I used to jump off a high drawbridge, which was illegal, testing the waters to see if my cautious side would surrender to the turbulence of fear versus bravery that could be mistaken for stupidity. There was a lot of foreboding brought about from previous mishaps and my cautious side would ensure me avoiding injury by making me work up to stupid from chicken, which is not a very large leap.
I used to do all those crazy things we used to do as kids like build ramps to jump our bikes or trust flimsy skateboard half pipes made from construction site plywood. I have scars from red wagon speed racing, with the engine being a one and a half inch thick, twenty foot long bungee cord that we pulled back a hundred feet and let it rip while holding onto a unicycle seat for steering. You know the bungee cord was wrapped around a signpost at the other end and red wagons don’t have brakes.
I never did learn anything as useful as unicycling. Well actually, I never learned how to unicycle so maybe I should rephrase that last line. The most useful utility I’ve learned is typing. I guess that’s why I like to write instead of play video games or run software or join social media. I probably should take up unicycling just in case I’m at a parade where something goes horribly wrong. I could knock a clown down off of his unicycle to make a quick getaway by offroading, down hill with no handlebars to absorb the bumps and no padded seat to cushion all my glory. I’m guessing the real reason unicycling never took off is because there are only so many parades in town each year, the seat wreaks havoc, and writing became a more lucrative obsession for the expert unicyclist.
This drawbridge has not only been at the center of my hometown for seventy years, it has been in my dreams for over thirty, and most recently has become a moving picture for my psychotherapy. It is a symbol of many positive periods in my life.
I have always jumped at right of passage opportunities, to belong to something new and exciting that I always hold true. I usually don’t just gravitate to something for cheap thrills, get my kicks for a few months or years then abandon the idea as a phase. Jumping off bridges was a phase but the reprogramming I received from taking that plunge was a lifelong lesson in being spontaneous and carefree which carried over into years of nomadic mentality and a sense of ownership in my decision making.
I would like to remember the drawbridge days as an introduction to my lifelong bravery as I continue to jump cautiously, feet first into rough waters, battling two-way currents. One way dragging me out into the open waters of an endless struggle with dependence, while the other sweeps me back into the bay of comfort where I become closer to the person I was always meant to be, unfettered and refined, sensitive and considerate, strong and daring.
Francis Erich McElroy 