You know, the first time I parachuted, I was 10 years old. Back then, parachutin’ was a lot harder than it is now. At least it was for us. When I say us, I mean my cousin Coy, Greg Hunt, Little Rusty, Wee Whoa and me. Oh yeah, and Wee Whoa’s dog Bones. We didn’t parachute out of airplanes because we didn’t know anybody that had one, so we parachuted off of porches, out of trees, and stuff like that. In fact, we never parachuted off of anything high enough to allow our parachute to deploy properly.
“Wow!” Little Rusty exclaimed after one of my jumps. “The pair of shoot nearly opened that time.” That’s what we called them; pair of shoots, because that’s what we thought they were sayin’.
“Really?” I replied. “I wish we had something bigger to jump off of.” We all were tryin’ to think of somethin’ higher from which to jump.
“Why don’t you jump off of the house?” said Wee Whoa.
“Shut up Wee Whoa,” said Little Rusty, Wee Whoa’s older brother. “Nobody wants to hear nothin’ from a little ol’ kid.
About that time, Coy snapped his fingers. “I know,” he said. “Why don’t we jump off of the house?”
“Yeah!” said Greg.
“Great idea,” said Little Rusty.
“I just said that,” said Wee Whoa.
“Shut up Wee Whoa. We’re thinkin’ here,” said Little Rusty.
“You know,” I said, “that might work.”
We were all sittin’ in my back yard, so the obvious choice in houses was mine. Fortunately, my momma wasn’t home, so it was relatively safe. We stuffed our parachute, which consisted of an old bed sheet with bailin’ twine tied to the four corners, back into the old army backpack and headed up to the house. One by one, we shinnied up the antenna pole onto the top of the house. I bet kids now-a-days, don’t know how to shinny up a pole. Oh well, we’ll save that one for another day.
Anywho, after we got everybody, with the exception of Bones, up on top of the house we unpacked the parachute and Coy tied it to the back of my belt. I eased up to the edge of the house, looked back at everybody, put my two thumbs up, yelled Geronimo, and jumped. I hit the ground, and rolled and looked up. Their faces looked disappointed.
“It almost opened,” said Greg.
“We need a bigger house,” said Little Rusty.
“Why don’t you jump off of Coy’s house?” said Wee Whoa.
“Shut up Wee Whoa,” said Little Rusty. “Stupid little kid.”
“Hey, I know!” said Coy. “Why don’t we jump off of my house?”
“Hey Man, that’s a great idea,” I said.
“Yeah,” said Little Rusty.
“I just said that,” said Wee Whoa.
“Shut up Wee Whoa!” we all said.
Now, Coy had a two story house. Well, the front of the house was one story, but the back was two. His house was built into the side of a hill. So, we packed up the parachute and headed up to his house. This time we didn’t shinny up the antenna pole because we could climb up a trellis at the front of his house. We all got on top, and started walkin’ up toward the peak of the roof, and then back down to the back. We stopped about two feet from the edge of the house.
“Man, it sure looks a lot higher up here than it does from the ground,” I said.
“You ain’t a’kiddin’,” said Greg. “Look at ol’ Bones. He looks like an ant.”
“Well,” I said. “Whose turn is it this time?”
“What do you mean?” said Coy. “You always want to go first.”
“Uh…well….I just jumped….and…uh….I don’t want to hog all the fun.”
Little Rusty had gotten on his belly and was peekin’ over the edge of the house. “This don’t look like no fun to me.” He said.
“I know,” said Greg. “Let’s tie the pair of shoot to Wee Whoa.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” said Coy.
“Yeah,” Little Rusty and I said. We turned, and Wee Whoa was nowhere to be found.
“What happened to Wee Who?” someone asked.
“There he is,” said Little Rusty. We looked to where he was pointin’, and there Wee Whoa was with Bones.
“Chicken!” Little Rusty yelled. “Stupid kid.”
“Well, now what?” asked Greg and then they all looked at me.
“You know,” I said. “This pair of shoot really ain’t been tested.”
“You ain’t chicken, are you?” asked Coy. Back then, bein’ called a chicken was the worst thing you could be called.
“I ain’t no chicken,” I said.
“Good,” said Greg. “’Cause chickens can’t fly, and you may have to.”
I turned and looked back down. “It ain’t really that high,” I said, and swallowed hard.
“Let’s get this show on the road,” said Coy, and he started pullin’ the parachute out of the pack.
“Greg,” I said. “You tie it on. You tie the best knots.”
“No problem,” he replied.
“I got an idea,” said Little Rusty. “Why don’t we open the pair of shoot and hold it open, and then you jump.”
“That ain’t the way they do it in the movies,” said Coy.
“Hold it,” I said. “That’s not a bad idea.
I stood at the edge of the roof, behind me Coy stood holdin’ the middle of the chute and Greg and Little Rusty held both sides.
“Ready?” asked Coy.
“I guess,” I managed to say.
“Thumbs up!” said Greg. I put my thumbs up although they looked blurry they were shakin’ so badly.
I stood there. “Yell Geronimo and jump,” said Little Rusty. I closed my eyes.
“Geronimo,” I said sheepishly and leaned forward into space. It felt like I had only fallen a short way when I felt the chute pop open. My eyes were still clamped shut as I waited for the impact. I waited some more still hangin’ from my chute. Still no impact. Slowly, I opened one eye and noticed I was hangin’ horizontal to the ground. The first thing I saw was Wee Whoa and his dog Bones. I rolled my eye over and saw Coy, Little Rusty, and Greg runnin’ around the corner of the house. Finally, I opened the other eye and looked around. Either I was floatin’ down a lot slower than was possible, or I was hung up. I turned my head, so I could see above me. There, above me, was my parachute. It was not deployed. One of its strings was hangin’ on a small screw that was stickin’ out of the gutter that ran the length of the house.
“Looks like I tied them strings pretty good!” Greg yelled up at me.
“You want me to call the fire department?” asked Coy.
“He ain’t on fire,” said Little Rusty.
“What about the police?”
“What are they gonna do, shoot him down?” said Greg.
“You want me to see if your mom’s at home?” said Coy.
“NO!” I yelled. “I’d rather have the police shoot me down.”
Fortunately, I was a lot closer to the ground than I had been when I was on top of the house, but I was still ten feet or so from the ground.
“Unhook your belt!” yelled Wee Whoa.
“Shut up Wee Whoa,” said Little Rusty. “Stupid kid.”
“I know,” said Greg. “Why don’t you unhook your belt.”
“That’s a good idea,” said Coy.
“I just said that,” said Wee Whoa.
“Shut up Wee Whoa,” said Little Rusty.
“Unhook your belt,” said Coy, “then when you fall, pull your legs underneath you when you hit the ground.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Greg.
Slowly I started tryin’ to unhook my belt. I got it unhooked, but I was still hangin’.
“I might have tied one of them strings to your belt loop,” said Greg.
“Great,” I said, but I didn’t get the entire word out when the belt loop popped loose.
“Get out of the way!” yelled Coy.
Luckily, I was able to get my legs down just before I hit the ground. Unfortunately when my feet hit, my body kept movin’, passin’ my knees, and then my ankles, and then my feet, and I slammed into the ground. I lay there, facedown, for a minute, and then Greg rolled me over.
“You dead?” he asked.
“I don’t think so,” I said. Bones licked my face.
“Can you walk?” asked Coy, and before I could answer Greg and Little Rusty grabbed my arms and lifted me up.
“That almost looked like fun,” said Coy.
“Hey look,” said Little Rusty. “You’ve got a sweet gum ball stuck in your forehead. Makes you look like you got three eyeballs.”
Well, I survived. Later after they dragged me home, I told my momma I had rode my bicycle into a tree. She covered my wounds in Monkey Blood and sent me back outside. All my buddies were waiting.
“Well?” Coy asked.
“Well what?” I said.
“You gonna try it again?”
“Are you crazy?”
“You’re not chicken are you?” asked Wee Whoa.
“Shut up Wee Whoa,” we all said. Stupid kid.