My mom; my hero!

Reading Lindsays blogs makes me think of the Good Ole Days when I was growing up.
The following story is not for everyone. I warn you that there is graphic content.

When I was growing up, my Grandpa Bud owned Follett's Meat Co. just north of Hermiston. Both of my parents worked there when my brothers' and I were little, so we spent all of our days at "the plant" doing the things that butchers kids do; playing in the guts, taking naps under the wrapping table, practicing our butchering skills (when allowed to) and racing to see who could get the eyeballs out of the skull the fastest! Yep, it's true, that's what we did (and much more...)

Anyway, one day a farmer brought in a mama cow. She was pregnant and the farmer told my grandpa that if the calf came through the "kill" and survived that us grandkids could keep the calf. So, my mom, who worked on the "killfloor" with my grandpa was determined to get us kids a calf. The "kill" took place and my mom and my grandpa raced through the procedure to get the calf out in time. From the time they shot the cow to the time they got the calf out, several minutes had passed and the calf was not breathing. BUT, it had a heart beat. All of us kids stood around, blankies in hands, chewing our nails, wide-eyed waiting to see if our calf made it through. My poor mom felt horrible, so with some hope that it might survive, she started CPR. Yep, you got it, CPR on a calf! and wouldn't you know it that darned calf lived! We kept him in our utility room for way too long, but boy is that a fun memory!

My mom is my hero! For many more reasons than just that one!