Intro: I'm not quite sure if I had ever posted the following story on my blog. If it sounds familiar, feel free to stop reading it. If not, it is one of my favorite stories I love to tell, so I decided to post it in case I hadn't posted it in the past.
I had the best Grandpap ever. William Cochran was a foreman at Armstrong Cork Company off of Liberty Street in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. I lived with my Mom, Dad and younger brother on the last block of North Queen Street, a block from the Lancaster Train Station and a few blocks from Armstrong Cork Company. Grandpap would often stop by our house on his way home from work to say Hi! or to pick me up on Tuesdays on his way to Root's Sale in nearby East Petersburg. We would grab something to eat for supper at Roots and head to the building where they would auction off the small animals. Very seldom would we head home without some sort of small animal that he would win for me at the auction house. One that I remember the most, was a single gray pigeon that was in a box, slightly larger than a shoe box. You could tell that something was wrong with it since it couldn't fly and had trouble even turning around in the box. My Mom was waiting for us as Grandpap pulled up to the front porch in his Studebaker. I got out of the car with a big smile on my face, holding the shoebox in my hands. Mom knew I had something in the box the minute she saw me gently holding it. Mom and I fed the bird and put a wire cover over the box before I went to bed that evening. The next day we talked about what we should do with the injured pigeon. I suspect she had a different idea as what to do with the bird than I did. I won out and we put a wooden popsicle stick on the broken wing of the bird using yarn. We placed him in a wooden box with a wire screen over the top of the box. He seemed to be doing well, so about four weeks later I took the stick off his injured wing. Just like that he flew from the box to a tree at the rear of our house. I tried to catch him, but he flew up the rear alleyway and landed on the roof of our neighbor's garage. I quickly ran home to tell my mom and grabbed a rope to try and lasso him. I ran back up the alley and jumped on a metal gate next to the roof where the bird was sitting. I took the rope, which I had made into a lasso, and threw it in the bird's direction. The bird flew away as the metal gate flew open and I fell off the gate, landing on the stones. I ran home holding my arm while crying. My parents knew instantly that I had broken my arm. My Dad took me to the hospital where they did a few xrays and placed my arm in a cast. I found out later that evening that Mom and Dad had plans to go out to eat with friends that evening since that day was their Wedding Anniversary! Every year on their Anniversary my Mom and Dad always reminded me of the day that I broke my arm trying to lasso a pigeon! A story I will never forget! And now...you will probably never forget either! It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
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