[Permit me to preface this by saying that I have no dog in the current fight over allegations of illegal drug use by Toronto's mayor, Rob Ford. I bear the man no ill will -- I just couldn't pass up sharing an ironic word association.]
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I was pondering Toronto mayor Rob Ford's troubles earlier, when an amusing word association popped into my head.
Much as I abhor attacks on people based on their physical appearance, there's no denying that mayor Ford is a 'rotund' individual. I got to thinking, -- 'Ford'; -- 'rotund'; -- where have I seen something like that combination before? Then it came to me -- here's where I've seen it.
[Mothers get called on to do anything and everything. Here's my Mothers Day post to acknowledge that, and give thanks.]
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Late 1950s. I was attending the Withrow Avenue Junior Public School in Toronto, Ontario, Canada.
I seem to recall that the lunchtime break was an hour long. The distance from school to my home was only about 0.75 km, so I routinely walked home for lunch, then walked back to school for the afternoon's class.
One fine spring day, I was briskly walking home for lunch, when a schoolmate hailed me from well behind. I turned around to acknowledge and shout back to him, while keeping on walking (backwards). Our exchange over with, I turned to resume walking forwards, and bang! -- BANG!!
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The first 'bang' was my forehead hitting the upper edge of a big, heavy Royal Mail Canada neighbourhood distribution-point mail locker standing on the sidewalk. The second 'bang' was the locker toppling over and crashing to the concrete sidewalk.
I had a blood-gushing gash just above my right eye, and an urgent need to get home quickly. I ran the rest of the way, and burst in the front door of my home with my face drenched in blood yelling, "Mom!"
Imagine my mom's horror. At that moment, for all she could tell, I no longer had a right eye. She grabbed a clean dishcloth and set about mopping up. That revealed that my injury wasn't too horrendous; it only needed stitching by the local doctor, which she arranged for with great dispatch.
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I guess the lesson is, "Don't walk backwards".
And if you insist on doing silly things like walking backwards, you'd better have a mom handy.
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 I still have the scar. It's faint, but still visible.