There was a wasp nest on the slide—if the splinters didn’t violate your sensitive baby flesh, the wasps would. When I finally got stung, a kindly counselor, a long-haired mountain man from Deliverance, mashed his wad of chaw into my wound. I have no idea if it helped.

During horseback riding I was kicked in the head. To make sure the stirrups were even I squatted in front of the horse to check them. “Are they on the same horizontal …” Bam! Twelve hours later I awoke in the infirmary. The horse punched me with his left fist and I had flipped backwards, witnesses said.