Death by Butterscotch

I think most people can say, the fight to educate your children well enough, directly corresponds to their age, and the dangers that they encounter. For instance; You don't need to teach an infant things such as gun safety, driving skills, or how to safely handle a skinning knife. They just don't have the ability to put themselves in a dangerous situation that involves any of those things. Teaching them the dangers of things they might encounter though, is a twenty-four hour job. Non-stop.

From an early age, my mother did an excellent job of teaching me and my brother, and my sisters after us, what to avoid, and how to take care of ourselves. There are things she taught us that you just wouldn't inherently know. Things like; Corn dust, and flour, swept up dust, and other fine particles of dry substances, can explode. Shaking pepper over a candle will give off a miniature fireworks display. Tossing a hand full of flour over a birthday cake will result in a huge fireball that will ignite everyone's facial hair on fire.

My mother also taught us that you should never point any weapon at anyone, unless you plan on killing them. That is simply because, mistakes happen. Mistakes kill. Police officers learn this on a daily basis. They draw their weapons, take the safety off, and point them at people, before they've gotten to the bottom of the situation. In many cases, they shoot and fire first. Unfortunate, and deadly, that is also something my mother warned me about. She said, if a police officer tells you to do something, you do it. No matter what it is. You do it. They like cooperation, and they have a job to do, no horseplay. No messing around.

I've had a couple tiny instances where I've followed my mother's warnings and things haven't turned out the way I thought they would. The time I was using a razor blade to cut the bark off a thin tree branch, preparing to use it as an arrow, I was following my mother's advice and NOT holding the blade facing away from me. Her philosiphy is, like a carpenter and wood carvers of yore, you can control a blade better when it;s pointed towards your body, AND there's no chance of slipping and cutting someone else. Well, that part was certainly right because I did slip. I slipped and jabbed the razor blade into the front of my thumb and the moment it happened, I certainly knew it. It was a deep cut and I knew if I even looked at it, it would gush blood like crazy.

Instantly, I knew I had to do something else my mother had told me to do if I ever got cut. I set the razor down safely, and pinched the wound shut, not too hard, not too soft. I held it steady and firm and casually walked back to my house (I was in the woods messing around at the time). It only took me fifteen minutes or so, but when I got back to the house, I casually walked inside, went to the bathroom, washed my thumb with cold water and gently washed the nail and pad of my thumb and made sure there was no debris in or around the cut, and then, I dried my thumb off, and put a Band-Aid on it.

My mother also warned me about putting too much pressure on wounds, cutting off the flow of blood, and gangreene. I put one Band-Aid on my thumb, top to bottom, across the front. I put two more around the sides. I made sure it would have blood circulation, yet not bleed all over the place. Truth be told, I probably needed stitches, but I never told my mother and father about it, hence, I was never punished for doing something so stupid. My mother wouldn't have punished me anyway. Not for something like that. My father punished me for absolutely everything.

More advice from my mother, things I follow and consider all the time. Never swim alone. Never go too far, anywhere. If you get that nagging feeling you should turn around and turn back, do it. Whether you;re swimming, hiking, spelunking, digging a ditch, whatever. Trust your instincts. No matter what, always stay calm. ALWAYS.

I've lived by these rules and they've saved my ass plenty of times. People I know too. I watched a car turn sideways in front of me on an expressway and almost roll. I calmly slowed to a stop and amazingly, nobody ran into me, and I didn't hit the car. Nor did I swerve and slam into other cars, pushing them off the road or into other drivers. No need to swerve or overcompensate when you're willing to understand the consequences. I'd rather slowly mash into someone who causes the accident with me, than swerve and smash into multiple other people that otherwise would have not had the unfortunate incident I do.

On occasion people have accused me of not caring about a situation because I was so calm and level headed. My daughter passed out and hit the ground. She looked like she was dead. I calmly went over, picked her up, and rubbed her back and a moment later she came to, looking confused, and then she began crying. She'd been crying to begin with. She cried so hard, she couldn't breathe in, and passed out. It happens, especially with young kids. No worries. My wife was mad at me, and then she googled it. Now she looks to me for a lot of issues and resolution. Not because I have all the answers, but because I can calmly assess a situation and... well, a lot of the time I do have the answers. LOL.

Aside from the time I fell through the ice of my pond while walking the dog and nearly drown, trapped under the ice... Aside from the time I fell through a grass covering and into an atesian well, and almost drowned. Aside from the time I nearly fell overboard in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, and that time I lit a quarter stick of dynamite and it went off just a couple feet away from me, well... I dont know what my point was there. I've done a lot of stupid shit and I'm lucky to be alive. Real lucky.

Death by Butterscotch is a winter tale. Byron, Michigan. The snow was thick and covering almost everything in a six inch blanket of freezing powder. The surface had a thick crust of ice on it as the temperature was almost not freezing during the day, but became bitter cold at night. I;d gone out in my "snow clothes" which were a pair of insulated snow-mobile pants and jacket with hood, mittens, and Moon-boots. Anyone remember Moon-boots? Yeah. Winters in Michigan, everyone has/had them.

As a kid, I was always prepared for playing in the snow. I had three sleds, snow shovels, and a large array of improvised snow packing devices like cool-whip containers and my mother's prized Tupperware. Most tupperware is excellent for building snow forts and snow bricks. Gently tapered sides, extremely durable, and smooth. Just thunk the bottom and the packed snowbrick slides right out.

As a kid, I also had a vast array of "nutritional supplements" packed away, just in case I needed a quick pick-me-up on the long journey back to the top of the hill after sliding all the way down. Ju-ju-bees, Mons, Chuckles, Bit-O-Honey's and more, usually occupied my pockets at any given time.

This particulr instance, I'd been sledding ALL DAY LONG. It was getting close to nightfall and the entire world was bleak dark grey. I was looking to do something fantastic as my last sledding attempt. I'd already run the hose and sprayed down the entire side area of the neighbors house between their propane tank so it would freeze into a solid ice slick by morning. My own sledding paths were also prepped and sprayed with water so they would harden and be really slippery for the next days sledding schedule.

For some reason, I decided, at the bottom of the neighbors sledding hill was another large tank. This one was surrounded by a gate. Next to the gate was a large stack of firewood. Kid stairs is what they call it. For some reason, I needed to get to the top of that gate, and sit on it. Heh, thirty years later, or six seconds after I got there, I knew not why.

Just prior to climbing the kid stairs, I decided I needed a pick-me-up. I reached into my pocket and grabbed a Butterscotch disk and popper it into my mouth. The kind individually wrapped with golden orange cellophane. As I climbed the kid stairs, I happily sucked away at the candy, and by the time I got to the top, it was nice and slippery and then, I mounted the fence. Something happened. I don't know why but suddenly, the butterscotch disk was firmly lodged in the back of my throat and I couldn't breathe.

My mother's voice came to me right then. STAY CALM. Do not try to swallow something that will not go down. Bend over, put your hands under your rib cage. Push in and up with all your might and try to throw up. Make yourself sick. Do it.

I got off the fence, hurried to the bottom of the pile, and there, in the snow, I did exactly what my mother told me to do. A moment later, the disk fell out of my mouth and into the snow. I coughed. I inhaled. I made sure I had all my stuff and I went inside.

My mother asked me what happened. Why I was so late coming inside. She'd called for me fifteen minutes ago. I didn't tell her. I didn't tell her that, after I expelled the butterscotch disk, I collapsed on the ground and lay there for a good half an hour, just thanking god that I was still alive. I laid there, face up to the falling snow, living. Still living. I remember that moment like it was today, right now. Every moment alive is a prize.

I told my mother, I lost track of time, I was busy sledding... I didn't hear her. Reality was, I heard her loud and clear, and once again, she'd saved my life.

-Thank You Mom. Always, your son, Kerry.