FALLING: The road came up to meet me, as the Irish blessing goes, but I did not feel blessed at all. It wasn't a road but a concrete landing at the Oak Park Green Line station, Dec. 11. One slip on somewhat slushy stair, and down I went on both knees, like St. Paul leaving his saddle on the way to Damascus. Nothing so memorable as the world turns, but shocking nonetheless.

The knees hit the concrete before you could say here-I-come, and there I sat with legs beneath me, hyperventilating, still holding on to the railing. Zowie!

The para's had me in the ER in 15 minutes. I called the lady of our house on my handy cell; she came running. The X-ray machine provided the bad news - tendons no longer attached to knee bone, both legs.

In due time, 24 hours later, the tendons had been reattached, and I had acquired two inconvenient friends, ankle-to-thigh casts on each leg. Forty-eight hours after that, I was in our living room, having been gotten out of my hospital bed hours earlier by my doc and having walked a few steps.

The rest is a tale of being patient, not especially in pain, getting in and out of bed, walking around, trying this, trying that with physical and occupational therapists' and visiting nurse's counsel, and in general being pampered by lady of house and five of six kids, one of them being out East with husband and kids of her own.

One trick was simple enough - elevate monitor and keyboard and stack up reams of paper for mouse and leaning purposes and ah-hah! a PC on stilts at which I could stand and compose and surf and stay in touch with the world. Standing time was limited but adequate.

Another was more complicated: #2 Son fastened a bar diagonally to the window frame next to the toilet. Holding firmly to it, I eventually was able to lower and raise myself from one of a house's most important fixtures.

Then there were books and back issues of magazines and a $15 hand-held radio from R-Shack and TV with its panoply of talk and NFL and bowl and Bulls games and in time chairs-with-arms into which I could lower myself to sit and watch and read and listen. Lot of heavy lifting of self, as while holding triangle hanging over my special bed.

And family and friends who visited and brought soup or whole meals, but most of all family. Eventually, I did away with the walker. Getting around became routine. For Christmas dinner I stood at end of table, weakening early but having a good share of the good time.

Coming up is cast-off day, six weeks and a day after the tendon reattachment. By the fourth week, I was negotiating two flights - hanging on bannister, going down backwards, like Frankenstein's monster - and backing into car's back seat for the impending short trip to doc's office. Then it will be a matter of getting the darn knees to bend again, I hear, but so far so good.

See you at the el station.

WINNING: Meanwhile, as fur flew in early December at OP District 97 about ability grouping--for the umpteenth time in that district--two great thoughts arrived in these precincts:
One: Schools have ability-grouping - actually achievement-grouping--in sports, why not in the classroom? After all, some feel left out because they don't make the team, but we do not for that reason ignore achievement, do we? We'd be backing into a community meat-grinder if we did.
Two: While we're at it, how about rehabilitating the R-word, as in remedial reading, 'riting, and 'rithmetic? Remediation, people! Hit that kid early, hit him and her hard, getting him up to snuff and along the way - teachers know how to do this, in fact do it already - administering a bit of teacherly sugar to make the medicine go down. But as for lumping the student temporarily without a clue in with high-flyers, perish the thought.

Not everyone makes varsity.