Down With Gravity

A friend and I was talking the other night about things we did as kids.  Personally, I never got up on the roof with a bath towel, blanket or sheet convinced I could fly.  Honestly I can say my reluctance came from seeing other kids do this and the end result was usually painful. 

One year, back when I was 7 or 8, we had a real wet winter.  There was major flooding along all the rivers.  Creeks and ponds took over pastures and roads.  Before things got too bad, my dad moved all animal feed stored at ground level in the barn into the garage.  Feed is expensive.  Trying to replace it during the winter is even more expensive.  Next we moved the animals to the back porch.  People thought we had a huge covered back porch for entertaining.  Think again.  There was a creek between the house and barns.  As the water rose the animals would have been stranded on the other side.

When the rain finally slacked off me and a few friends got a brilliant idea.  We got a rope out of the garage.  Leaving shoes / boots behind we headed barefoot into the over-saturated west pasture.  There we played eenie-meenie to decide who would go first.  The first participant climbed as high as he could go in a sapling pine tree carrying one end of the rope.  He then formed a loop and tossed it over the top of the tree.  Those of us on the ground pulled back on the rope bending the tree.  And then we let go.

The object of the game was to launch the kid in the tree into the pond.  Never mind that it was winter and the air temperature was around 40 degrees.  Did it occur to us we might miss the pond?  Sure it did.  That was the beauty of picking then to play the game.  We all had experience in falling hard onto sun baked red clay and decomposed granite soil.  Trust me, it's like hitting concrete.

Not a one of us landed in the pond that day.  Several face planted and skidded.  There were full body flops.  We were literally in knee-deep mud.  No one got hurt save for a few scraps from tree bark.

We had so much fun the next day we opted to launch from taller trees.  One of the neighbors called my dad at work and squealed on us.  Allow me to point out it took Dad nearly a half hour to drive home.  He pulled in the driveway undetected by us.  We were having too much fun.  But we still hadn't achieved splashdown in the pond. 

To Dad's credit he did not yell at us to stop what we were doing before we broke our fool necks.  He stood on the back porch talking to the horses and laughed.  Only when he realized a tree we'd selected might put the launchee in danger did he shout for us to halt.  Dad was an engineer.  He knew all about vectors, magnitude and trajectory.  He gathered us on the porch, drew a quick sketch of the pasture and cautioned us to stay out of particular trees. 

Days later with the water level receding Dad donned his boots and took us out in the pasture.  Standing on the high ground above the pond he pointed first to the tree he stopped us from using and then to concrete blocks the tops of which were barely visible below the surface of the water.  The blocks were there to allow the pond to be drained onto the fire break protecting the house in the event of forest fire.  Dad realized certain trees would have launched us into harm's way. 

Remarkably I don't recall Dad ever saying "Stop that. Are you idiots? You're going to break something."  Maybe he was just thankful we all made use of the garden hose, washed off the mud and stripped to our underwear before going in the house.  I don't recall any of the other parents going ape shit and ordering their kid(s) to stay out of our pasture.  I do recall a supply of old clothes and towels in our servant's porch right next to instructions on how to use the washer and dryer.

A few of years later Dad put a stop to our winter time game citing we were damaging the trees.  We were heavier and older.  We were beginning to understand gravity.  Dad knew it was just a matter of time before a launchee panicked, tensed up before impact and got hurt. 

Now that I am older I believe I know why Dad let us play the game as long as he did.  I think that very first day he stood there on the porch telling the horses "look at how much fun they're having.  What I'd give to join them."  He was about the age I am now.  I imagine when he was a kid in Southeastern Washington, Dad and his brothers played similar games.  There for a moment while he watched us, Dad remembered being 7 and defying the laws of gravity.   



Kids. Shudder.

I am not, repeat NOT a kid person.  The problem is, me being a female opens the door to the vast majority of the population who are convinced I don't know my own mind.  My parents and male siblings used to volunteer me to babysit nieces and nephews.  This was a duty thrust upon me.  The joys of being the youngest.  Now if we are to consider the fact my oldest niece and nephew are closer to my age than their father, my brother, was and take into account I was nine when it all began you can see where I had little say.

Despite how often I voiced my lack of desire to have anything to do with children my folks often contracted me out to their friends or coworkers.  Capitalism be danged.  I didn't care if I was getting paid.  All I wanted was a way from those freaking kids.

Naturally as I entered into my late teens people began asking when I was going to settle down, get married and have kids.  Various guys who were considered good providers were pointed out or introduced.  The whole time I'd be going "hello, has anyone been listening to me?"  What is so hard to understand about I don't want kids?

In my twenties I constantly butted head with neighbors who seemed to feel my maternal instincts would kick in if I babysat their brats.  The word "NO" was alien to them.  They didn't comprehend.  Instead they sent their offspring over to my place, "go visit Aunt Debi".  Once the kid was out of sight the parents would run for their car.  Oh they thought they were being clever.  They assumed I'd play nice.  If the brat's parents managed making it out of the parking lot, well, then they were in for a rude surprise.  I had no qualms calling the cops and/or Child Protective Services and reporting an abandoned kid. 

Twice in my thirties I had the occasion to look at my boyfriend and ask "just how long have we known each other?"  Jeff decided we needed to start looking at houses.  He wasn't talking marriage, at first but I was cool with the idea of living with him.  We discussed number of bedrooms, bathrooms and floor plans.  All of a sudden Jeff mentioned school districts.  A warning flag went up in my brain.  Next came a comment about a pediatric clinic; he heard they're one of the best.  I stared at him long and hard and asked "how long have we known each other?"  Jeff stammered but came up with a figure pretty close to the correct answer.  "When during that time have you heard me say I wanted kids?"

We did not move in together.  About a year later Jeff got the great idea to try again.  The scene: dining room of a 3 bed 2 bath on quiet street in Aloha, OR.  We had walked around the house noting yards, patio and room either to park an RV or cultivate a veggie garden.  We began the tour of the inside of the house making it as far as the dining room before Jeff got dumb.  He said in a wistful tone, "can't you just see all of us sitting down for dinner?"

Me: "Who is us?"
Jeff, ignoring the question: "I like this room.  It's inviting and cosy.  I can see the kids doing homework or when the weather's bad all of us playing games like Yahtzee."
Me: "There's that all of us again.  And what kids?"
Jeff: "Our kids; our family."

Me: "Who are you planning on having kids with?"
(the real estate agent's eyes got huge and her jaw dropped to the floor.  she gave a little squeak.)
Jeff: "Why do you have to be like that?"
Me: "How long have you known me?  When have I ever said I wanted kids?"
Jeff: "I've known you long enough to say it's time for you to settle down and quit bouncing all over the place."  Then he stupidly referenced my biological clock and more than eluded to how I wasn't getting any younger.

(the real estate agent gasped and began looking about for a weapon to bludgeon him.  she was getting more irked than me.)
Me: "I do not have issues with my biological clock.  I do have issues with you."
Jeff: "Like you keep pointing out, we've known each other a long time.  We've had our fun.  It's time we settle down and raise a family."
Me: "I have no intention of having kids with you or anyone else.  Why is that so hard to understand?"

Let's skip the ugly part except to say I suggested he marry a brood mare.  Obviously this was the end of my relationship with Jeff.  But the question persists.  Why is it so hard for people to understand I'm not a kid person?

Everyone has limitations.  I acknowledge and accept mine.  Thankfully I born in the latter half of the twentieth century in a country where I have a say in the matter.  Personally I think if my situation had been different I'd end up in a padded room, eyes roving independantly and a thin line of drool oozing from the left corner of my mouth.