Some people treat falling as evidence of an underlying, worrisome, medical condition. I have refined it to an art form. Those of us who have crossed the threshold of a certain age are now asked, as a part of one’s annual medical evaluation, “Have you suffered a fall recently?” or “Do you fall often?”

Define often. Besides, in most instances, I bounce right back up, resetting the timer until the next misadventure.

One friend of ours became quite offended when, during a hospital stay for an unrelated procedure, she noticed her wrist band bore the words “Fall Risk.”

If I ever end up in the hospital, which I have avoided except for a few ER visits, my tag won’t say fall risk, it will say “fall certainty, family advises staff just ignore.”

It’s not any physical condition, it’s because my mind is continuously focused on the world around me, worms, stars, trees, colors, shapes in the mud, clouds, furry and reptilian creatures, spiders, people (in particular the looney-tunes looking ones), and interesting rocks.

My feet get offended by the lack of attention and conspire to bring my focus back to them. They don’t need to find anything hazardous to stumble over, sometimes I’ve tripped over air.

I’ve done some genuinely spectacular falls.

Once, hiking around Thanksgiving Day, on a mountain trail in Arizona, as my family was ahead of me while I took pictures of things that caught my eye, I tripped and did an acrobatic fall. I saved my camera at the cost of a gash on my leg that probably should have had stitches but we didn’t have any with us.

The only one who took pity on me was a woman wearing a turkey hat.

If you ask anyone in my family about the episode, after they stop crying laughing, they’ll tell you they saw me fall, rated it not my best, no my worst, and then laid on the ground laughing.

And so it goes.

Although not technically an inexplicable fall, I once managed to run over my daughter’s cross country skies and break them. While skiing in Lincoln Woods in New Hampshire, a sport I am not enamored off or skilled in, my wife and daughter would ski ahead to watch me come down what they called gentle slopes and I considered double black diamond 90 degree death traps.

My wife positioned herself and my daughter in the woods, where they considered it safe.

Hah!

Gaining speed, arms flailing, I managed to avoid all the trees protecting my daughter from me and ran over her skis, forcing us to have to walk back.

I was never asked to ski again. Which is okay with me, it is one of the most idiotic of human activities requiring weather that can kill you and pitting fragile human flesh and bones against frozen objects and immoveable trees.

If they ever do invite me to ski again, I might have to check on any recent insurance policy purchases.

Once, very early on in my relationship with my wife and before she knew of my unique skill, I was tasked with carrying a birthday cake from the car about thirty or forty feet into the house for her sister’s birthday.

Made it about five, came upon a freakishly tall ant, and the cake was no longer recognizable,

Lesson learned, never asked me again.

So, if someday you fall for an inexplicable reason, don’t panic and call for an appointment with a neurologist. Enjoy the moment. I have given my family hours and hours of laughter with mine, learn to embrace the experience. Besides, bones and flesh need practice healing.

Ring around the rosie,
A pocket full of posies,
Ashes, ashes,
We all fall down.