Go Fly A Kite

I think it unlikely that anyone will ever tell me to "Go fly a kite," but just in case such a harmless admonishment should come my way I'd quickly respond by asking, " When, Where and how hard is the wind blowing." Since I was a kid I've been fascinated by man-made things that fly and my happy reintroduction to the world of kite flying came about when I casually typed the word, "Kite," to check out a new search engine on the internet. I was immediately hooked. There I found illustrations of many types of kites along with their history including the names of designers, makers and places of orgin.

Anyone, who has known the excitment of sending aloft a colorful traditional Diamond or sleek shaped Delta kite to hover high over a stretch of beach or open pasture and has felt the tug of a fragile object crafted by human hands striving to break free to soar far beyond the limit set by the length of line we allow from our own earthbound place of control, can appreciate that special feeling of whatever it is I am trying to convey with mere words.

I quickly decided that I would fly a kite. It would be one of simple design like the one called the "Sled." To add zest to the experence, I would construct it myself out of materials found around the house. The panel would be made from a recycled large blue plastic bag furnished by Wall-Mart Super Store and braced with three bamboo skewer sticks I knew I'd find tucked away in the kitchen. The final item required to tether this homemade beauty was the big spool of strong black carpet thread I picked up at a flea market for possible use on some future project...it was now about to fulfill its destiny. I even came up with an appropriate name for my forthcoming creation, I dubbed it Big Wally.

Construction of the kite was easy and Big Wally was soon assembled and ready to rise to the occasion. Since I have a big yard I figured it was a good place to work out any bugs that might show up during the first attempt at flying it, besides, I would be out of sight of my neighbors who might be wondering, "What's that old coot trying to do with that mishapened Wall-Mart blue plastic bag with a sring attached." I went outside to check wind conditions and found only a hint of a breeze. By the time I positioned the kite to catch the wind and laid out sufficient line to launch it, everything had shut down. There was not so much as a shiver from leaves on the trees. B.W. would have to wait for a better day to fly.

Days passed without much change in the weather or wind conditions. Finally, about a week later there was some inermittent moderate swaying in the treetops, so I thought I'd have another go at it. This time Big Wally, while not exactly leaping straight up into the sky, at least rose about fifty feet before flipping over and diving straight toward the ground...which it hit hard. Since the kite was undamaged by the impact, I decided to attach a narrow strip of plastic tail material for added stability. Once again I would attempt launch B.W. which along with a good measure of frustration, I was now tempted to rename it Big Turkey. This time it turned in a much better performance with the kite lifting smartly and holding steady at a respectable height while the wind cooperated nicely.

I found out later my wife, Betty, had taken several photos from the kitchen window of my unorthdox backyard kite flying antics. Yeah, I think Big Wally would have fared better at the seashore but I might have gotten one hellava sunburn. Hey! Maybe I'll see you on the beach.

Story ID:	3938
Written by:	Tom Foley (bio, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Musings, Essays and Such
Location:	Oxford Maine U.S.A.
Year:	2003
Person:	Me