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WACO
Charlie would look so cherubic after some caper, that my anxiety for him be mistaken for guilt. However, I always had plenty of good ideas for keeping things stirring. When I graduated from High School the Principal said I had never given him a dull moment. 
The yard at the Meyers' was always full of boys with Charlie in the workshop. The trapeze was my forte where I could regain my dignity(?) or salve my hurt pride hanging by my heels, play aeroplane by swinging out of the apple tree via the rope from the rope swing, also I was a good shot with the 22 rifle. (Target arranged by PAPA) ans so forgiven for being a girl. 
AT Plainfield, N.J. we saw Lincoln Beachey fly. After touching him once this set us apart. I usually was trolley sick, induced by repition and wanting to be my friendly self..not proper traveling. If, on trips to Grandma's with Charlie, instead of looking out the window I could keep him talking airplanes I wouldn't get car sick, or notice if I smiled at someone. Answer: Astigmatism..cured when grown.  Then the day came when we took the man carrying glider out to the old golf links with all the clotheline borrowed. To Glen Ridge, N.J. this was an historical event and to Mama hysterical. The glider with Charlie in it took off then dove into the ground. Landing my Brownie camera bet' my shoulder blades Mama screamed "Is he dead?" No, he had only a few minor scratches but hurt pride. One of the believing newspaper photographers put Charlie back in so his face would show sitting up position. The hands of the boys who pulled the glider with the clotheslinewere torn and bleeding. Added to the shortage of clothelines there was the shortage of lard for those hands. A triumph in a way if a little bloody.  
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