I have a cousin, same age as me and actually a double cousin as our fathers were brothers and our mothers were sisters, who was very acrobatic when he was a kid. His name is Fred and although he eventually grew to be near 6 feet tall and well over 200 pounds he was short, small and very limber until he was 12 or 13. By the time he was 8 years old he had learned to walk on his hands (for as long as he wanted), do running flips and land on his feet like the gymnist do, and a lot other difficult physical stunts. Fred had a brother, Vernon, who was three years older than Fred and I who was just the opposite. He was very tall and not at all athletic but Fred would sometimes enlist him in some particular stunt he was trying to do.
Fred only lived about 75 yards from me so we were always together doing something, Vernon had friends his age but sometimes Fred would come up with some new gymnastic trick he wanted to try and would get Vernon to help. One day when we were 10 years old, Vernon was almost 14, Fred had me trying to help him do a stunt but I wasn't strong enough alone so he got Vernon to help.
The front porch on their house was high, at least 5 feet on the west end, and he wanted to try what turned out to be a dangerous stunt. He had Vernon and I lay on our backs at the edge of highest part of the porch, Vernon held on to one of the porch posts and we put out feet as close together as we could and drew our legs up. Fred then climbed on our feet and had us see how far we could throw him with our legs. On the count of three we shoved as hard as we could and Fred went about nine feet or so from the ground and five-six feet out from the porch. That was good enough Fred said. He was gonna let us throw him with our legs and he was gonna do a backflip and land on his feet. We practiced the throw a couple more times to get the angle Fred wanted and he was ready to go.
He got on our feet, counted three and with loud grunts we launched him skyward. Fred started his backflip but we had thrown him almost straight up, Fred realized what had happened and tried to stop the flip but it was too late and he landed on his head. He crumpled in a heap and just lay there. Vernon turned him over, his eyes were open but rolled back until just the whites were showing. Vernon said, "We've killed him." I agreed, that's exactly what seemed to have happened. By all indications Fred was a goner, he didn't appear to be breathing and was limber as the proverbial dishrag. Fred's sister, Annette, who was eight, came over and looked at him and also agreed, Fred was dead.
Their parents were gone so it was up to us to do whatever needed doing, problem was we didn't have a clue as to what needed to be done. We discussed several possibilities but Vernon finally said we would put him in his bed and maybe our parents wouldn't find out what had happened. Vernon and I carried Fred in, Annette turned the covers down on the bed and we put him in it. We laid him out on his back with his feet together, Vernon crossed his hands on his chest and pulled the covers up to just above his waist. We had done what we could, but there was serious playing to be done so we went back outside to play and quickly forgot that Fred was dead.
Maybe five minutes later their father, Boyd, came home. He was a mean man who whipped his kids unmercifully, especially Vernon. He had a newspaper and sat down in the living room, to read it. We were still playing by the porch when we heard a strange sound, something about halfway between a groan and a scream. Boyd said, "WHAT!! WHAT!! What's that?" It was quiet for a minute and then the same groan/scream combination. It was Fred coming back from the dead!
We heard Boyd get up and the chair he was sitting fall over, he slammed the door to the bedroom open and started cussing. Vernon yelled, "Oh Sh!t, let's get outta here." He and I hit the field behind the house running, Annette crawled under the house. Boyd came out of the house screaming for Vernon and I did a left turn and headed for home.
Fred was ok, he had a big knot on his head and a sore neck for a few days. Vernon hid out in the field until his parents went to bed but got his butt beat the next morning. Annette crawled out from under the house after an hour or so, shed a few tears and blamed everything on Vernon and I so she didn't get whipped. I stayed away for over a week before I got brave enough to go back to their house but nothing was ever said to me.
It wasn't really anything to get terribly excited about, just another typical day in the lives of backwoods country kids, but all of us were very fortunate that Fred wasn't hurt badly.
postscript: By the way, Fred and I married sisters. Still trying to figure out what kin our kids are
.
Fred only lived about 75 yards from me so we were always together doing something, Vernon had friends his age but sometimes Fred would come up with some new gymnastic trick he wanted to try and would get Vernon to help. One day when we were 10 years old, Vernon was almost 14, Fred had me trying to help him do a stunt but I wasn't strong enough alone so he got Vernon to help.
The front porch on their house was high, at least 5 feet on the west end, and he wanted to try what turned out to be a dangerous stunt. He had Vernon and I lay on our backs at the edge of highest part of the porch, Vernon held on to one of the porch posts and we put out feet as close together as we could and drew our legs up. Fred then climbed on our feet and had us see how far we could throw him with our legs. On the count of three we shoved as hard as we could and Fred went about nine feet or so from the ground and five-six feet out from the porch. That was good enough Fred said. He was gonna let us throw him with our legs and he was gonna do a backflip and land on his feet. We practiced the throw a couple more times to get the angle Fred wanted and he was ready to go.
He got on our feet, counted three and with loud grunts we launched him skyward. Fred started his backflip but we had thrown him almost straight up, Fred realized what had happened and tried to stop the flip but it was too late and he landed on his head. He crumpled in a heap and just lay there. Vernon turned him over, his eyes were open but rolled back until just the whites were showing. Vernon said, "We've killed him." I agreed, that's exactly what seemed to have happened. By all indications Fred was a goner, he didn't appear to be breathing and was limber as the proverbial dishrag. Fred's sister, Annette, who was eight, came over and looked at him and also agreed, Fred was dead.
Their parents were gone so it was up to us to do whatever needed doing, problem was we didn't have a clue as to what needed to be done. We discussed several possibilities but Vernon finally said we would put him in his bed and maybe our parents wouldn't find out what had happened. Vernon and I carried Fred in, Annette turned the covers down on the bed and we put him in it. We laid him out on his back with his feet together, Vernon crossed his hands on his chest and pulled the covers up to just above his waist. We had done what we could, but there was serious playing to be done so we went back outside to play and quickly forgot that Fred was dead.
Maybe five minutes later their father, Boyd, came home. He was a mean man who whipped his kids unmercifully, especially Vernon. He had a newspaper and sat down in the living room, to read it. We were still playing by the porch when we heard a strange sound, something about halfway between a groan and a scream. Boyd said, "WHAT!! WHAT!! What's that?" It was quiet for a minute and then the same groan/scream combination. It was Fred coming back from the dead!
We heard Boyd get up and the chair he was sitting fall over, he slammed the door to the bedroom open and started cussing. Vernon yelled, "Oh Sh!t, let's get outta here." He and I hit the field behind the house running, Annette crawled under the house. Boyd came out of the house screaming for Vernon and I did a left turn and headed for home.
Fred was ok, he had a big knot on his head and a sore neck for a few days. Vernon hid out in the field until his parents went to bed but got his butt beat the next morning. Annette crawled out from under the house after an hour or so, shed a few tears and blamed everything on Vernon and I so she didn't get whipped. I stayed away for over a week before I got brave enough to go back to their house but nothing was ever said to me.
It wasn't really anything to get terribly excited about, just another typical day in the lives of backwoods country kids, but all of us were very fortunate that Fred wasn't hurt badly.
postscript: By the way, Fred and I married sisters. Still trying to figure out what kin our kids are
.
