Memory Lane

I was checking out my SIL's FB and came across some funny stuff (same pics I have in albums around here, but have no clue as to how to get them from film to digital to share other than to snap pics of pics and be totally inferior in quality; it was easier to lift them off her FB album). 

This is from my BIL's wedding.  Chief's folks in the center, sisters and brothers (Chief on the end looking quite spiffy - a rare thing unless he's in his dress blues - lawd, he's handsome in uniform!).  My SIL's are beautiful, Pat's handsome, and my in-laws are the best (we all miss dad a lot!).

The second pic in the wedding stuff you can see Pat's bride . . . but they asked Teenie to be a flower girl so there she is in her dress . . . Audrey Hepburn eat your heart out!

Okay.  This one brings back the memory of when we got to the Boyd's Bear factory (in PA) and my MIL noticed her pants were on backward.  They are the poly pants with the permanent seam sewn down the front of the leg . . . we all burst out laughing (and I kept on laughing, 'cos that's how I roll, as she went to the ladies room to turn them around).  Gawd, that was funny.  Geesh, the kids were little!

 

Okay. This is a picture of SB's chest.  He was 11-years-old and a Boy Scout.  He never put stuff in his mouth as a baby or toddler.  I was out one night having coffee with Dawn . . . and returned to an empty house which I expected to have my family in.  I did a major, "Where in the hell . . . ???" For some reason, I saw the phone, checked who called and saw that Dawn's husband had called only moments before so I called him back.  He informed me that Dawn was on her way back to my house to bring me Teenie and Crickles and that Chief was taking SB to Walter Reed.  "What  happened?"  Apparently, SB decided to pop that metal bow (which happened to come off of Teenies jeans) onto his tongue . . . as he leaned back to put momentum on launching it back out, he sucked that sucker back into his throat. 

 

I wasn't calm, but I was calm.  I quickly reasoned that if Chief was driving him to Walter Reed, SB was not having difficulty breathing.  That's a good thing.  I put the other two to bed about nine (wanted to keep them near me, you see) and I paced until I got the call that they checked in, triaged, and all that.  I got another call about 1a.m. -ish where Chief told me SB was in surgery to scope the bow out.  This was better than the other possibility of opening him up because the bow traveled further down, which it did not.  The most dangerous thing about surgery is knocking folks out . . . but I just realized it was truly out of my hands. 

All things in life really are about realizing they are in God's hands, after all.