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As I sat there rifling through the files in my cranium, seeking a good topic for this month, I thought of an accomplishment I was rather proud of and recalled it happened around this time of year. It was the day that I flew a kite! Oh, many times I’d tried. The first I recall was back when my age was in the single digits; that one actually came in a box of Cheerios and was unique in that it was inflatable. Unfortunately in the process of removing it from the packaging the cheap vinyl was torn, and my parents attempt at patching it just wasn’t enough. I don’t remember it every achieving any height. From time to time afterwards there would be some cheap model picked up Woolworth’s or Drug Fair (names I throw out just to date myself!) Each time I tried there was a lot of running back and forth across a soybean field, some dizziness, and much frustration. Ah, but then, that one day.
Maybe I had bought it at the Preston Pharmacy; Brian Mulvey usually had some every spring. Nothing fancy, just that and one spool of string. I walked out into Johnny Seaman’s bean field and, for once, caught the wind just right. Up, up and away! After some time, I’d come to the end of the spool and decided to see just how far I could go. I tied the end to a tree, jumped on my bike, and hurried to Bill’s Salvage Sales where I picked up not one but two additional rolls of twine. Back home I tied a quick knot and started feeding out again. I don’t recall how many feet each contained but I tied on the third, and eventually that cheap kite was just a dot I could barely make out in the sky! I fed it out and fed it out, getting to the end of my last roll, daydreaming about how long it would take to roll it all back up. Then? Disaster. Your friend Bryan is a clumsy sort and somehow, drats! It slipped out of my hand.
I wish now I’d tied a note to that old kite. I’d love to know just where it ended up. Perhaps it got tangled up in some farm equipment the next fall over around Milton, Delaware, or some annoyed folks cleaning up the Atlantic found its remnants 40 nautical miles off the Jersey shore. Sorry ‘bout that!
Thinking of that made me wonder if this is the year I should try again; I’ve only truly given it one more try, and it was straight out of Charlie Brown’s playbook. Parts of it might still be hanging up in the top of a tree on Friendship Road. Really, though, with my current level of “talent” why couldn’t I be a success yet again? Don’t hold your breath! This does have me pondering things I need to do again. It was almost 20 years ago that I walked the entire length of the Ocean City Boardwalk from top to bottom and back; my knees almost didn’t make it, but regardless I need to try it again. For that matter, I need a good walk on the beach in my bare feet.
They all have one thing in common, I’ve decided: I put them off again and again, then when I finally make the time I get rushed. I’ve traveled countless hours to then only spend 30 minutes in some small town. I can’t do that again. Life is short, but that doesn’t mean quantity should overtake quality. Thus, my goal: to walk the streets of a picture-postcard village until I feel I’m finished. To walk along the coast until I can take it no more. To fly a kite, high, high, high in the air, until nightfall. Or, if I manage to light it (an idea) I can keep right on past dusk. I’ve rushed quite enough.
Will I follow through and get this accomplished in 2026? You, dear reader, have the power to assist me in my endeavor. The next time you see me on the street, go ahead: do it! Tell me!
“Bryan, go fly a kite!”
