Bad Sound

Just before the alarm went off this morning I heard the squeal of brakes, breaking glass, and then a woman's voice, crying "Bob! Bob!" (Believe me, I tried to come up with less hackneyed words for these sounds, but that's what it was, folks.) It was still dark out, but I could see that a man had been hit by a car and was lying in the street; his female companion--I don't know if they were married, and it didn't seem like the time to ask--was kneeling at his side, crying his name over and over. While Spouse called 911 I ran out with a blanket and pillow--I may not be a trained first responder, but I know that you keep an accident victim still and as warm as you can--then retreated. There were already half a dozen people milling about, and since I'm not a trained responder I didn't want to add to the chaos. From what I could see, Bob was regaining consciousness, was somewhat disoriented, could move his legs--in fact the people with him were having some trouble getting him to stay still. The Fire Department showed up about five minutes after we called. In due course Bob was loaded onto a gurney; Spouse retrieved our blanket and pillow; the crowd (except for a motorcycle cop who was taking notes from the kid--one of our neighbors--who I think may have been driving the car) dispersed. I feel bad for all concerned; Bob was apparently out for his early morning constitutional--he was wearing black sweatsuit and sneakers, and was probably not highly visible. The kid was not driving fast, and the street lighting here is not terrific. It seems to me to have been one of those awful true accidents where no one is entirely to blame. I hope Bob is okay. I hope the kid is okay too. I hope that's the last time I ever hear that peculiar combination of sounds.

Beat, feint, attack

For a moment, during footwork drill at fencing tonight, I thought I was going to be the only one in class (all the other people who were working with me were there only for the footwork, then went upstairs to bout--being in the downstairs studio when there are three strips of fencers overhead is like sitting in the basement when there's a heffalump cotillion overhead). Just in time Mo--one of the women in class with whom I'm pretty well matched--showed up. our instructor decided we'd work on a few specific things: feints, disengages, beats, and direct attacks. We managed three bouts to five points each--that's potentially nine points per bout, and that's a lot of work. The thing I like about working with on specific tactics during bouting is that I start to feel really solid with them. By the time we finished I was in a muck sweat; one of the hardest things for me to remember is to attack, but tonight I was (for me, anyway) fierce.

I won all three bouts: 5-4; 5-3; and 5-2. See me do the Happy Dance of Fencing!