The Red Kite

The Red Kite
We've got a beautiful bay front here in Corpus Christi.
There is a myriad of things to see, like T-head and L-head
projections into the bay with boat slips for hundreds of all
kinds of boats and giant, granite, boulder jetties to shelter
our harbors for them. There are gently sloping parks that
go to the waters edge in some parts and great fishing for
the delectable speckled sea trout at certain times of the
year under certain weather conditions.
I was working my way along the front of the park, casting
from the sandy shore and sometimes from the rock strewn
edges of the water. I worked my way along, dragging my
stringer of a few nice trout that had fallen for the
presentation of my lure.
The strike had kept my attention and as I fought the trout
in close to net. I heard a cough. Stringing the fish I looked
around behind me and there was a youngster sitting in a
chair. He was holding a small piece of lathe strip with string
wound around it and it was attached to a kite which was dug
into the grass upright with the wind gusts gently trying to
blow it over, but the boy holding the string held firm and it
stood to the wind. He was looking somewhere in the sky
between where I stood and the kite. It was tugging as it was
trying to blow flat on the grass.
I laid my rod down, staked the fish in the water and walked
over to him.
"Son would you like me help you get your kite in the air for
you?"
"It's not flying?" He asked.
Then I saw he was blind and slightly afflicted with, I guess,
cerebral palsy. A big smile with a little drool from the side
of his mouth is what gave it away.
I wondered why he was here by himself. Looking around I
saw several people walking and playing further up the
grassy slope.
I walked over to the kite, picked it up and circled to where
the wind would catch it full face and let it go. Straight up it
went, pulling hard on the string. He let out a whoop as I
walked over to him. He told me thanks and he didn't know
it had fallen to the ground, but it was fun holding it anyway.
"Isn't it a beautiful red?" He said.
Looking at it I couldn't believe my ears or eyes. It was
newspaper and home made just like the ones I made when
I was a kid more than five decades ago.
A woman, I guessed near my age walked up to us.
"I'm his gramma. I'm taking take care of my grandson and
I see you helped him get his kite back in the air," she said.
"Yes, that is a very beautiful red kite if I ever saw one," I
said.
She looked at me with tears in her eyes and I noticed she
was not so warmly dressed. Her clothes were clean, but
well worn. That's when I noticed the boy acting like he
was looking back and forth at us as we spoke.
"Those are some beautiful fish you have caught. My father
used to fish along here when I was a little girl and we so
enjoyed them. My mother would season them, roll them in
cornmeal and fry them to a golden brown.
We would have a delicious feast. I haven't had fish like that
since my father died years ago and my grandson has never
had them. I think I'll go buy some at the end of the month
when our check comes in and fix him some like we used to
have."
I took my filet knife out, "Lady, you can't buy these fish
anymore, they're sport fish and you can't sell or buy them."
I put six nice filets in a plastic grocery bag from my ditty
bag and handed them to her.
"Take these and show your grandson what the 'good old
days were like here in Corpus Christi."
"And that is a beautiful red kite", I said, as I sadly
wondered if the little boy would ever know what red looked
like.
© 2003 by Mark Crider

Story ID:	3593
Written by:	Mark Crider (bio, link, contact, other stories)
Organization:	Corpus Christi Coating & Machine Inc.
Location:	Corpus Christi Texas U.S.A.
Year:	1988