Pardon my personal story, but I just came across something and wanted to share (it's Tulsa related).
When I was a kid I had an "incident" where I got hurt and the memory is ingrained forever. Mostly because of the big deal that was made over the wound, the stitches and the surrounding circumstances. It's one of those stories that lives on due to it being re-told often. That and the scar I wore from it.
As I've said before on this blog, during my childhood- almost without fail- we went out to eat every Friday night (usually, but not always, to the Piccadilly that was downtown). One Friday in 1962 my dad was flying in from Chicago on a Friday night, so Mom picked up her Dad and we all went to eat at the Bordens over in Sheridan Village. The plan was to eat then go on to the airport and pick dad up. Fun Friday night!
I remember being excited about The Treasure Chest. It was right there by the door, so you couldn't miss it. After eating, we got to get 1 toy from it. My 2 big sisters and I ate fast, needless to say. We finished way before it was time to head over to get Dad, so we wandered out the front door to hang around and wait for Mom and Grandpa. I had my Suzy rag doll with me which was almost as big as I was and the focus of our attention was the escalator (one of the first in Tulsa). What fun! My sisters walked down the stairs then rode it back up as I watched. Since I was only 4 years old, I often found that observing was best. Finally, I ventured down the stairs, which took some time. As I reached the bottom, one sister yelled that Mom and Grandpa were ready to leave! I was scared to get on those moving steps for the first time. And it sure was a long way up. I finally did though, clutching my Suzy doll, trying to balance precariously. When my sister told me to hurry up, I began trying to step up the escalator stairs. I accidentally stepped onto the doll, lost my balance and was pitched forward, my head hitting the sharp edge of the step. I have no doubt I was quite a sight to my Mother as I came up that escalator, bawling and bleeding.
The people at Bordens helped clean me up and, using cloth napkins, put pressure on my cut to stop the bleeding and we rushed to the airport. I'm told that my dad came walking off the plane, took one look at me and my bloody dress and turned around like he was going to get back on it. Ha ha. Funny dad. We dropped Grandpa and my sisters off at his house then went straight to St. Johns ER where I got stitches (which my oldest sister promptly- and accidentally- knocked out a week later).
I just came across this photo of THE escalator in the Beryl Ford Collection. And it's every bit as big and scary as I remember.