I had an accident. A terrible accident. In the grand scheme of things I was only a statistic, but I survived. And in doing so I lived to see the day where my one count would make a difference. Yes, the world got wise to the fact that human heads, bicycles, and sides of houses DO NOT MIX.

This was back in the day when kids where not required to were helmets when riding bicycles. Hell, back then you didn't have to wear a seat belt on a roller coaster let alone in an automobile. Times sure were different.

So, the story goes: one day… in the alley behind my house, …the one with the steep hill... and the tight houses… and the parked cars…, I decided I would ride down the hill as fast as I could on my bike. I mean, what does a kid have to do to have fun in an old coal mining town in summertime? This was it. I went up to the top of the hill, turned, and pumped my legs as fast as I could to keep up with the fast moving wheels. It was then that I noticed something peculiar. Something one can only spot from this unique vantage point. I noticed... from the corner of my eye… how funny the dots that made up the road looked as one sped past them. So… while speeding down the hill as fast as I could…. in the alley with the tight houses and parked cars… on that HOT summer day… I decided to fixate on this newfound phenomenon.

I remember once being in a dungy old auditorium taking a course in Driver's-Ed when I half-heard the instructor say "do not fixate your eyes on any one object". If only I were bold enough to stand up and declare "I WAS THAT CHILD!" Even now I can revive the image of hitting the side of a house much like one envisions a bug hitting a windshield. The kind of image archived in one's memory only as a portrait of fact, long after the fact has faded. I had been "blacked" out… was brought back to reality… and then "knocked out"…all in a flash. I awoke in the glare of the streaming sunlight, my body covered in a thick green army blanket.

Fast-forward to 1985. I can feel the room spinning as I sit opposite the desk of a recruiter for the United States Army. Now, one would think that, being a man of the world, a recruiter for the U.S. Army has seen and heard it all. And now, based on the events that took place that day, I'm confident he has.

Most of the meeting consisted of the recruiter asking me a series of questions while he filled out a very long Government-type form. All the answers were quick and straightforward. The recruiter's eyes never left the paper as we proceeded.

I could see from across the table that the space in which he was writing could never hold the descriptive images that came to mind. "You see, I was riding my bike and…" I had to think quickly. I needed an action to describe my surgery. My head was dented in, much like a tin can. All the surgeon really did was "pop" it back out. The recruiter noticed the delay in my response. His eyes, now leaving the paper, were about to meet mine. I thought to myself "skull… Dis-placement…, skull…" I quickly converged on the words.

Of course I had no reply, shocked at the words that came back to me and the gruesome image that went with it. I tried to catch my breath but before I could he did something that would baffle all of my reasoning for years to come.

Even though I would be starting college the next fall and my life was then turning in a different direction, I never did hear back from the United States Army. And I know now that the correct terminology for my surgery is "Compressed Skull", not "Skull Replacement". But as I mentioned at the top of this page… this was a different time.

The procedure to correct skull compression, such as in the case of our young Stacks, can require a procedure known as "trepanation." This procedure requires that a small piece of skull be removed in order to relieve the pressure on the brain. Trepanations have been performed throughout recorded history. (See the home page International Trepanation Advocacy Group (I-TAG) for more information on the colorful history of trepanation.)

When Stacks had his unfortunate accident, his parents were given the choice of two procedures. The first, the expensive one, involves the surgeon "popping" out the dent in the skull with an instrument similar to the equipment used to remove dents from car bodies, seen here to the right. This procedure, like auto body repair, leaves the head looking pretty normal only requiring occasional touch up sanding and painting should the body filler compound chip or flake with age. The second procedure is the economy procedure. The resulting head shape can be noticeably different than the original head shape. Fortunately, this can be easily fixed with the use of a hat as shown below.

As can be seen, the hat completely hides the results of the surgery. In Stacks' case, his parents -- in spite of the limited savings a life in the mines afforded them -- decided to spare no expense in order to give Stacks the freedom to go through this world hatless. As you can see from our Photo Gallery, Stacks proudly wears no hat during his performances with Voodoo DeVille (though some would prefer he would).


without hat	with hat