here, I must insert a few things. First, I was not using roller blades, but roller skates. Roller blades are supposed to be safer, (although, I can't see how since they have a far narrower base). Roller skates are more like boots, and they lace up too. That, I was told, is not as safe. Second, I really didn't feel any pain whatsoever. I didn't really try to get up. In spite of feeling no pain, I knew somehow, that I wouldn't be able to get up. I think, however, that I did untwist myself. The next thing I heard was two other kids telling the guy-in-charge/coach-dude-or-something sitting nearby that 'it looked like something was wrong over there.

Mom was alerted, and I was carried off the rink. I still really didn't feel pain, but it must have been painful subconsciously because I cried. Our friend's friend's Mom turned out to be a nurse. She wanted to see my ankle, but I'm afraid that I was a little suspicious, not knowing her to be a nurse. I didn't want anybody to touch my ankle. I guess it really hurt. I imagine that it was so painful that it didn't register as being painful. It was an odd sensation.

The friend's friend's mom said I should be taken to the hospital. I was a little upset however, that mom took us home first, so she could call Dad and have Dad take me. At that point, I just wanted somebody to fix me; now.

When I finally got taken to the hospital, I discovered what everybody but me probably already knew. The 'emergency room' is not treated as an emergency but rather as a 'waiting room.' I waited for over an hour before someone came, and even after that, it was still another twenty minutes before the doctor came. (I meanwhile complained greatly about the subconscious pain and listened to the lady in the next partition telling her doctor about how she cut her finger.)

When the doctor came, he said something or other, looked at the x-rays, and then disappeared for another 20 minutes. When he came back, he was really puzzled. He came shaking his head. It turned out, that the break I had, was so rare, that he'd never heard of it; he was an under-doctor or something.

I had a CAT scan, and the upshot of it all was, that I had to have surgery. I know have a screw in my ankle. When I'm being silly, Dad jokes about having a 'screw loose.' The anesthesia was smelled like coconut. I was out like a light, but the sensation was more like drifting.

When I was in the recovery room, I came awake in a kind of dead way. I could hear everything, but my vision was a little blurry and my mind felt completely asleep. Everything except my hearing seemed to be out of focus and way in the distance. Even the things I heard, while I heard them clearly, seemed to be coming from far away.

Hospital people want recovering patients to eat and drink something before they are released. I however, was not hungry. The nurse, at her wits end, offered me unusual hospital food such as ice cream. I eventually was persuaded to try a tuna salad and lemon-lime sprite. It was actually pretty good.

They had given me so much pain killer that the day after surgery, I felt awesome, in spite of the inconvenient full-length splint, (later replaced with a full-length cast). That first day, I did school. The next day however, was a killer. I have a very high pain tolerance threshold, so when I say something, on a scale of 1-10, is 8, it usually means it's pretty painful.

I was on crutches with a full-length cast for 6 weeks, and a half-cast for another six weeks. I don't think it's necessary to say that Proverbs 16:18 really came home to me. "Pride goes before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall."

Snippets of: Seattle, Part 2

The fire of 1889, recorded in Part 1 destroyed almost the entire city of Seattle. Thirty blocks were utterly demolished.Afterwards, wooden buildings were banned in favor of brick, stone, and iron. One would expect everyone to be unhappy about this devastation, and I am sure they were to some extent. However, the authorities didn’t seem to mind too much.

Now that the city is burned, they said, let’s build it higher. It will solve the sewage problems, of which there are many, and the city will stop flooding every time the tide comes in.

The merchants however, had lost all of their things in the fire. We can’t wait to build the city up, they said, we need to build our buildings now so that we can have money.

Well, said those in charge of the city, we are going to raise the city fifteen feet whether you like it or not. We own the streets.

You may own the streets, said the merchants, but we own the sidewalks, so we are building now.

The result of this was that the city built the streets fifteen feet higher and the sidewalks stayed where they were, fifteen feet below. For the customers who wanted to get to the other side of the streets, ladders were built. No guard-rails were used on the roads, so coaches and people sometimes fell. Sometimes, people fell off the ladders too. These deaths, the court ruled as involuntary suicides.

When the city built the streets higher, they used more dirt than it took to build the Panama Canal. But they still didn’t have enough, so they used, as Northwestcharm.com tells us, “Rubbish from the fire, sawdust, soil, and even carcasses of dead horses.” (Goller) In doing this, they made an insecure foundation.

Just for a minute, let’s look at Seattle as we see it today. Today downtown Seattle’s foundation is still made of this rubbish from the 19th century. The sawdust and other materials that were used in the past cause many of the pothole problems in the streets of Seattle.

The sidewalks were also raised to street level, creating what is now known as Underground Seattle. A few years after the fire, this area, which had only recently been constructed, was condemned due to a bubonic plague which swept the city. This was due to the large amount of rats that lived underneath. A bounty of ten cents was put on the tail of the rat. This, alas, was another mistake.

Rats are hard to catch, especially in the dark. This bounty that was put on rat tails caused people to raise rats to make things easier. They could cut off their tails and still receive the bounty. The rat problem took a long time to get rid of.

And now, in order to round out this history of Seattle’s folly and the era surrounding the Great Fire, let me tell you about one of the first leaders of Seattle.

Seattle has had many corrupted leaders. Of these, many of the crimes committed by the early leaders are now outlawed. This particular leader however however, did not have these laws.

(I once thought that this fallen man was the first mayor of Seattle, Henry Atkins. When I actually went on the Seattle Underground Tour however, it turned out it was someone else. Unfortunately, I can not remember or discover the man's real name and position. It might have been the Seattle Treasurer). Anyway, this man made many errors and he was a man in the position to do the following: It so happened that being a major town leader, he was also a private citizen. In his role as private citizen he sued the city. That is, he sued the town leaders, a prominent one of which just happened to be himself. Then, the town leader, himself, gave the private citizen, also himself, a whole bunch of money straight from the city treasury. This of course, is very wrong to do and there are laws against it.

The city has made some pretty silly mistakes in my opinion. Jesus once told a parable about the spiritual life. He told of a man who built his house on the sand, sawdust in this case, whose house fell down. And then He told the flip side of the story by telling about another man who built his house on the rock, whose house was beaten against, but did not fall. (Matt. 24-27) The example of the town leader's corruptness is just one. The city has always been pretty corrupted. Skid Row for instance. So I guess that, for the most part, the lives of the citizens are made of the same stuff they build the town on. It’s really kinda funny how people build things to look like themselves, (just look at the King of Babylon, he built a statue of himself.) However, Seattle is doomed! Spiritually, it’s corrupt. Physically, its foundation is (very) unsound. And I think Seattle could cave in at any time.

(P.S. Subsequent recent events have taken place. The city of Seattle is about to build a tunnel underneath the city. I hate to think of what will happen when they try to build it in the midst of that weak foundation. Downtown Seattle really could collapse even without an earthquake!)

(This has been: Snippets of: Seattle, Part 2. Look in next time to read: Stories of My Life:__)

A Day in the Life of: "General" Harriet "Moses" Araminta Tubman (Davis)

One wouldn't have thought that an 11th child and slave named Araminta would have become so very famous; but, she did. Born Araminta Ross in Maryland, she took her mother's name, Harriet, sometime in her early adulthood. As a slave, her exact birth date is unknown, but is probably 1820 or 1821. Like most slaves, she was illiterate and remained so for her entire life.

At age five, she was loaned out to a neighboring plantation. There, she became so ill that she was returned to her home. This did not stop her owner, Edward Brodas. When she recovered from her illness she was again loaned out. By age 12 she was working as a field hand. At age 13, already a fiery individual, she was brutally hurt in the head for defending a runaway slave. Her head wound resulted in lifelong narcoleptic seizures. (I had to look it up. A narcoleptic seizure is "a condition characterized by frequent, uncontrollable periods of deep sleep.")

Around the time she turned 25, Harriet gained permission from her owners to marry John Tubman. Tubman was an unworthy man. Although Harriet married Nelson Davis much later in life, Tubman is the name by which she is recognized.

Even in her early 20s, Harriet dreamed of freedom. When her master died in 1849, Harriet heard rumors that she and her brothers would be sold to a chain gang. With her brothers, Harriet began her journey North. Her brothers however, became frightened and returned to the plantation. Harriet continued alone. She traveled only at night and at last, she reached Pennsylvania. There, she found work cooking and cleaning. She used the money to finance rescue trips.

Before the Civil War, Harriet rescued helped to free over three hundred slaves, including her parents and four siblings. She became deeply involved in the Underground Railroad, was good friends with Thomas Garret and the dubious John Brown, and was nicknamed "Moses" for her strikingly similar task.

Harriet was a persuasive woman. Not one of those she escorted to freedom returned (like her brothers originally), not one was captured or lost. This of course, may have been partially because she threatened her escapees with death if they even thought about surrendering or returning. After she gain her freedom she accomplished over twenty hazardous missions in which she returned secretly to the South, contacted slaves, and escorted them sometimes as far North as Canada.

As her fame spread, slave owners offered a huge $40,000 reward for her capture. While she never got caught by anyone, her own illiteracy nearly gave the game away. Harriet fell asleep underneath her own wanted poster. By the beginning of the Civil War, Harriet was a dominant force in the abolitionist movement.

During the Civil War, in which she plotted with John Brown, Harriet worked as a nurse, cook, scout, and spy for the Federalists. For her bravery and courage before and during the war, John Brown nicknamed her "General" Tubman. She referred to John Brown late in life as one of her dearest friends.

After the war, Harriet transformed her home into a nursing home for local aged colored people.
As she grew older, Harriet made arrangement for the African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church to take over the management of the Home. She herself was admitted to the Home in 1911. She died as a 90-something-year-old in 1913.

Harriet was honored posthumously by Eleanor Roosevelt and the United States Postal Service.

Disclaimer: While Harriet Tubman was brave and heroic in her rescue and spy services, the author of this article does not necessarily condone John Brown. John Brown only appears in this post as a friend of Harriet.

(This has been A Day in the Life of: Harriet Tubman. Look in next time to read: Snippets of:__)