You know I really should stay off of the internet – or at least Facebook. I saw a photo that exclaimed “Barbed wire, tearing jeans and ripping skin since 1867.” AND guess what?? Yep, I have a barbed wire story.
My brothers (Boy they always seem to get ME in trouble!) anyway! We were on a visit to South Dakota and Mom dressed us all up. Yes, little anklets, shiny Mary Jane’s and the warning that we had better BEHAVE! Once out of the car we went into the home of one of Mom and Dad’s friends. After the usual “My, how they have grown!” conversation. The Men went out to the barn looking at live stock.
Mom’s friend had a little hen party for her. I am not sure if you know or not. A hen party is for women, usually a baby or wedding shower. This was in honor of my Moms visit. We kids were shooed out side. “It is a nice day go out and enjoy it.” which meant that she didn’t want us under foot. So in my party dress and shiny shoes. Well, they started out shiny. Ever walked across the barn yard?!? OK, some of it is mud. nuff said!
The farm had a couple of boys – no girls but a couple of older boys. course you know they didn’t want a GIRL tagging along. They ran off. I was left next to a horse that had been the pride and joy that the farmer had tied up to show to my Dad. They had moved onto other animals by the time I was abandoned by the boys. I walked and started petting the horse… Now you have to know that horses are huge! To a six-year-old anyway. so I was petting and walking around the horse. Now, don’t get ahead of me here. Mom saw me. Suddenly I heard her yell “Chrissy get away from that horse!” So I moved on to find better things to occupy my time. You all thought I was going to get kicked by the horse didn’t you? Come on you know you did!
About this time I found the boys in the fenced part of the barn yard, they were playing chicken with a cow (or bull. I can’t remember) I decided I could do it too. Now, is when you can remember what kind of klutz I am. I crawled thru the barged wire, fine. Now I was in a pasture with the bovine animal. Just as I made it thru the fence the boys decided a tactical retreat was in order. I was last one to know that they were running FROM an animal, By the time I realized it. It was almost too late. The older of the boys held the barbed wire for the boys and started running back to the house. I not being as fast as the boys, I tried to scoot under the wire, and I almost made it! Trying not to get my dress dirty. I could tell that the boys weren’t going to be any help.
Not getting my dress dirty was the ultimate goal so I ignored the top wire. I did get the dress a little dirty. actually bloody would be a better description. You remember when I said that now you could run ahead of the story? Well, now is the time to catch up. Yes, I split my scalp on the fence. I didn’t want Mom to know so I thought if I just went in the back door and stood against a wall, no one would notice.
I guess the puddle of blood running down the wall was a dead give away. I heard Mom say “I told you to go outside!” without even looking up. I always thought Mom had eyes in the back of her head. They must have been closed that day. The first one to look up was the hostess whose house we were in. The scream that came from her opened Mom’s eyes….front and back of her head! I started crying – you can’t yell at a crying kid with blood dripping, right? I think it is a law, if not it should be.
Trying to explain that the boys should have held the wire got lost somewhere between my Mom apologizing for ruining the wall paper that I leaned against and asking if she could get a cold wash cloth so that she could tell what was actually bleeding and what was just dripping. One poor lady tried to hold me while Mom looked, but she was covered in blood as well. I by this time was eating up the attention. Of course my screams were getting louder. One of the other ladies offered me cake if I would just shut up long enough for my Mom to check it out. That lady was smart, you can’t scream if your mouth is full of cake! The party was called on account of blood. One of the ladies had yelled for Dad. He came to see what the commotion was about and Mom yelled to get the car. While still apologizing to the woman of the house, trying to put a rag on my head, even the boys got left. That will teach them! If you have read any of these stories – you know it didn’t!! The drive to Mitchell went rather quickly. Dad floored the car saying “if they want to give me a ticket they have to catch me first!” I always wondered where I got my lead foot from! I think it would have been funny if we had gotten pulled over. I was screaming (the cake didn’t last long enough!) Mom was mad and bloody, Dad was the only one not covered in blood.
We pulled up to the Emergency doors. The nurse on duty recognized Dad and Mom. So she came out thinking that something was really wrong, if Dad didn’t even bother to park. Dad grabbed me and so NOW he was bloody too. Such a joiner he is. The doctor came in and greeted Mom and Dad. I always hate it when doctors ask you, “What do we have here?” OK, I guess it was hard to tell which one of us was the patient. We were ALL covered in blood. So I screamed just to clear up any confusion as to who the patient was.
The screams answered his question. He told the nurse to shave around the wound so he could stitch it up. Hearing that I really screamed!! I had hair down to my waist!! Mom of course being the practical one, told me to stop screaming or she would have them shave it all off! Yep, silence suddenly engulfed the emergency room! I did try but a few whimpers made it into the air. After the stitches, I got ice-cream!! We then had to go collect the boys from the scene of my latest exploits. I of course told them that I got ice-cream. (sticking out my tongue!) Well, seems that after we left the hen party broke up. and left overs were enjoyed by the boys – ice – cream and all. Mom tried to wipe the blood off the wall. But the lady told her not to worry, she hatted the wall paper anyway. I remember it as being some kind of embossed design with the fuzzy bits soaking up the blood. The kitchen was now looking like Norman Bates had designed it. The hostesses’ words didn’t make Mom feel any better but all she seemed to be doing was making it worse by smearing it. So apologizing again we walked out past the offending area of barbed wire…. there floating in the early evening sun were a few strands of a little girls waist length hair,