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Friday, June 17, 2011



About thirty years ago, I was downtown shopping with two of my best friends. Both of them had blonde hair and mine was so dark brown that it looked black. We were in a big department store browsing around when I felt someone grab me by my left shoulder. Turned around to see a foreign looking woman who then proceeded to scream at me in a language I have never heard before! It wasn’t Spanish or French [I know those two pretty well] but not identifiable—but her tone was! She had dark hair and dark  eyes like me but we looked nothing alike at all.

She was in a rage. And then she grabbed my arm and wouldn’t let go of me. I shoved her arm down and my two friends were standing there in utter shock as to what to do. One looked at me and I got the drift: We were going to run out of the store and all three of us did! Bad thing was that that woman was running right behind us and chased us all the way down the opposite end of the street. And again, she grabbed me! I screamed at her and my friends and I took refuge in a store; luckily  she didn’t find me or them.

Two days later at home, I was walking my huge collie up my street. Had on three inch macramé wedge heels and of course my dog would pull me into a huge pothole! It was summer and I thought that my foot was fine; managed to haul my dog and myself up the street to a friend’s house and looked down at my foot. It was huge and the pain was intense. Thankfully, my friend walked my dog home for me and helped me home. That evening I wound up in the emergency room and after an x-ray, found out I had a fractured right foot. Swell not.  That was curse one.

After my foot healed, the cast was off I was doing fine: My two sons young and helpful. Decided to go to a yard sale [I was hooked on antiques and into country at that time] and found a huge wooden box for three dollars. Loved it. Dragged it inside that afternoon and set it in the kitchen thinking I would take it down to the basement later that day. But this and that happened and my family avoided the box. Wish I had for I ran into it barefooted and broke three toes on my left foot. Back to the emergency room again but nothing could be done—except to live in pain for weeks. Curse two.

Toes were healed, fractured foot had returned to normal and all was right with the world—that is until I picked up an antique cast iron doorstop in my house and it fell on my left foot! Couldn’t walk and was taken back to the emergency room again:  Foot was x-rayed and turned out to be a bad sprain. I hobbled around for a couple of weeks with a black and blue foot. Curse three.

More and more things happened to me accident-wise that were really unbelievable and it went on and on. In fact, in 2000 I tripped on something in the carpet in a store and fractured my right knee! I’m not saying that the woman put a curse on me but it sure did seem so. She was desperate to grab me for some reason. I had never seen her before or afterwards. Sometimes you just never know who will grab you and start something! If someone does that to you and speaks in an unknown language, run for your life! Who wants a curse?

Sherry Hill

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