Up the coast a piece, up yonder at Sarasota, ninety-year-old Edmond Baclawski was blithely riding his bike the other day without a care in the world. Had a man ten years shy of the century mark been wobbling along on a quiet suburban street in Sarasota or even a bucolic bike path around a lake it would have been cause for concern for all concerned; but in this case the older than dirt gentleman was navigating through six lanes of heavy street traffic in 90-degree heat. Only someone completely crazy or someone extremely lucky could escape such a situation with their life. Fortunately, Ed was a lot of the former and a little of the latter.
Of course, just about as quick as he could, old Ed pulled right into the path of a speeding car. Of course, the last thing the poor driver of the car expected to see was a ninety-year-old man pedaling toward her. Of course, she hit him. Of course, a crowd gathered. Of course, paramedics arrived. Of course, Mr. Baclawski was dead. Of course . . . wait! Funny thing: Whether old Edmond was slightly killed or seriously injured, medics couldn’t seem to agree upon since at ninety years of age it’s sometimes hard to tell if one is dead or alive. And so Ed was taken away to the hospital where at last report he seemed to be living yet. No mention if the victim was wearing a helmet or not, as if it mattered.
But really, a frail old man on a frail bike skating through heavy traffic in the middle of a scorching hot Florida afternoon! Obviously, this gentleman didn’t have a clue as to what planet, much less what city, he was pedaling around in, which raises the question: Where the devil were Ed’s family or his caregivers? How on earth can anyone allow such an accident-waiting-to-happen to just sail out the door? It’s about like allowing a three-year-old child to just wander away and hope for the best. I guess the moral of the story is: You can’t keep an old coot down or, never bring a bike to car fight. Lord!
Update—Last week I reported on the 90-year-old woman who was attacked by an alligator just south of us. I mentioned that authorities were trying to find the offending reptile in hopes of recovering and reattaching the woman’s leg. At the time, said leg was thought to be in said gator’s gizzard. Well, it seems that the scaly culprit was at long last found, and killed, and gutted, but alas, no leg. It’s just as well. Can you imagine the condition of that leg after it had sat digesting in a gator’s gullet for a week? Disgusting. As for the victim, she is doing amazingly well, considering.
“An investigation continues into the attack and could last for several weeks as witness interviews continue,” said a spokeswoman for the Florida Wildlife Commission. “Witness Interviews”? “Continue”? Really? Just who in the heck could they be interviewing anyway over the next several weeks? A gator attacked an elderly woman walking along a canal. In the tug-of-war, the lady lost her leg. Interviews? Perhaps authorities need to locate and question other suspicious alligators who may have been hanging around outside the Canal Bar and Grill that day to make sure the right gator was bagged? Bizarre!
Whatever, the fact that the two 90-year-olds above are still moving around making news says something about the changing times. Shoot, fifty years ago if you were ninety-years old it meant that you had already been dead, buried and forgotten decades ago.
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Stake Out—Up by Tampa the other day, a mentally disabled man at a care center was accused of filching money from staff members. In an attempt to make the crazy fellow talk, as well as to inflict some good old-time medieval punishment on him, a young staff member staked out the culprit on an ant hill. Actually, the accused was forced to merely stand on an ant hill. Now, take it from me, being forced to endure repeated fire ant stings would be more than enough for most sane folks to quickly lose their minds. Fortunately, since the victim had no mind to lose in the first place he was no worse for wear and is now safely back to his old ways, stealing the staff’s money. When one witness stepped up and corroborated the above story to cops, he too was threatened by the accused with the dreaded fire ant torture. That’s quite a “care” center they've got up there.
Florida. . . . Who could make this crap up?
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Madame Goodrich and I were lounging on our rubber floats the other day, just happy as ducks, when Michelle began scooping something from the water. It proved to be ashes. Since there is nothing between this island and Texas save 800 miles of salt water, we assumed this was ash from the wild fires sweeping the Lone Star State recently. When we looked closer, there were numerous such ashes and blackened leaves landing around us.
This reminded me of the day I was on the telephone back in Kansas talking to someone about a tornado that had just hit Wichita (150 miles southwest of us). As I spoke I noticed something large and black fluttering down rather suddenly into some timber across the road. My curiosity was naturally stoked and when I finally found the thing, I realized it was a piece of black roof felt. Like Dorothy of old, the tornado had obviously sucked that sucker straight up to Oz and I was a witness to its return to Kansas.
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Art of the Day
