by | Jun 8, 1998 | Confession, New Life

I loved the Calvin and Hobbes comic strip. That guy did the world a terrible disservice when he quit drawing it. I could relate so closely with that little guy it was unreal. My uncle was over seas during the war and right after it ended he had sent my grandmother several hand made pure silk scarves. They were just gorgeous and she wore them every chance she got to go to town or visiting. All us kids used to play army and all that because that’s what we saw on the newsreels all the time and all the adults talked about it continuously. The paratroopers fascinated me the most. I dreamed of parachuting every night. I even jumped off the house till I got caught and spanked for it. All I could think of was parachuting. The neighbor kids and I would get old rags and tear them into squares, then tie strings to each corner and tie them together at the other end and put a rock, toy soldier or whatever for weight, roll up the rag, string and weight and when we threw it into the air it would float down and really thrill us. I dreamed of making me one out of a bed sheet, but my mom convinced me that it would not work and I would hurt myself.

One weekend at my grandparents I was looking for something when I saw my grandmother’s scarves in a drawer and thought “what wonderful parachutes these would make,” — three feet square or so and real silk. I took several and got some string and made them up, then I went looking for weights, I spied the milk-house cats. I thought to myself, “What lucky devils, they get to go for a parachute ride.” I was so envious of them, I couldn’t stand it. Anyway, I picked up a half-grown one and petted him as I made my way up to the hay loft; it must have been thirty or more feet to the ground from up there. I carefully rolled the scarf and string up, then tied it around the cat’s chest. Man, I would have given anything to be that cat for a few moments. I picked the cat up, petting him all the time, and threw him as high as I could so he would have a nice ride down to the barnyard below.

Everything went great, the chute opened perfectly, the cat was floating down, but he got to squirming around and tried to climb up the chute when it collapsed and he fell. He hit in a puff of dust and promptly lit out. Well, I sent four of them on the rides of their life, but when I tried to catch them and give them more rides, I couldn’t. I, couldn’t get the scarves back either. I knew something was going to hit the fan. I just hoped we would leave and go home before the scarves were found to be missing. No such luck. My grandmother milked those cows every morning and every evening and you know who always knew this and followed her to the milk-house to get their share. Well, here’s a dozen or so cats following her into the milk-house and four of them have beautiful silk scarves tied to them. She wasn’t in there five minutes when I heard all Hell break loose. Then here she comes out, hollering for someone to bring scissors or a knife to cut these cats loose from her scarves. She had a hold of the scarves, and the cats, thinking they were going for another ride I guess, were raising Hell to get away from her. Boy, I knew who was in deep trouble and didn’t know who or what to pass the blame to. Well, after my tail-end cooled off and quit smoking, I lost complete interest in parachutes.

Mark Crider

Sinning might seem fun. But sooner or later we will face the consequences of our own actions.