Another one of my first memories involved the combination of golf balls, blood and freezies. Let's set this story up in chapter headings, just to shake things up a bit.
Golf Beats Freezie:
My dad was practicing his swing in our Georgetown backyard, facing the woods. Not that anyone would confuse him for an environmentally-conscious man, but I'll give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he was either simply swinging, or using biodegradable balls. Anyway, as it were, my two-year-old self wandered up behind him, wanting to request a Freezie. As would become an unfortunate theme in my later life, I exercised poor timing and was caught mid-swing in the face.
Blood Beats Golf:
This is actually where my memory kicks in. My dad burst into the kitchen, holding me in his arms. My mom ran over yelling "Cope, what happened?!" and held a blue jay cloth to my mouth. When she pulled it away it was saturated with blood. If I wasn't crying before then, I was wailing now!
Freezie Beats Blood:
We went to the hospital to get my face mended. I have no recollection of the actual stitching process, but I remember being told afterward that I was very brave. Then the doctor came back with the biggest Freezie I had yet to see in my young life.
I don't know if the scar on my lip or forehead was from this experience, but I know whichever it was, it was totally worth it.
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