Last Sunday, I experienced one of the scariest things in my life. I did something stupid, something I've done dozens of times before. I ventured into an alley after dark, by myself to look for firewood for a backyard bonfire I was attending at a friend's house. I had just turned around to begin to head back when I saw three kids behind me all wearing black sweatshirts with their faces covered with bandanas. It was one of the warmest weekends all summer in Milwaukee, not sweatshirt weather. I knew I was in trouble-and about three seconds later, one of the kids pulled a gun from his waistband. I tried to run, but I was tripped, or shoved, or I just tripped over my own feet, still not sure. What I am sure of is that I quickly had three kids surrounding me and pounding my face in and taking everything I had on me, which wasn't a lot. They took my wallet and my keys, and beat me until I told them where my car was parked, then they let me go. I think the police picked the kids up before my friend even had a chance to call 911 because they had robbed someone right before me.
I had been pistol whipped above the right eye, kicked in the face while I was on my knees, and punched and kicked many times.
Somewhere in the attack, my right wrist sustained an injury, my casting wrist. I can hardly turn a doorknob, or start my car (I got my keys back right away). I have been just waiting for it to get better on its own, but it's been slow to heal. I think I may need to seek medical attention before I try to cast a fly or play out a salmon. I've been told I'm having PTSD too, some sleepless nights for sure. I thought I was going to die in that alley.