No Bones About It - I slipped Up!

The year was 1964. It was summertime, hot & sticky. One of those typically muggy days in a city made of concrete and cement. The perfect kind of weather for swimming in the backyard. And that's just what mom announced when we got home from summer school. "Get upstairs and change, then line up at the back door," she ordered. I didn't need to be told twice! We were living in a row house on Pear Street in Reading. Ours was the last house in the row, so on one side was a wooden fence separating us from a business next door. I hurriedly changed, then ran to the back door. We jostled and pushed as only siblings could, probably raising room temperature even more. When mom finally opened the door I was determined to be the first in the baby pool situated in our small plot of city land called a backyard. The door opened and I was on the move. Unfortunately, I didn't realize the back porch had a thin coating of sand on it. The next thing I knew I was in the air, slamming into the fence with a thud. The whole trip was a blur. My right forearm was twisted and ached terribly. The prognosis? Another broken bone, another medical bill for my parents, and another story to tell.