In the summer of 1959, when I was nearly fourteen years old, I spent time on the McAdoo farm with my Uncle Nath, Aunt Jewel, and my cousin, Joe Nathan Stephenson. My dad had sold our farm in 1958 and we had moved eventually to Lubbock, Texas. After school was out for the summer I went to live with my Uncle. I worked on the farm all summer, chopping cotton, and driving a tractor in the fields as well as taking care of the farm animals.
One day, just shortly before I was to return to Lubbock and school, another aunt and uncle stopped by for a visit. They had just finished visiting my Uncle Nath in the hospital in Crosbyton, Texas, for a leg injury and were updating my Aunt Jewel on his condition. In the afternoon, my cousin, Maurice Stanley, and I decided to ride my Uncle’s unbroken horse. We put a halter with a long rope attached and a bareback bronco cinch on him. We led him into the middle of the plowed field (the dirt being softer there for our falls) and took turns lifting the other onto his back. As we were each thrown, the other one would get on and take his turn. On one of my turns I rode him all the way to the coral fence.
Upon reaching the coral fence, the horse lunged over the top and fell. I took a head face dive into the ground. My glasses were broken and my lips were peeled of any skin—just raw flesh and my top two front teeth could have been pulled with my fingers they were so loose. My dad was coming to get me the next day from Lubbock (about 60 miles) so no one took me to the doctor which would have been at least 22 miles away. By the time my dad arrived the next day my lips were so swollen that I could not eat or talk very clearly. Both my upper and lower lips were one big scab of raw flesh. We went back to Lubbock and on the third day he took me to the dentist and doctor.
The dentist said to not touch the teeth and maybe they would tighten up with time, which they eventually did. The doctor gave me some clear liquid to put on my lips several times each day, but it seemed to make them worse so after a few days I stopped putting it on them. Eating could only be done through a straw and even that was difficult—it hurt to pucker on the straw.
I missed the start of school and the first two weeks of class, but was able to catch up in no time. The healing process for my lips took approximately a full month.
Later in life, probably my mid-50s, the top left tooth begin to darken. After several dental attempts to lighten the tooth I eventually had to have a cap put on it at the insistence of my wife. The tooth was gradually turning black. It was a totally dead tooth.
Now 70 years old and looking back, this has been my most serious injury ever. I have been lucky in life. With all the times I have been thrown from horses, the potential for more dangerous falls could have occurred.