The first time my parents left us home alone was in 1988. My oldest brother was 12 and he was left in charge.
Now... before you start to judge....
We were living in a rented a house on a large 20 acre parcel of land. Our neighbors/landlord lived in the only other house on the fenced and gated property. We were very safe.
My dad had been working out of town and my mom had decided to drive our big green 1970’s Dodge van to visit him. She was planning to be gone for 2 nights. So Friday evening she left.
My mom had bought us a giant box of frozen corn dogs and the fridge was filled with capri-suns! (I know that there was other food in the house but, those items are the most memorable)
We were all pretty good kids, and we listened to my brother.
If he told us to clean, we cleaned.
If he told us to feed the animals, we fed the animals.
If he told us to go to bed, we went to bed.
If he told us that we needed to build a hang-glider out of left over pvc pipe, duct tape and garbage bags, thats what we’d do, AND that is what we did.
The project started early Saturday morning, after finishing our breakfast corn dogs. My brother Johnny drew up a diagram and made estimated dimensions for the contraption. My brothers (Johnny and David) were in charge of the handsaw and I got to help by ripping off pieces of duct tape. My two younger sisters (Robyn and Julie) were in charge of Dane our baby brother. Watching Dane was like trying to chase a cheetah. He had endless amounts of energy and you had to watch him constantly because he was regularly getting hurt.
Unbeknownst to us, mom had some car trouble on the way to visit our dad. She noticed the thermostat was very high, so she pulled over into a service station. She parked the van just as smoke and flames began to emerge from under the hood. Luckily she got the hood open and a good Samaritan helped her put out the fire.
Somehow, my mom got ahold of my dad.
I imagine it went something like this... she used a pay-phone to call the job site trailer, then the superintendent had to venture out onto the job site to find my dad, who was probably operating a crane or some other heavy equipment. After a few attempts at yelling at each other over all the noise of a construction site, he would finally get the information. He would have walked back to the job site trailer and tried calling back to the pay phone where my mom was waiting. (she, asking other people not to use the pay phone while she waited for the phone, to hopefully, ring soon). With emotion in her voice she would have explained what happened, then tried to describe which of the MANY service stations she was at. My dad would inevitably know the exact station she was referring to and would immediately be in his truck and off to save my mom with tow-straps in hand. (My dad has something of a photographic memory when it come to highways, maps and where the cheap gas is)
They stayed somewhere that evening, then set about transporting the van Saturday morning. Dad used a tow-strap to pull the van home with his old Chevy pickup truck. My mom had to ride in the van the entire way back to steer and to keep the van from rear-ending the pickup. So she rode for hours in the hot, partially scorched van as they slowly made their way back to our house where mischief was at play.
Meanwhile, back home after finishing our lunch corn dogs and caprisuns, it was time to test the glider! Robyn, Julie, Dane and I watched the test flights. They started by running across the back yard and actually getting a bit of lift off. We all cheered. Then they decided it was time to move things to the roof. It was entertaining to watch them hoist it up there.
With a yell of “CONDOR MAN” Johnny jumped from the roof. It actually worked... not great, but he did fly. The landing was messy and they needed to repair the contraption. Lots more duct tape and trash bags were used to reinforce the hang glider. Now it was Davids turn. He too soared off the roof and onto the back lawn. The glider, once again needing repairs, they set about fixing it up. Towing it up to the roof once again Johnny heard the unmistakable sound of our dads old pickup truck. He crept up and looked over the ridge line of the roof, just in time to see the truck and van coming thru the gate. Johnny jumped from the roof, it was the best jump so far, although he landed a bit harder than before and I think he hurt his ankle a bit.
Through lots of nervous giggles we stashed the hang glider on the side of the house, quickly gathered up the scraps and trash, put the ladder back into the garage and ran out to meet the truck and van as it rolled up the long driveway.
.................................
I am not exactly sure how long it took for my parents to find out about the hang glider, but eventually they did. I believe my dad found it on the side of the house. I think he was actually impressed. When my mom found out, she sat us down and told us all the things that could have happened... broken bones, angry landlords etc... but I think she too was secretly impressed.
The moral of this story...
Don’t buy your kids expensive electronics let them build something from the leftover irrigation supplies. Then let them eat corn dogs and jump off the roof. They wont have great childhood memories like this if they’re inside watching TV or playing video games and... they probably wont get hurt. But, I think childhood is more fun with a cast on your arm anyway.
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