At 14, I decided I'd build a swanky tree house. Not like I was gonna share it with anyone, because there was no one else to share it with, so I knew I'd have few arguments about who was allowed in it. My sister (15) had absolutely no interest in country/farm living, so I NEVER worried about her invading my domains. Ennyhoo, I picked out a tree near the hay barn, a ginormous white oak about 75 feet tall. The first limb was at least 30 feet from the ground, and there happened to be two with a reasonable similarity and pitch on which I figured I could make a "level" floor. Started by building the ladder on the tree (I pity the soul that ever touches that tree with a chain saw). Got my rope and pulley up to a higher limb, and started building the frame. (Did I mention my mother knew NOTHING of this?) Couple days later, after finishing whatever chores I had, she informed me she'd seen my plans, and did NOT like them and that I wasn't to continue. It'll be OK, Mom. Started putting the floor on this thing, and was backing up to put another board down, and discovered gravity. I remember seeing the underside of my tree house, and knowing I was NOT on the ladder, nor in anyway attached to that tree, and the ground was coming up VERY fast. Somehow, I landed flat on my back (about 4 inches from a big gnarly root stickingout) in a deep pile of leaves that was pretty much undisturbed. I didn't break anything, but I was not happy about my current state. I didn't realize it, but apparently instinct made me scream on the way down. My mother had heard it. So, I'm laying on the ground, wind knocked out of me, can't breathe, and knowing every time she called and I didn't answer, my situation at home was deteriorating very quickly. It took me long enough to answer, that she decided to come check on me. Fortunately, when she got there, I was bipedal and breathing and trying to talk and checking for broken bones. I did NOT tell her I'd fallen from the platform. (pretty sure I didn't really need to). But, the tree-house building came to a close that day, because standing there, realizing how close I'd come to dying, I suddenly couldn't come up with a reason to have a private clubhouse with no other members.
At 15, I was taking Vocational Agriculture in school, and every year, as part of FFA membership, we had to do some kind of projects at home and track all the costs, etc, etc. to earn our semester grades. In the spring, I decided to build a concrete walk-way out to the clothes line for my mother. (For those of you that known it's purpose and construction, you know where this is going. Clotheslines are EVIL). I was driving a stake in the ground with a 12 pound sledge, and had apparently gotten just close enough for the hammer head to hook the first wire in the line. I remember feeling the hammer stop, changing direction (in a bad one), and thinking, "This is gonna hurt". I remember seeing the hammer coming back at me at what appeared to be 3 times the velocity I'd swung it. I remember then, seeing my toes and blue sky. That was the last I remembered, until I woke up. It was a very peaceful nap, until the pain woke me. I realized my right eye was swollen shut, and with my left, I could see I had a pretty wicked sunburn, so apparently, I'd been unconscious in the back yard for a while, and no one bothered to check on me. My step-dad's brother and sister-in-law were up for the weekend, and the SIL was in the kitchen when I came in the back door. My appearance must have been a little worse than I thought, because the first thing she did was scream. My mother came around the corner, took one look at me and said "What have you done now?" Needless to say, that reaction was not unfounded nor was she in anyway surprised I was injured. I seemed to be an accident looking for a place to happen from the time I was 14 until I finished high school. While the incident with the hammer was quite dangerous, the scarier part was I'd not moved my feet when I put a double-bit axe down and picked up the hammer. Apparently the hammer stretched my swing just that much further to catch the wire, but the axe was light enough I had it back far enough.
Same clothesline, about 4 months later (concrete walk-way abandoned for new wire on the chicken yard to avoid failing VoAg for the semester), my brother was visiting (didn't live with us) and we were chasing each other around on bicycles. I had the faster bike and was a little more accustomed to riding it in the country (he was a city boy). And, of course, I always knew exactly where I was and didn't really need to watch where I was going. Until that day. He was the chaser, I was the chasee, and I ran under the line on the bicycle, and still remember the horrifying sight of my bicycle still going without me.
