Never Again!

In the late 1970’s or early ’80’s, not long after Charles T. Stith Jr. – Chuck– married Cheryl K. Paul, he was wiring the lights in his garage.

Chuck Stith
Chuck Stith, telling stories at Snowbird.

I climbed up on the table, on a beer keg,” Chuck said. “I was in the dark and it arced a little bit and when I moved the table leg broke.”

Chuck fell.

I hollered, ‘Oh,ooo, awwww, I broke my arm!’ I said, ‘Go call Pop!’”

He said he told his bride the bone was sticking through so Cheryl took off to call Pop — his Dad and one of my older brothers.

I get up laughing,” Chuck said. His arm wasn’t broken. In fact, he wasn’t hurt at all.

He was laughing, but Cheryl wasn’t. He said she told him, “Never again!”

* * *

Some years later Chuck was building a cabinet and Cheryl went with him to buy the wood.

She saw that I gave sixty-some dollars for a sheet of plywood.”

Next morning, Chuck went to work on the cabinet. He was cutting some small pieces when the saw knocked a big chunk out of one of his fingers. Chuck put the damaged hand behind his back so blood wouldn’t drip everywhere and finished the cut. Then he wrapped his hand in a blue rag and went to find his wife.

Cheryl Stith
Cheryl Stith

She’s working in the flower bed. And I walk around the house and I say, ‘Cheryl, I’m gonna go up here and get some stitches.’ By then the rag was soaked and blood was dripping.

He said she jumped up and asked him, “Did you ruin that plywood?

* * *

Later on, Chuck got hurt again.

I was ripping a piece of wood on a table saw and when it kicked back and hit me in the stomach, knocked a big knot on my stomach. I was holding it in, trying to hold it in, and I stumbled out of the garage.”

He said Cheryl was on the back porch and she saw him and saw the knot.

I tripped over the tongue of the trailer, and I fell. I didn’t have a shirt on and when I stood up you could see the knot. And I was holding it in and I said, ‘No problem, no problem at all.’”
“She went on in the house, never said nothing else about it.”

* * *

That’s not all.

I was under my truck, working on my truck, changing out a U-joint and I guess the Good Lord was with me that day.”

Chuck told me he had backed his truck up on a little rise and chocked it – everything was in good shape, he said. You know by now how safety conscious he is.

It wouldn’t come loose when I got the bolts out. So I go in the garage and get a little pry bar. And when I laid back down under the truck, instead on laying under it sideways I laid under it long ways. I was just gonna reach under there and pop the drive shaft out.”

He popped it out and when he did his truck began rolling, across his right shoulder and arm. The drive shaft caught on his belt, pulled his pants, and wedged him under the truck.

Chuck screamed so loud the neighbors heard him, screamed for his wife to come out there and jack up truck, or back it up, or something.

She said she didn’t hear me but I know she looked out the door,” Chuck said.

He finally got his belt loose, and freed himself. He could move the arm that got run over so he figured it wasn’t broken.

I go in the house, I had a pink tire mark on this shoulder and arm. It was already turning blue and red.”

I just told her, ‘I got this, no problem.’”

“She says, ‘What do you want me to do about it?’”

I said, ‘Well, the truck just ran over me.’”

And she said, ‘Well, evidently, it didn’t hurt you any.’”

* * *

Earlier this year Chuck all but severed the little finger on his right hand with a skill saw.

“She was at the grocery store, and a, I called her to tell her that I’m going on up to the hospital, get a few stitches.”

And she said, ‘Don’t go up to the hospital, go up to the doc-in-a-box, they’re cheaper. And quicker.’”

And I said, ‘Ah, I believe it’s going to be a little more than a few stitches.’ And she said, ‘Well, do I need to come up there?’”

And I said, ‘Yea, better come on up there where I’ll have a ride home.’”

And she, ‘Well, let me put my groceries up.’”

Cheryl and Chuck
Cheryl and Chuck

By the time Cheryl got to the hospital where they live, in Gadsden, AL, doctors were preparing to have Chuck transported to Birmingham, to try to save his finger.

Postscript: Surgeons in Birmingham put a bone from a cadaver in Chuck’s finger and, so far, so good.

Chuck and Cheryl are still married, 40 years now. And, best I know, he hasn’t yelled “Wolf!” in quite some time.

Coming Monday: Pat The Rat

Why Her And Not Us?

Editor’s Note: Not many people have been hurt at Snowbird, our hideaway in the mountains of North Carolina. And no one has ever been killed although there has been a close call or two including the biggest, closest, call of all last Friday night.

There were seven of us on the mountain: John Sullivan, an old newspaper friend who teaches journalism at American University; his young son, Ben; and five other men. All seven of us had been to the mountain before, some many times, so we had pretty much seen it it all, or thought we had.

There was a storm coming, it would probably be a rainy night, but Ben wanted to sleep outside so he and John pitched their tent on one of the few flat spots near the cabin. My nephew, Chuck Stith, and my friend, Shane Colvard, two Alabama boys who usually sleep outside, set up next to the fire, under a canopy.

But this is John’s story so I’ll let him tell it:

John and Ben's campsite
John and Ben’s campsite

I’m not exactly sure what made us leave the tent. It might have been the lightning off in the distance, my lack of confidence in the rain fly I had hastily assembled by lantern light, or the heartburn from the smoked pork. But Ben, my 10-year-old son, and I grabbed our sleeping bags and pads and ran for the cabin.”

The Sullivan's had dodged the bullet.
The Sullivan’s dodged the bullet.

By the time we had dashed 40 yards  to the porch rain was falling sideways. Chuck and Shane, who were camping nearby,  were holding onto metal poles supporting a canopy the wind had snatched and thrown into the air like a piece of paper. A few minutes later we heard a deafening crack.”

Standing on the back porch of the cabin, peering into the darkness, we couldn’t see what had happened.  Then a

The oak had been damaged at its base by loggers in 2014-15.

flash of lightning illuminated the side of the hill: A tall oak tree had split open, broken off, and fallen across our tent.”

Ben didn’t really understand what had happened, how close he and I had come to being killed. But the three men on the porch did. Chuck and Shane have kids, too. We hugged and thanked each other, and God, that we were safe.”        

The next day we surveyed the damage. The top of the oak had crushed our tent, landing

Ben and John Sullivan
Ben and John Sullivan

where we had laid down to sleep. One branch had left a four-inch deep impression in the ground.”

After we got home, back to Bethesda, MD, we heard the news story about an 11-year-old girl in Indiana who had been killed by a falling tree that weekend.”

Why her, and not us?”

Coming Monday: The Fatal Surprise