Gravity Again
In the Universe, energy is converted into matter, matter into energy, and everybody is happy. One Universal phenomenon is Gravity. I have to give it a capital “g” because anything that has it in for you as badly as it does for me deserves some special recognition.
One day I was happily skipping along in my knickers, knee socks, and sailor jumper, my straw hat brave with blue ribbon, an all-day sucker in my hand-the very picture of childhood innocence, countenance unlined by care, unworn by circumstance. I spied a swing, and it was a swing of the old school of swing; before these marshmallow and cotton batting things you find now in these degenerate times. In my day, they built them on good solid cement pads, out of good American steel, and heavy linked hand-forged chain. The seat was a sort of rubberized canvas, such as once found on square-riggers in days of yore. Had someone put down the matting and pillows one sees now we would have scoffed-indeed, loud and derisive would have been our scoffing! I sat my innocent behind in the good solid canvas seat, and began the motion-forward, then tuck the legs behind you, and back. Soon, I had a good arc begun, and I delighted in the breeze whispering through my delicate curls. Wider and wider grew the arc, stronger blew the breeze, and soon, I was in swinging rapture! Alas, my joy was not to be a long lasting joy, as when I really noticed that at a certain point of the trajectory, I was above the bar my swing was secured to-a distance some 12 imperial feet from the ground. I was not a timorous child, indeed, not a child that was faint of heart or failing in a certain amount of pluck-however, I was, shall we say uneasy, at the thought of being quite so high, at quite the speed I was going, and in fact, at this point as I reached the apogee at that leg of my journey, my straw hat, gay with ribbons, blew from my curls. Alack, as I turned, my all-day sucker joined it on the ground below.
Acceleration is seldom an “all at once” phenomenon. Gravity and Momentum put down their pipes, have a short discussion of the “’Ello, ‘Ello’ ‘Ello: What have we here?” variety, then roll up their sleeves, flex their thews, and begin their work. They are artisans who believe in the job, I am here to tell you.
Showing remarkable presence of mind in one so young, I took firm grip upon the chains of my swing, and the first zephyr of wind began its climb.
I am now of a man’s estate, and have traveled many different places upon this weary, wicked globe, and experienced the Tremont anta, the Monsoon, and Hurricane. I have seen the mighty Tornado, and felt the giant breath of the Typhoon.
They are as nothing to the wind I experienced that day upon that swing set.
My little eyes were cruelly pressed to the back of my skull, my mouth stopped by my tongue being held by the wind in my mouth, not a sound could I make as I moved inexorably forward, faster, faster, and yet faster. When I felt myself nothing but a blue blur shooting skyward, I was suddenly at rest, I was gazing into a clear blue sky, with mares-tails and a small bird winging along in God’s Great Kingdom of Air. The moment was forever etched into my child’s mind. Alas, it was a moment all too short, and I began my journey back. My eyes, instead of cowering in my skull were now attempting to leave and explore. My tongue loosed from its cruel oppression, now allowed free expression of feeling: I fear I set my feet in their ever downwards spiral in that moment, for I blasphemed and blasphemed again. Could a sailor’s life be far off from such a step? Backward, I hurled, like Zeus’ thunderbolt, a veritable comet-an ill omen’d star, as Horace once wrote. Then forward again, to meet my destiny, in the sound of ripping canvas, and the embrace of Gravity, pulling me to Earth’s loving Bosom.
Oh, How the Mighty Hath Fallen Sayeth King David: and Too Bloody Right Sayeth I. They found me at the bottom of a deep depression, my curls askew, my jumper in ribbons, and wind burned cheeks aflame. To this day, the village uses that hole as a well, and a cautionary tale of Pride going before a Fall.
One day I was happily skipping along in my knickers, knee socks, and sailor jumper, my straw hat brave with blue ribbon, an all-day sucker in my hand-the very picture of childhood innocence, countenance unlined by care, unworn by circumstance. I spied a swing, and it was a swing of the old school of swing; before these marshmallow and cotton batting things you find now in these degenerate times. In my day, they built them on good solid cement pads, out of good American steel, and heavy linked hand-forged chain. The seat was a sort of rubberized canvas, such as once found on square-riggers in days of yore. Had someone put down the matting and pillows one sees now we would have scoffed-indeed, loud and derisive would have been our scoffing! I sat my innocent behind in the good solid canvas seat, and began the motion-forward, then tuck the legs behind you, and back. Soon, I had a good arc begun, and I delighted in the breeze whispering through my delicate curls. Wider and wider grew the arc, stronger blew the breeze, and soon, I was in swinging rapture! Alas, my joy was not to be a long lasting joy, as when I really noticed that at a certain point of the trajectory, I was above the bar my swing was secured to-a distance some 12 imperial feet from the ground. I was not a timorous child, indeed, not a child that was faint of heart or failing in a certain amount of pluck-however, I was, shall we say uneasy, at the thought of being quite so high, at quite the speed I was going, and in fact, at this point as I reached the apogee at that leg of my journey, my straw hat, gay with ribbons, blew from my curls. Alack, as I turned, my all-day sucker joined it on the ground below.
Acceleration is seldom an “all at once” phenomenon. Gravity and Momentum put down their pipes, have a short discussion of the “’Ello, ‘Ello’ ‘Ello: What have we here?” variety, then roll up their sleeves, flex their thews, and begin their work. They are artisans who believe in the job, I am here to tell you.
Showing remarkable presence of mind in one so young, I took firm grip upon the chains of my swing, and the first zephyr of wind began its climb.
I am now of a man’s estate, and have traveled many different places upon this weary, wicked globe, and experienced the Tremont anta, the Monsoon, and Hurricane. I have seen the mighty Tornado, and felt the giant breath of the Typhoon.
They are as nothing to the wind I experienced that day upon that swing set.
My little eyes were cruelly pressed to the back of my skull, my mouth stopped by my tongue being held by the wind in my mouth, not a sound could I make as I moved inexorably forward, faster, faster, and yet faster. When I felt myself nothing but a blue blur shooting skyward, I was suddenly at rest, I was gazing into a clear blue sky, with mares-tails and a small bird winging along in God’s Great Kingdom of Air. The moment was forever etched into my child’s mind. Alas, it was a moment all too short, and I began my journey back. My eyes, instead of cowering in my skull were now attempting to leave and explore. My tongue loosed from its cruel oppression, now allowed free expression of feeling: I fear I set my feet in their ever downwards spiral in that moment, for I blasphemed and blasphemed again. Could a sailor’s life be far off from such a step? Backward, I hurled, like Zeus’ thunderbolt, a veritable comet-an ill omen’d star, as Horace once wrote. Then forward again, to meet my destiny, in the sound of ripping canvas, and the embrace of Gravity, pulling me to Earth’s loving Bosom.
Oh, How the Mighty Hath Fallen Sayeth King David: and Too Bloody Right Sayeth I. They found me at the bottom of a deep depression, my curls askew, my jumper in ribbons, and wind burned cheeks aflame. To this day, the village uses that hole as a well, and a cautionary tale of Pride going before a Fall.
posted by Buccaneer | 18:28
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