CHIP a memoir

If you like gruesome stories this one might be for you.

Chip always struck me as a rather odd name, but that was his name, Chip. Chip lived directly up the street from me on Ridgecrest Avenue in the town of Monte Sereno, California. It being so long ago, I do not honestly recall what kind of relationship I had with Chip, let us suffice it to say, we were both boys, and leave it at that. I would guess at the time of this incident we were about eight years old.

 

There was an old oak tree in my backyard that was fun to climb along with several other kinds of trees: pines, redwood, apricot, and pepper. On this particular day, we were interested in climbing the mighty oak. I was on the ground when Chip lost his balance and fell out of the tree. I felt bad and rather helpless. Later that day Chip would accuse me of failing him because I didn’t catch him. Even as and eight years old I appreciated the absurdity of his accusation and did not allow the comment to scar me, I think.

 

The worst part of Chip’s fall, of course, was the landing; however, it was not Tierra Firma that caused the damage, it was the nail. Alas for old Chip, my dad had put the front of a wooden refrigerator-packing box under the tree where Chip decided to take his infamous dive. Out of that six by three-foot piece of wood stuck the head of a rather large nail. Chip broke his fall by placing the palm of his hand on top of the nail and then pushed the blunt head through his hand. Actually, the head did not pierce his hand completely, it stopped short, and you could see the nail head pushing up on the skin on the back of his hand like a little skin teepee.

 

At this point, Chip’s problems were only beginning to unravel, for now, he was rather grotesquely nailed to this large structure with no imaginable way of escape. Of course, by this time Chip was hysterical. Lucky for him, he had the foresight to not thrash around, which would only have served to tear his hand up more than it already was. If this had been the era of more readily available power tools we could have cut the piece down to a more manageable size; however, this was not the case. For Chip to endure the agony of patiently waiting while someone attempted to cut the wood with a dull handsaw was not going to happen. 

 

By this time all the appropriate adults had been notified. Chip’s mother, who was panic-stricken after the phone call, came roaring down the driveway in, thank god, a large station wagon. Now a plan was beginning to be developed. Lucky for Chip, my father was a doctor, so he was not going to have to suffer the indignant experience of going to an emergency room attached to a large board, although, they were not near the den of horrors they have turned into nowadays. The problem was transportation. The solution was the station wagon, but how to get Chip, and the lumber, and the nail into the back of the station wagon without ripping Chip’s still developing hand to pieces. Leverage was working against us: more accurately against Chip. 

 

My mother, Chip’s mother, and I managed finally to steer Chip, the nail, and the door sized board into the back of the station wagon. As should be expected, Chip was screaming his head off during every stage of the process. The slight incorrect twisting caused excruciating pain and we were all afraid he would faint, which would have been a total disaster under the circumstances. Chip’s mom quickly drove off to my dad’s office, and my mom and I stayed behind.

 

From this point on everything remained a mystery. My dad never talked about what happened at the office, doctor patient privacy prevailed. To this day I wonder how he got the nail and board off Chip’s hand. Did he simply pull the head of the nail out the way it came in? Seems to me, this would have caused more damage to his already messed up hand. Did he cut the skin away from the head of the nail that was pushing up under it on the back of his hand, if so what next? The nail was deeply embedded in the board. Did he take a claw hammer and jerk the nail out of his hand? This technique would have sounded like stepping on a bag of crackers, and no doubt would have broken all the bones in his hand. I’m just at a loss to know how it was done. All that I know was the next time I saw Chip he was separated from the board, and didn’t want to talk about what happened at the office. By the way for some reason we did not get sued, most likely my dad did not charge for the office visit!

Reviews

[roarke]

These tales would make a great "coming of age" television show. If it doesn't slow the story down, some dialogue from children and parents during the course of the ordeal might add some tension and drama to the piece. Solid narrative Z.

[Revolutionary]

I was glued to the screen waiting for you to tell me how Chip got his hand un nailed from the board,and I felt like the joke was on me.I hope Chip still does not blame you for not catching him.Great story with a made me feel stupid ending.I really thought you were going to tell how he got it off.