Earl’s Stumps

         Earl may have been old and forgetful, but he was also pretty tough.  He had more injuries, bumps, and bruises than any of us, but he kept on going.  If a full-grown cow kicked one of us kids, we would lie on the ground thrashing or hobble around all day like a cripple.  Earl would get kicked, and he would walk it off like nothing had happened.  I would bet he was cursing like a sailor inside and wanting to hobble around, but he had to save face and prove he wasn’t an old man.

         Although I wasn’t around for this incident, I am sure I know how it played out.  Perhaps I idolize his toughness, but I’m sure he just took it in stride. 

         Earl had a few fingers that were shorter than they should have been.  One in particular was covered by a thick fingernail that had, over time, wrapped itself around the tip of his finger.  It was hard as a rock, and he used it to rap an inattentive kid on the head to get their attention. I asked one day what had happened, and I got another “tough old Earl” story.  He had been working on a particularly nasty well.  The well was attached to the pump jack, and Earl was trying to get it started.  The engine was attached to the pump jack by a hinge.  This allowed the operator to remove the belts from the motor, making it easier to start the engine.  Earl had started the engine and got it running smoothly.  He then lifted the engine mount with one hand while loosely fitting the drive belt over the engine flywheel pulley.  This particular motor had a lot of old oil covering the motor mount, causing Earl to lose his grip.  The motor mount slipped from his fingers, crashing downward.  This action also cinched the belt onto the engine flywheel and sucked Earl’s fingers around the spinning pulley.  This resulted in the lopping off of the tip of his finger in one swift motion.

         When an astonished thirteen year old boy asked what happened next, Earl replied matter-of-factly, “I was miles from town, so I wrapped them up with an old rag to stop the bleeding and kept on working!”

         Now I don’t know if he screamed, cursed, or cried, but he had me hook, line, and sinker.  I was in utter awe of this old man.  I was much more careful around those motors, always devising new ways to place the belt on the pulley without using my fingers.  I also spent many hours poking around windmills, always certain I would find a tip of a finger or two lying among the weeds and spent oil cans.  Fortunately, I never found it!