One of the single most surreal things to ever happen to me occurred when I was eight years old.   I was out flying a new kite.  It was giant winged eagle, I think … with a bunch of patriotic crap embossed on it for good measure.  Growing up, I had the privilege of an enormous backyard with lots of space to run amuck.  Our property backed up to a farm field, so it was not uncommon to see Bambi or Thumper or that cute little skunk.

One breezy Saturday after morning cartoons were over (uh, the worst part of any kids’ day), I traipsed down to the store and got a new kite.  It was a WHOPPING $4.  I told the clerk that was highway robbery … because I’d heard my dad use that term to discuss rising gasoline prices.  The clerk seemed ambivalent about the whole thing, if you ask me.

After a good 15 minutes of trial and error, the kite was aloft.  And it was really starting to soar when suddenly the string broke.  I watched my kite take off, supposedly never to be seen again.  I moped back to the house disgruntled, dismayed and out $4.

Around dusk, I was out riding my bike when I saw my kite caught in the world’s largest tree about a mile away.  I’m sure it was more like 100 yards, but perspective is skewed before age 10.   Of course, there was no way to retrieve said kite without the help of a fireman … or Superman, both of whom seemed viable alternatives in 1979.

So I sat on the hood of my dad’s shiny Pontiac Tempest and glared at my kite.  It was clearly taunting me.  And, thanks to binoculars, it appeared to be relatively unscathed.   I looked at the kite.  The stupid eagle looked back at me.  Me … kite.  Kite … me.  And this went on for about 15 minutes while I hatched a plan to get my kite back.  I was damned if I was gonna hear my mom say, “Well, there went $4.  You’d have been better off throwing your money down a rat hole.”

I figured when all else fails, I could turn to God at this moment of crisis,  “God, I need my kite back, pronto,” I prayed.  Nada.  So much for divine intervention.   So I figured my next modus operandi was sheer will.   I focused intently on the kite and visualized it back in my greedy little mitts.   Sure enough at that exact moment, a quick breeze knocked my kite loose.   It floated gently down and landed, and, no, I’m not kidding, about 100 feet away from me.

Looking back, I’m sure God had something to do with it.  He just seemed a little slow on the uptake.  He probably had his hands full with the Iranian hostage situation or something.  But part of me would still like to believe I have the power over time and space.   I haven’t tried my powers of telekinesis since … it kind of freaked me out at the time.    Know what else freaks me out?  Eagles.  Go figure.