A Miss is as Good as a Mile Dear Chris, My grandfather always said that a miss was as good as a mile. He was right, it is. I know because Ive been missed at least 7 times. Seven times that would have drastically changed my life and the lives of those who know me. The First Time - I know that I wasnt 8 months old yet. I started walking at 8 months. If it had been after I was 8-months-old I wouldnt need to tell this story. To quote that old writers cliché, It was a dark and stormy night. Wellington is the very buckle of the tornado belt and it was a very dark and stormy night. As the storm raged outside, I was afraid. I voiced my fear loudly. My father felt I should sit there and cry. In his eyes, I was a sissy and a cry baby. Fortunately my mother ignored him. She told me she had a feeling that she just HAD to go pick me up. She picked me up from the metal kitchen chair I sat in by the front door. She walked back into the kitchen about 20 steps away. A lightning bolt hit the transformer on the pole outside the house. Lightning raced down the wire to the house. The bolt hit the switch for the porch light beside the front door. It then jumped the few inches between the switch and the chair. My father looked very shocked. All he could do was stare at her. If I had been in that chair 20 seconds longer, my life and the lives of everyone that knows me would be very different. But to paraphrase The Count of Monte Cristo,God seemed to have me out of the corner of His eye. The Second Time - I was 16-years-old. I loved Amateur (Ham) radio. I got my novice license at 13. My love and enthusiasm far exceeded my skill. But that did not stop me so I built a transmitter for use when I got my General Class License. I could actually speak to people instead of use Morse code. I still have the transmitter. Its a Heathkit HX-10 transmitter and it was state-of-the-art electronics at the time. It still does not work. Im sure that if I had a few ancient parts I could make it work, but I dont have the time anymore. So I keep it as a reminder that its the only piece of electronics that I couldnt make work. Its major problem was that it had a short. I traced circuits for weeks. Id built this computer from the parts. It involved a lot of soldering. I am the first to admit that soldering is not my forte. I checked every solder joint in the entire transmitter. Id narrowed it down to a spot never the power supply. The power supply was gigantic. Its sure it had to weigh 30 lbs of the entire transmitters 100lb weight. It connected to two 500 volt D.C. power capacitors. I carefully shut off the power and unplugged the power cord from the wall. I reached in with a pair of needle-nose pliers to make sure that a wire connected to the capacitor was not shorting. It wasnt shorted...at least not until the pliers bumped one of the other connectors. Now the pliers I used were not insulted and I was holding the aluminum chassis with my left hand. I made a wonderful circuit. All 500 volts D.C. shot up the pliers, through my hand, up my arm, across my chest and down my other arm to my hand that gripped the chassis. And I was sitting in a metal kitchen chair. Fortunately, the charge pitched me backwards onto the back legs of the chair. I threw the pliers across the room. My hands came loose from the transmitter. The chair came back down and I let out a very loud, God Damn!!!! My grandmother was in the kitchen cooking supper. She called out, What did you just say??? I answered between gasps, Im sorry Grandma. I just tried to electrocute myself! She answered sternly, Well dont do that! I found out much later that the cause of the short was one of the tubes. It was bad and causing a short. I was going to replace them with a more powerful version any way. If Id left them out no short would have shown up at all. If Id held on a little longer my life and the lives of everyone who knows me would be very different. But once again God seemed to have me out of the corner of His eye. The Third Time - I graduated from high school a couple of years later. Before college started in the fall, I took a job working at the local grain company. They had a number of grain elevators scattered about the county. We worked from south to north across the county as the harvesters moved north. We worked 18 to 20 hours days during the peak of harvest. Mostly it was really hard work. Unloading 300 bushels of wheat from the back of a truck with no lift was hardest thing Ive ever done before or since. But it could also be a little dangerous. The wheat was dumped down a chute where it was scooped up by small buckets on a conveyor belt. The buckets would then carry the wheat up to the top of the bin and dump their load into the bin. When this worked, it worked wonderfully. When it didnt, then it could be very bad. Sometimes the conveyor would get jammed. Then two of us would go down into the hopper and try to very gently remove the wheat until we cleared the clog. We were told repeatedly to keep our hands out of the buckets. The problem was we had no idea where the buckets were. On one such occasion we were scooping wheat. I put my hand into the wheat and just began to pull a handful of wheat when I felt something move. It was the belt. I yanked my hand back and the belt moved rapidly carrying its loads of wheat to the roof. A few micro-seconds slower and my hand would have been gone. We were at least 30 minutes from the nearest hospital. If I didnt die outright from massive blood loss, Id have been maimed for life. My life and the life of everyone who knows me would be very different. Once again, God had me out of the corner of His eye. The Fourth Time - Ive already talked about the fourth time. I chronicled it in Incoming. It would have only required that rocket to hit 25 yards to the left and be a few feet long and it would have been in my lap. My life and the life of everyone who knows me would have been very different. But God seems to have some other purpose for me. I guess thats why He always seems to have me out of the corner of His eye. The Fifth Time - I moved into a small apartment near campus after my divorce. It wasnt much of a place, but the rent was cheap. After college, I rearranged my apartment to please my current girlfriend. She wanted privacy. After she moved out, I didnt bother re-arranging the furniture. The bedroom window at the head of the bead had a crack in it. It was an old house. I tried to open the window and the glass cracked. I kept meaning to tell the landlord so he could get it fixed. But I never did. After college and out of work, I ended up working the breakfast shift at McDonalds. Normally I would get up at 4:30 to be at work at 6 most every morning. I worked there for a year and it was by far the worst job Ive ever had. When I had a day off I always slept in until at least 8. But one day off was very different. I woke up suddenly this morning. It was 4 am. It was even earlier than my normal days. There was a storm brewing. My first thought was that I needed to get some cardboard to put into the window. The storm was coming from the north and I didnt want rain to blow in from through the crack. I got up and went into the kitchen. I had a cardboard box that would work perfectly. I tore and cut the box down in seconds and went back into the bedroom. I stopped as I got close to my bed. There was a V-shaped piece of glass lying on my pillow. The shard was the height of my window and the tip lay right where my throat would have been minutes before. If I hadnt woken up, my life and the life of everyone who knows me would have been very different. But God seems to have me out of the corner of His eye once more. The Sixth Time - I rode my motorcycle to work back then as well. Depending on weather, I rode every day. Id just bought this motorcycle from a friend. It was a Yamaha 650. In many ways very similar to the one I have now. On the way to work something went wrong with the bike. It had no power and started running terrible. But I was almost to work so I nursed it there. I found nothing obvious at work so I decided to nurse it back to my house where I could do a more thorough diagnosis. The day turned very windy. A south wind blew up in the afternoon with very strong gusts. I dont like riding in the wind when my bike is running properly. On a properly running bike its something akin to a ping pong ball batted about by a hair dryer. But you can compensate with speed and power from the engine. I didnt have that luxury on this bike. The wind pushed me to the right most of the way. I knew that I had a bridge to cross. There was also a line of trees along the stream. The trees would block the wind as I crossed the bridge. But once across it would become a funnel for the wind. I moved as far to the left of the left lane and I could get. As soon as I crossed the bridge, the wind hit. I rode the brakes all the way across both lanes. The skid marks were still visible days later. As soon as I tried to lean to the left to turn the bike back the wind would stand me back up and Id move right again. I moved onto the gravel shoulder and I had to release the brakes. If I held the brakes I risked flipping the bike in the gravel. I still moved right. Mile post marker 9 approached head on. If I hit it, I died. Mile post marker 9 missed my left handgrip by millimeters. I breathed a sigh of relief. The bike was almost stopped and I was into the grass. I was going to be safe. Wrong! The bike came to an abrupt halt when I hit a hole in the grass. I did a hand stand on the handle bars, came back down, landed back on my seat and the bike fell over. Im sure from a distance it must have looked like something from a silent movie. I heard a loud SNAP inside my helmet. My first thought was, Ah Sh*t! I just broke my collar bone. That didnt stop me from making sure, however. That was a mistake I wont make again. As my arm moved up I heard that same loud SNAP in my helmet again. Suddenly a white Cadillac pulled up and two salesmen on a training mission offered the assistance. They were followed by a Highway Patrol Cruiser on a training mission. They stopped to see why the Cadillac stopped. Theres more to this story, but Ill save that for another time. If Id hit mile post marker 9, my life would have been very different and so would the lives of everyone who knows me. But God always seems to have me out of the corner of His eye. The Seventh Time – July 25th, 2003 was a day just like any other day. I was still laid off, Id run out of unemployment insurance. Things were a little desperate at my house, but I was still sending out resumes surely something would hit soon. I had seen far more job postings in the past few days. I was sure it would be soon. My neighbors, Paula and Heather, were busy next door cleaning out the garage. Heather was off to camp that weekend and her mother wouldnt let her go if the garage wasnt cleaned up. Heather was back and forth all day borrowing tools. A knock at the door didnt surprise me, even at 12:30 a.m. I was ready for bed so I called out just a minute so I could get my jeans back on to answer the door. I expected it to be Heather when I asked who it was. A male voice answered, Hey Mike, open the door I need to talk to you. I wasnt sure who it was, but I was sure it must be someone who knew me or they wouldnt know my name. I opened the door a crack to see who it was. The screen door came open before I could say a word and I was pushed back into the house. Two young men followed me in. I said to one of them in front of me, You cant be in my house. I dont know you. The other man hit me in the eye just as I said those words. My head snapped to the right and as I came back up, he hit me again. I asked incredulously, Why the f*ck did you do that for??? Were robbing you, He answered and patted my left pants pocket, Give me your money! Put your hand up in front of my face. I dont want you to identify me. I told him, Youre robbing the wrong house. Im un-employed, I dont have any money. He asked, How much do you have? I answered, 9 bucks! He seemed upset with my answer. It was almost like he expected a larger sum. He asked, What about the other pocket? I told him I had a little change, but that was it. He took the $9, but he seemed really bewildered that I didnt have more money on me. While he beat on me, his partner moved directly to my office. They seemed to know their way around my house very well. But the one watching me took his eyes off me. They broke into my house. Even hurt, I was enraged. I had been looking for something I could use as a weapon. My left eye was swollen shut, but I saw a short length of 2x4 against the wall. I grabbed it and moved to my right. I shouted, Get the F*ck out of my house! and held the wood in front of me like a staff. The second man held my computer. He froze. His eyes widened and his mouth gaped open. If Id just had to deal with him, Id have been fine. The one that beat me was another thing entirely. I couldnt see to my left without rotating my body. As I turned he hit me on the left side of my head again. I slumped to the floor. As I dropped to the floor, I heard the other one say, Oh, F*ck you killed him. Lets get out of here. They grabbed what they could carry and headed out the door. I wasnt nearly as dead as they thought. I got up and staggered out the door right after they did. I knew that if I got to Paulas house Id be safe. As I staggered into her yard I heard her on the phone with 9-1-1. Shed called the police when she saw them run from my house with my belongings. Shed seen them arrived and recognized two people in the car. They were the daughters of someone Id helped out for a few months. I hadnt seen them in about a year, but it wasnt uncommon to hear from them occasionally either. I did know them well. I realized later that it was a Wednesday night and when theyd been around I always got my unemployment check on Wednesday. They didnt know Id stopped getting my checks three months earlier. They expected me to have most of $237 in my left hand pants pocket plus my computer gear. Instead they got $9, a raffle ticket and my expensive electronics gear The police and ambulance arrived. The thieves, of course, were long gone. Id told the ambulance crew that my neck hurt on the way to the ER. Somewhere along the line that did not get relayed to the doctor. He x-rayed just about every part of my body, but my neck. But I hurt everywhere so it was hard to tell them which part hurt most. The doctor stitched me up and after finding no skull fractures sent me home. I had no insurance, I was unemployed. Hospital stay wasnt even in my vocabulary so I was happy to be released. Paula drove over to get me at 4a.m. and take me home. I called the police for a week. Finally a police Capt from robbery called me. His division and the assault division argued for a week over who HAD to take the case. Apparently, his division lost. I knew who was involved in it. I told them where they lived. But since the girls lived in another city they would do nothing. If the girls came to Kansas City, theyd arrest them. By the end of the second week, my face had stopped hurting. But my neck still ached. I had muscles spasms in my back if I tried to lie down on my bed. So I slept in my recliner. By Friday of the second week, my left hand felt like I had spike driven through the palm. I woke up at 5 that morning. My arm hurt so bad that I wished I that I could die so the pain would stop. I got up from the chair to take my last 2 pain killers. I stumbled a little as I stood up. I felt a click in my neck and jolt of pain shot down my left arm. When the pain subsided I took the last of my medication and went back to sleep. I got up at 9 a.m. and drove myself to the ER. The physicians assistant on duty said I was just wasting his time. I just had sore muscles and I should have gone to my own doctor and not the ER. There was one other person in the ER besides me. He sent me down to x-ray, but he was positive they would find nothing. The x-ray sessions were excruciating. When I got back to the ER, he came in, put a cervical collar around my neck and gave me a shot of Demerol. The Neurosurgeon would be down to see me soon. I had a broken neck. He then sat down next to my bed and in his best bed side manner asked, You can see my point cant you? My answer was terse and to the point, No! Not really!! He left the ER and I never saw him again. The neurosurgeon came in at last. He told me, Its lucky that you came in when you did. I replied, Yes, I know. I could have been paralyzed. He answered back, No, much worse. You could have walked down the street and if that vertebra would have moved farther left. Youd have dropped dead and thered have been nothing anyone could do about it. The surgery was successful and I was home in time to watch the first Chiefs pre-season game. I slept most of the first three weeks. I spent three months in a cervical collar. The perpetrators have never been caught. Id been out of the cervical collar about a month when I got my current job. Things got suddenly better. I could have and probably should have died this time and all the other times. But I didnt. Im sure I must have some greater purpose, but I dont know what it is. But if I had died, my life and the lives of everyone I know would have changed dramatically. Once again God seemed to have me out of the corner of His eye. Ive been blessed with this phenomenal memory. In many ways I felt like VGer in the first Star Trek movie. Its mission was to learn all that there was to learn and to record everything. Eventually it wondered, Is that all there is? I wondered that too. Is that all there is? Am I just supposed to learn and record all this stuff? How do I know when Im finished? Is there a limit to how much I can learn and record? So until I do find out what my purpose is, I will write them all down. God can let me know if Im wrong. Until then, Ill just keep writing. If I was a cat, Id have 2 lives left. And grandpa was right. A miss is as good as a mile. I swear that each and every word is true. Give or take a lie or two. But that is the way I always remember it. Love & *** Aloysius
Posted on: Sun, 01 Dec 2013 12:34:36 +0000