My Dad loves to tell the story of growing up mainly at his Aunt and Uncle's house in Trooper, PA which is right up the road from Valley Forge and more importantly to the story later; Norristown, PA

He grew up there because his father died suddenly when he was 12 and my Great-Uncle Ray became a father figure to him.

He would play baseball in an open lot down the street with other neighborhood kids from age 12 to age 16-17, so 1957-1962 timeframe.

This "old" guy used to come by the lot in the summers occasionally and would play catch with them and help them play baseball and seemed to be really good at it. Looking back my Dad says he was probably like 25-30 years old but he was "old" to a bunch of 12-13 year old kids.

Years later he found out who this "old" guy was: it was Tommy Lasorda! He may have been home visiting his family in Norristown and fellow MLB player Bobby Wine who still lives on that street there in Trooper.

Shared one on my dad, but here's one on my maternal grandfather:

Papa (we pronounced that paw-pah down in South MS) was a newlywed young man during the depression and was making ends meet helping on logging. His brother in law was running a tractor trying to loosen some stumps. Now back then there were no rubber tires on the wheels, just diagonal steel cleats.

Anyhow, they paused the tractor for him to bend down and try to remove some debris behind the tractor, and with the noise of the tractor whoa was confused with go! and brother in law started backing up. Papa was pushed down into the debris pile, and the tractor wheel ran over his head. Brother in law happened to see his flailing arms and legs in his peripheral vision and pulled back forward, off his head.

Since the ground was soft where the dirt work had been ongoing, my grandfather was miraculously still breathing, but was lying in a huge pool of blood. When brother in law got to him he was only semi conscious and part of his skull was clearly missing, where you could visualize things that aren't supposed to be seen on front of his head.

They had no other mode of transport than walking, so they walked to the nearest home, some 5 miles away, with Papa's shirt wrapped around his head to stop the bleeding and hold everything in. When he made it to the hospital they immediately took him to Jackson, the closest big hospital. There, they attempted unsuccessfully to plate his head to cover the lesion. This caused excruciating headaches for him, and finally they just had to allow it to heal by 2nd intention.

Until the day he died, my grandfather had a deep "groove" that ran from his left medial eyebrow up toward the top of his head about 3" or more, and the tissue around it was very soft as well. Every blue moon he got severe headaches, but overall he had a good quality of life and lived to 80.