Maraschino cherries

I was about seven, out playing in the rail yard field when one of the big guys from the next block came walking down the tracks. We knew each other and most of us got along pretty well. We were throwing rocks at a tin building and making lots of noise. We got board with throwing rocks and took off looking for some other mischief to get into. I don't remember the kids name, but he must have been twelve or so. I know he was older than my big sister, Shena. As we were walking between the box cars the kid asked me if I knew what was inside them? At seven I had no idea. So, he said lets open one up and find out.

There were no locks on the big doors, just little tin Tye's of some kind that were crimped down so you could tell if the door had been tampered with. And tamper we did. As the door was pushed open all I could see was cardboard box's, lots of cardboard box's. The big kid wiggled a box out. It had smaller box's inside it. "Maraschino Cherries", the big kid said, lots of maraschino cherries! What little kid has ever had his fill of maraschino cherries? You might get one, or even two at one time, but a whole box would be out of the question. Jars of them, all for me to eat until I puke!

I found a nice quite place in the tall grass and started popping lids. At first they were like the greatest thing you could eat. After several jars, they started tasting not as great as they did when you only got to eat one or two at a time. I was able to gag down a few jars before I started getting that flushed feeling and a rolling stomach. I think maybe I should have chewed these things a little better the first time I saw them, because the second time I got to see them it was gross!

I ditched my stash of maraschino cherries and headed for home. Dad was due home from work, and dinner would be ready right then. I was a little lite headed when I got home. I ran into my big sister as I was walking down the driveway. She looked at me in a stranger way than usual. I looked at her and asked "what?"

She asked if I had fallen out of a tree or something.

No, I said, why?

Because it looks like you've been bleeding from your mouth, and down the front of you.

"Oh oh, cherry juice"

Linda cleaned me up once I told her what I had been doing. Good old Shena, taking care of her little brother again.

Mom and dad couldn't figure out why I wasn't hungry at dinner. Shena kept quite about my adventure with the boxcar. It took years before I could look a maraschino cherry in the eye.

The box kite

When I was about ten years old, dad brought a kite home. Not just any old kite either. It was huge! Instead of little wooden pieces wrapped with paper, this one used aluminum poles and was wrapped with nylon, like from a parachute. It was six feet tall, three feet square and a really bright orange. It came with 1/4 inch rope that was coiled up in a large pouch. Dad said it was used as a signaling device and gunnery practice during the war. If a plane was shot down near an island, the pilot could fly the kite and be seen from miles away and he could be rescued.

The instructions were quick and to the point! (yes I read the instructions) I had lots of time to kill waiting for the right conditions. The instructions said to tie the line off to the kite and a tree before assembling, and wear gloves, as the line could cut into your hands as it caught air and lifted off.

It didn't take long to assemble, or take apart, and we had the best place to fly it. The wide open field out in the middle of the railroad yard. Now all I would need is a weekend when the trains were not out running around, and of course some wind. Do you know how long it takes to have the stars line up with a weekend, with wind? To try running to get it into the air would be impossible. It was way too big for that. I had a couple of false try's because of my eagerness and the lack of wind on weekends.

Finally, a Saturday, some wind, and my buddy Rob from the next block over gave me a hand. We carried everything out into the field. I tied the line to a power pole that was in the middle of everything, stretched it out and started assembling the kite. I had some garden gloves that were a little lite duty, but that's all we had. We were both used to having to run with a kite, not just waiting for it to lift off. We set everything up and waited. Nothing was happening. Maybe not enough wind? We didn't know, we were only like ten years old. Rob said, why don't we run with it like we always do with little kites? I said if all else fails we'll do it our way! Well, nothing was happening fast enough for a couple of ten year olds.

We left the end of the rope tied to the pole. The rope was really long, so we thought we could get the kite to lift off and then let the rope out until all of it was out again. We tried several times. Not enough wind. This kite is way huge, and were just going to tear it up trying to fly it. We need a weekend with real wind. Maybe next time. We took everything apart and hauled it home. We had wind during the week, but too much train activity, and too many people walking around.

The day finally came! A weekend with wind. As Rob and I left with our arms full of everything we needed, my sister Linda watched as we went down the driveway. Just the look she gave us stopped me. I asked "WHAT?" She was a teenager now, and knew everything. Rob and I, on the other hand ,just did whatever. Linda said something like, "that thing will drag both of you all the way to the end of the field" NO, I said, we will have it tied off to that power pole that's in the middle of the field. The last thing Linda said as we took off was something about power poles and wires that hang on them.

Everything was ready, the rope was tied off, the kite was assembled, and just like the instructions said, it lifted off. Rob and I went back where the rope was tied off on the power pole and tried to hold the rope and go hand over hand to walk it down some. We had these chinsey garden gloves but they didn't do much. As we went hand over hand trying to bring the kite down, it started lifting both of us off the ground. Just a little, but lots of fun. We told each other to not let go. For sure it would lift one of us off really easy. We were both laughing like any couple of ten year old kids would. We were gaining, but the kite had lots of rope. A few hundred feet more and it would be down. Then the kite started drifting to one side toward the power lines. We had to either let it back up, above the lines, or do the hand over hand thing to get below the lines really fast. You know all those little hairs all over your body? You don't really know they are there until something like this happens. They all stood out like we were porcupine's.

The Alameda Times Star headlines said something about kids and a huge kite that tripped the overload switches. Rob and I were all eyes as the kite drifted into the wires and the aluminum tubing made contact with live lines. It was spectacular! Sparks, melting aluminum, and us holding a very limp rope. I had to convince Rob to help grab everything and run. He didn't want to be involved in the grabbing part, just the running part. I wanted the evidence gone. We didn't have to unassemble the kite. It came down very well unassembled.

Linda was waiting down the driveway as we ran past her. She had that look again, like now what did you two do? and why is the power off in the house? "We don't know nothin as we ran by, ditching everything in the back of the garage. Our kite flying days were over. At least the big metal ones. We'll stay with the paper and stick ones. Who would have thought?