Maybe it's just me but when I start to remember my youth I always focus on a small, insignificant event, place, or time. Today I started thinking about my dad's redwood woven fence. You remember those from the 50's don't you. All the really cool people had them. My dad was the first in the neighborhood to build one and all the envious neighbors quickly followed suit.
Building that fence was the first opportunity I had to actually help with a project. Of course I had tried to help before but my efforts were declined.....I think it had to do with the time I wandered into a freshly painted room, saw the trim paint sitting there opened and waiting to be used. I decided I would "help" by repainting the walls with the trim paint. Hey, I was like three at the time. The fence project was too big for one man and I was the closest thing to a helper my dad could come up with so I got to help.
"We" built the fence over the course of a week. We set the posts on a weekend and added the woven redwood during the evenings of the following week. It was a wonderful experience and I gained a whole new respect for this man in the family who could do absolutely anything he decided to do....and do it well! The fence was beautiful...in its early 50's kind of way. When it was finished my dad added a deep redwood stain to the already red redwood. He was an artist with paint. He then announced a rule....just one rule...easy to follow...DO NOT CLIMB THIS FENCE. I think he actually chiseled the command into stone but I may have imagined that part.
Now in fairness to all the boys who have ever been five and seven years old, it is a proven fact that fences are meant to be climbed. Fences with horizontal weaves all through them are especially in need of climbing. The fact that our dad added a 1 x 6 cap all along the length of the fence added the responsibility of not only climbing the fence, we must walk all along the top of it. We had to. It was our job and our destiny.
Glenn and I waited until the next weekend was over before trying out our balance on the fence. Maybe we waited that long to give the stain enough time to dry. Or maybe we waited to make sure all the posts were set properly. Or just maybe we waited that long because it was that long before our dad went back to work. At first we just climbed up and down the fence. We had a six foot advantage in height when we stood near the top. We yelled at our friends. We waved and showed off for the girls...not that we cared anything about girls then of course.
After a few days just climbing to the top became mundane. We decided that in the interest of manhood the top should be walked. I was older than Glenn by a couple of years so naturally I was more manly than him. I made the first trip down the fence balancing myself with youthful stupidity. Glenn quickly followed and made the trip successfully as well. After that, the top of the fence became a much traveled trail. We had a ball but sadly, even walking the top became boring.
After seeing a couple of knights facing off in a joust on horses and long poles in some movie, Glenn and I decided to do the same on top of the fence. This was a short-lived activity though because I was taller and had a longer reach. After a couple of falls off the fence Glenn decided it wasn't fun anymore. I thought it was a blast but I couldn't get anyone else to play the game with me.
As is the case with all toys, eventually the "new" wore off our fence. We went on to other adventures. And it wasn't because our dad led us out to the fence, pointed out all the scratches and lose boards, and said he was going to have to kill us. We just got bored with the fence....really.
I was sitting in the backyard a few years later feeling kind of blue. I was growing up too fast. After all, I was already twelve. I got to thinking about all the fun Glenn and I had on that fence. I decided to climb up and walk the top again. I made it all the way to the back of the yard without falling. On the way back, and just as I was over those vicious metal trashcans, I lost my balance. As I began to fall, I mentally ticked off all the rescue moves I could make to save myself from real pain.....actually all I thought was "oh no" (this is a family site) while wildly waving my arms in all directions. In one swing of my arm I touched a cable reaching from a tall pole to the back of the house. I grabbed it tight to stop my fall. It did not stop my fall. It snapped right off the house with exposed wires falling to the ground with me. I was a dead man. I hit the ground with a thud and expected the high voltage to fry me on impact. Instead, my sister came storming out of the house yelling at me and wanting to know what I had done. Her telephone call died in the middle of important gossip. Okay, there were two wires stretching across there. Fortunately, the high power line was well out of a twelve year-old's reach.
See, it's the little things...
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