From lorne.stir.ac.uk!strath-cs!bnr.co.uk!pipex!howland.reston.ans.net!news.sprintlink.net!tequesta.gate.net!inca.gate.net!fheasley Fri Oct 28 14:31:28 1994
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From: fheasley@gate.net (DrHeasley)
Newsgroups: rec.pyrotechnics
Subject: The True Meaning of Horror
Date: 26 Oct 1994 20:34:58 GMT
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As a kid growing up in the late '50's I found lots of opportunities to do interesting things. Some of them got me in trouble. Some got me into lots of trouble. One of them almost killed me.

Being of a scientific mind frame and having an innate fascination with energetic sciences I lwas fascinated with the potential of gunpowder I learned about from a babysitter when I was eleven. I made numerous batches of green powder using KNO3 and sulfur flowers from drugstores ("for an experiment") and charcoal brickets crushed with a hammer or ground up using the rough surface of a shovel. The quest was twofold: rockets and firecrackers, as the state where I lived had prudently outlawed both, leaving kids with no option except to buy on the black market at inflated prices or make their own.

Getting good explosions was a problem, though, until I discovered that potassium chlorate and red phosphorus would explode even when minimally confined. Jetex fuse worked well enough, and we made many "firecrackers" using large gelatin capsules. I shoul d have known there was a problem when several of them exploded in my pocket as I landed from a 3 foot jump off a fence, but the joy of releasing and watching the power was too alluring.

Being good parents, mine had of course forbidden me to experiment with these dangerous materials, and so there was no other option except to conduct my research when there was no one else at home.

One sunny morning in April when I was home alone I decided it was time to mix up a new batch. I poured the phosphorus and chlorate into a 4 oz prescription bottle which seemed to be about the right size, put on the cap and started to shake it to mix the chemicals. Noticing that shaking wasn't doing a very thorough job, I then decided to break up some of the clumps and stir it up with a glass rod.

I recall hearing the resulting explosion as a loud "CHUFFF", and seeing a bright flash of light. I learned the true meaning of HORROR when I saw both of my legs ripped from mid thigh to mid calf, with the bones of my knees sticking out of the bloody rema ins. My left hand was also mangled, and I was bleeding from my stomach as well. The first thought? "Oh my God, what have I done." The next? I need help fast.

On hands and knees, I dragged myself from my bedroom, down the hallway and out the front door where I laid on the pavement screaming for help as loudly as I could. Young children no more than 4 years old came to see what was happening. I pleaded with th em to get someone, but the shock and enormity was too much for their comprehension.

Finally a neighbor heard. She came to investigate, and then brought her car and a friend. They loaded me into the back and took me to the emergency room. My mother was found. I'll never forget the look in her eyes as she saw what had happened.

By the time they started the first transfusion I'd lost 6 pints of blood, about 2/3 of my total supply. The first operation to remove most of the glass and clean me up took eight hours. Two days later, they removed the dressings from my knees by ripping them out of my flesh with unimaginable pain. Four days later, skin grafts on my knees and reconstructive surgery on my hand took six hours more.

I was in the hospital for four weeks, in and out of sedation and incredible pain. Learning to walk again took most of the summer.

Thanks to expert medical care, the support of my family, and months of rehabilitation, my legs and hand are fully functional. I have only the memories, the scars, and some glass fragments that could not be removed, to show for the experience.

My experience might have neutralized my interests in pyrotechnics, but it didn't. Instead, I learned caution, and went on to study the subject throughly, realize my ambitions and satisfy my curiosity. Years later I made wonderful skyrockets, satisfying explosions, and painted the sky with the fire of shells and comets.

And then I stopped. I've done what I needed to do to satisfy myself, and come to the conclusion that to go further would be wasteful and foolish.

Here are some of the things that I learned:

When growing children have an insatiable urge to do something, it's almost impossible to stop them. Laws won't work, neither will parental edicts. The worst way to deal with them is to forbid experimentation, because that just ensures that as a parent you won't know what's going on, with potentially disastrous results. Safety comes from the guidance and supervision of knowledgeable teachers, not simplistic edicts. "Just say NO" is a farce. It doesn't work.

If your kids want to experiment with pyrotechnics (or other areas) PLEASE see to it that they get knowledgeable, believeable guidance.

If your parents have forbidden you to experiment, please show them this story. It may save your life.

If you're an adult and you want to experiment, study everything you can find about the subject and then proceed with extreme caution. The majority of the stuff I've seen here in JRCB and other postings has been truly hair raising.

If you need information and you can't get it elsewhere, send email and I'll try to help.

Just say "KNOW"