Surviving Your First Faceplant

That’s my grandson Lucian. Jackie’s boy. Ten years old. Landed his first full-on faceplant yesterday. On his mother’s birthday. Went off the top of a five foot maibox during a game of tag.

Now the whole event took place in front of Jackie’s house and was caught on her excellent security camera, even clear audio. Brutal.

But what was really impressive was that Lucian hopped right back up on his feet, ran over to another adult neighbor and asked “Am I bleeding?” When the neighbor told him he should get home, Lucian ran to his house shouting the mantra “I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay!” All caught on tape.

No tears, no lying there weeping, no waiting for help.

This is definitely Jackie’s son.

I could hear my grandfather, Spaghetti, in my head saying, “Ah, good lad. It’s nowhere near your heart.”

When Jackie shared the event with us later that afternoon, including the video, they were both laughing, although by then Lucian was looking like this:

I remembered the time Jackie broke a few bones in her hand during a karate match. She had to be around 7. The bones popped up like a tent on the back of her hand. She ran over to her instructor, who later turned out to be a major lower east side drug lord, really scary dude, and he asked he if she wanted to continue. She nodded and he took her hand between his own and snapped the bones back into place, wrapped it in tape and sent her back into the ring.

Jackie spent her whole athletic career playing through her injuries. She’s tough as catshit. Like her mother. Now it’s passed on to Lucian.

Can’t teach that. Good to see Lucian has her genes.

I know, it makes me sound a bit heartless. Callous, even. And yes, it could have been worse. He could have lost some teeth. And that would have sucked. But this time we got lucky. We don’t worry about “what-ifs.” We lick our wounds and move on.

That’s how we grew up all those years ago in the Bronx. You only went to the hospital when you could not get back up. Usually unconscious. Wasn’t a macho thing. Girls were equally tough. Often tougher than the boys. Some much tougher. No one ever told us life would be easy.

But you never really know what you are made of until you are tested. That first time you get it right in the face. Yesterday, Lucian passed that test. Bronx Tough. Well done, Lucian.

Changing gears, I received another animal “eyes” photo, this time from my brother-in-law, Lorie, whose wife, Lisa’s sister Amy, had already provided a photo for the collection.

It’s seems that Lori’s dog, Sophie, had learned about the other animals submitting photos when she read yesterday’s blog. Given that I did borrow the Buccola name for FJM, Sophie felt she earned a spot in the collection. Isn’t she cute.

Keep those photos coming.

Now, I am running a little behind, so I’ll save some other stuff from the weekend for tomorrow’s blog. I had to replace them with Lucian’s.

But it’s Monday again, and we are just going to have to deal with it.

I have my usual routine.

You fine, five readers get on it and show Monday who is boss.

And while you are at it, make it a great one.