92615_RAA_LooseCannon_Text_R1_PROOF

I wonder if they still do it.

Anyway, the dads all had an elaborate chart set up of who went when, and my dad looked up at it to figure out when it was our turn, and sat down with me to watch my little six-year old fingers wind up the propeller on the front of my rocket. When I couldn’t get it to move any more, he said, "Here; lemme give it a few more turns."

We put the rocket on the line, let it go, and won the first heat.

This happened a few more times, in just the same way, us winning every time. It started getting closer and closer to the finish… only twenty or so kids and their rockets were left. One of the judges came over to my dad, who’s on the ground patiently winding up the rubber band, and said, "You’re up."

"We’re not ready yet," my dad replied.

Well, this freaked my little head right out of its gourd. The reason I remem ber this summer day so clearly is because while I was telling my dad that we had to go, it’s our turn, we have to race, the guy said we did, my dad got a little twinkle of Yankee stubbornness in his normally taciturn stone face and said, "Now, don’t take this wrong way, but you don’t always have to do what you’re told. You have to do what your mother and I tell you, of course, but just give a thought to what other people say."

"But…" I said, trying to grasp this new situation.

"Here’s the thing. We’ll go when we’re ready. Not when somebody else tells us to go."

"But…" I said. Remember, I was six.

My dad stood up, blotting out the sun, as he did, in those days, and said, "Listen, this is How The World Works for the Young family… we say yes, sir, and no ma’am, and follow the laws and pay our taxes… but The Rules Do Not Apply To Us." And that was the biggest favor my father ever did me, because he gave me the OK, at a very young age, to think for myself and not worry about what other people are doing.

So, we wound up that rubber band, and won that heat, too, and made it all the way to the final race, and the last four rockets…

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