There just isn’t enough. I had shoveled every snowflake into my drop zone. I’d convinced myself, that a three foot diameter snow pile was enough for the jump. Not an ordinary jump by any means. This had taken planning, all the training and of course the practice jumps. The success from the previous months of jumping off the highest places around neighbourhood had excited my 10 year old mind.

I loved high places. There was a sort of freedom, a joy and pride in being able to do things others couldn’t… or wouldn’t.

One great pleasure was walking along, well, on top of fences. With my balance and love of heights, the neighbourhood was easy pickings for a clever, sneaky, crab apple thief. Carrots too! I was small enough that when the neighbours by coming home early, I could hide amongst the potatoes. I got away with it, escaping with two big juicy orange carrots! I wasn’t greedy. Just take what you need and not a carrot more! Also a good thief always covers up his tracks; careful to fill the holes back up with dirt so I could visit again unsuspected.

Crab apples were more difficult. You could get spotted. I mean way up on a fence is, well, obvious.
Darkness and stealth was the key to a big pocket full of delicious crab apples.

Oh, but I have to tell you about my jump. The one from the summer of ‘67- it was flawless! Absolutely brilliant! And except for the rash…no harm. It was a clever plan.

Basements were dug; a new subdivision would lead to new friends and for now, summer fun. Huge piles of dirt had come from newly constructed basements holes. We would scamper up past the loose sand at the bottom to the clay soil mix at the top of the mound. We ran across the top. Jump. Hit the looser sand that absorbed impact, at about half way down. Then gently slide the rest of the way to the bottom.

One night after a few hours of jumping off the huge, at least twelve foot, dirt piles, I separated from the other neighbourhood children to go exploring. New houses had sprung up. “No one will see me”, I thought. I had to go look. The houses under construction were shells on top of cement basements. No doors or windows and no stairs! You could, however, stand on the landing.

Making my way around to back of the house to where I could shimmy into the basement. Entering and exiting without stairs would be easy; faster than anyone could walk up and down stairs even if they had them.

Not much to see in this basement except bags and bags of- I knew what it was, just like my Dad had used when he built our new house – insulation!
A piece of sheet metal was sharp enough to open all those big soft bags of cushioning.

“Heck, after I’m done they ought to thank me for saving them some time, for opening the bags, I mean.” I announced out loud, convincing myself, I spread all that insulation at the bottom of the landing. “This will be the softest landing ever!”

It worked out fantastic! I lost count of my jumps – could have hit a dozen or more. Wasn’t even tired yet from all the climbing back out but my desire for one more time gave way to itchy skin.

The cloud of fiberglass dust filled the basement. Trying to clean the pink insulation that had penetrated my clothes only made my skin itch more. Scratching all the way home the discomfort gave way to a big grin…time to plan the next jump.

My last jump was memorable. It was epic; bigger, flashier. If only I had been born during the internet days, instead of the late ‘50’s I could have been on Youtube! A child growing up in the 60’s was a time of exploring, no computer, little TV, a time to play! We all loved the outdoors. One had to be sick to be stuck indoors even on rainy days.

The memory of the red sore eyes and itchiness had mostly disappeared by the time the first snowstorm of the year. While, it really was a little more than a dusting, but it left enough to build the target.

Simple plan really, climb the side of the house, ease your way onto the rood, walk across the roof to the edge and jump into the pile of snow. I looked across the yard. Would there be enough? I could have waited. I should have waited. If only it had snowed more. No, I couldn’t wait. I had to go for it!

The climb up would be simple; the trellis was attached to the back siding. I had to be careful not to make a lot of noise. ‘Who’s on the roof?’ they might wonder. The timing had to be perfect.

Having finished supper and the rest of the family enjoying an episode of “Bonanza”, gave me a window of opportunity. My parents watched as I scrapped the front lawn down to the roots. Did they ever wonder what I was up to? Nah, what parent doesn’t like seeing a kid shovel snow, even when it’s the lawn and not the driveway!

Being agile, I was right about the climb up being easy. I had walked around the perimeter of many roofs. Now, I figure, that Dad’s was a 6/12 pitch. Not as steep as some I climbed on. It was a challenge of balance. Not much different than the warped wooden fences I frequently traveled along.

Snow made the roof slick and crunchy. Not to worry; any noise I make will get covered by Hoss Cartwright’s six shooter. I went straight across. “Too slippery for walking along the edge tonight,” I decided.

When I got into position, I was surprised how small the target was from above. The cold winters’ night had no wind. Yet I was a little teeny, tiny bit nervous – as teeny, tiny as the pile of snow looked from up here. No. There was no going back now. I was not afraid of anything. But the jump had to be spot on.

The edge had a sheen of ice on the grey asphalt shingles. Balancing on the edge was tricky. “Cannot touch the gutter,” I thought. “I need to be as close as I can to get the maximum distance.”

I accelerated quickly upward at first. A swan dive, then ready for impact. On the way down – for a second – no a fraction of a second, I knew that the little slip I felt my left foot make, had thrown off my young, thin body off course.

Opening my eyes, after all the stars cleared up from my brain; I saw beside me my pile of snow. Untouched. My head was throbbing. Probable concussion…but nothing was broken! I got up after a few minutes; I didn’t want to freeze and be found dead on the lawn.

All I remember is staggering around the front yard for the longest time. No one asked what I was doing holding my head staggering around. My parents never did. Even though they saw me circling about. Guess they didn’t hear the thud. The neighbours never asked what I was doing. However, I did get a few strange looks after from the neighbours who lived across the street. Gratefully, I escaped with only a headache.

The big question is did I learn my lesson? Yes. Most definitely, yes, I learned a very valuable lesson that day:

Do not jump off a roof top unless
you have a lot of snow!

Written by Barnwood

http://www.soyouthinkthatsfunny.com