I always loved umbrellas. My grandmother had an umbrella stand filled with assorted sized and colored umbrellas. She was terribly indulgent in every way but letting me or my sister play with the numerous and tempting umbrellas.
My grandmother would tell a story of a young boy who, while playing blissfully with an umbrella, poked his eye out. I always envisioned a pouting child with a patch over his eye. His one good eye pleading to put the dangerous shiny umbrella down. The bigger question was where did his eye disappear to and couldn’t they just pull it out? Was it lodged in his brain and if it was still attached to the optic nerve, could he see what he was thinking?
There was also the dire warning of keeping your head and hands in the car. Many a tale was woven of decapitation and dismemberment. I imagined ditches filled with hands and heads bouncing down the highway.
I still keep my hands and head inside of a moving vehicle. Why take chances in becoming the main character in a cautionary tale like that? And while, I have never been harmed by an umbrella, I often prefer to walk in the rain.