or in getting shots, or falling down, or getting dumped by your boyfriend, or getting yelled at by your mom. We were a family that didn’t cry. When we did fall down and scrape our knees, which happened with some frequency given our penchant for dare devil stunts, Mom would say, “did you hurt the sidewalk?” She thought that was so clever. We usually just put a band aid on it, maybe had a coke, and went back out to play.We were not sissies. Far from it.
One day I headed out into the backyard and let the glass storm door fly shut behind me. I didn’t realize that Dad was also on his way into the back yard. The glass door slammed on his bent knee, shattering and cutting a big gash in his thigh. Did we get all hysterical and pile into the car for a trip to the emergency room. For heavens sakes, no, we did not.
Dad got out his veterinary emergency bag. Pulled out the shards of glass. Cleaned himself up. Sprayed on some topical antiseptic and proceeded to stitch himself up. And that is how in was done in the Sloas household. We learned to man up at an early age.
Dad got out his veterinary emergency bag. Pulled out the shards of glass. Cleaned himself up. Sprayed on some topical antiseptic and proceeded to stitch himself up. And that is how in was done in the Sloas household. We learned to man up at an early age.
Just Passing Through 