Posted by peskypippi | Posted in Adolescence, Life Lessons | Posted on 05-07-2014


I was about twelve years old. We had climbed up to my friend’s rooftop. You could get there by climbing up the her back steps, balancing on the railing, and then hoisting your body up and over the roofline. Until you stood high on the flat roof, covered in tiny gravel.

We were next-door neighbors. A narrow path separated our houses. My house was a one story; her house was a two-story.

“Jump across!” she urged.

Hmmm. I could try. I could do a running jump, from one rooftop to the other. It was about 12 feet across.

What was the worst thing that could happen?

Terror and nervous sweat washed over me. Peer pressure. That was also the first time I tried a cigarette.

Inhale. Cough, cough. Yeah, not my thing.

“Go on, jump across!” she dared me.

Turns out, I didn’t jump that day. Yeah, not my thing.


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Comments (3)

I’m glad you did not jump! Life is so full of jumps that we have to make! Love you! Dad

I’m glad I didn’t jump either! I lived to tell the story. 🙂


Old fartI am a big fan of your blog and often consult the wide specrtum of intellect that i find there to help shape my policies but I am dismayed that you are allowing it to be used for blatently political purposes. I refer to the entries from Mr Wee Willy West . He clearly has a problem and is venting his feelings on your blog and insinuating that I am responsible for not only his problems but those of the rest of the world !!!!Please Old Fart find some way of keeping such rants off your blog lets return to the insightful , intellectual contributions that we are used to .Yours The King ( of America )

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