How Mary Poppins Almost Killed Me
Mary Poppins is a fraud. There is no magic umbrella or magic words, she can NOT fly, float or hover. She was my idol, she could do what I wanted to do most at the tender age of 6, she could fly. I had hope. I watched her over and over wanting to make sure I didn't miss anything she did. I wanted to do it right. After all I had begged my mom to get me my own umbrella for Christmas. I didn't tell her why I wanted it. I couldn't, even at 6 I knew that mothers didn't understand. They had lost the ability to grasp the excitment of adventure, the challenge to stare death in the face knowing at 6 years old you were going to live forever. It was my secret. I had that silly I know something you don't grin on my face. I was basking in the knowledge that I was going to stake my claim to fame. Oh how I hoped I got the umbrella. It seemed that now I had a plan, time stood still. The two week wait till Christmas was unbearble. Finally the day arrived and I scrambbled out of bed feeling sick at the thought of what if.....
And then dad handed me a long package, could it be. Oh yes it was!, and it was beautiful. Black and red plaid with a cute plastic red tip on top and a curved handle. It was perfect. I couldn't wait to try it. As the weather warmed up I began to think of the headlines in the paper. Local girl and her magic umbrella...... I had picked just the right tree to try floating first. It was the sassafras tree at the top of the driveway. Right where everybody driving by could see me float daintily down to the ground. I grabbed my umbrella and approached the tree, climbed as high as I could, my little heart beating with excitement, I opened the umbrella stepped out on the limb and waited for a car to come around. when I spotted one I stepped out.....and sunk like a rock, nearly breaking a leg, arm, and my neck, rolling down the slag driveway with my beautiful umbrella, the cute red plastic topper, now missing, bent, torn and flopping along with me. Well I thought, I KNEW parachutes were real, I could still float...................
How Not To Make A Parachute
After healing physicaly and emotionaly from my Mary Poppins dilusion and a scolding from my mom, she still didn't understand, I started making plans again. This flying thing was in my blood I knew I could do it. Why, wasn't a parachute just a big piece of cloth that collected air in it that made it stay up in the air and float.? How hard could it be? I just need a cloth big enough, then it hit me as mom was hanging out the wash. A sheet! Perfect, just grab the corners together and I could run real hard down the hill on the other side of the woods. The air would get trapped and I would float the rest of the way down to the creek. It was all open, no trees just Mr. Andersons cows. My brothers and I played there all the time. Excitement was running rampid again. I would be redeemed. It took me a couple of days to get the courage to "borrow" one of moms sheets. Her new one. I couldn't risk air leaking out of an old one with any holes in it. When I got the sheet, mom was out at grandmas. I grabbed it and ran as fast as I could down the path at the end of the yard that led to the hill. Oh this was perfect, the sun was shining, the wind was blowing. As I got to the clearing and stood at the top gazing down the steep hill I grabbed the corners and started my run. The sheet was billowing behind me and I felt like that stupid little train, then I tripped. I don't remember much about my roll down the hill. what I do remember after is being tangleg up in my parachute that was now beyond repair with cows gazing at me from all sides. Embarrassed I trudged up the hill unhurt except for my 6 year old pride, dragging my dream behind me. as I passed the old fur tree we used as a club house I crawled under and dug a hole where to this day lays the parachute. When mom came home I was sittin under the big maple reading Peter Pan. I wonder where I can get some fairy dust?..............
