My husband had his own near-death experience as a child in Moscow, in Soviet Russia. I had him just now retell me the story so I could be sure I got the details right. When my husband was about eight he went outside searching for his friends. He had heard that they were out playing ice hockey so he went to a nearby pond to look for them. He walked out onto the ice (I don't know why he didn't stay on the shore) and when he didn't see them he turned around. You can probably guess what happened. He broke through the ice and because he was wearing a heavy winter coat, he got pulled under the water. He said he started to panic because every time he tried to save himself, the ice would break under him. He says he has absolutely NO memory of how he got out of the pond. He said he has a vague memory of walking home soaking wet and freezing. His next memory is of his mother putting him in front of a wood-burning stove to warm him up. His story isn't as funny as mine. Still, when my son is an obnoxious teenager and says something like, "I wish I was never born!", I'll remind him of these stories and how close he nearly came to getting his wish.
Finally-- on to a more pleasant topic... if you'll notice, I've added a recent photo of myself to the sidebar of this blog. I was texting with a new friend yesterday (one whom I've met through this blog) and she mentioned that I am a faceless person in her imagination. I felt a twinge of guilt. I want to keep my anonymity but I personally always like to be able to put a face to a writer when I read things online. I'm such a hypocrite. So I thought this vacation photo from this past summer was a good compromise. The hat and sunglasses would make it hard to pick me out in a police line-up (God forbid) but at least you can see I'm just a regular person and not some weird 60-something guy named Earl. Or AM I? Mwaa-haa-haaaaaa. (That's my evil laugh, in case you can't tell).