0027

Going outside first thing, the tall pipe still startles me a little. Looks like a huge needle sticking up through my pump house roof. Mid-morning, Derek, Justin and Erin come trooping up my driveway, their necks are also craned, eyes fixed on the top of Jerry's pipe, over 50 feet up. Derek clears his throat. "Justin says you need my help with something?"

"Did you eat your Wheaties this morning, Derek?" He grins a little sheepishly.

Justin and Erin are the bystanders, the cheering section, as I open wide the pump house door, and explain my plan to Derek.

"We'll pick the bottom end up, one of us on either side, and walk out into the side yard with it. There's a lot of weight there, and that weight will be pulling up at first, so we'll have to keep a tight grip, OK?"

Derek nods. We stand opposite each other, bend and grab, and, at my signal, we lift.

"OK. Now, slowly, let's move toward the door."

We've moved less than a foot from vertical when it starts to veer off to Derek's left, my right. With all our strength, we resist, but we overcompensate. Now it's swinging the other way.

"No good!," I yell, "Let's put it back down!"

Derek's eyes are getting wide. I'm amazed at how much force is at work. The momentum of the long pipe is beyond our strength, a huge upside-down pendulum whipping itself first in one direction, then another, each time a bit more violently. The third or fourth swing is away from me and towards Derek's right, dashing itself against the window jamb with my left hand between. There's a noise of breaking glass, a dull thud, and the pipe is at rest.

I run outside. This is bad. Erin is crying, wailing aloud.

"Are you hurt, Erin?" She shakes her head. She doesn't appear to have been hit by anything.

"Are you OK, Justin?" "Are you OK, Derek?" They both nod solemnly.

The pipe is a wreckage of bent pieces lying to the west of the pump house. Apparently, the momentum and tremendous force kinked the pipe just above the roof, with the top sections smashing into the ground. My hand is bleeding. I tear my tee shirt off and wrap it around my hand.

"You sure you're OK, Erin?" She nods, still sobbing uncontrollably.

I ask Justin, "Why is Erin crying?"

"She's crying because you're hurt!"

"Oh."

My shirt is already saturated with blood. I take a look. It's pretty deep.

I walk down to their house for some first aid, then manage to fish a few bills out of my wallet for Justin and Derek's efforts. Back at my house, there's nothing to be done. I lie down with my hand raised.

---

Tonight in bed, it's hard to sleep. I still have to keep my hand above my heart, which makes for little sleeping comfort. I have plenty of time to review my folly, to berate myself, quite deservedly.

"You are such an imbecile, Jerry! It's incredible how stupid you are! That pipe was, what? 150 pounds? Maybe more? Not counting the weight of the water still inside it. And it was how far up in the air? 50 feet? Maybe higher? Supported laterally at the roof opening. Which means the fulcrum of this 50-foot lever was where? 7 feet up, maybe 8? And which end of this lopsided lever were you trying to control? Even without a calculator, you should have seen that the force would be somewhere in the thousands of pounds. Not a difficult puzzle, but you never took time to think it through. Which qualifies you as an utter fool!"

I can't beat myself up all night. I need to learn a lesson here - I need to think things through better. There is also much to be grateful for. It is bad, but it could have been much, much worse. What a tremendous relief that no one was hurt except the moron who deserved it, and that injury isn't serious.

And that's another thing. Erin, crying because I was hurt. What a little sweetheart. I kinda guessed that about her nature when I first met her. How does she do that - spontaneously feel someone else's pain? A humbling lesson for my spirit as well. Am I capable of learning these lessons?

I toss around a bit more, trying to find a comfortable position. It's gonna be a long night.