5/23 9:05 pm

Ron, Dave and myself were standing on the roof of Briscoe. An eleven-story dorm on the far north end of Indiana University. Our self-made waist harnesses strapped on. Ron threw the rope throw over as he usually did. We had attached it to a cast iron vent pipe and made sure it touched the ground. With carabiner in hand we prepare to clip on.

Ron first introduced rappelling to us on a long wooded train trestle with two lookouts in southern Indiana. It was high above a valley, at least 120 feet. Dave and I watched in amazement as Ron tied the rope off on one of the lookouts, threw it over and locked on. He climbed over the railing, planting his feet firmly on the edge and stretching his backside way out, he looked at us, smiled and said, “bye, bye”. He simultaneous kicked off and released the rope. Instantly he dropped from sight. Quickly we looked over and saw he was having the time of his life.

Dave climbed over the railing and away he when. Locked on I slowly climbed under the railing. And very gingerly slid off. Free of the bridge, dangling and swaying side to side, gently lowering the rope, slowly I descended. Gaining confidence, I dropped faster and faster. There was nothing but exhilaration touching the earth.

Preparing for the second descent we all stopped dead at the same moment, the sound of a distant train. Ron ordered us to tie ourselves to the railing as the sound amplified by the second. Quickly we move away from the tracks and did what he told us. The entire trestle started vibrating the moment the train hit the crossing and continue escalating. Five feet from the tracks we sat gripping the rope as displaced air and momentum hit us before the train crossed at 80mph. Gear blew off to the valley below as the rope held us in place. Breathing was hard as steel and tornado wind roared by. Holding on the sound was deafening. Vibration continued until the train was on dirt again. We sat in silence catching our breath.

So we would practice from time to time on trestles and southern cliffs of Indiana. Ron would always go first, but now standing on the roof, I asked to flip for it.

We had spent the 72 -73-school year on the same 4th floor in Briscoe. Ron left after the first semester, it seemed Vietnam was calling him, but it wasn’t to be. He entered into the local union electrician apprenticeship in Evansville. Dave and I dropped out at the end of the year. That fall we traveled into New England with great plans of riding our bikes from Miami to Key West. But in Boston our car was stolen and our plans changed.

Dave was back in school.

When the union carpenter apprenticeship entered my world, in early 74, it was intoxicating. From the world of words to the world of hands on material that produced the things we need to live, to survive. For if there is no roof over our heads, to keep out the rain, how far have we come as a civilization.

And so Ron, as he had showed me things I had never seen before or thought of, said “yes”. The coin fell in my favor. Locking on, standing on the ledge, jabbing my heals onto the edge, my backside eleven stories high, I looked at Ron smiling and said, bye, bye. Kicking off and dropping from sight I heard, “ass hole”.

There were no better words; I could have ever hope for.