by Peter Twitchell
I was so busy being an adult not a Kidult. I haven’t been making paper airplanes anymore for the last 50 years. The last time I made a paper airplane was when my children were small. In those 50 years I was working and I was raising four children. Those children have grown up and given me eight grandchildren and one great grandchild.
Last week when I thought about paper airplanes and my grandchildren, I got a piece of 8 x 10 tablet paper and started folding it. It took me about a minute to have a paper airplane, which glided across the room like it did so long ago.
I thought, wow I still remember how I made an airplane which could fly from when I was a boy. The next time I see my grandchild Dallas who is about three years old now I will make a paper airplane for him.
I made paper airplanes which flew across the room or outside in winter or summer. I realized I was a boy at heart even for those few minutes. It was something that I never forgot much, like learning how to ride my bicycle when I was about seven years old.
I remember fondly Mom and Dad placing a mail order catalog order for a bicycle from Sears and Roebuck, and how I waited for it anxiously to arrive.
Once my bike was put together it was a real challenge to try to ride it with balance and momentum. Over and over again for about a dozen times my Dad put his left hand on the seat and his right hand on the handle bar and ran pushing me and letting me go. I was fine for about 30 seconds and then the bike toppled over.
My knees became scraped when I finally told myself “enough.” I have to balance and keep peddling like my Dad told me to.
Learning how to ride my bike was empowering and helped to build my confidence to the point I thought, “I could learn anything I put my mind to.”
I remember vividly gliding on my bike for about 30 seconds and it was a great feeling, even I wasn’t in control of my destiny to learn to ride that bike flawlessly.
There were no training wheels on that bicycle to speak of. Finally I had confidence I could control that bike and it became a part of me.
I imagine many bikers felt the same way. Once I learned how to ride a bike I was on it from 6am till sunset during the summer.
There was a road from the old airport 3 miles on the southside across from Bethel that was constructed by the Civil Aeronautics Administration all the way back to Napaskiak Slough. There was a swinging bridge over to the two tall towers with blinking red lights. I would ride my bike every week up to that swinging bridge, across an inlet from the Napakiak Slough, park my bike and start walking across the bridge, and it always swung from side to side.
Then I would. come back at least 10 miles from the bridge and ride my bike around the old airport which was designed like a plus sign, so planes could land north, south, east, or west depending on the wind.
Everything, the roads constructed across the river from Bethel and the dirt paths off the road were all black topped. Unlike the town of Bethel which was wallowing in the mud, throughout the 50s and 60s when I was a young man.
After it rained I loved riding my bike through fresh puddles of rainwater on asphalt. I often looked back to see my tire tracks and it was so cool to splash through that water.
Growing up 3 miles on the southside of Bethel upstream I never knew mud or muddy roads until we went to Bethel.
I remember getting so proficient riding my bicycle that I could step on my left pedal and swing my leg over the body of the bicycle and glide on my bike to a stop. Much like the cowboys in western movies I saw as a boy swing their leg over their horse to dismount.
It took about two summers to wear out the ball bearings in that bicycle and I learned how to tighten the chain if it became loose. I always carried a wrench with me. Thank you Dad for everything we did together – hunting, fishing, taking steam baths, camping and berry picking with mom, grandma Hannah, and Juanita.
