Residual Casualties

I had a near death experience Friday.  It wasn't me who nearly died, well actually... I could have died.  As close as it was to resulting in the end of me, it was even closer to exacting genocide upon my posterity.


I'm at work on the golf course.  Dale, Lucas, and I are standing in the triangle formation, deliberating about the best beautification process and methods for the creek we're standing next to.  Suddenly, and I do mean suddenly when I use that word, something strikes me, coming across the upper thigh/crotchal region.  Dr. Dre says "The track hits your eardrum like a slug to your chest"... well the golf ball hit my money area just like that.  I "happened" to be holding my cowhide work gloves in the perfect protective position.  I'd say I heard a voice tell me to do so, but I'm sure if I'd been listening to that type of voice it would have just told me to watch out for the idiot with no control over his driver 40 yards away.


Dale instinctively made the comparison to John Taylor being shot and surviving in Carthage Jail.  I found the analogy  a bit overkill, but that was the first thing he thought of.  Plus, he was pretty shaken up.  More shaken up than I was even.  I guess it was within inches of nailing him.  Three feet higher and it could have been the back of his head, my eyeball, or my mouth.


The result is a broken cell phone (it was located just perfectly on the inside of my pocket), a six inch welt on my leg, and a new appreciation for reproductive capabilities.  I like hamburgers, love milk, and appreciate how leather gloves discourage the development of blisters, but I never really thought of cows as protectors of my posterity.  My paradigm has shifted.