Emergency Stash

The reason we moved to Maine is known by all our friends, but I repeat it here to make a point. Three years ago my brother-in-law went over the handlebars on his bicycle, landing on his head. Had he been without a helmet, he would have died instantly. Instead he spent a couple of months in a coma and a couple more in a Boston rehab facility. We moved here to aid his recovery, which involves him often beating the heck out of me at Scrabble. Despite that, he still has memory and balance issues and minor, but still plenty annoying, impairment of his sight, hearing and taste.

All this explains my recent distress over seeing a random Internet photo of my very own son perched on his bike without a helmet. Granted, he is only 23 and they say the human brain is not fully formed until age 25. Let's hope his gets there.

Working against mothers is the state of Maine, which does not even require motorcyclists to wear helmets! This is just plain dumb, and goes hand in hand with the recent declaration of the whoopie pie as the state treat. Maybe those bikers, including my son, should just pile a few whoopies on top of their heads when they're out riding. Not only would those cakes soften the blow in an accident, but the ambulance drivers could snack on them on the way to the ER.