Jumping Out Of The Barn

When I was about 12 years old, my brothers and I decided that, since a large stack of loose hay resided in a stall of the barn, it would be a good idea, perhaps, to climb to the top of the rafters in the barn and jump onto the hay below.

I watched as two of my brothers climbed to what seemed a mile to the top of the barn. Sitting on a rafter, each one would sit for a moment or two trying to determine how they were going to fall onto the hay. The fall through the air seemed almost in slow motion as I looked on from below. After both brothers had jumped onto the hay and enjoyed the fall, I decided it was time for me to do the same. Now, I was quite a climber in those days. I had to use my arms exclusively, since my legs were not usable, having been paralyzed from Polio.

I removed both braces from my legs but not my shoes from my feet. I could simply pull out the metal bilaterals from the heel of each shoe to remove the braces without removing the shoes. I climbed slowly but surely to the top of the barn and sat on the same rafter on which my brothers had sat. I thought it required that I sit there a moment or so (just as my brothers had done) in order to do this deed correctly.

Then I conjured the courage, bravery, fortitude, and senseless idiocy to fall from this rafter. What seemed a mile below now seemed to be two miles looking from top to bottom rather than from bottom to top of the barn. Finally I let my hands loose from whatever they were holding to, and I fell, not slowly, but speedily down, down, down. When I hit the loose hay, I was considerably thankful that the event was over, quick and to the point. I felt the softness of the hay hug my shoulders, but first I felt something that would change my mind forever about doing something so foolish again. As I fell onto the hay, I sat down on a small, metal piece on my shoe that held my braces onto the shoe. I shall never forget the instant and excruciating pain that I felt in my hip as I sat onto the hay.

My opinion of this challenging event changed forever. A few moments before, my thoughts were excited and interested in such a new-type adventure; but now my thoughts were hesitant and worried about doing such a thing again. Consequently, I have never had either the serious thought or the desire to jump from the top of a barn onto loose hay again. Let's see, from 12 to 65, that makes 53 years now that I have not wanted to do such a thing. I hope I make it a few more years without having the desire to tumble ridiculously through the air onto anything. Thank God for his watchcare and his longsuffering to usward.