[Somerset, NJ - November 1975]
When we were young, my brother and I occasionally spent time with three of our male cousins. Our parents got along very well, and had a talent for getting somewhat tipsy and leaving us to our own devices. Age-wise, we covered five sequential years, leading to corruption from the knowledge of the older boys and shenanigans from the immaturity of the younger ones. In other words, we made a perfect band of rascals. What one of us wouldn't think of, another one would. So one day we decided to have a little stunt show. Our conversation went something like this:
"Let's do a pulley-run between two trees", someone suggested.
"Those trees over there look good", said Mark.
"They're too short," said Jeff. "What are you, a girl?"
"Hey, what about those?" exclaimed Rick, pointing to a pair of fifty-foot-tall birches.
"Yeah, those will work," said Chris, "but our rope isn't long enough."
"We've got a longer rope, it's just not as thick," I chimed in. "Think it will hold?"
"Of course," everyone said.
So we hooked everything up, tying the long thin rope between the tops of the swaying trees, fastening the rusty pulley to one side. We were just about ready to go.
"That end isn't high enough," mentioned Jeff, "You won't get any speed unless there's more slant to the rope."
"Maybe we should lower the other end."
"Sissy."
"Raise THAT end."
"Won't it break the tree?"
"Trees are strong, stupid."
We raised the one end. Now we were really ready to go.
"Who should go first?"
"Maybe Ken…he's the youngest…he's the lightest."
"Nah…somebody tougher should test it out."
"Rick is the oldest. He should do it."
"Ok, I'll do it. It better not break though," said Rick.
"It won't!" the rest of us exclaimed confidently.
So Rick climbed up to the top without hesitation, grabbed unto the pulley, and set out with gusto, flying down like a bat out of hell, or at least out of Somerset, New Jersey. The rope broke, of course, and so did the top of the tree. Rick plunged to the ground and landed flat on his ass with a resounding thud. Thankfully, he was alright. Jeff however, didn't fair so well, after he started laughing hysterically at his older brother's landing. In fact, Rick commenced beating the snot out of him, and the rest of us piled on quickly. I think we were interrupted by a distant call to dinner. It smelled like hot dogs, and those would hit the spot. We'd had a busy afternoon, after all.
Lesson: If it looks like it might break, it probably will. Any decision made by a group of more than two is suspect.
