My grandma was born in 1906. So she was old school. She came from that era when having fun did kill you. Name any activity and my grandma could tell you a story of someone who was horribly maimed or killed doing it.
She was like an encyclopedia of tragedy.
She knew at least seven our eight kids who literally shot their eye out. Including one she claims shot out both.
Even the most banal stuff, like paper airplanes and spit balls. I told her I was going rollerskating.
“Oh, I wish you wouldn’t. That’s how the little Londrigan boy died.”
“It’s Skateland gramma. I’m not going to be in the street where I can hit by a car.”
“Oh he didn’t get hit by a car. He got a blister from the skate and the dye from his socks got into his bloodstream and it killed him.”
“I’m wearing tube socks.”
She was like Wikipedia. Just watch her page load as she retrieved another horribly tragedy from the back of her mind.