I’m So Glad We’ve Had This Time Together

In the late Fifties, when black and white TV finally made it over the Divide and down Tombstone Canyon into Bisbee, Arizona, watching television was a family affair. With no way to tape shows to watch them later, people scheduled family viewing time. On Sunday nights at 16 Yuma Trail, the Ed Sullivan Show counted as “must see TV.” One night, a star was born when a tall, toothy, apparently awkward girl came on stage to sing her rendition of “I made a fool of myself over John Foster Dulles.” John Foster Dulles, Secretary of State at the time, was hardly a sex symbol, but Carol Burnett’s appearance that night turned her into a national phenomenon. And made her my hero.

I loved her engaging grin. I loved her ability to dead pan her way through countless jokes. I loved her ability to do seamless pratfalls, going out windows and determinedly crawling back inside. She transformed awkwardness into artless grace. For me, that was the most fascinating thing about her, because grace has never been my middle name.

My mother used to say that there was never a single Sunday school, Christmas program, or a grade-school stage performance in which I appeared without my showing up on stage with a scraped and scabby knee. In sixth grade, I fell on a newly paved playground while carrying a classmate piggy back. The resulting wound was serious enough that when my mother finally soaked off the principal-applied bandage, she actually had to sit down and put her head between her knees to keep from fainting. Almost sixty years later, the two-inch square scar from that remains visible on my knee for all to see.

My pratfalls are the stuff of which legends are made. I’m sure the people at the Sun Lakes Library still remember the book signing when the bar stool on casters went slipping away from behind me on the polished concrete floor, leaving me flat on my back side. And the people at Vroman’s in Pasadena may still recall my showing up for an event there with my knee and arm bleeding after I took a flying leap off an invisible curb at the Westin. I also fell at an airport in Calgary years ago. Once I picked myself up and dusted myself off, my biggest concern was for my Toshiba laptop with a half written book still inside it. (The Toshiba was fine. I had bruises for weeks.) And then there’s the time when, in the course of a charity dinner, I tipped the back leg of my chair off a raised dining room floor and fell backwards into what was, unfortunately, a sunken living room. That fall happened in such slow motion and took so long, that I actually had time to remember to ‘tuck and roll’ before I landed and went rolling across the room, ending with my head in the knee well of my hostess’s grandmother’s antique vanity. Oh, and there’s now a hand rail near the library in the Arizona Inn where I took to the air from the third stop up.

By now you all know where this is going. We’re currently on our Rick Steves Family Tour of Europe, and yes, I fell–spectacularly so–in the hotel in Venice. While everyone was having dinner and in preparation for our gondola ride, I went back to our hotel room for a new hearing aid battery. (Yes, I am a woman of a certain age.) Coming back down from our room, I made sure to step carefully as I came down the flight of stairs from our room, but then I completely missed an invisible step in the lobby and landed hard on a polished marble floor.

You’ve heard the old expression, the bigger they come, the harder they fall? Some of you who know me only from my book covers, have no idea how tall I am, so I’ll tell you. I’m more than six feet. Not quite six-one but close. In this case, think of the Leaning Tower of Pisa toppling over in the middle of a very small hotel lobby. I flew across the room, rammed hard into the top edge of the reception desk with my right boob and upper arm, pushed off from that, and then landed, like an upside-down turtle, on my backside and elbow. My backside has padding. My elbow does not.

The tiny desk clerk leaped to my aid, but I could see at once there was no way he’d be able to lever me back up. He was far too short and far too small. So I had him bring me a chair. Using that, I managed to clamber back to my feet. After making sure nothing physical was broken, I gathered my shattered pride and met up with the group outside. During our walk to the gondola pier I was still a little shaky.

We had paid for the full-meal-deal gondola experience–four loaded gondolas, traveling together, complete with an accordion player and an opera singer. The gondolier dragged me off the steps and flung me into our gondola sort of like a fisherman landing a halibut. I came down hard, just barely catching hold of the metal arm of a stool with the palm of my right hand. My death-grip on that stool was the only thing that kept me from from turning a complete summersault and being pitched, head over tea-kettle, into the drink.

Finally, with everyone else safely boarded on their gondolas, we set off, gradually making our way to the Grand Canal. It was a lovely night. Surprisingly enough for Venice in July it was even a little cool. The almost full moon, one night short of a super-moon, gradually rose over the water, ducking in and out behind a thin layer of cloud. To ease my sore back, I leaned back, resting my head and shoulders on Bill’s knees and upper legs, enjoying the moment. The other gondolas, loaded with kids, grandkids, and good friends, sailed along beside us with the opera singer belting out his wonderful serenade.

Was I thinking about the gondola ride? Not exactly. I was actually thinking about how Carol Burnett would have handled those various falls, taking it on the chin and always coming up smiling. And then, just as I was thinking about how I’d go about writing this up for my next blog posting, a big wave washed over the side of our gondola, soaking both Bill and me to the skin and leaving me with an unexpected mouthful of salt water.

I am not Carol Burnett. I did NOT come up from that one smiling. My new hearing aid battery got wet enough that it played its little I’m dying tune, the first few bars of Beethoven’s Fifth, all during our long walk back to the hotel. (We had to take the long dry way because St. Marco’s Square was already under water due to high tide.)

Several days and several countries later, my body is over being stiff, but there are still plenty of bruises showing. There’s a scab on my elbow and a whole collection of purple bruises on my arm that will probably still be entirely visible by next week when the tour starts.

But I realize now that I’ve given my kids and grandkids an amazing gift–something they’ll be able to talk and laugh about for the rest of their lives and mine–the story of how Grandma’s super romantic gondola ride turned into an unexpected dunking.

You know what? Now I can laugh about it, too. And, as Carol Burnett would say, “I’m so glad we’ve had this time together.”

Because I am glad, bruises and all.

21 thoughts on “I’m So Glad We’ve Had This Time Together

  1. I thought I was the queen of falling when I landed hard on my face three times in three years, but you have definitely topped me! But you keep on truckin’, as they say. Good for you, and keep on writing those wonderful books.

  2. Thank you for sharing. I am currently reading Second Watch and love the story of JP’s knee replacement. Your stories are so entertaining and down to earth. Please stay safe and watch out for invisible steps!

  3. I think Carol Bennett would love to repeat that fall on one of her shows. I realize how much discomfort you must have been in, how you handled this fall and later” the drowning in Venice” will be a family story long after you’ve gone on to the big booking in the sky. There will always be someone who will start with REMEMBER WHEN MOM FELL … you have your family a wonderful memory and laugh for life and that’s your talent isn’t it? Your words and books brings people PLEASURE.
    So glad your having a grand time. Enjoy your FAMILY Vacation

  4. For a “lady of a certain age” you still bounce really well! Very glad you haven’t managed to break anything. Keep with the tuck and roll when you can! Wonderful that you and your family have had this time to be together and enjoy each other. Be safe!

  5. As an ER RN I feared for the worse…I am so glad you were only bruised and not broken. I was fortunate enough to speak with you at the Tucson Festival of Books…you were on a panel with C.J. Box and John Lescroart; I was the one who wanted to compliment all of you as I had read all of your books as well as the other authors. We are of a similar age and your discussion of B&W TV’s struck a chord, tho’ I grew up in Sacramento, I was born in a small Nevada town. I differ in (well, many respects, I do not have your talent…:)) wounds…I tend to catch myself and only have a scar on my knee from a peanut can when I was 3. At that time the cans had very sharp edges. Unfortunately, the only doctor had a drinking problem and the scar is still there for all to see :). Again, I want to thank you for your books and your friendliness, you are a warm and kind person.

  6. LOVED THIS! Not that you’ve taken so many tumbles, but the connection to Carol Burnett and your wonderful description of various “falls from (lack of) grace.” It could’ve been me – I’m infamous for my crash and burns in various locales. Thanks for giving me the knowledge that it happens to the BEST… not just Carol Burnett, but J. A. Jance, too.

  7. I think the big question is asked annually at the medicare checkup quiz: “Have you fallen in the last year?” The dilemma is whether to reply honestly and let them take you down the let’s-find-out-why path, or to look them straight in the face and lie! 🙂 Me? Fall? Nope!

  8. I think we must be related. I also spent my child hood with banged up knees and have the scars to prove it. I was in NY last year when the govt. shut down and we could not take the tour bus onto the grounds at West Point sooo walking around and gawking at everything but the ground I found that invisable spot where the sidewalk dropped. I went flying face down broke my new $300 prescription sun glasses. So now I was a bloody, walking and spaced out senior citizen also. My face was black and blue etc and a huge b&b spot on my boob too. Be careful sister.

  9. So glad that you didn’t break anything. The purple will soon turn to green. Sorry you won’t be touring anywhere near here so we can enjoy the colors. Take care and stay safe.

  10. Lucky you were weren’t hurt more than you were. What an adventure you are having. This will give you more material for other books. Take care.

  11. As with all your stories, well told! I too have many a story of unglamorous falls (had one as recently as Memorial day). Stay healthy and keep the stories coming.

  12. I laughed so hard as I read this because I’ve always been the same way! If there is anything for me to trip over, step to miss or furniture to bump into, I WILL find it!

  13. Always loved Carol Burnett, too. I have fallen frequently, along with walking into walls, etc. My high school and college friends were amazed when I became cheerleader sponsor at Jack Yates HS in Houston, TX. I was pretty good at showing the girls how NOT to do the cheers! Thanks for sharing.

  14. All I can say is, I’m gonna keep on praying for you while you travel because as you have said before, you can certainly use the prayers … and now I see why! LOL Thank you again for making me laugh out loud and in sharing your adventures with us. You are indeed blessed!

  15. My kids still remember the time I bailed out of a flume ride right before the big upward to the big plunge. I ended up in the water and soaked to the gills. I then walked out of the ride over all the channels to the astonishment of all the other ride goers. I have never lived it down.

  16. Again, you took my hand and led me through adventures I can vividly imagine. Next week I will finally get to hear you speak in person and I am looking forward to it with much anticipation. You are MY national treasure. Thanks for the memories!

  17. since you are now including areas overseas in your pratt fall file, perhaps you might think of using one of the Web Mapping sites to post your falling adventures by state/country. Had you just gone back to Disney World/ Disneyland you could have just sat on the train and avoided the bruises.

  18. I’m glad to hear you’re okay. I’ve had a love/hate relationship with sharp instruments my whole life. The scars on my fingers attest to it.

  19. I am glad to hear that you are okay. I am the “Queen of Falls” in our family also and I have had some crazy bruises. My best fall was at a bowling alley in Colby Kansas the night before my brothers wedding. I stepped over the line, bowling, and they had just waxed the alleys. I slipped and tried to catch myself and as I windmilled my way down the alley I fell flat on my back half way to the pins. The whole bowling alley came to a stand still. With a bruised tail bone and a red face I finally crawled back up the alley and back to my seat.

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