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Not While You're Living Under MY Roof!


Being children of the 50s, we did not spend a lot of time indoors. When we were not in school or doing homework at the kitchen table, the norm was "go outside and play"... that came easily because we had a nice sized piece of property w/ grape vines for playing "combat" and a hill for building Flintstone Villages, there were fruit trees for tree houses and pine tress for climbing, crab cages for catching squirrels, and many, many other fine activities including a fabulous garage for jumping!

I have no photos of anyone jumping from THAT garage roof (I believe it was NOT condoned, but done in complete secrecy), but here's a shot of another jumping off point- and OK so we're not kids anymore, but you don't outgrow that jumping thing.

Ready, Set...



When it seemed to us that jumping off roofs was not thrill enough, Pat and Nancy (along with Pat's husband, Bruce) decided to take it a step further and make "The Big Jump"... ma always said.... NOT WHILE YOU'RE LIVING UNDER MY ROOF~! (Ironic, huh... I mean the roof thing) So... while Pat was living in Maryland and I was living NOT UNDER MA'S ROOF- in Glassboro, we took the big plunge out of a perfectly good airplane.


Are you ready for some AIRPLANE?

So Bruce messed up his back, Pat ruined her knee, and Ma ALWAYS blamed my hernia on the jump! (not so, but what can you say to a ranting, raving mother?) There are more pix... I have to sort through and find them, so check back soon, but, if you are confronted with the job of parent, be careful how you phrase your restrictions for your children!


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