I've always been a curious girl. I'm curious about people who aren't. What is it that they think about? Sometimes while in a conversation I'll notice that I'm more curious than others, why is that? Curious people constantly have to work at not appearing nosey. I like to think of it as being interested in others. The year I was in grade two was a bit tough. I came home from school one day and my mom was sitting at the sewing machine appearing quite upset. She told me that my dad had an accident at work and was in the hospital. He had broken his back. He had started to fall off the back of a dump truck only to catch his leg and thereby snapping his spine. After what seemed like a long time he finally came home from the hospital in a cast. I sure was curious about that cast. I would often ask him what it would feel like, and he assured me I wouldn't want to know. My brother Gerry (if you're curious he is the one at the far right beside my dad) is four years older than I. He spent a great deal of time perfecting the tree house in the old willow tree in the back yard. Occasionally I would stand beneath the tree asking if I could come up. I couldn't because the trunk was massive and only a big boy could straddle the first part of the tree to get to the big branches. One afternoon, I happened to come outside when Gerry called me over to come have a look at his newly constructed foot holds. "Come on Up" he said. With delight I began to take one foot at a time. I was nearly at the big Y in the tree when one of the the foot holds which had one nail in the center gave way and down I went. It was immediately apparent by the shape of my arm that things were amiss. Gerry went flying down the tree and yelling to the house "Vellie broke her arm" at which my mom who was quite accustomed to his bend for exaggerating said "no she didn't" until she saw me and from a distance had to digress. After a night in the hospital I sat along side my dad at home comparing the difficulties of being confined to a cast.
A few weeks later my parents were celebrating their 25th wedding anniversary and it would have been unheard of not to have a family portrait done before the big church celebration (at which I had to recite a poem). My mom opened up the back of my Dad's suit pants and put in a strip of fabric so that his cast could be accommodated. The morning before the big event I stepped on a nail behind the barn, and my foot was swollen beyond the capabilities of my new white shoes and so I had to wear my brother Gerry's old black dress shoes with my lovely pink lace dress. Oh, if your curious, my sister-in-law Mary did my hair. My dad looks a little shell shocked don't you think? I love the way I'm hiding my broken arm, it kind of reminds me of Bea hiding her broken arm last year when we went to Maui as a family but that is another story for another time, (if you are at all curious that is)