Batter up!

When I was five, my brother hit me in the head with a baseball bat. It was my fault. I wanted to be "hind-catcher" even after Luckee told me not to. Every Tulsa boy played baseball so I wanted to as well. Bless his heart. Luckee didn't know I was there. Fortunately it was a glancing blow but to a five year old it was the end of the world.

Between the blood, sweat and the tears I ran towards home down Braden St. screaming bloody murder. I just knew I was going to die. My mom gathered me up and took me for my first cognizant visit to the hospital. The gave me a local anesthetic and stitched my forehead back together just above my left eye.

If I can find it, I think I have a picture of me wearing my bandage like a badge of honor.