Frances Breaking Her Arm

 

I have been thinking about my late sister Frances lately.  She died Tuesday at age 86.  She spent the past several years as an invalid.  It must have been hard.  As a child she used to be very active.

When we lived in the Clay Homes in the mid 1940s across and down the street within a stone’s throw a school was being built for returning G.I.s from WWII to teach them a trade.

I think the first step was to clear the land and second step was to put up a high chain-link fence to keep us kids out.

Too late.

Rows of metal chain-link  fencing was delivered and one Sunday a bunch of us kids played on the rows of fences.  We found we could stand on a row and step backwards I would move, and hopefully we would stay on top.

Something went wrong.  Frances, probably about 9 or 10 then, fell and broke her arm.

I remember I ran in our apartment and shouted, “Frances fell and now has a big S on her arm!”

I remember Daddy jumping into action and went to the construction site.

I remember saying S.  That means I was in the first grade learning my ABCs and S.

We did not have a car then, I don’t remember how she got to the Old Hospital.

The doctor set it with a cast  told her she would never use that hand and arm again.

My Daddy the neighborhood Witch Doctor bought some tennis balls and he told her to squeeze the ball at all times.  She did and regained use of her hand back to be normal.

Frances’ funeral will be at Mayes Ward Monday.