I always like to....

....check the online version of my hometown newspaper, just to make sure I can somewhat keep up to date on what is happening there.

Today, I came across this article:

Man rescued from North Gower silo
By OTTAWA SUN

Emergency crews have freed a man who was trapped inside a massive silo.

The Ottawa fire department's technical rescue unit has been on the scene at 2518 Lockhead Rd. near Fourth Line Rd., just outside North Gower for a number of hours. The man was trapped inside one of several corn silos at North Gower Grains. Prior to the man being rescued, paramedics said it was not believed he suffered any major injuries.

There is no information on how the man came to be trapped, or how long he was inside the silo before he was discovered.

The man, whose name has not been released, was buried neck-deep in corn kernels and was in danger of suffocating before fire crews arrived just after 12:30 this afternoon. He was outfitted with a harness and given an air mask earlier this afternoon.

Ottawa fire sector chief Paul Hutt said earlier today rescue crews worked to remove corn kernels from around the man. Crews suspended from the top of the silo built what Hutt said is a box with slats of wood to take the pressure and weight of the corn off the man's body. They also cut a hole in the bottom of the silo to remove kernels.

More than 30 rescue workers arrived at the scene.

Ok....not funny right? Maybe a little. But certainly embarassing. I jokingly emailed my Mom, asking her if my stepdad was alright. (It wasn't really my stepdad stuck in the corn. I'm just immature and thought that would be a clever joke.)

Almost as soon as I hit "send" I realized I should never have made jokes at this man's expense. I remembered the time when I was about 7 or 8 and thought I was the coolest kid in the world. Me & my best friends, The Jensens, were playing cops & robbers in the empty lot behind the post office. This is what we used to do on Sunday afternoons I guess. I was a robber. Of course. Anyways, I climbed the only tree in the middle of this lot. And got stuck.

Now, not just "stuck" as in I climbed too high and didn't know how to get down. You see, to brace myself I had wedged my leg between a deep "V" half way up the trunk. Unbeknownst to me, the longer I sat there hiding from the "cops", my leg was sliding further and further down into this V. Until suddenly I began to feel a little uncomfortable. And squished. And light headed. And then I realized it was too late. My thigh (the skinny thigh of a gawky pre-pubescent kid) had become stuck.

The next 45 minutes were spent bawling, screaming, and trying to come to grips with spending the rest of my life as an amputee. Various homeamade devices were constructed (thanks Viggo) and attempts were made to free me manually. When thi sfailed the Fire Department was called. From here my young mind seems to have adopted voluntary amnesia bacsue I do not remember actually being freed from the tree. My next memory is being carried along the Main Street of our small town in my mother's arms. In hysterics.



And mortified to see that various clusters of spectators had gathered to see what was going on. More were streaming out into the street. As embarassed as I was, now that I think back, it must have been worse for my Mom. I mean, what kind of child causes such a scenario? It was probably the most action the local Fire department had seen in years. And it certainly gave the town somehting to talk about for a few days.

Did I mention I moved away from town the day after I graduated high school?