Easy as Falling off a Cliff

When I look back on the years between six and thirteen I have great difficulty squeezing it all in.In those seven years I have so many vivid memories. Our family going to the Drive Inn eating popcorn out of a brown sack that my mother had popped on the stove . We had a tree fort in the backyard that was the envy of our neighborhood that my father built, it was from this tree fort I first found that my brother would bounce at least twice if dropped from said tree fort .. I remember a green house on the vacant lot we owned and being told to stay away from it , and I remember Rex Riley and I sliding down the glass roof and dropping to the ground below each of us landing on a protruding nail butt first. Once I hit myself in the head with a brick while lecturing my friends about gravity This was before I realize it was easier to experiment with my brother. I have very fond memories of learning about the outdoors at two different cabins we spent time at on the Oregon Coast. I found out early that life can't all be fun , I had habits and I had to pay for them on my own, for awhile I received an allowance from my parents , but this allowance came with strings , I had to do chores , these chores got in the way of my new found freedom and were an insult to the growing Greek warrior that was consuming me . Washing Dishes was for sissy's I wanted man work. And I got it for several summers I joined up with dozens of other neighborhood children , who met very early in the mornings in front of the grade school grimly holding unto lunch boxes and canteens. We all had exchanged our allowance income and all of its strings and legalism for our own independence and real money earned by picking Strawberries and Beans and Blackcaps ...I became like many in our neighborhood a migrant worker. The work in the Fields was hard , the hours were long and the sanitary conditions were not very sanitary , but the rewards ! At the end of the day we were paid in cash ! Many of the kids who gathered at the school were the same ones my gang of Greek warriors had soundly smashed back in the day , and it was not unusual to have some defeated foe with tears in his eye ask meekly if I was the Girdle man ...All I can say is life was far less complex in those days. It must have been very difficult as well , for later as we grew up , we choose instead to allow other people to do this field work , then we ate the food they picked , and packed and stacked on our grocery shelves and told them they were not wanted in this country. there were several summers of Bean and strawberry picking , Newspaper route And the Cub Scouts. In school I was admitted to the Seventh and eight grade science class when I was in the fourth grade.the highlight of this association was putting a hand made rocket through the window of a National Guard Jeep. During these years my brother and I learned that Santa Clause wasn't real. The there was my first phone call to a girl , my first rejection, my first date , and my first Hospital procedure which came on the eve of my first date. Sometime in these seven years I found myself fancying myself as an outdoors man and took up fishing and hunting I still remember my first caught fish. And how clever I was to use my brother to drag my lure and line across a rain swollen creek so I didn't have to cast as far. There were family trips to Oklahoma , one or more to southern California ...Going to Sunday school . During this period I got my first suit and my first cowboy outfit , and thought I often got when to wear them Mixed up was able to always dress myself quite well. Wearing a cowboy outfit to Sunday school with six shooters plastered at your hip might have raised a few eyebrows in the 50's but I was simply way ahead of our times. Our Sunday School class was taught by a man who had a boat so I learned to water ski even thought it did take me longer to learn to let loose of the tow rope when your skies fall off.One of the truly great stories and high point of my my life was watching my brother fall like a watermelon over a cliff only to be stopped at the last minute by my father. while I am being somewhat brief in these recollections this requires ( demands ) some more explanation. The place was Ecola state Park near Canon Beach Oregon. This Headland area has broad picnic areas that drop steeply to a series of rocky pools that are filled with salt water fish, we had been told how good the fishing was so we set out to claim our share of the bounty of the sea. MY brother who had little regard for style was dressed in well used jeans and these thick clumsy looking shoes with reinforced steel cleats on the heel and toe. I was dressed more stylishly in white calypso pants , yellow rubber thongs. I Honestly don't remember much about the going down the cliff part , I know the slope was steep , and the fishing was not as great as it was advertised , my brother and father had not planned as well as I had and each had only one fishing pole and a small tackle box between them, I was much better prepared bringing two poles three reels and a sturdy tackle box about the size of a steamer truck. and a bucket to bring the freshly caught fish back home in. It was a wonderful day ..with only a few offhand comments from my Father after he had made the extra trip back up the cliff to bring me the rest of my equipment. My Brother had been smart enough to bring my tackle box with him on the first trip. I had found the trek a little difficult with my choice of foot gear but with my father carrying me part of the way all was ok. Like I said the day was wonderful , my father seemed to be not enjoying it as much as me , but I was guessing it was only because he was thinking about returning to work the next day, and he was a little bruised by my spare fishing pole that had fallen from my grasp and landed on his foot. Soon it was time to head back Bob started off first , I reluctantly agreed to carry his fishing pole as he lugged the steamer trunk up the cliff . I found his attitude to be a little annoying as I also had the empty fish bucket to contend with and my flip flops had suffered a separation fo the toe thingy and they were more flopping than flipping. The climb up the cliff was not going well at all ...I was having trouble with my footgear and my bare knees were brushing against the volcanic rock and boithering me some. MY father who was very gracious choose to help me as best he could and at one point I was holding on for dear life to the end of the metal pole I had brought and Dad was holding onto the other end , beneath me was the foamy waters of the pacific ocean about fifty to an hundred feet down we must have looked a little odd two people in the Chaos of life embracing the gentle curve of the cliff , My father holding onto a sturdy tree root in one hand , his other hand grasping a fishing pole which had attached to the other end his precious older son with hsi sparkling white calypso pants and his flopping flip flops, I was determined to hang onto the fishing pole al thought at one point I thought the Bucket might keep me afloat if I fell into the ocean. Then it happened ...slowly at first there was a little trickle of dirt and gravel from above , probably a seagull had dislodged it , then more and larger pieces of debris started falling our way ..I distinctly remember my father shouting gently to my brother to knock it off or he would beat him mercilessly , Dad did seem to be a little grumpy at this point. Then the Steamer trunk sailed past us ..I didn't have enough time to watch it hit the water because it was followed by my brother sliding down the cliff butt down and this rather odd quizzical expression on his face , one I had only seen once before when I dropped him out of the tree house, this time I was watching this expression from below and it was even more dramatic. This is one of those times when time does stand still , I am sure I could see my father weighing his options on one end of the fishing pole was his first child , the child who had burned down the forest , tried to burn down the grade school , the child who had failed to pay attention , who had stole a jar of pickled shrimp from Mr Colemans Grocery Store and hidden it in his Paper bag, all this and more , from above came hurtling the younger child who showed great promise in school , who had been injured once before in a fall from a tree fort and who had stayed home and raked leaves , and stacked wood and washed dishes ...two children one choice and with amazing reflexes my father while still holding onto me reached out with his only free appendage his left leg and stopped my brother in mid tumble , my brothers steel jacketed shoes dug into my fathers leg but the leg did not give and for a brief moment all three of us were firmly fixed to the side of the cliff all staring at each other , then with out even a word my brother turned and raced back up the cliff barely touching the earth ...a few minutes later we all gathered at the top, we were sworn to secrecy , my mother would never know about this. at least not for a few days.
This is how I remember it , I have to admit the story grows some each time I tell it , but it happened pretty much as written, we were held by angels on that day , a few inches made all the difference between a famous family story that would be told at reunions and late night conversations , and a moment of tragedy that would haunt the survivors forever.