My brother wanted to be a Space Cowboy when he grew up. I didn't understand what he meant until he tied rocks to the ends of string and attached them to the Radio Flyer rocket ship in our summer sunned backyard. Our dog was a convenient make-shift black hole, since he was black and didn't listen to the commands "Sit" or "Stay". Black holes don't tend to listen to that command either.
The little boys' grey gum boots seemed to be the perfect Space Cowboy boots. The rubber provided a safer barrier between the questionable elements of space than regular leather boots would, but they were also way more practical when it came to wrangling in satellites.
My sister would often try to explain to him when they lay on the grass at night that up there, in the sky, that was, in fact, space and that this was, in fact, our yard, and dog, and rocks, and wagon. He told her that she must not understand the word "space" very well.
Created: Aug 08, 2012thesquirrelandfox Document Media