And we got it. It was quite a chore. We tried several different ways of carrying the unwieldy panel and finally worked out to put on top of our heads. Buie was the tallest, so he was in front. I was in the middle and James was in the back. It was not easy. My arms got so heavy I thought they would fall off. I got so tired I had to carry most of the weight on my head and this made my head hurt. Every now and then a car would come down the narrow dirt road and we would have to walk almost in the ditch, with the sand falling under our feet. After more than two hours and a few rests brakes we made it back to their house. We hurried into the barn with our prize lest Dewey see it and take it away.

For many days we hid this wonderful thing we had discovered and had lengthy meetings as to what to do with our “board”. One of us would have an idea but invariably the other two would over rule the suggestion. We could not waste this unusual possession on something ordinary. Then on night we were watching TV. I think it was the Wonderful World of Color, but I had never seen a color TV, so it was the Wonderful World of Grayscale to me. The show was about this Greek mythological character  whose name at present escapes me. He made himself some wings out of wax and feathers. He got airborne alright, but he flew too close to the sun and the wax melted and he fell to his death. Of this last part we should have paid more attention. I looked over at James and said, “That’s it! We’ll make some wings!”

Late into the night we talked and planed how we would make our wings. The next morning James and I were up before the sun. Even on this most important of days, Buie, as was his custom, sleep until near noon.

We made our way to the barn through the predawn fog. On our way we collected our ancillary parts and tools, a length of rope, a handsaw, a yardstick and a brace & bit style hand drill. After much deliberation and thoughtful planning we marked a line eighteen inches from the end across the four foot width of the panel. With the handsaw we cut along the line. After that we made a freehand V on the end and cut it so that the outside end of the wing would have a point. Using the first wing as a pattern we cut the second wing. We then took the brace and bit drill and bored two holes about one inch in diameter near the square end of each wing. Through these holes a rope was ran that could be tied under the arm of the flyer that would hold the wing fast to the top of his arm. All that was need then was two handles that the flyer could put his hands in to flap the wings. We searched all about but could not find suitable handles. We decided to wait until Buie got up. He might have an idea.

Buie returned to the world of the living just in time to eat the noonday meal we called dinner and is called lunch in most other places. After filling our bellies with Aunt Angie Mae’s collard greens, purple-hull peas and fried mullet fish with fried potatoes and syrup for desert, we lead Buie out to the barn and explained our dilemma. He said, “wait here,” and turned and purposefully walked toward the house. In less than five minutes he was back with two perfect handles in his hand. I don’t think their screen doors even had handles again, but our wings did.

After attaching the handles Buie insisted he try first. We put the wings on top of his arms and he held to the handles. We tied the ropes under his arms.

“Try a few practice flaps,” I instructed. He flapped his wings. “Feel the lift?” “Yeah! I’m gettin’ lighter!” He ran and flapped the wings. Then he ran and flapped some more. After three or four passes he came back and angrily said, “They Don’t work!”