My Swing Set

    Mamaw, Daddy’s grandmother, bought me a swing set when I was three or four years old. Grandpa, Mama’s daddy, put it together and bolted it securely to the ground, which was a good thing because I was fearless. The swing set was modest by today’s standards, but to me it was the most fun.

    There was a glider swing, two regular swings, and a lawn swing, and each offered a different type of challenge besides swinging. My baseline was to swing on any swing as high as possible. On the glider, I would grasp the handles, brace my feet on the pedals, and swing so high that I had to lie back flat or lean forward like an Olympic rower. The lawn-swing was a sweet looking swing with two benches across from each other and a floor. Swinging while sitting on one of the benches quickly became boring, so I would stand on the floor at a right angle to the seats, grasp the poles, and swing sideways.

    The regular swings held multiple challenges. Each swing had a flat, rectangular seat, with a chain at each end attached to the top bar. I could sit on the seat, stand on the seat, or lie on my stomach across the seat and swing. I could also adjust the height up or down depending on my frame of mind. When the chain was shortened, I would feel high off the ground but couldn’t swing as freely. When the chain was lengthened, I was closer to the ground, but I could swing so high that I could see across the fence into the neighbors’ backyards or up the street to see who was headed home from work, depending on which direction I was facing. This led me to my favorite activity. First, I would swing so high that when I was at the top of the backswing, my eye level was above the top bar of the swing set. Next—and this took careful timing—when I was as far forward as I could go, I would let go and fly through the air and land on my feet—hopefully. Fortunately, I never landed on anyone or got hurt.

    The next activity the swing set provided was not part of the design. The poles on the end came together in an upside-down V shape with a brace halfway up across the middle—like an uppercase letter A. This brace provided a place to hang upside down by my knees and observe the world. I could also “skin the cat.” To “skin the cat” you hang upside down, grab the bar and flip backward, landing on your feet. Mama insists that I spent most of my childhood upside down. That explains a lot.