My Guardian Angel

Mom often said that I have a guardian angel. She may have been right, although she probably said that to all of us Johnson boys. We all needed one. I think she prayed a lot.

We hiked up bluffs, walking right to the edge of Barn Bluff when we were small kids. We climbed trees, raced bikes, sleds, cars, and motorcycles. We played with fireworks and crawled in dark caves. What could possibly go wrong?

Every one of us has endured simple falls to near-death experiences that make us wonder how we have survived. I have numerous such experiences that are stored in a section of my brain called “Not to be attempted again”.

My first close call was when I was about two years old. A truck driver handed me to my terrified mother after finding me playing in the street in front of our house. That was East Seventh St. which also served as Hwy. 61 back then. I think my older brother Dave was supposed to be watching me. I learned how to get him into trouble early on without even realizing it.

A year later I rode my tricycle from our house on connecting back yard sidewalks to Bertha Peterson’s house, two doors down. I followed the sidewalk next to her house and soon found myself overlooking the dozen or so steps to the main sidewalk below. I think Dave was supposed to be watching me.

Looking down at all those steps, I somehow knew that I should not be there. But I tempted fate a bit too much by getting closer and closer. In an instant, I tumbled to the bottom, losing my two front teeth in the process. I was bruised and bleeding in a lot of places. This might be my earliest memory.

As I ran home crying, my dad was just pulling into our driveway with my mom and newborn brother. Welcome to the Johnson family, Warren.

One noon hour when I was probably in Kindergarten, I was home for lunch, playing on the swings in neighbor Jan Hosking’s backyard. For some reason there was a long bamboo pole there. So, I thought it would be fun to hold it while swinging, pretending it was a rifle. It was long and heavy.

On a forward swing, the pole hit the ground and the other end went right into my mouth. Bleeding and crying, I ran home. Our dentist tried to explain to my hysterical mother that they don’t do stitches in the mouth. I missed the rest of that school day.

Warm summer days can lead to careless behavior. Two experiences come to mind. My first bike had just a single gear and a coaster brake. I had installed a speedometer and wanted to see how fast I could go. I rode it down Memorial Drive peddling as hard as I could. I was going about 30 when the chain came off.

You may recall that coaster brakes are designed to work by pedaling backwards. But that requires a connected chain. There is no backup brake on those bikes, at least not back then. The ditch was not a good crash option as anyone who has driven that road knows. So, I relied on my new Bart Starr tennis shoes as brakes, sliding them on the road as hard as I could. To my great relief, I managed to stop. I put the chain back on, vowing to tighten it when I got home.

It was later when I was taking off my shoes that I noticed that most of the tread was gone. I could see clear through to the socks in a couple places and there was a faint odor of burned rubber. I did not tell my mother about this incident although she must have wondered why I needed to replace my shoes so soon. 

We still talk about another memorable summer adventure of mine. It was a hot August day at Strum, Wisconsin, where 99% of our relatives live and our cabin was located. I was about 12. We were swimming at the dam on the Buffalo River at the entrance to town as we had done many times. In fact, I was so relaxed floating on my back in the cool water that I didn’t realize until too late that I was getting pulled right over the dam at its steepest part.

There are several theories on why I didn’t perish that day. The fall was about 15 feet and I was going over it head first on my back. I only remember getting pulled over the dam and then sliding with the current in a seated position on the dam’s cement base toward some big rocks but managed to roll out of the flow. I was scared and dazed but there was not a mark on me. Did the water cushion the fall? We’ll never know. No one saw me go over the dam and my brother Dave, who was supposed to be watching me, eventually began asking if anyone knew where I was. We speculate that I might have been knocked out for some time under the waterfall.

With these and other close calls I had growing up, I never even broke a bone, thanks to my guardian angel.