Probably because of our recent correspondence, Newberg has been on my mind lately, including this incident that happened sometime back in the '80s.
Gloria and I were both at the church building in the middle of the week, working on bulletin boards and teaching aids for our up-coming Vacation Bible School. The only other person in the building was our youth minister, Brad. When it was time to leave, I had a huge armful of class materials that needed to go to my car, which was parked in the lot to the side of the building. It was raining hard (uh-huh, it was Oregon), and I didn't want to get the materials wet. Our church building was sort of an A-frame, although the roof didn't go clear to the ground. And the leading edge of the roof overhung the front of the building a few feet. I figured if I stayed close to the building, and ran through the flower bed instead of walking on the sidewalk, I would be sheltered by the overhanging roof, and could stay dry.
Off I ran, keeping right against the front wall, head down, watching where my feet were going (that was my mistake). All of a sudden WHAM! Some immovable, very hard object clubbed me on the forehead so hard that I was out like a light. I regained consciousness in a couple minutes, and found myself lying on my back in the flower garden, with Brad's and Gloria's concerned faces looking down at me. It took awhile for me to realize what had happened. As I had come to the corner of the building, I ran smack-dab into the 2x4 that was at the bottom of the roof edge. My description may not make any sense, so I've drawn a rough sketch so you'll understand. (Okay, maybe my sketch is even less effective than my words! I'm no artist.)
What a relief! I wasn't the only person who had fallen prey to this wicked, sneaky roof line; maybe I wasn't such a dunderhead. "I'm glad to hear I'm not the only one!" I said, while the big goose-egg throbbed on my forehead. "Who was the other person?"