Soaring At The End Of The String: This Dad Lets Go

When I was a boy of about nine, I went out to fly a kite on the banks of the Mississippi River. I was living in little New Madrid, Missouri, a town known for an earthquake two centuries ago that reversed the flow of this mighty river. The Tennessee/Kentucky border sat just across the river from me, but ever since I’d seen a boy dive into this water and never resurface, I had a deep respect for just how far that was.

I flew my kite in the same winds responsible for the violent current, and th...