The first time Buddy nearly died was the night he was born.
He was eleven weeks premature and his mother, a hired girl who had refused to as much as acknowledge his existence, gave birth in a stall in the barn on Lily and Eli's farm then quietly bled to death. A surprised and shocked hired hand found her and the newborn later that evening while milking the cows and Buddy's small life was miraculously saved, although under protest, by the local midwife who felt that the child's deformities were a curse for his mother's sin. The baby was one legged, his right leg ending in a stump below his knee and his right arm cruelly twisted and misshapen. Lily and Eli were good people and immediately took the child in and refused to give him up although the midwife whispered dire warnings through the village, predicting all manner of retribution and tradgedy. When she approached Miss Hilda with her vicious fortune telling, the proper British lady slapped her sharply and ordered her to come to her senses at once, Hold your tongue, you old crone, Mis Hilda snapped, and mind what vile nonsense you spread about that child or you'll answer to me and my stick!
Under Eli and Lily's care, Buddy survived and even thrived. He leaned to walk with the aid of a crutch Eli fashioned and Uncle Shad made a sort of leather harness for his malformed hand - once braced to the crutch, Buddy could move independently and as he grew, new crutches and harnesses were made every year. That boy is a walking
miracle, Nana told Miss Hilda one evening at the post office. Indeed, Miss Hilda nodded, His body may be wrecked but he's quick witted with an agile mind. He has something to teach us all about overcoming adversity.
The second time Buddy nearly died was the summer I was ten or so. He was driving the vegetable cart back from the square late one Friday afternoon when for reasons no one ever discovered, the old cart horse spooked and ran,
He was eleven weeks premature and his mother, a hired girl who had refused to as much as acknowledge his existence, gave birth in a stall in the barn on Lily and Eli's farm then quietly bled to death. A surprised and shocked hired hand found her and the newborn later that evening while milking the cows and Buddy's small life was miraculously saved, although under protest, by the local midwife who felt that the child's deformities were a curse for his mother's sin. The baby was one legged, his right leg ending in a stump below his knee and his right arm cruelly twisted and misshapen. Lily and Eli were good people and immediately took the child in and refused to give him up although the midwife whispered dire warnings through the village, predicting all manner of retribution and tradgedy. When she approached Miss Hilda with her vicious fortune telling, the proper British lady slapped her sharply and ordered her to come to her senses at once, Hold your tongue, you old crone, Mis Hilda snapped, and mind what vile nonsense you spread about that child or you'll answer to me and my stick!
Under Eli and Lily's care, Buddy survived and even thrived. He leaned to walk with the aid of a crutch Eli fashioned and Uncle Shad made a sort of leather harness for his malformed hand - once braced to the crutch, Buddy could move independently and as he grew, new crutches and harnesses were made every year. That boy is a walking
miracle, Nana told Miss Hilda one evening at the post office. Indeed, Miss Hilda nodded, His body may be wrecked but he's quick witted with an agile mind. He has something to teach us all about overcoming adversity.
The second time Buddy nearly died was the summer I was ten or so. He was driving the vegetable cart back from the square late one Friday afternoon when for reasons no one ever discovered, the old cart horse spooked and ran,
the harness snapped and the Buddy was thrown and pinned under a wheel of the overturned cart. On his way to collect the evening mail, Eli came across the horse and mounting the protesting old mare, raced up island where he found Buddy, unconscious and half dead from shock and blood loss. The old mare carried both man and boy back to the farm where Lily laid the boy out on a bed and covered him until Miss Hilda and Miss Rowena arrived. The shattered leg healed and Buddy recovered through the process was long and painful. Mark my words, Miss Hilda told my grandmother, God is watching that boy.
The next year Buddy found the barncat at the edge of the woods, both back legs broken and mangled. Wolf, maybe,
Eli allowed, we'll put her out of her misery. But Buddy fought for the old cat and persuaded Eli to make a sling then carried her to Miss Rowena's. Rowena shook her head but Buddy pleaded and wore her down, certain that she could heal the damaged animal, more certain that she should. Somebody has to save her, Miss Rowena, he begged her, you can't give up on her. And the old lady doubtfully agreed to try, knowing it would take all her skill, all her gifts, and that the odds were against her. She tended the old cat all that summer, splinting the back legs and force feeding her, keeping her warm in a basket next to the fire and teaching Buddy how to change the bandages, how to help her relearn to walk. She would never be straight or fast again, never be much of a mouser again, never walk without a limp, but she would survive and return to the old barn where Buddy had been born, to the same stall where he had nearly died, and she would live out her life in the sweet, dusty hay. His eye, Miss Rowena reckoned, really is on the sparrow.
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