Dem Dry Bones

Have you ever broken a bone?

Today’s prompt asks if I have ever broken a bone, and the answer is no. I was once asked when I broke my nose but I believe that that was just a misdiagnosed deviated septum which I didn’t have fixed until my 60s.

Oddly enough my skull did not crack open when I was literally clotheslined (by a clothesline) as a kid. I was running and didn’t notice that the pole my mother used to brace up the clothesline wasn’t very high. Like a pick on a guitar string, I was. Snapped back horizontal and crack went my head on the hard ground.

But other than a detached retina and about 25 skin cancer removal surgeries, I’ve remained pretty intact. Also, no tattoos or piercings, so other than some minor cuts and bruises, I’ve been okay.

Let’s hope writing this doesn’t jinx it.

Incidentally, my title for this post is taken from the song likely used in minstrel shows, but more importantly for me, sung by the young man in the Prisoner TV series from the 1960s. I suggest checking it out (or a re-watch!); it’s one of the most surreal things ever to appear on TV.

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