My Life in Brain Injuries

When we lived on the farm, a couple of acres near the top of Prune Hill, my sisters played softball in an open field. They had plenty of room for all the bases and an occasional spectator, such as myself, the kid who was too little and uncoordinated to be included in the game.

Our family’s move into town crammed their games into a too-small backyard wedged among houses and a couple of garages, but they made adjustments and played anyway.

One fateful summer day when I was six, I watched their game while standing next to the back of the house. I was near the garden hose and faucet, but not too close, aware I could get wet when Big Kids ran over for a drink. Kids drank from hoses back then. I kept quiet, knowing I’d be sent away if I brought attention to myself.

At some point, there was a crack and the ball arced into the sky. I looked straight up but saw only the sun and the white-blue of the sky. There was yelling – more vocalization than a normal pop fly warranted and then I realized they were yelling my name. I looked straight out. They were telling me to move. I froze.

The ball rolled off the roof and hit me on top of my head

An interesting spot. The Chinese refer to it as Bai Hui, “meeting of the hundreds”. In Sanskrit it is Sahasrara or Crown Chakra; the blooming lotus; the portal to Celestial Energy, the connection to the Supreme Self.

Mid-twentieth century American mill town softball players did not know from Crown Chakras. At least no one mentioned a concern for the interrupted flow of my Celestial Energy as they called my mother to carry me into the house.