2017-01-09 / Columns


I can’t feel my legs dad; will you pray for me?
KLONIE JORDAN — Executive Editor

I saw a bunch of photos on Facebook over the weekend of folks out playing in the snow.

Although most of the county got about six inches or more of snow, I don’t believe we got that much over at my house. As a matter of fact, I was downright disappointed.

I had stocked up, expecting to — no, make that LOOKING FORWARD TO — being snowbound for at least part of the weekend.

I was going to get some reading done, hang some pictures I had been meaning to get to, and perform some minor repair projects around the homestead.

When I got home Friday night, I remembered one item that I had forgotten to purchase — cat food. I had one can left, which meant that at some point Saturday I was going to have to take on life-threatening weather conditions to restock Boo Boo’s supply.

What’s that? You would have made do with something else for the cat until the weather improved.

Not this cat you wouldn’t. When this cat wants fed, this cat WANTS fed. She’s psycho, always has been. As a matter of fact, I fully expect to wake up in the middle of the night and find her on the bed hovering over me with a large kitchen knife.

I had a dream like that once. She was standing there with that knife and she said, “I know where you keep your wallet and I’m pretty sure I can drive the Blazer, so what do I need you for?”


But anyway, what were we talking about? Oh yeah, playing in the snow.

Every time we get a measurable snowfall, I think of the last big sledding party we had when I was a kid. It had already started snowing Friday morning, school was closed for the day and a bunch of us boys got together and made us a plan.

Sometimes our plans weren’t all that smart. Take, for example, the idea to have a BB gunfight. That thing turned nearly tragic. We took out a neighbor’s front window, got our BB guns confiscated for the foreseeable future and there were some other — ouch! — consequences with which we had to deal.

But this time we had what we thought was a brilliant idea. We were going to collect a bunch of discarded tires and drag them to the top of an unused logging road and use them as a campfire, or operations base, for an all-night sledding party.

Understand that this was way before we knew there was an ozone layer and we had never heard of global warming (actually, I still have high hopes for that; note that the low temperature dipped into the single digits last night; where’s your global warming now, huh?) and if we had been made aware that such dangers existed we would have never lit those tires on fire. Instead, we would have chosen the environmentally friendly option — chopping down a bunch of trees and burning those instead.

Anyway, about 10 or 12 of us showed up, some brought “man food” like Beanie-Weenies and Vienna Sausages and crackers and others brought soft drinks and Kool-Aid (you just stuck them in a snow bank and, voila, instant refrigeration).

In the wee hours of the morning after eight or nine runs down that long winding road (gee, that would make a good name for a song) I became fatigued and decided I should head for home. Our house was across the river and back up the hill on the other side. It was a long walk and by the time I got there, I was freezing.

I got out of those wet and partially frozen clothes and tried to warm myself by the pot-bellied stove that was the only source of heat in our house. I stood there for several minutes but I didn’t seem to be getting any warmer. Then I started to feel dizzy and it seemed like my legs were numb.

“This is it.” I said to myself. “I stayed outside too long and now I’m actually freezing to death.”

Panic was about to set in.

So I woke up my dad and did the only thing I could think of doing at a time like this, “Daddy,” I asked, “will you please pray for me? I can’t feel my legs and I think I’m dying.”

Well, that roused both he and mom out of their slumber and moments later I was taken to the emergency room where I was treated for hypothermia.

I reckon maybe that was Mother Nature’s way of paying me back for all that black tire smoke.

So I put that sledding episode on my “never to do again” list along with the “BB gunfight” episode.

And I don’t play in the snow anymore.

But you guys go right ahead. Just dress warmly and don’t overdo it out there.

Happy safe sledding y’all.

Return to top

Print Edition

Click here for digital edition
2017-01-09 digital edition

Special Sections


Are you willing to pay more taxes to help fund Recreation Department projects?