HE’S IN Rhode Island Hospital tonight. Better deal than lying out in the woods waiting for your family to miss you. Gonna be cold tonight.
It wasn’t all that warm when he got hurt this afternoon, about 35F. I had heard his chainsaw running, that’s the only reason I knew he was back there.
This time of year, when the foliage is down, I sometimes see him arrive and depart. He lives a few streets over. Comes down the old railroad right-of-way with a pull wagon, chainsaw, and a big white lab. There are all kinds of trees on the ground back there. He harvests a wagon load of stovewood at a time and off he goes.
This afternoon I’m stacking firewood in the backyard, getting ready for the next nor’easter on Wednesday. I’m about done, ready to go inside, then I think, eh… one more wheelbarrow. And after that, just one more. And about the time I’m finishing up I hear someone shout in the woods. I think the guy’s dog must have wandered off and he’s calling it.
Then another shout. And a minute later, another. I can’t tell what he’s shouting. It might be something like “Hey!” And “Yo!” And then I’m thinking… I haven’t heard that saw running in a while.
Makes sense to have a look. So I walk up the hill, through the gate, then up Frank’s steps… follow the hedgerow behind Frank’s and then the woods path behind Sarah’s and I can see the guy from there, he’s on his back on the ground. His dog is with him.
It’s funny how the thoughts flash through your mind all at once: Shit, I don’t have a belt, don’t have a knife, I do have boot laces…
“Sir, are you cut?”
“No, but I’m sure my leg is broken.”
He’d left his cell phone home, as had I. So I run back after my phone, dial 911, then I go back to where the man is and start dialing family numbers he gives me. He says the saw kicked and threw a piece of wood against his shin. I wonder if it might have been the saw that hit him.
He’s a cool cookie for being as hurt as he is, and as helpless. He reaches up for a handshake and introduces himself. I figure he’s about 70. Later on, when his wife gets there, I find out he’s 81!
Harold D. Smith, the bride’s grandfather, worked in the Maine woods until his mid-80s. He got his hand caught in a winch while yarding out logs with his tractor, that’s what finally ended his woods days. Here he is 63 years ago, at age 54. Pam was 6 weeks old.
Soon the ambulance guys come lugging a stretcher through the woods. One says to me, “You again?” Ha! He was on the crew that responded to my previous 911 call. That was on a cold day last autumn when I heard shouts from another guy lying on the ground with a broken leg. That was in the trees on the north side of the house. He’d stepped in a hole while doing some work for our neighbor Steve. Snap!
So the 81-year-old gent today, an EMT runs a scissors up his pant leg and, oh yeah, that’s broken. Don’t need an X-ray machine to see that. They put an air cast on it, pumped it up, and the guy said the pain was really something then. You could hear it in his voice. But he bore it without drama.
The EMTs didn’t want to try lugging him out to Fairweather Avenue, which was how they’d come in, so they had the ambulance drive around and meet them at the dead-end of Hemlock, the street behind ours. That was a longer carry, but over level ground.
Our neighbor Dante said the guy’s guardian angel must have whispered in my ear; made me work outdoors a little longer, long enough to hear the intermittent “Hey!” and “Yo,” and wonder why the saw had gone silent.
I don’t know about angels but the guy was lucky for whatever reason. His family wouldn’t have missed him for hours. Maybe he would have gone into shock by the time they did. But all’s well that ends well.
If he’s anything like Grampy Smith, I won’t be surprised to see him in the woods sawing up trees with his leg in a cast.
Tony DePaul, March 19, 2018, Cranston, Rhode Island, USA
Great story, buddy. I bet no one knows what you did when Jan had his foot run over by his ‘dozer.
Thanks, Jon. Funny, Pam mentioned the woodcutter just last evening, wondering how he’s doing. It’s sneaking up on the 1-year anniversary of his mishap.
I haven’t heard his saw this winter. Haven’t heard it yet, I should say. Wouldn’t be surprised to hear it tomorrow… tough old guy.
Dear Tony,
First I must apologize for taking so long to respond to A Woodcutter’s Lucky Day. I am the most grateful daughter of the woodcutter whose life you saved. When something like this unfortunate accident happens it turns your world upside down. Today is truly the first day that I have had to sit down and collect my thoughts about the last 6 weeks.
Secondly, thank God Tony for your awareness of your surroundings. You have amazed me in how you noticed that the chainsaw had gone silent but had noticed my dad earlier with our big goofy yellow lab Cody and my dad’s wheelbarrow. I thank God Tony that as the rescue pulled away, you had told me that in about 10 minutes more you were heading into your house when you heard yells for help. I can still almost cry thinking of my dad lying on the ground, 30 degrees, yelling for help, and not being able to move his right leg. Thank God for you Tony to hear those cries for help. What would have happened if it had been 10 minutes later and you had readied yourself for the storm? But no, you were an angel sent to my dad to keep him alive because without you Tony things might have turned out very differently. Just like my dad, though, he reached out to shake your hand and imagine the sense of relief he must have felt? As your responders have said “Tony you are an angel.” How do I thank the man who saved my dad, the man who along with my mother adopted me from St Vincent’s Orphanage because it was all in God’s plan that He sent them to me? My dad is humble, caring, sacrificing, patient, understanding, generous, and loving. Tony, over the time that we have gotten to know each other because of my walks with Cody through the trees of your huge backyard, you are a shining reflection of my father. That was not just an accident that you met my dad but rather a gift from God that brought us together as special friends. You, Tony, who knows the woodcutter better than some of his own family.
Dad is healing nicely from the rod put in his shattered tibia and he wheels around in his favorite deceased brother’s wheelchair. He still is cooking dinner from that chair, making dinner, tuna salad, egg salad, and his special cookies, oatmeal and wine biscuits! All from that damn wheelchair.
Two amazing human beings that will be a special part of my life forever.
Elayne A. Jackson
Thanks, Elayne. He’s a tough old guy. I can’t imagine him being content to just lie there a whole lot longer. When he found out there was no one around to hear him, I think he would have dragged himself out to the nearest street and been spotted by someone arriving home from work. Or, barring that, he’d have dragged himself home!
I wouldn’t be at all surprised. People do astonishing things when they have to.
Many thanks for the gift you left on the porch last week, the framed photo of me and Cody.
Tony
The man you helped was my wonderful uncle Eddy. God put you in his path, thank you so much for responding to that whisper. He’s the type of man that does everything the old fashioned way not the easy way, that’s why he looks so great for his age. Thank you again for all you did!
Thanks, Sandy. Too many people retire and sit in front of the TV half the day. They get old at 65! To have your uncle’s energy and initiative at 81, that’s admirable.
Just found out about my uncle Eddie. Thank you Tony for being there for him… I do believe you were the guardian angel sent to him during that time… God bless you
Thanks for the kind words, Kathe. From what I hear I’m under the impression your uncle has got a whole lot of good karma stored up.
He and my Auntie Anna and their children are very precious to our family… since my mom’s passing my Auntie Anna has taken over her place as our mom… Thank you again Tony for being there for him .
Thank you Tony, Ed is our dear friend and neighbor when we’re in R. I. (We are weather wimps, escape to Fla. in winter). Thank you for rescuing our dear friend & neighbor, he is currently recuperating in re-hab.
Thanks for writing, Rose. I happened to see Ed’s wife and daughter on the woods path yesterday and they told me his surgery went without a hitch and he was on the mend. Great news!
Tony, like I told Pam, I couldn’t think of a better man I’d rather have around me if I was in that kind of trouble. You’re always level-headed, resourceful, and super ready to help.
I especially enjoyed reading your comment about your girls imitating your knight to the rescue habits!
Haha! Thanks, Vincent. Yep, the girls are always a good reality-check for me.
Glad you were there and checked it out. Could have been a very different end to the story.
Yes, he could have lost hope and decided to rest, close his eyes, I think that would have been it. He said he wasn’t cold but he had to be. There was frost in the ground where I was working.
Glad “old habits die hard.” That was a pure joy to read, Tony. We need uplifting news more than ever. (BTW, wasn’t it Lassie who always ran for help? )
Lassie, what a good girl! Legend has it she’d run for a rope whenever Timmy fell down a well, but all I remember her doing is running back to the farmhouse to bark at an adult. And they’d always wonder what she wanted. Stupid human! There’s trouble! Follow me!
Thanks for being out there and following the occasional scribble, Carol. I heard today the old guy’s going into surgery tonight. Not for nothing and only in Rhode Island, but two different friends of mine are friends of the daughter of the guy who got hurt, so that’s how I’m getting my Rhode Island Hospital updates.
Awareness. Wonderful thing. Good job with the wood pile and the neighbor 🙂
Thanks, Hugo. It is awfully easy to let the day go by in a haze… happens to me all the time.
You’re good folk, Tony.
Hey! Your brother is our mystery snow shoveler. Did you know that? Wasn’t Frank’s ghost after all…
That’s pretty great. I feel like the mysterious stranger gig suits him.
Well done Tony!
Pam doesn’t believe in saints but says it was Saint Joseph. Yesterday was Saint Joseph’s Day, my forebears were Italian, same for the woodcutter’s, my middle name is Joseph, all adds up… she’s making fun of me, right?
That will be a cool story to tell someday. One thing is for sure: yesterday, you become an earthly angel for him. As I wrote in your wife’s FB, you are a true hero.
Tarquino! How goes it, mi amigo?
Reporters are nosy, old habits die hard. One time when the girls were little, Pam and I loaded them up in the car for a trip to see the grandparents in Maine. While gassing up the car at a neighborhood station we heard a terrific crash at the intersection. I ran over there and found a hysterical young woman sitting in the driver’s seat of a car, gasoline pouring out onto the ground, so I reached in the car and turned off the motor so there wouldn’t be a fire.
When I returned to our car, the girls greeted me with eyerolls. All the way to Maine they mocked me as “the hero of the car wreck.” They each did a funny imitation of me popping my head up like a rabbit out of a hole, looking around eagerly for an opportunity to get involved in somebody else’s business. I’m laughing as I write this because I can still see them doing it!
Nice work. Another example of there’s no such thing as safe. Two storms ago, a Newport guy was killed when a tree branch hit him near his house. As to the dog, I’m always thinking if anything happens to me, I can just tell mine, like they did on the”Ron Tin shows, “GO for help, Girl,” and hope for best.
I think he said his dog’s name is Cody. Big happy goofy lab galomping around being a dog. He weighed about as much as I do. I was afraid he was going to step on the broken leg.