Monday’s column reminisced how icy steps sent a parishioner at St. Agatha’s Catholic Church airborne. As noted, a robust lady lost her balance on the church steps, slipped on the ice, then spun and swirled across the icy sidewalk.
She ended up at the feet of my brother Mike and me.
For every action there’s an equal and opposite reaction.
Our Dad was a butcher and had huge hands.
Whenever a disciplinary action was initiated, a curled middle finger protruding from the fist created the “thump,” launched to the back of the head. So, as the lady slid to our feet, I imitated an umpire and yelled, “Safe!”
In the confusion and thinking Mike made fun of the sliding lady, Dad gave him the “thump” while I got the laughs.
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