Many of my projects as a five-year-old were inspired by Bugs
Bunny cartoons. As a mechanically deficient boy that later blossomed into a
mechanically deficient man, I never tried to build a rocket ship or massive
catapult. I did not have those
skills. I was persuasive though, and
this served me well even as a child. I was able to assemble a team of child
workers to attempt to dig a hole to China, as had been featured in a Bugs Bunny
cartoon. As seen in these documentaries
I was watching (it didn’t occur to us that these cartoons weren’t anchored in
fact), it seemed easy enough to shovel right through the planet and pop up in
China. There we would be greeted by a racially insensitive caricature that
would say “Ah-so!” or something along those lines. Great merriment would
follow. It was a solid way to spend an afternoon.
It quickly became evident that digging a pit through the core of the earth would be a bigger undertaking than was feasible for three young boys with two shovels. Our friend Christopher quit almost immediately. When the going got tough, Christopher got going. Literally got going home... He was sort of a pussy. Undeterred by the enormity of the task, Michael and I soldiered on. We soon had an enormous pit excavated. Looking back now, it was probably three feet deep. Not bad for two five-year olds with shovels, but a good distance away from shoveling magma or popping up in Shanghai.
Our progress stopped because the ground became too hard to break up. Our dreams to dig through had been stopped. Left with a giant hole in the ground and no end game, we brainstormed a plan. Spreading sticks and leaves over the hole, we became focused on tricking Christopher over the hole and watching him fall through the Tiger Trap. It was cold blooded, yes, but undeniably fun. We prepared the tiger trap and went to Christopher’s house with a brilliant cover story. “Hey! Come over to the woods. There’s something cool to see. We can’t tell you until you’re there what it is.” (We had already become adept at the black arts as you can see.)
The problem happened when Christopher’s older brother got wind of the action going down. I think his name was Peter. Why all my childhood friends sounded like Winnie the Pooh characters, I can’t tell you. Anyway, Peter followed us to see this “cool” thing. As he was older he took the lead and was so busy shooting his mouth off he didn’t see the tiger trap. He promptly fell through and broke his leg. There was a great deal of screaming. We did the responsible thing all five-year olds did. We ran home and pretended none of this had happened.
I don’t remember the fall out on this fiasco. One would think that we would have faced fierce retribution for creating a tiger trap and luring a boy to break his limb, but I don’t remember that. I remember Peter in his filthy cast all summer, but no real call out in front of a paternal tribunal. They were different times. No one wore helmets or seatbelts.
I had a dream last night where I was digging and digging a big hole to China. I kept working and was making progress though the task seemed endless. I was easily a hundred feet down digging furiously. A small woman yelled down at me from above. “You’ll never make it to China. Never!” It only made me redouble my efforts. My shoulders ached and I continued. The woman stared down at me with contempt with crossed arms. I kept digging. I felt like I couldn’t stop now. I had already gone so far.
I woke up before concluding my adventure. There is something on a map called an antipode, which is the polar opposite location to another point. Through this I learned that the antipodal (?) point of Cleveland is in the ocean a great distance from Australia. If I had wanted to end up in China I would need to start in Argentina over by the Uruguay border. This is a good news/bad news scenario. It’s good to know that I can now make my Great White shark dive by digging a hole straight through the planet. It will save money on airfare. China seems more out of reach than ever though. Maybe I can dig another tiger trap. That worked out. Maybe I need to stick with what got me here. Be forewarned… If I ask you to come see something “cool” in the woods, take pause.
It quickly became evident that digging a pit through the core of the earth would be a bigger undertaking than was feasible for three young boys with two shovels. Our friend Christopher quit almost immediately. When the going got tough, Christopher got going. Literally got going home... He was sort of a pussy. Undeterred by the enormity of the task, Michael and I soldiered on. We soon had an enormous pit excavated. Looking back now, it was probably three feet deep. Not bad for two five-year olds with shovels, but a good distance away from shoveling magma or popping up in Shanghai.
Our progress stopped because the ground became too hard to break up. Our dreams to dig through had been stopped. Left with a giant hole in the ground and no end game, we brainstormed a plan. Spreading sticks and leaves over the hole, we became focused on tricking Christopher over the hole and watching him fall through the Tiger Trap. It was cold blooded, yes, but undeniably fun. We prepared the tiger trap and went to Christopher’s house with a brilliant cover story. “Hey! Come over to the woods. There’s something cool to see. We can’t tell you until you’re there what it is.” (We had already become adept at the black arts as you can see.)
The problem happened when Christopher’s older brother got wind of the action going down. I think his name was Peter. Why all my childhood friends sounded like Winnie the Pooh characters, I can’t tell you. Anyway, Peter followed us to see this “cool” thing. As he was older he took the lead and was so busy shooting his mouth off he didn’t see the tiger trap. He promptly fell through and broke his leg. There was a great deal of screaming. We did the responsible thing all five-year olds did. We ran home and pretended none of this had happened.
I don’t remember the fall out on this fiasco. One would think that we would have faced fierce retribution for creating a tiger trap and luring a boy to break his limb, but I don’t remember that. I remember Peter in his filthy cast all summer, but no real call out in front of a paternal tribunal. They were different times. No one wore helmets or seatbelts.
I had a dream last night where I was digging and digging a big hole to China. I kept working and was making progress though the task seemed endless. I was easily a hundred feet down digging furiously. A small woman yelled down at me from above. “You’ll never make it to China. Never!” It only made me redouble my efforts. My shoulders ached and I continued. The woman stared down at me with contempt with crossed arms. I kept digging. I felt like I couldn’t stop now. I had already gone so far.
I woke up before concluding my adventure. There is something on a map called an antipode, which is the polar opposite location to another point. Through this I learned that the antipodal (?) point of Cleveland is in the ocean a great distance from Australia. If I had wanted to end up in China I would need to start in Argentina over by the Uruguay border. This is a good news/bad news scenario. It’s good to know that I can now make my Great White shark dive by digging a hole straight through the planet. It will save money on airfare. China seems more out of reach than ever though. Maybe I can dig another tiger trap. That worked out. Maybe I need to stick with what got me here. Be forewarned… If I ask you to come see something “cool” in the woods, take pause.
LOL
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