DEBORAH M. PRUM

DEBORAH PRUM

Stories, Essays and Reviews

Radio Essay: Look Before You Leap

LOOK BEFORE YOU LEAP

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Look Before You Leap

As I look back on my life, I’ll have to admit that I’ve been plagued by less than stellar judgment. I’ve identified three categories: pure bad judgment, bad judgment with good intentions, bad judgment with bad intentions.

After college, I lived next to a quarry. During the summer, I would jump off of a small cliff (maybe 15 feet) into a sand pile. I loved the thrill of a free fall and a soft landing. One Super Bowl afternoon in February, I’d been hiking the quarry and happened to be standing on that cliff. I didn’t want to miss the kickoff, so instead of walking down the quarry path, I jumped off of the ledge.  I landed on frozen sand and cracked both heel bones. Bad judgment.

Years ago, we lived in North Carolina in a house perched on the tip of a steep hill. Our home backed a pleasant neighborhood, but the front looked out on a triple-X movie rental store and a fast food restaurant.  At the bottom of the hill was Loblolly Park.

Having no central air, we slept with our windows open. I am a light sleeper. Late at night, I was awakened by a man and woman yelling down at the park. I grabbed a fire poker and ran out the door. Down below, I saw the man yanking on the woman’s arm. I waved the poker and shouted, “Stop!” They looked up to see all four-foot-eleven of me standing on a hill so steep that I’d need a rope swing to get to them.

In the meantime, my husband, a sound sleeper, shook himself awake. He immediately called the police. By the time that he realized I was outside threatening people with a fire poker, sirens were approaching. My appearance distracted the perpetrator enough to allow the woman to run to the restaurant, where police arrested the man. The guy could have had a gun; the woman may not have been able to escape. However, she did pull away and Bruce did call the police who came equipped with more than a fire poker. I had good intentions, but bad judgment.

I take a hip hop/dance fusion class at a gym. To be able to see the instructor, I arrive early and stand to the side in the second row. I avoid the middle of the first row because I don’t want to throw off the class with my “creative responses” to the teacher’s directions. (Was that myright or yourright?)

One day a young, buff woman showed up late and jammed in next to me. She left me little room to swing my arms flamboyantly during songs, which I love to do. I felt annoyed but thought, smile and be nice.

Buff Woman boogied vigorously, often encroaching on my personal space. A hip-hop song started playing. Dance moves included diving down and slapping the floor. Usually, I only fake dive and I never slap the floor. I glanced to see this woman expertly plunging and thwacking.

Without exercising one iota of caution, I hurled my body down and whacked the floor with bothhands. A lightning bolt electrified my lower back. I spent the next nine days dealing with spasms. Clearly, this was a case of bad intentions combined with spectacularly bad judgment.

A birthday looms in my immediate future. I would like to say that I’ve lived and learned and that my judgment is improving. But clearly, I would be lying.

(Photo by Jen Fariello)
Deborah Prum’s fiction has appeared in The Virginia Quarterly ReviewAcross the MarginStreetlight and other outlets. Her essays air on NPR member stations and have appeared in The Washington PostLadies Home Journal and Southern Living, as well as many other places. Check out her WEBSITE. Check out her DEVELOPMENTAL EDITING SERVICES. Check out her PAINTINGS

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