Birthdays, Baseballs and Goose Eggs

 

I celebrated my 9th trip around the sun by gorging on cake and ice cream followed by a roller-skating party at Ridge Roller Rink in Greenwood with my Montlake School buddies Pip M, Scott M, Jeff W, Mike S, Ray B, Marc G, Bobby A and Lester R.  Being fairly new to the neighborhood I didn’t realize how blessed I was to have been accepted by such a solid crew of Montlake kids whose parents had raised them right.  I'm still in touch with two of those "kids" today. 

I don’t have strong memories of the party at our house at 2455 24^th Ave N but I sure remember the skating party. 

Not so much for the sight of the interior expanse of the rink or the smell of the wooden floor nor the scent of the leather skates after being sprayed with whatever that was that they hoped would kill cooties.  It wasn’t for the sound that the skates made as they were slapped down on the carpeted chin-high counter for us to try on.  It wasn’t for the unique and oddly muted musical stylings created by the organist, the sound of the clay wheels on the floor or the shouts of the other skaters locked into their counter-clockwise flow.  

Odd though it sounds, we “grizzled” young rink veterans were looking forward to “The Hokie Pokie” where we would put our right foot in and our right foot out, prior to which we raced around the rink out of control, cracking the whip and performing other irresponsible deeds heedless of the admonishments from terrorized skaters and rink monitors. 

What I do recall clearly was that Bobby had taken a spill and landed on his forehead.  I don’t know what he was doing or how he went down, as I was off tear-assing elsewhere and creating general mayhem, but he landed hard and ended up with the largest goose egg I have ever seen on anyone’s head.  It was an enormous red / blue bombly on his head that extended from his eyebrows to his hairline.  

Thinking back on that event and what we are learning about traumatic brain injuries I suspect that Bobby could have suffered more than “a bump on the head” (as it was described by the rink monitor at that time who escorted him off of the floor).  An impact like that today in an NFL game would have automatically sent the player into the tent for medical evaluation and concussion protocol.  Back then it was just helping a (possibly-concussed) kid get out of the way and recommending that he ice it.

What really stands out though, is that Bobby was kind and thoughtful.  He knew my tastes and needs.  A baseball went for about 75 cents back then and I received four of them on my 9^th birthday.  One of them was from Bobby.

Thanks, Bobby!