I blame my dad...

My dad was born in 1920 in Anadarko, Oklahoma. He was an Okie and he was okay with that. He married a woman from Nevada, my mom, and would do anything for her. I am the only child of this marriage, two half-brothers which is another story, so I am 1/2 Okie.

Mowing the yard, I was taught to 'police it first'. Pick up the dog poop and bones from the dog and make sure no rocks, toys, tools, or anything else was hiding in the lawn.

Story 1

Spring of 1971 my dad mowed the lawn as I was getting ready for my Senior Prom. Driving up Flannery Road I saw my folks coming down the street. My mom stopped long enough to tell me she was taking my dad to the hospital. I can see his right hand wrapped in a bloody tee shirt.

As he mowed the lawn he found a dog bone in the grass. He did not turn off the mower but reached down by the side discharge to pick it up. Leaning on the handle of the mower he swung it into his hand.

At "Doctor's Hospital" (it's no longer there) he was saved by a microsurgeon who had returned from Vietnam. My dad figured he'd lose the fingers but this young doctor told him that he'd seen worst and saved them. He continued his job as a diesel mechanic with full feeling in both his right middle and ring finger.

Story 2

Write your text here...

About Half-Okie

Why "Half-Okie"?

It is a long tale...

We were not a family who cut firewood or such things but my dad knew how to use a chainsaw. He taught me the basics of how to use one. I recall he told me to never cut up through a limb because you don't have control of the saw.

After a rain storm, one of our Blue Gum Eucalyptus slid into our fence. My dad borrowed a chainsaw from a neighbor to cut up the bushy tree. You know where this is going. Sure enough, he grabbed a handful of branches and while holding them he sawed up through them and bounced the chainsaw off the back of his left hand. Once again, he had little lasting damage.

I wish I could say I was sympathetic but I stopped him while he was cutting the curb for a drain. I told him that the saw was cutting fine and to not put his hand in it. He called me a smart aleck, well the last word did start with an 'a'.

Passing of the torch

Being "Half-Okie", I don't run my body into every sharp thing around. However, my boys will gleefully share how I cut my finger with a serrated bread knife not once but twice. In my defense, it wasn't the same day but about a year later.

I took up woodworking after I retired and it has been a great learning experience. For example, the picture shows my healed index finger. It is healed because I caught the tip of the finger on my table saw before it stopped completely.

I am blessed to have a retired RN as a wife who declared I didn't need stitches and patched me up. I am hopeful there will be no more such accidents. Yet, I am half-Okie so... with this heritage, it seemed only right that "Half-Okie woodcrafts" should be born.

I hope you enjoyed the story and please, keep your hands away from things that can cut you...

Alan