Back then, the Outdoor Education Camp was an annual
highlight.  Local home school families of different stripes joined
together, rented a primitive 4-H camp and focused on a period of history or a
specific topic to study.  Costs were low,
friendships formed, and learning actually occurred.  One year we studied the Constitution; a local
judge was a guest lecturer as well as a judge for a mock trial. 

I was sitting across from a dad during lunch when his eyes watered
and he started to cough. 

“Are you okay, Bob?” I asked.  We made eye contact before he shook his head
and got up from his seat.  He didn’t make
it seven steps when we realized that Something was Very Wrong. 

“He’s choking,” I called out and the nearest man began the
Heimlich maneuver.

Instantly the dining hall was quiet, an intense quivering
quiet.

Terry thrust several times, to no avail. He kept at it, but it wasn’t working.

“Lord God,” I silently prayed, “You just can’t let him die here
in front of all these children! Help us!”

Another friend darted into the kitchen and called 911.  Mentally I rolled my eyes: we were 18 miles
from the closest ambulance, beyond a timely response.

“No, Nooo!!! Not my Daddy!”  The daughter’s sobbing wail was the only
sound that broke through the strained silence.

Bob’s body was slumped forward and drool dribbled out of blue
lips.  He repositioned Terry’s hands
higher on his abdomen before Terry thrust once again.  The piece of carrot popped out, Bob’s face
pinked up, and everyone took a collective breath. 

Though stunned, we paused and prayed, giving thanks for the deliverance.

Before the evening meal a paramedic gave us a talk on the Heimlich, a nice, clean, clinical echo of the real thing we had earlier witnessed.  Two striking points embedded themselves on my psyche.

1.  Because choking and gagging are queer, risky spasms of weirdness, our first impulse is for privacy and preservation of dignity.  But in distress, isolation could become termination.  Bob was headed to the bathroom.  Had he made it there, he may have died.   Isn’t there a life lesson here?  So often we are more concerned about shielding our distress from the eyes of others than (seeking and) receiving needed assistance.

2.  When you are choking, you cannot talk.  Communicate your problem by pantomime, hands pointing at your throat or encircling your throat.  If you see someone choking, you need to talk for them. The first question is “Can You Breathe?” They can respond nonverbally to that question.

That noon after sanity was restored, we gathered together our stunned senses. There was a moment when the drama of it all absorbed all conversation. Soon a buzz began throbbing  as everyone rehearsed their perspective of the story.  A lot of food was left unfinished that meal. 

A local reporter had spent a few hours at the camp that day and had joined us for lunch.  After the dramatic interruption, a mom turned to him, picking up the thread of conversation and said, “As you can see, home schoolers tend to emphasize hands on learning!”