A Blast From the Past (Literally)

While talking with some friends last night,

my friend Jill mentioned she had a CPR class scheduled early this morning.

I was FLOODED with memories of Resusci-Annie being brought into our classroom in elementary school.

Do you remember Resusci-Annie?

Smart blue jogging suit, 

white Keds,

messy blonde hair,

breath that smelled strongly of rubbing alcohol.

Ringing any bells?

Resusci-Annie came to our elementary school as part of the BAT (Basic Aid Training) program through the American Red Cross.

I remember mom volunteers teaching us how to keep our cool as we took turns practicing calling our local emergency numbers on one of those old-fashioned high-cradle phones with a mouth piece that weighed seriously 8 pounds.

This was all pre-9-1-1, people.

I remember taking home a BAT sticker with our local fire, police and poison control phone numbers on it and putting it on our Harvest Gold rotary wall phone with the cord that could stretch all the way into my bedroom almost.

We also learned about water safety from my friend Kim’s mom and when the ice was thick enough to safely ice skate on a lake or pond. 

When she taught us that, I remember thinking, 

“That’s not what Dad said.”

But then again, I had already fallen through the ice 

on a pond at that point.

Clearly, Dad needed BAT training.

But my FAVORITE was the days Resusci-Annie came.

She came in with a professional of some sort, I think,

maybe the school nurse or an EMT.

I don’t know, I was focused on the suitcase they were carrying.

The one that carried an adult-sized rubber mannequin that I got the pleasure of mouth-breathing and pounding back to life.

I can just see my 4th grade Dorothy Hamill-haired self wriggling in excitement in her Wrangler jeans and denim vest doing a happy clap as they pulled Annie out of the suitcase.

It truly was a highlight for me.

Which speaks volumes.

The appropriate professional would lay out Annie on a table and we’d line up to take turns mouth-to-mouthing her and later giving her CPR.

So we got two trips up to Resusci-Annie.

They would wipe Annie’s mouth with a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol between each kid and that tasted pretty yuck but it did not curb my excitement in taking a shot at bringing this poor ill-fated jogger back to life.

I took it very seriously.

But not everyone did.

One boy in our class (I must find out who),

was a little aggressive in the mouth-to-mouth and blasted Annie’s lungs full and then some.

So much so that a great toot sound that ended in a high whistle escaped Annie’s body.

There’s just no bringing a 4th grade class back after that.

Let’s face it, it would be hard for me 

to straighten up now in that situation.

The appropriate professional was fairly upset and made the announcement, 

over our snickers and giggles,

that the boy had surely just killed Annie.

Snickers and giggles turned into guffaws and for real laughing out loud.

Another highlight was who got to help stuff Annie back into the suitcase.

Seriously, we excitedly shoved our arms into the air with anxious

“Me! Me! Me!”

shouts hoping to help shove her in a hopelessly too small case.

How did we feel good about doing this to poor ol’ Annie?

This is what we discussed in my driveway last night, laughing and reminiscing.

Jill sent this photo to me from her CPR class this morning:

with the message:

“No Keds!”

Annie is now an Andy?!

With no arms, legs or lower torso?!

Are we supposed to believe that CPR is going to bring Andy back?

Clearly he has other needs.

And I SO wouldn’t raise my hand and 

“Me! Me! Me!”

for the honor to shove him into a suitcase

or duffel bag

or backpack

or large purse.

 Jill said there is no mouth-to-mouth resuscitation anymore.

Just CPR.

So that boy in my class is no longer a danger to the ill-fated jogging Annie’s of this world.

Although I can’t speak to his CPR technique.

It obviously wasn’t funny enough for me to remember.

Have any Resusci-Annie memories?

I’d love to hear them!