2008.01.09 Scars tell tales

Written by David Green.

By DAVID GREEN

I’ll rate my current level of junk e-mail as moderate. It’s certainly been worse, but it could be a lot better.

I had an invitation to buy tickets to Morey’s Piers at holiday sale prices. I have no idea what is it or where it is, but it doesn’t matter since the sale expired the day before the mail arrived.

I was almost caught by an ad for a New Toilet Brush that Sterilizes as It Cleans!, but it remains unread.

I’ve been invited to join the thousands of other Americans who are investing in Costa Rican property...and profiting substantially.

Of course there are credit and financing offers, free video consoles, free gift cards, a Ped Egg at half price, cheap drugs, cheap supplements. All of that was just from the last couple of days. Maybe it’s a High Moderate junk mail rating.

This stuff is just an annoyance, a quick click of the “delete” button. I don’t read it, except for the rare moment of intrigue, such as the offer for ReJuveness Silicone Sheeting and ReJuveness Hyper-Heal Cream. The company is the leader in scar management.

I was interested in the concept, not in the act of managing my scars. I subscribe to the belief that scars tell part of the story of your life. It’s not always a good story, but it’s an interesting one. It seems like a shame to get rid of them.

I think many of mine have done some self-management over the years. They don’t show up like they once did.

I suppose if I looked closely, I could still see the mark under my lower lip where my bicycle handlebar went through. You’re supposed to have handlebar grips to prevent that sort of thing, but remember how they get worn out and the ends start to crack and eventually flips downward baring the metal edge of the handlebars? That’s what happened to my bike.

I was pedaling with the Bryner boys and we decided to head for the Morenci airport. The area in the front wasn’t mowed and the grass was at least knee high. I rode through it, hit a hidden five-gallon bucket and handlebar went through skin. Janice Bryner put on a colorful bandage that had pictures of little aircraft carriers and away we went to Devils Lake.

My oldest known scar is in one of my eyebrows. We had a glass-top coffee table in the house on East Street and somehow I broke it and a piece of glass cut me just above the eye. Lucky one there.

There are still traces of the curved scar on my left hand. It matches the shape of a bicycle fender, probably Bob Ackland’s. I had my hand on his tire and he backed up a little, drawing my hand in against the sharp edge of the fender.

Somewhere around my front hairline is a fading mark where I was hit by a rock out in the alley behind our Cawley Road house. Rainy day, we were building dams to stop the water from flowing down to North Street and someone threw a rock my way.

Down around the right ankle is a scar from messing around in the pond on Mulberry Road, just west of M-156. Carl Nachtrieb and I were out there after tadpoles. Instead a found a piece of jagged glass.

These were all childhood incidents. I must have gone years and years without scarring as I let my children take over.

There’s one exception. It’s my most recent scar. Tuesday night at the Observer is when the papers are labeled and bundled with string. I work fast because I want to end the long workday and the scissors are flying.

I think this was the first night of work for my current assistant, Zach Phillips. The poor kid. New on the job and the boss cuts a little too close to his finger and snips it open. A bloody mess.

I mentioned scars to my wife last night who started to talk about a bathtub incident. Great, I said, I can use it for my column.

“No,” she answered, “this is my material.”

And then she started in, “We used to soap up the bathtub.…”

“Stop! I don’t want to hear it. If I can’t use it, just shut up.”

“And there was this ceramic soap dish...”

I plugged my ears and started singing “la, la, la”, but I can’t get her story out of my head. I need ReJuveness Mental-Heal: Wipes scars from memory.

  • Front.nok Hok
    GAMES DAY—Finn Molitierno (right) celebrates a goal during a game of Nok Hockey with his sister, Kyla. The two tried out a variety of games Saturday at Stair District Library’s annual International Games Day event. One of the activities featured a sort of scavenger hunt in which participants had to locate facts presented in the Smithsonian Hometown Teams exhibit. The traveling show left Morenci’s library Tuesday, wrapping up a series of programs that began Oct. 2. Additional photos are on page 7.
  • Station.2
    STRANGE STUFF—Morenci Elementary School students learn that blue isn’t really blue when seen through the right color of lens. Volunteer April Pike presents the lesson to students at one of the many stations brought to the school by the COSI science center. The theme of this year’s visit was the solar system.
  • Front.leaves
    MAPLE leaves show their fall colors in a puddle at Morenci’s Riverside Natural Area. “This was a great year for colors,” said local weather watcher George Isobar. Chilly mornings will give way to seasonable fall temperatures for the next two weeks.
  • Front.band
    MORENCI Marching Band member Brittany Dennis keeps the beat Friday during the half-time show of the Morenci/Pittsford football game. Color guard member Jordan Cordts is at the left. The band performed this season under the direction of Doyle Rodenbeck who served as Morenci’s band director in the 1970s. He’s serving as a substitute during a family leave.
  • Front.poles
    MOVING EAST—Utility workers continue their slow progress east along U.S. 20 south of Morenci. New electrical poles are put in place before wiring is moved into place.
  • Front.cowboy
    A PERFORMER named Biligbaatar, a member of the AnDa Union troupe from Inner Mongolia, dances at Stair District Library last week during a visit to the Midwest. The nine-member group blends a variety of traditions from Inner and Outer Mongolia. The music is described as drawing from “all the Mongol tribes that Genghis Khan unified.” The group considers itself music gatherers whose goal is to preserve traditional sounds of Mongolia. Biligbaatar grew up among traditional herders who live in yurts. Additional photos are on the back page of this week’s Observer.
  • Front.bear
    HOLDEN HUTCHISON gives a hug to a black bear cub—the product of a taxidermist’s skills—at the Michigan DNR’s Great Youth Jamboree. The event on Sunday marked the fourth year of the Jamboree. Additional photos are on page 12.

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