I was 11 years old, and maybe it wasn’t directly Ike’s fault. But if it hadn’t been for his being inaugurated as U.S. President on January 20, 1953, I probably would not have broken my arm that day.

It began with my mother, who was President of the PTA at Deerfield Elementary, requesting Mrs. Hendry, the principal of DeerfieldElementary School, to allow me to leave school early and come home to watch the inauguration on our new television set. Mrs. Hendry approved it with the caveat that I was to give a report to the class the next day.

When I got home from school to watch, my parents along with some neighbors, were already watching the 14-inch black and white TV in our living room. It was a little after 11 a.m., and after about 30 minutes of watching politicians talk, I got bored. I heard the announcer say that the big event, or actual inauguration itself, would not take place until noon. My parents were busy watching the TV and talking to their friends, so I decided to slip out into the backyard to play on the new monkey bars Dad had recently made for me. I climbed to the top and instead of using my hands like you’re supposed to do, I decided to see if I could walk across the top of the bars. That was a big mistake because I didn’t even get a third step in when I found myself falling and twisting at the same time. I put my right arm out to break the fall and landed on the palm of my hand with a stiff arm carrying all my weight. A loud cracking sound of my right arm breaking … is a sound I will never forget. The pain was intense.

Crying and embarrassed, I ran back into the house holding my arm. Everyone followed me out into the backyard as I explained what happened. The closest hospital to Deerfield

at the time was the Good Samaritan Hospital in West Palm Beach. My parents let their friends and neighbors stay to watch “Ike” get inaugurated as president on our new TV, while they drove me to the hospital. My parents were especially irritated as it turns out because it was the first time either had a chance to actually see a live presidential inauguration.

Things did not get better at school the next day. Mrs. Hendry, the principal, saw me coming into school with a cast on my arm. She asked me what had happened. I told her. She looked upset as she said: “I let you out of school to watch the presidential inauguration, and you went playing instead! I’m surprised at you David. See what happens when you don’t do the right thing!”

I never forgot her scolding. If I had been watching the inauguration like I was supposed to be doing, I wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Another lesson learned.

David Eller, Publisher