When my family lived in the house in Irvine, my brother Scott and I would spend the majority of our summer in the backyard playing basketball or baseball. My earliest memories were created here. We were living in a very small house, a humble home with two bedrooms and one bath. Our “backyard” was more just like a massive pile of rocks and dust. The dry California summers would murder the ground we played on. After basketball got old, Scotty and I would make up different games to play. Being so young, our imaginations were wild, but our creativity was limited.
There was a large wall that ended our “yard.” Scott and I had no idea what was on the other side of the wall, and to be honest, I never remember wanting to know. One day, we made up a game where we just chucked rocks over this wall and listened to the sound they made as they hit the other side. This was our way of finding out what was over the wall. I remember Scott telling me that nothing was on the other side of the wall, that if we were to look over, we would see nothing. “The world ends on the other side,” he would say with authority. I wanted only to believe him. I tested his hypothesis by throwing one of the dry rocks over the cusp. A quick thud ended the life of Scott’s misinformed theory. Ah ha. I looked over at Scott. He looked back at me in pure, childish astonishment. “I have no idea what that was,” he said slowly. This surprised me and I became suspicious. I bent down and grasped another hot stone from the ground of our property. I gave it a good throw, this time farther – to make sure I didn’t just hit the other side of the wall.
This time, the sound that came from the opposite side was different. It was more defined and real. What…? I looked over again at Scott. He just gazed ahead with massive intensity, as if to be looking though the wall. While continuing to stare at the wall, Scott knelt down and picked up a good-sized rock. He threw the rock over with grace and maturity. The sound that echoed into the sky and over the wall to our ears was all too familiar. Just as the sound before it, he threw it about the same distance as I did. I was happy with myself. There is no greater joy than being equal to an older brother. I kept looking at him, waiting for him to explain everything – it was as if he knew what was going on and not filling me in just for his own enjoyment of suspense.
We began throwing rocks one after another with each hand and with no accuracy just to hear the different sounds. One sound was quite clear and poignant, but we had no idea what it was hitting. I thought for the longest time that I was hitting some sort of spacecraft or UFO, the sound was like some sort of tin or thin metal. I truly believed every word my brother said, and was developing a complete trust in the fact that this is where the world ended.
Then, a voice. It was loud, booming and god-like. Our parade of throwing was ceased as the voice grew louder and before we knew it a man hoisted himself above the barrier! He was Hercules! Adam! God Himself! His face was stern and our two small bodies became stiff and still. As he spoke, he warned us of what we were doing, asking us if we knew what we were hitting. “No,” we both said almost simultaneously. “You’re hitting my truck,” he said frankly. I was a ghost, completely frigid. My bones seemed to freeze as my blood halted inside my body. He has a flying truck...The only thing that moved was my mind – wild with curiosity and wonder. He must be able to fly too. Hercules sat hoisted on the ledge of the cliff to the end of the world like he was just out for a day trip. I can’t remember a single word he said after that. Something about telling our parents if we were to throw rocks off the edge of the earth again. When he finally let off, there was no sound after that. No shoes hitting the gravel, no shutting of a truck door, no sound. As my brother and I walked back in to the house I had so many questions. My little mind began pulsing.
“Do you think – ?”
“Shut up.”
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