Each spring, usually during the windy month of March, I would purchase a kite from Chet's Hardware, which sold the inexpensive, common variety paper-and-balsa-wood kite.
Assembly was very straightforward. A pair of 18-inch thin balsa strips; the other, at 24 inch ply, were firmly tied forming the shape of a cross. A three-inch piece of string or cord bound the two ribs tightly, so the kite would not slip out of shape.
The paper was laid flat over the frame, allowing the string to slot into the wood slits. A 30-inch piece of string was required to tie the ends of the cross rib, bending it into a taut bow shape.
From past flying experiences I had learned that the tail was the critical factor in kite aerodynamics. Correct length was crucial. Composition was also extremely important - linen was the best material.
I ripped one-inch-wide strips out of my mother's old bedding. Six feet of cloth tail was usually the correct amount for a windy day - length correlated with wind speed - and it was tied securely to the bottom of the kite.
Lastly, a spool of lightweight twine or strong string was required. The loose end was attached to the kite at the juncture of the two wooden ribs via a slit in the paper. Care and skill was important since the kite was easily torn.
Normally, my kite would fly up around 100 to 150 feet, diving around on occasion. However, on this Ides of March it felt like a mysterious, invisible hand grabbed the kite and pulled it into the nimbocumulus clouds.
And as it happened, my best buddy and baseball teammate, Jerry Mucha, came over to participate.
"Holy cow, Jerry," I called out, "have you ever seen anything like this before? We never had a kite go up so fast and straight up. Look at it... it's hardly diving at all." Jerry was hopping from one leg to the other with excitement.
"Heck no!" Jerry hollered back. "This is unbelievable. I wish we had a camera or something."
It took all our collective skill to splice three extra balls of twine to the existing line. The wind continued lifting the paper kite higher and higher into the heavens. In our minds, it looked like a Jack and the Beanstalk fantasy. The kite kept on growing upwards and upwards.
The only difference was it was twine and not a stalk. Hey, it's our imagination. We were only 11 years old.
By noontime, the two new spools were empty and the kite's silhouette had become invisible. It was up 1,000 feet - 250 feet of string per spool.
Well, to be accurate: If a trigonometry calculation using an angle of 60 degrees had been committed, then... well, I leave it to you to do the math.
Holding onto the string was extremely difficult; it actually cut a bit into our fingers. By 2 p.m., with cloud cover and rain showers moving in, the kite was completely lost to sight.
However, we knew from the very strong, constant tug on the line that the kite was still aloft. It's like believing in God - we can't see Him, but in some way we can feel His presence.
I guess we'll never know how far up the kite will fly!" I said. "Darn it!"
"Isn't that a bummer!" Jerry agreed.
"Have you ever, ever felt anything like this, Jerry?" I yelled to him through the wind and rain. "Isn't it the coolest feeling in the world?"
We were shivering and shaking.
We took turns for the next two hours holding the end of the string tightly while straining our eyes heavenward in the general direction of the kite, but all we saw were the tops of our neighbor's trees.
The pull of the kite acted at times with such force we thought we'd lose the thing. Jerry found a large peach tree branch to wrap the string around to give our bleeding fingers a rest.
We backed up against the house, trying to keep from getting too battered from the rain and wind. It was getting to be supper time, so we began the process of pulling down on the kite and winding the slackened string in a pattern around the wooden spool.
The kite's pull was powerful. Jerry departed for home before it was completely reeled in.
As the kite neared ground, the cloth tail behaved very strangely. Immediately upon landing I ran to the inspect the kite's tail - frozen solid! It was an exciting and wondrous discovery. I wanted everybody to see it. Very, very cool.
It was a solitary moment to savor. My parents were away at work. Jerry had left earlier for dinner, and my little brother was indoors sleeping. No neighbors were seen.
I was the Lone Ranger. Like Sir Edmund Hillary, the conqueror of Mount Everest, who stood alone comforted with personal thoughts of his accomplishment.
I felt similarly proud.
Bernie Sadowski, a retired science teacher, is freelance writer living in Magnolia. You can contact him at mageditor@nwlink.com.[[In-content Ad]]
