Eureka—I'm A Writer!
A Facebook non-fan, I share posts from institutions I care about, like the Iowa Quilt Museum and the Iowa Theater, but I don’t bother with personal stuff very often, preferring to report from Quiltropolis (here) when I have something to say.
The original purpose of the photo I wound up sharing with FB World was to let a relative in Wisconsin and a friend in Winterset know I had broken my wrist roller skating in Brooklyn. When both recipients commented on the giant hamburger in the foreground, I decided the image was post-worthy.
My daughters Mary and Rebecca and I had gathered mid-December with Hannah, my oldest, who lives in Brooklyn, for a few days of Christmas shopping and hijinks. We thought it would be fun to go skating Friday night at Xanadu Roller Arts, a cool rink a stone’s throw from Hannah’s apartment in Bushwick. I was showing off, reminding my offspring I can skate backwards, when my feet went out from under me. I sat down hard, jamming my (wrist-guarded) wrists, the left one the hardest.
My post on Facebook garnered 95 comments, many about the hamburger but several on the potential impact of my injury on my novelist’s (rather than my quilting) life. To wit:
I hope that’s not your writing hand!!
Can you still type?
Oh no!!! A writer/
quiltercannot have a fractured wrist!“Roller Skating at Xanadu” is the title of your next book.
After identifying as a quilter for decades, receiving sympathy as a wounded writer warmed my heart.
At Xanadu, two extremely handsome young men on skates (employees) helped me to my feet. My kids, all three of whom saw me go down, escorted me and my aching wrist to the cafe area. Soon, another good-looking guy skated up. He turned out to be a doctor named Jeremy Sugar (spelled differently, but it’s Sugar to me). He was there skating with his wife and had seen me fall. He asked (because of my silver hair, no doubt) if I had fallen because I was dizzy. Answer: No.
I took Dr. Sugar’s advice and got an X-ray (followed by a hamburger) the next day.
Walking around Winterset with a fancy, corset-like splint on my arm has been illuminating. Turns out people of all ages fracture wrists in just this same way.
Happily, my splint has not prevented me from writing (obvs.), and though I spend more time writing these days than sewing, I haven’t made my last quilt.
Will I skate again? Stay tuned.
At Kellogg’s post-burger, Mary, Rebecca, and I shared a slab of Red Eye Chocolate Cake. (Hannah was at Diamond Heart teaching her Saturday morning strength training class.)
Was it while we were snarfing dessert, or earlier in the day that Rebecca realized she was the most at-risk skater in our party at Xanadu the night before?
Rebecca and her husband Jack relocated in September from Chicago to the U.K., where she is now Head of Cinema at the Barbican Centre in the City of London.
“Yikes—I forgot I don’t have health insurance in the U.S. anymore!”
P.S. I plan to name a future character in a future novel I write “Jeremy Sugar.”
I’m a contributing member of the Iowa Writers’ Collaborative, a group of over 70 professional writers who write about politics, music, food, sports, and media, to name a few categories. A handful of us write about books, publishing, and writing, including Nicole Baart, Rachelle Chase, Peter Hedges, Steve Semken, and of course me. Check us all out and become a paid subscriber if you can afford it. Thank you for reading us!
What a way to find a way to name a character! Quite a sacrifice for the sake of art. I’ve thought about finding my ice skates, but your story has convinced me my skating days are over.
What a fun way to hurt a wrist! And gain official "writer status" in the process! Feel better soon ...