Uh-oh, We've Sprung a Leak!

Dear Barb,

As  the oldest child in a large family, I know you have been through a lot, and while we were growing up, we have looked up to you (at least, I did).  You know that I am not one to hold something over your head.  It's always easy to find fault or lay blame, and you know that I am not like that.  It's, therefore, difficult for me to write a story about anyone in the immediat family, especially you, but this may be one of those exceptions.

Barb, I have never complained before about it, and I want you to know that even today I am still not blaming you.  However, I am sure you will recall fishing with me years ago.  I remember that despite all the water and the rickety old boat, I felt safe because you were there.  I knew you, as the oldest, would make sure that I wouldn't get hurt.  The weather was perfect, and this was going to be a great day!

Once out on the lake, though, I noticed we were taking on water!  I couldn't swim, but I didn't want you to worry.  This was my chance to save you!  (Honest, that's what I thought--I was young).  I am sure you didn't mean it, but you grabbed a coffee can for me to bail the water out of the boat while you continued fishing.  If you remember, back in the day before electric can openers, open cans always had a very sharp edge!  Barb, no one ever blamed you for handing me that rusty old can.  I never would, because I knew you were scared and fearing for your life.  You didn't know what you were doing when you cut my finger clean to the bone.

You probably didn't know I heard you say, "Oh, it's pretty bad."  Did you try help me stop the bleeding?  NO!  You said stick it in the water - as if we were chumming for shark!  The only first aid I got was a band-aid when I got to the cabin, but by then, you were tired of fishing.

I have lived with the anguish for years, scarred and in pain for many of them.  I don't want to make a big deal of this, but I am just saying, if I can get over some of this someday, I would be happy to add a story to your website.

Thanks for being a great sister.  Have to go; I need to soak my finger.

 (John G. Custer, brother, responding to a request for any childhood memories.   Geez, John give me a break, I was only 12 or 13, besides you have 9 other perfectly good fingers.)

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