My youngest daughter, Caty Mae, is the Community Outreach Manager for Woodstock Arts. It's a fancy title that basically means she puts people and events together. Being the wonderful mother that I am (and the fact that my husband, Brian and I downsized to Woodstock last spring), I volunteer for various duties. (To be fair, Brian and I work as a team, but this is my story.) A few weeks ago I committed to bartending for the opening night of Clue, the most recent production by the local theater. It's a good gig; I pour wine before curtain and at intermission, then watch the play for free.
So I was committed to Friday night. And to be honest, I was looking forward to it. Life has been pretty sweet lately. I have an online tutoring gig. People are reading my work on Medium and Substack. And I've managed to run 15-20 miles a week all summer. Sometimes running is pure stubborn discipline, but when I commit, even to myself, I commit.
The day before opening was one of those stubborn discipline runs. I really wasn't in the mood, but I put on my shoes and headed out the door. My neighborhood is adorable, but pretty small, so I trucked myself to an adjacent neighborhood to ensure I got four miles in. After the second mile I was bored. The book I was listening to was dry--even with Benedict Cumberbatch narrating. I decided three miles would be enough and I turned toward home when I heard a scream. A child's scream.
As I turned, I saw a small boy, maybe six years old, screaming from one of the oak trees in the neighborhood. He didn't seem to be too high up, so I figured he got stuck and got scared, but I could help him down. I turned off my running app (can't mess with my pace!) and made my way to the tree.
The tree was bigger than it looked from the street, and the boy was a little higher than I thought, but I'm in pretty good shape, so I figured I could climb up a bit. I called out to the boy, "Hey! I'm here. Let me help you down." The terror in his eyes was pitiful.
"Are you stuck?" I asked.
"No," he answered.
"Do you need a little help getting down?"
"Noooo." He started to cry.
"Hey, buddy, it's okay. Just put your left foot on that branch right there. I promise I won't let you fall."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" he cried. Now he began to panic.
I was puzzled. He wasn't that high, I was right there. What was the problem?
And then I saw it. On the branch where I had just directed him to put his foot was a snake. A BIG snake. Probably four feet long and well fed. He was just hanging out on the branch without a care in the world, not paying any attention to the squealing child.
Living in Georgia, I know there are only a few venomous snakes. I also know that there is one snake that loves to climb. There's even a Facebook group called "Rat Snakes in Predicaments." This particular black cutie with his round eyes was not in a predicament, but he sure caused one.
"Hang on," I told the boy. "I'll get the snake and then you can climb down by yourself."
His eyes were big as saucers. "You ain't afraid?"
"Nah, this is one of the good guys--unless you had chickens. Then he'll eat the eggs."
I hoisted myself up to the branch just below the snake. Reaching behind him, I grasped the back of his head and gently lifted him. He wasn't happy about it, but he wrapped his four-foot fat self around my arm, clearing the way for the boy to climb down. The boy decided on an alternate route out of the tree. He jumped and left me there hanging on the tree and holding a pissed-off snake. Swell.
I tried to put the snake back where I found him, but he wasn't having it. As soon as I let go of his head, he slithered down the trunk and made his way to the high grass in the yard.
So now, I'm alone in the tree with an adrenaline rush from saving a kid and rescuing a snake. I thought "oh, I'll just jump from here."
And that's how I shattered my collarbone and had to bail on my commitment to Woodstock Arts. Sorry Caty Mae.
Well, the story is only partly true. I did break my collarbone while out on a run.
Hah, that's a great story (and photo), but I'm sorry for the injury it resulted in.
PS see what you did with the subtitle there ;)