Gravity Keeps Holding Me Down (standard:humor, 5002 words)
Author: Crews	Added: Jan 15 2009	Views/Reads: 3059/2242	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A man's lifelong battle against forces of nature.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

It took a lot of struggle but I finally made it. I had to be at least
twelve feet high. From my perch I was surprised at how clearly I could 
see the things around me. Ralph and Betty came looking for me, and of 
course, they could not find me. I yelled at them and they looked up to 
see me sitting comfortably on the tree branch. It was evident Betty was 
impressed with my skill. Then Ralph had to go and ask, “Why don't you 
go higher?” I know he did that just because he was envious of the 
attention Betty was showing me. His attitude would have made me really 
mad if he was not such a good friend. So, looking down at them, I 
nonchalantly replied, “No problem, I'll go to the top.” 

With more than a little nervousness and deliberate care I pulled myself
from one limb to the other. About half way to the top I made the 
mistake of looking down at Ralph and Betty. This made me dizzy and I 
had to quickly grab the tree and cling to it for a minute until my 
senses quit spinning around. Out of concern Betty yelled up to me, “Are 
you okay?” I was too woozy to reply so I carefully waved to them and 
then hastily grasped the tree again. For a moment I had thoughts of 
giving up my climb to the top until I heard Ralph tell Betty, “I could 
go a lot higher than that.” 

Slowly but surely I continued to climb until I was at the top. The tree
was much smaller at its peak and actually began to gently sway back and 
forth due to my weight on it. From this vantage point I could see for 
miles around. Our motor home looked like a toy and Ralph and Betty 
looked like ants. The view and the sense of not being held to the 
ground started a euphoria in me that has lasted until today. I knew 
this was my destiny. My life would have to be high above the ground. 
Unfortunately, I did not realize it at the time, but gravity was about 
to rear its ugly head. 

From my loft in the top of the tree I could hear Betty giggling with
delight at my achievement. Even as I rocked to and fro I could tell 
Ralph was even impressed with my accomplishment. I was feeling very 
good about myself until I heard a loud crack as the tree top I was 
clinging to broke off and starting falling toward the ground with me 
hanging on for dear life. 

The sense of falling was not that bad at all. There was a sort of
exhilaration at being able to float through the air even though it was 
a downward spiral. I was brought quickly back to reality when I landed 
on a large limb of the tree. This probably saved me from hitting the 
ground and breaking my neck, but the way I landed made we wish I could 
have died. I came to a sudden stop as my fall made me straddle the 
limb. Now, if I had been a girl this would have proven to be simply an 
embarrassing moment. But, since I was a boy, this proved to be a moment 
of excruciating pain. As a young man, especially one going through 
puberty, the area between the legs is quite sensitive to any sudden 
impact. My impact with the tree limb had not only been sudden but it 
was quite a forcible blow, too. Stunned and in severe agony, I sat 
there trying to avoid unconsciousness. From the ground I could hear 
Ralph laughing as he shouted at me, “Haven't you ever heard of gravity? 
What goes up must come down.” I wanted to punch him in the nose, but I 
was hurting too much, and besides, he was my best friend. With concern 
in her voice Betty yelled up at me, “Are you okay?” It took all the 
strength I could muster to reply in a very high shrilly voice, “Yeah.” 

It took me awhile but I finally made my way down the tree to solid
footing on the ground. Once he realized the pain I was in, Ralph was 
very good in helping me back to my home. Betty was good too, but being 
a girl she could not fully understand how sore it was for a boy to be 
hit where I was hit. 

Later that night when my parents wanted to know why I was slow and
walked funny, I lied and said I had twisted my ankle. I know it is 
wrong to lie and I do not make a habit of it, but I was embarrassed at 
my condition and was afraid to tell them I had climbed to the top of a 
big oak tree. Not only would I get a spanking, but more than likely, my 
mamma would wind up shooting something or somebody. 

When I finally went to bed I found I could not pull my legs together.
So, I had to lie on my back with both of them spread wide apart. I was 
still tender and remained that way for most of a week. As I tried to 
ignore the pain I reflected on what Ralph had said in the woods. He had 
mentioned something about gravity. I had always known about gravity but 
now I was coming to view it in a totally different light. Instead of 
being a useful force of nature, I came to believe it was a beast out to 
devour me. How else could you explain why it tried to drag me out of 
that tree and crash me to the ground? Gravity was not to be trusted. It 
will hold you down and make you submit to its power. If you try to 
break free it will reach up, grab you and yank you brutally back to 
earth. Anyone who defies its will can be assured of being injured or 
even killed. 

Laying there in my bed I contemplated this great truth and became quite
angry. It was unfair how gravity could get away with such heavy handed 
tactics. A person should not be hindered by such an unforgiving 
monster. To an adult these musings would bring a smile, but to a young 
man of twelve this was a serious matter demanding immediate attention. 
If gravity would have been a person I would have punched him in the 
nose. From my bed, I made my decision. I declared war on gravity. When 
I fell from that tree he made have won the first battle, but the war 
was far from being over. 

Over the next year or so I became quite agile at working my way up a big
old tree and dangling from one of its limbs while Ralph and Betty 
played below. As we grew older their playing developed into hugging and 
kissing as they fell into a full blown romance. I was happy for them 
but my greatest pleasure was hopping from one tree branch to another. 
Every time I successfully made a jump I would silently declare, “Hah, 
gravity, beat you again!” Sometimes my foot would slip and I would 
almost fall. When that happened I could swear I heard gravity laughing 
at me. He was confident that it was only a matter of time before he 
snatched me out of the tree tops and hurled me to the ground. As it 
turned out, he was right. 

I was fourteen and a half when it finally happened. Ralph and Betty were
a hundred or so feet away as I bounced from one limb to another. The 
sound of Betty's laughter distracted my attention and down I came. As I 
was falling I prayed I would not land on a limb the way I had before. 
My prayer was answered. With a loud thud I hit the ground. My left arm 
broke in two as it struck a rock. I could hear the roaring laughter of 
my sworn enemy, gravity, as I surrendered to the blackness of 
unconsciousness. 

After an overnight stay in the hospital I was sent home to recover. I
joined my father as we both healed from our wounds. Mine was a broken 
arm and his was a gunshot wound. The night before, when I was in the 
hospital, my mamma had gone out and shot the tree I fell from. My 
father told her it was stupid to shoot something that did not know it 
was being shot. So, she shot him. 

Thankfully, my father had only received a flesh wound. He lied and told
the police he had shot himself while cleaning the gun. I guess that was 
better than having mamma go to jail again. At least, that is the way my 
father explained it to me. He said we were not able to afford our 
medical bills and mamma's court cost, too. This way everything would 
return to normal, and all he and I had to do was heal. 

As we sat together on the couch watching TV my arm developed an itch.
The cast prevented me from scratching it. I mumbled to myself, “That 
dang old gravity!” My father glanced at me and then asked, “What's that 
about gravity?” “I don't like gravity,” I replied. “It made me fall and 
break my arm.” “Well, I guess it did,” he pondered for a moment. “But 
it was you who was acting like a monkey in them trees.” “All I was 
doing was climbing,” I declared in my defense. “That mean old gravity 
was what made me fall.” “Well, maybe that's cuz you keep fightin' it,” 
offered my father. 

I had to sit and think about that for a second. Of course, I had been
fighting gravity. It was the enemy. I wanted to fly and it kept holding 
me down. Turning to look his way I said, “I thought that's what you're 
supposed to do.” He smiled and offered, “That's what it wants you to 
think, but you've got to be smarter than it is.” “How can I do that?” I 
asked as my interest grew in the possibility of learning a new tactical 
strategy in the war against my old enemy. “You've got to figure out its 
strengths and then use them against it,” he declared. I was stunned. 
Here I had always been trying to learn gravity's weaknesses and now my 
father was saying I should be looking at its strong points. The 
revelation of this struck me like a blinding light. How could I turn 
gravity's strengths against it and to my advantage? I was going to have 
to think about this for a long time. In fact, to this day I still think 
about it. 

My father and I both healed and got back to our normal way of life. I
still climbed trees but I never fell again as I was constantly trying 
to beat gravity at its own game. Ralph, Betty, and me grew into fine 
young people intent on making our mark in the world. One day my father 
came up to me and asked, “You still fightin' gravity?” I was somewhat 
surprised he remembered our conversation from some years before. 
Smiling at him I replied, “Of course, I am.” He reached into his back 
pocket, pulled out a pamphlet and handed it to me. It had an 
application in it for an airplane pilot school. “Then, why don't you go 
and learn to fly,” he asked as he turned and walked back toward our 
motor home. I thought about it and decided I would. 

Ralph and Betty got married shortly after high school. It was to be
expected. They had loved each other for a long time. As for me, I 
occupied my time learning to be a pilot. It was not long before I had 
graduated and had joined a small outfit ferrying sightseers over Lake 
Norman. I was having the time of my life doing what I liked to do and 
feeling like I had beaten gravity with every flight I took. My 
confidence grew as my skill grew. It brought me great pleasure to 
thrill people with a view of the lake from a thousand feet in the air. 
Sometimes I would play my favorite trick on them. If a small cloud was 
nearby I would pull along side it and let one of the wings dip into it. 
With the cloud covering the wing it looked like it was gone. At just 
the right moment I would look out and yell in mocked horror, “Oh, my 
God! The wing's fallen off!!” Most people appreciated my attempt at 
humor. There were a few who did not. 

As time passed I became restless with flying small aircraft so I went to
school to become a jet pilot. The thought of controlling all that power 
in a jet engine intrigued me. Besides, the freedom it gave me would be 
another victory in my constant battle with gravity. Before long I had 
my license and was hired by a firm out of Chicago that chartered planes 
and pilots. I met some very interesting people. Most flights were 
businessmen and women, but occasionally there was the famous actor or 
musician. 

I had been working with this company for about six months when one day I
received a call from Ralph. We spoke a bit about he and Betty and the 
kids and then he told me why he had called. Mamma had shot my father 
again. He would live but he was in the hospital and mamma was in jail. 
They had gotten into an argument over one of those reality shows on TV. 
It was just heated words until my father told her it was dumb to be 
watching all that stuff anyway. This was when she shot him. Before we 
hung up Ralph made this observation, “You know, no matter where you go 
your family keeps pulling you back.” On my way to the airport I thought 
about this. It dawned on me how I had lived my whole life just waiting 
for my mamma to kill my father. This was no way for me or them to live. 
It was here I had the revelation that gravity may not be the only thing 
holding me down. 

I flew into Charlotte and hired a taxi to take me to Concord to the
hospital. My father was propped up watching a reality show on TV. He 
was glad to see me and I pulled a chair near his bed. After some small 
talk I asked him, “Dad, why does mamma keep shooting you?” He turned 
the volume on the TV down and replied, “Oh, I guess I get her all mad 
sometimes. We love each other but, you may not know this, but I'll do 
some crazy things sometimes.” “Yeah, I know,” I agreed. “But she 
shouldn't be shooting you. One of these days she may kill you.” He 
laughed and said, “Oh, I don't think so. She ain't never tried to hit 
me.” “She's done shot you three times,” I protested. “It sounds like to 
me she's pretty good at hitting you.” “Oh, no she ain't,” he disagreed. 
“She always aims to miss me. She's gets mad at me and just wants to get 
my attention. It's just sometimes she misses her miss and hits me.” 
“She misses her miss?” I asked with amusement. “Yep, she means to miss 
but sometimes she misses that,” he explained. I had to ponder that for 
a moment. Finally I said, “Dad, can I ask you a question?” “Sure.” “Why 
don't you just take the gun away from her?” I asked. He sat there 
staring at me. I could tell from the way his eyes were blinking he had 
never thought of that before. 

After giving him bail money for mamma I traveled back to the airport for
my return trip to Chicago. For the first time in my life I believed I 
had shared some important information with my father that would change 
our lives. He now knew what he had to do to keep mamma from shooting 
him. This gave me a sense of relief and a feeling of newfound freedom. 
If he followed through and got rid of the gun I would be able to rest 
easier. A weight would be lifted from my shoulders as I would no longer 
cringe from fearing the worse every time my phone rang. It was as if I 
had won a great battle against my old adversary, gravity. For the first 
time in my life I no longer felt held down by my wacky family. 

A few days later I received a letter from my mamma. She had made bail
and they were in the motor home on their way to Phoenix, Arizona. This 
way she would not have to go to court for shooting my father. Now North 
Carolina was added to Florida as the list of states they could never go 
to again. Her gun was resting comfortably in a case at a pawn shop in 
downtown Landis. I breathed a sigh of relief as I made out a check to 
mail to them for a down payment on a house. The motor home was now over 
fifteen years old and I knew it probably would barely make it across 
country much less provide them a decent place to live. Later my mamma 
called me to thank me for the money and to tell me they had bought a 
nice two bedroom home. It warmed my heart to know I could help make a 
difference in their lives. 

My father had listened to my advice just as I had listened to him about
gravity. It paid off big for both of us. He and mamma were living 
peaceably in Phoenix and I was about to put his advice to good use. 

A rock group called Mishmash had chartered a plane for the entire band
and I was assigned its pilot. They are one of my favorite bands. My 
good friend, Pete, was my copilot. We left Chicago one morning on our 
way to Atlanta. They were scheduled for a concert there later that 
night. The road manager had allowed the president of the fan club to 
accompany us on the trip. Her name was Cathy and no one knew at the 
time she was crazy as they come. 

We had been in the air for almost an hour and had reached our cruising
speed when I asked Pete for a readout on the outside temperature. He 
did not respond and when I looked his way there was crazy Cathy holding 
a butcher knife to his throat. 

“Hey!” I shouted. She pressed the knife against his neck and yelled,
“Shut up or I'll cut him!” I could see the fear in Pete's eyes so I 
said, “Okay, take it easy lady. What do you want?” She handed me a 
piece of paper and ordered, “I want you to fly us there.” I looked at 
the paper and exclaimed, “That's down in Mexico.” “I know,” she said. 
“Now get us there or your buddy gets cut.” “Okay, but I'm gonna have to 
turn the plane,” I offered. She simply said, “Do it.” 

As I started to bank the plane to the right I noticed Pete still had his
seatbelt on as so did I. My father's advice about using gravity's 
strength to my advantage gave me an idea for a plan. Pretending to flip 
some switches for the trip to Mexico I turned the seat belt sign on for 
the passengers. I knew our flight attendant would see the sign and make 
everyone buckle up including herself. Now was my chance to do as my 
father had said and use gravity's strength against him. I was depending 
on my old adversary to behave as he always had. 

After a couple of minutes I straighten the plane's flight path and
looked at Pete. I could see my apparent willingness to go along with 
Cathy's demands made her relax a little and she was not holding the 
knife close to Pete's neck. I winked at him and then slammed the 
plane's stick forward as hard as I could. The plane lurched and pitched 
downward at a violent rate. Anything that was not bolted down went 
flying toward the windshield as gravity tried its best to drag 
everything to the ground. This included crazy Cathy. She hit the glass 
with a giant thud and was immediately knocked unconscious. At first, I 
thought she had broken the windshield but it held firm. 

Pete and I both struggled with the controls to bring the plane's nose
back level. My old foe was not going to give up without a fight. For a 
moment I thought he was not only going to win this battle but we were 
all going to crash and he would have won the war. But it was not long 
before we were flying level again and Cathy was a crumpled heap of 
unconscious flesh lying in the floor. My father had been right. I had 
been able to use gravity's strength to my advantage. 

We flew on to Atlanta and safely landed the plane. When we disembarked I
looked down at the ground and smiled. I believe gravity was smiling 
back at me. He knew, on that particular day, I had managed to grab the 
upper hand. 

Of course, Pete and I were the heroes of the day. We had saved a popular
rock group from being kidnapped and held hostage by a money seeking, 
attention grabbing crazed fan. Mishmash inducted us as honorary members 
of the band and gave us free admission to their concerts for the rest 
of our lives. 

Two great things in my life came out of this experience. One was Amy.
She was one of the backup singers for the band and had been on the 
plane with us. When we landed she hugged and kissed me and we fell in 
love. Our wedding is planned for next June. The other thing is my 
application to be an astronaut has been accepted. I believe the 
notoriety from saving Mishmash from being abducted by crazy Cathy 
helped in being selected as part of the astronaut core. Now I will have 
a chance to spend six months in zero gravity on the space station 
circling 240 miles above the earth. Floating free for six months 
without my old enemy gravity bothering me. I may not have won the war 
but I have certainly won another big battle. Take that you beast of 
nature! 

To celebrate Amy and I decided to visit my parents in Phoenix. It had
been awhile since I had seen them and they had never met Amy. When we 
arrived they were so happy to see us. They were living in a beautiful 
brick home. The motor home was parked in the driveway. Mamma instantly 
liked Amy and they started talking like they had been close friends all 
their lives. My father took me around proudly introducing me to all his 
neighbors as his son, the astronaut. 

Life was good. I should have known it would never last as it was going a
little too good. The next morning we were suddenly awaken by a loud 
roaring sound coming from the front lawn. Mamma, Amy, and me rushed 
outside to find my father sitting on top of one of the biggest 
motorcycles I have ever seen. He revved the engine and then did a 
wheelie down the road before turning and coming back to us. 

I immediately knew this was going to be trouble. Mamma hated
motorcycles. Actually, she was afraid of them. She had told me more 
than once the only reason they make you wear a helmet is so the 
undertaker will have something to bury. I could tell she was as mad at 
my father as she had ever been. 

He roared up into the driveway, cut the engine off, and hopped off the
bike. “What'd you think?” “Well, it's big,” I surmised. “And loud,” 
offered Amy. “I know. That's the way I like them,” he declared. “Now 
your mamma and me have got something we can ride all over the Rocky 
Mountains.” 

Mamma stood there looking at him with the most disgusted look on her
face. It was evident to all trouble was brewing, but my father could 
not help himself. He moved real close to her, almost in her face, with 
the biggest grin across his lips. They both knew she wanted to shoot 
him, but she no longer had a gun. He slowly licked his lips in obvious 
delight and then broke into a hearty laugh. I was amazed at his new 
found confidence, as I had never seen him be this bold with her before. 
He cleared his throat, spit on the ground, rubbed his tongue against 
the inside of his cheek, and smirked, “You ain't got no gun no more.” 

This was the first time my mamma stabbed him. 


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