I’m standing on a six-inch ledge, ten feet off the ground with my face pressed up against hot gray stone…

I was five years old, and my best friend, Douglas Murphy was six… and a half. He was bigger, stronger, faster, like the Six Million Dollar Man, except Douglas Murphy had long red hair that he’d shake it out of his eyes ‘bout every five minutes. I wanted so badly to have hair like that. Still do!

Douglas Murphy could catch pigeons with his bare hands. He could run up slides, and run like a… cheetah over the spidery cracks and black splotches of gum on the sidewalk in front of our Chicago apartment… How was I going to make it in kindergarten without a single superpower like Douglas Murphy?

My family lived in the second-floor unit, and Douglas’ bedroom was directly below mine. Each night, before I went to bed, I’d stomp three times on the floor and Douglas Murphy would give me three thumps on the wall in return.

One thing we had in common was our deep and profound love… of candy: especially Twizzlers and Milk-Duds… My mom kept a bowl of it on the fridge… as if I couldn’t climb the counters… After lunch, she’d dole out two pieces of candy to Douglas and me. Are you kidding me? These were the miniature versions… not movie size.

Well, one day, during the summer vacation, we were shooed outside into the scorching heat. Before long, Douglas Murphy and I were busy burning ants with his new magnifying glass … I heard the front door clunk closed, and my mom gave me a kiss on the cheek. She said needed to run some errands and wouldn’t be gone long… To be fair, we weren’t the only feral kids in the neighborhood. It was the 60’s after all.

Well, soon as Mom was out of sight, Douglas Murphy hatched a plan: He suggested I climb the steps to the second-floor landing, stand on the railing, and shimmy the ten-feet across a six-inch ledge… I’d crawl through our open window and snatch some candy out of the bowl. My mom’d never know …

The truth is, it didn’t seem that hard. I was pretty good at balancing on curbs… But when I got out there on the ledge, I couldn’t put my arms out for balance, and I kind of froze up there… Douglas Murphy shouted: “Just don’t look down. Ok? Ok.? Ok?” “Okay! I turned to face the building and felt the gray stone burning my cheek. And after taking a single tippy-toe step, I… lost my balance and tumbled backwards…

There was a thud when my back hit the dirt; my head snapped back and I saw a flash of white, and I start gasping for breath like my goldfish when I’d take her out of her bowl … Douglas flew down the stairs, three at a time, and yanked me to a sitting position. When I put my hand on the back of my head, I could feel this plum-sized knot, all wet, and when I looked down, I saw a bright, red stain spreading across my t-shirt. I knew was in big trouble…

Douglas Murphy shouted. “Your mom! Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go.” …Did I mention Douglas was prone to repeating himself. Maybe a form of echoalia?? Whatever… He starts reading my mind: “Don’t worry! …If you hold my hand, you can go superfast, too!”

  What happened next will remain etched in my brain forever. Douglas Murphy was squeezing my hand and we were not running down the sidewalk. We were flying… several feet above the spidery cracks and black splotches of gum; I could see cigarette butts in the gutter, broken glass.

And just like that, we got stuck at the corner of Devon and Broadway…You see, my mom told me I could do whatever I wanted on our block, but that’s as far as I could go. Douglas Murphy squeezed my hand a little tighter, and we snaked our way through a stream of traffic … Forget about flying, this was the miracle in the story… In Chicago, cars do not stop for pedestrians, even at crosswalks…

Halfway down the block we saw my mom coming out of the dime store. She looked so pretty, her blonde hair poofed-up high on her head like I Dream of Genie. Then I see this look of confusion and horror wash over her face. I tell her, “I’m ok. I’m ok. I’m ok!” Apparently, echoalia is contagious.

“What happened? How did you find me? Goddammit!”

“Um Candy… Douglas Murphy… Sorry!”

My mom flags down a taxi and takes me to the hospital where I get 17 stitches to sew up the flap on the back of my head …

I have no idea how Douglas Murphy made it home, but when I stomped on the floor that night, I was relieved to hear three thumps in return.

So what were my lessons? Well, I did learn I could run superfast… long as I was holding the hand of Douglas Murphy. And I learned to think twice before following all the plans my best friend hatched. Whatever! I wore that shaved patch of hair and hand-stitched badge of courage with pride; I was so ready for kindergarten; I had the perfect story for show and tell and tell and tell…