Black & White

Black and White

Six year olds can fly, can’t they? My dad built me a treehouse. It was the most fabulous structure in my world. It wasn’t fancy, just a flat platform way up in the branches of a sprawling tree. There I magically transformed into a pirate, soldier, cowboy, and Tarzan. I loved how Tarzan talked, “Me Tarzan, fight for jungle good,” I figured if adults would talk like that the world would be much easier to understand.

“Robert, I’m going to tie a towel around my neck and drape it over my shoulders like Superman then I’m going to fly.”

“That might work, I’m pretty sure it’s the cape what makes him fly.”

Pointing at the perfect observation spot I said, “Climb down and watch me from over there.”

“OK.”

Robert climbed down and mounted his homemade tricycle that had real airplane tires and went really fast. His dad made stuff like that, but my dad made a treehouse! He peddled the trike to the spot I had indicated and sat there looking up.

“You ready?” I asked.

“I’m ready. Are you ready?”

While he was climbing down, I tied my cape around me and walked to the edge of the platform. It didn’t have any railing. Probably because those were the days before things like safety were important. The days before seatbelts, safety glass, and ear protection. I looked down pondering his question. I hadn’t really thought about how far it was from here to the ground. If my magic cape didn’t work I would be burnt toast. Toasters were a new invention. Mom hated it when I almost ruined her new toy by putting plastic army men in to watch them melt. That sure is a long way down. Never mind that, just do it like superman does on TV.

We had a black and white television filled with tubes. It was so heavy I couldn’t lift it. It had two knobs. One was a combination knob controlling on/off and volume. The other was a rotary knob with forty channels. I loved that old TV even though we only three channels were available. I watched shows like The Lone Ranger, The Three Stooges, wrestling and my favorite, Superman. My parents watched stupid stuff like the CBS Evening News, professional bowling, and Payton Place. When Superman flew, he would take a few steps forward, raise both arms over his head and jump.

“OK, I’m ready. I’m going to go to the back of the treehouse so I can get a running start.”

“OK, this will be a neat trick if you can do it.”

I went to the other side of the platform, turned around and leaned against the bark of that old tree. My little fingers felt the rough contours of the bark seeking reassurance. I counted to three then went for it.

“Up, up, and away…”

I leapt from the platform feeling the exhilaration of adrenaline pushing me onward. For a second, I was suspended in air, moving forward but not upward. That’s pretty good for my first try, I better prepare to land just like Superman because I haven’t quite learned his flying technique yet. Looking down I thought I was going too fast to make a soft landing. I was thinking my cape might help slow me down, just like a parachute.

When I hit the ground, I crumpled into a pretzel and lay there looking up at the treehouse. I’m surprised I’m still alive because its a long, long way up there. Robert rushed over and peered down at me.

“Man, that was neat! I think you almost had it.”

“I think you’re right, but that’s all the practice I can do today. I hurt my foot real bad.”

“Let me see.”

He bent down and looked at my foot.

“No bones sticken out or nothen, I think you’re OK.”

“Let’s go in the house and have some ice cream then we can watch wrestling.”

My black and white Converse tennis shoe came off during the landing. I looked at it, then took off the other shoe and left it there. I miss those days. Things were more black and white back then.

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