I think my mother is trying to get even with me for all the trouble I caused her as a teenager. This past week she suffered a life-threatening crash that caused a great deal of trauma within in the Bremer family-unit. She was staying the night at her sister’s house in Ocheyedan. At approximately 3 a.m. she woke up and determined that a little excursion to the bathroom might be in order. Half asleep, she arose and headed toward the bedroom door. Suddenly and without warning … BAM! … she fell and hit her head on the corner of the dresser, tearing the skin on her forehead in three directions (and chipping the dresser.) Blood poured everywhere. She couldn’t move and simply wanted to lie there on floor. But the instinct for survival is strong so she slowly inched her way down the hall, struggling to get to the phone. She made it and hung desperately onto the edge of the desk, attempting to dial 911. Her mind couldn’t quite grasp the three-digit sequence. However, her mind did grasp the seven-digit number of Evelyn Claus, her best friend since 8th grade. Somehow she dialed and asked Evelyn to call 911. The ambulance screamed into the driveway and whisked her off to the Sibley Hospital, 10 miles away. Back in Luverne, the Bremer children slept peacefully while visions of sugarplums danced in their heads (and their mother nearly bled to death.) Having nothing better to do at 3 in the morning, Dr. Miedema and his trusty staff were ready to rumble when Mother arrived. They had a lovely visit, while the doctor put 47 stitches in jagged cuts of her forehead. At approximately 10 a.m. brother Gordy and I tentatively made our way to her room. There we viewed the disaster area that had once been our mother. Our jaws dropped open. She looked like Rocky Balboa in the 15th round with Apollo Creed (in Rocky 1). I wanted to cry, but maintained a stiff upper lip. Dr. Miedema arrived on the scene. He was filled with trepidation because Mother warned him about me. (OK, one time I threw a fit in the hospital when I didn’t think she was getting proper care.) Dr. Miedema explained the delicate intricacies of stitching a wound that is open to the skull. I cringed, but viewed his handiwork and had to admit that he did a lovely job. As the rest of the family trickled in, each person had the same expression of horrified disbelief. Now, a week later, she’s still a little purple around the edges, but basically back to being my mother again. I think this pretty much evens the score for my share of youthful terrors. I shudder when I think of what she might have planned for Dwight and Gordy … they were much worse than I. New at the library this week is "To The Nines," by Janet Evanovich. Stephanie Plum may not be the best bounty hunter in beautiful downtown Trenton, but she's pretty good at turning bad situations her way ... and she always gets her man. Her cousin Vinnie (who's also her boss) has just posted bail on Samuel Singh, an illegal immigrant. When the elusive Mr. Singh goes missing, Stephanie is on the case. When she interviews a McDonald's employee who knew him, he's shot as she stands there. Then rose-and-carnation bouquets with very sinister notes start appearing and a few more bodies turn up with bullet holes. What she uncovers is far more sinister than anyone imagines and leads to a group of killers who give new meaning to the word hunter.In a race against time that takes her from the Jersey Turnpike to the Vegas Strip, Stephanie Plum is on the chase of her life. This is nonstop action, high-stakes suspense, and sheer entertainment.
