Having teased ya'll in yesterday's blog because the storm we were having made me forget most of what I was going to say . . .
I'll not keep you in suspense. My cut finger came about while I was fixing up a meat order in Charlie Grady's First National Store.
Those were the days when grocers took orders by telephone, filled them, packed the groceries, milk and meat in a box and sent somebody to the customer's house with the delivery.
I did deliveries from that store by bicycle and later in Charlie's automobile after I got a license. That was before World War II. But on this particular day I was working in the store filling orders.
This story will be short because I was not in the store very long. I was slicing meat on an electric slicer, balogna or ham, I don't remember which.
My left index finger slipped into the blade. I didn't notice until I finished wrapping and sealing the meat in a packaage. Ted, working near me, noticed blood all over the counter .
He and Charlie saw that I had sliced the finger down to the first joint. Ted whisked me to the nearby hospital and Charlie sent aomebody else to deliver the order of meat, milk and cereal.
Dr. Charlie, my cousin, stitched me up and sent me home with orders to stay home for a few days.
When he lady who ordered the meat opened it she either saw my blood and maybe some extra meat, threw it all away, or didn't notice and used it for lunch. I don't know.
Oh, by the way, the order was for my future mother-in-law Mrs. D. and her daughter.
- 30 -