Flying Away

A little boy wants to fly away

 

The first thing I remember ever being interested in, besides Christmas and Santa Claus, was airplanes and flying. Images of biplanes, monoplanes, jets and spaceships roared, buzzed, and whizzed about inside my young head like bees in a hive. I learned to make paper airplanes by the age of four, and spent much time outside, tossing them into the air, imagining that I was somehow riding in their cockpits. Not satisfied with the fragile, paper structures, I “borrowed” mother’s good scissors one day and cut out wings and a tail from a tin can, and then attached them to a stick fuselage. It wouldn’t fly, but dad was impressed with the craftsmanship and kept it on display in his watch and clock shop for many years afterwards, telling people, “Sammy made this when he was four.”

Deviating somewhat from the subject, I must tell you that dad was my only supporter. He liked to bounce me on his knee and rub my head. No one in my family ever hugged or kissed, so in regards to the showing of affection, being bounced and having my head rubbed was as good as it got. Mother only slapped or spanked, and let me know early on that children were needy little “varmints” (her word) whose only purpose in the world was to make her life miserable. Seeing that I always needed feeding, bathing, cuts bandaged, etc, I accepted that as the truth. An exception to her rule seemed to be my older sister, Mary, who was a younger, prettier version of mother, but just as adept at slapping my face and screaming at me.

Getting back to the talk of flight, I sometimes got to go to a movie or look at a comic book, (we had no TV) and that is how I found out about Superman. He flew over tall buildings and even into outer space; all without an aircraft of any kind. The way he did it was so incredibly simple, too, I noted. It was that cape, and I knew where to get one. Varmints are stealthy, so I sneaked into the house like a mouse and took one of mom’s pillowcases. Such thievery would make her angry, I knew, but it didn’t matter because by the time she noticed it missing and blew her top, I’d be long gone; up in the clouds, free as a bird. I reckoned my one last devious act would make her happy, in fact, so there was no doubt at all as to the appropriateness of the decision.

It was difficult to tie the knot under my chin, and no matter how far down I turned my eyeballs or twisted my head, I simply could not see what I was doing. Having a sound grasp of engineering principles and keen respect for the laws of physics, I knew it was imperative that the pillowcase stay firmly attached and not come off in flight, lest I experience another “hard” landing. (I had fallen from a moving car just weeks earlier and still bore the scrapes, bumps and bruises of nature’s formidable, dynamic forces.) Another, better attachment method was needed, so I sneaked into the house a second time and acquired a diaper pin. Being extremely careful not to stick myself, I pinned the pillowcase together, creating a strong, reliable joint. There, that was it; I was ready to take flight. So eager was I to leave the world behind that I didn’t even say ‘goodbye’ to my pet chicken, Larry. Looking toward the back fence and the big open field that lay beyond, I chose my flight path and commenced running in that direction. I knew speed was essential for a good take-off, so I ran faster than I’d ever run before. The wind whistled past my ears, planks on the side of our old white house sped by in a blur, and with the Superman cape flapping wildly behind, I leaped into the air, only to fall immediately back to earth. Out of runway, I put on the brakes and circled back around to the starting point. I hadn’t gone quite fast enough, that’s all. Again, I ran toward the back fence, faster and faster, leaping repeatedly into the air, but never quite managing to stay aloft. I needed a little push; just something to give me a bit of altitude, then I’d soar  like a Navy F4U-1 Corsair!  

I’d not planned to involve myself in a more complicated, risky endeavor, but had gone too far to turn back. Mother might catch me, but I had no other choice but to use mine and dad’s bed as a catapult. A clear point of egress from the house necessitated that the front door be open, so I swung it wide and stuck a small rock beneath it. (Do you see how thorough I was?)  Sneaking like a mouse once again, I made my way to the very back room of our house, climbed onto the bed and started bouncing. Higher and higher I jumped, and when I knew I’d achieved enough altitude, I leaped forward like a mighty bullfrog.

Twong!!!!!

The iron bedpost met my head, I ricocheted off and crashed to the floor in a bitter heap of earthbound failure. I saw stars and heard bells ringing while blood ran down my face and into my eyes. Defeated, not by the Red Barron, but by a stupid bedpost, I moaned in agony.

Mother heard the commotion and stomped angrily into the room.

“My god, what have you done this time, Sammy?”

 “I heard him jumping on the bed, mama,” said Mary, sticking her head out of her bedroom.

All I wanted to do was to fly away, but instead, I made more work for mother.

“This kid has cracked his head open. Mary, get me the first aid kit. Just look at all this blood--I’ll never get it out of that pillow case. I swear, you kids are gonna be the death of me!”

               The End

Author's Note

This story is mostly true and I have a nice scar to prove it. In all fairness, mother did start to warm up to me after I was in my twenties.

Reviews

[barleygirl]

This is truly one of your finest, even tho I say that all the time, this one really made me belly laugh outloud at your demise. What makes this story sing is the way it's laden with attitude. I've never seen you convey that smart-a*s what-the-f**k attitude to such a palpable degree in any of your other stories. There are so many things I can relate to here, I can't list them all. I tried to take off by running down a huge grassy slope, but a great dane thought I was doing an alarming maneuver, so he jumped up on me, huge paws on my 6-yo shoulders. I wasn't hurt, but scared the hell out of me. You capture the best little childhood nuggets, which in turn, help flush out our own anecdotes! (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Samuel Dickens]

Thank you, Margie. Once again, you make me feel better than I thought I was. When my hair was black, the scar across my right eyebrow was easily seen. There's one across my throat, too, that I received not long after the flying accident. On quieter days, I merely locked myself inside of refrigerators.

[Alicia Schroeder]

This story has great imagery in it, as kids our imaginations take us to the most bazar places..lol.. Beautiful writting

[roarke]

lol. sounds like you were lucky to make it to your twenties.....
I stuck to jumping off roofs, single story roofs. At least you didn't tar and feather yourself with Larry's pluckings...... and try to fly like Icarus....

This particular story tastes like it should have a little more. I can see a diptych or triptych of tales seeded off of this. It seems like communication was ready to break through between you and mom and the story stops. It's not nice to tease your readers. lol

[Christy Sargent]

I am thumbing through my memories and my photographs from the mid-seventies Sam. That is where your lovely story has taken me this afternoon. Some of the details are different but the story of first "flight" remains the same among children. I used a bath towel and a big safety pin to make Geron's first superman cape. After I got my sewing maching I advanced to sewing an "official" superman cape out of the brightest red fabric I could find. I have just enjoyed looking at the photo of little Geron who, at the age of six, sat so proudly on the lawn, ready as you were, to take off. Thank you for this wonderful story of the vulnerable little fellow who was you and for the opportunity, through your lovely story, to revisit memories of my own little superman.

[Desert Dreamer]

There is great power in the imagination. Great story!

[JelliFyshKissUs]

Childhood memories. They are truly the greatest stories. Who can't relate to having a dream? Very well written, and the flow put me at ease. Enough to forget my fear of flying. Great work.

[Alysa Salzberg]

What a great, well-written story. It sucked me right in. One question: did you really have a pet chicken, or was that a joke because chickens can't fly? At any rate, I adored it, thanks so much for the wonderful read!

[Alicante lullaby]

emma is right..you were an imaginative child..but not a varmint ,a resitive soul that needed to experience all...and now we know why your writing moves us so..
i was in habit of sticking buttons and grains into my nose and ears..had to go to doc. couple of times,ha..so it reminded me of that.

[Stacey Watts]

Oh goodness. I think this was a well written story. My mother was a nurse and so I can relate whole heartedly to this reaction. This story reminds me of my son who is so involved in trains at times I think he is one. Great job on this made me smile.

[Miss Coral]

Aww. This is adorable. The tone and words are so natural, consistent, just wonderful overall. I love the thoughts and personality behind it. I did things of this sort as well.. and not too long ago, haha.

Excellent write!! ^_^

[emmajoy]

What a wonderful, wonderful story, Sam - seems you were imaginative even young! I'm so glad you didn't fly ' .. up in the clouds, free as a bird .. ' because we'd not have your wonderful writing to read!

The description of your dad's affection and your mum's lack of it is quite an eye opener; as for Mary, hope she's friendlier now!

Your words just tumble out so naturally, you took me along with each move in your plan, great description of how you contrived the 'cape' - logical really at whatever age you were! As for 'Twong!' - it absolutely represents that jumping on the bed and going for it!!!

Sad, sore ending, poor lad .. but at least your mum discovered you hiding in her family!

Another gem!