Red Tone Rocket
Noel Laflin
3-9-15
There was only one
gift that I secretly prayed would find its way to me back in 1963 - and it did
– a brand new Red Tone Rocket.
I had spotted the high-flying
temptation perched atop the frozen food aisle in a neighborhood supermarket
earlier that summer.
“Anyone from age 8 to
88 can launch this sensational missile that reaches altitudes of 500 feet!” the
side panel of the box boasted. I must have read that oversized print out loud
to my folks on numerous occasions, hoping against hope that they took the hint.
But as my father
reluctantly pointed out, for the umpteenth time, it cost ten dollars. I felt
that the beautiful eighteen-inch shiny red plastic cylinder, capped with the
magnificent white rubber nosecone might have been as much a pipedream as
President Kennedy’s plan to put men on the moon. It simply seemed out of
reach.
But there it was
beneath the tree come Christmas morning.
Maybe there was hope
for man reaching the moon someday too.
My pals and I must
have launched that rocket a thousand times over the next decade – before it
flew no more. But my father knew that he’d scored a homerun with that
gift.
And if my count is
anywhere near correct, well, that ten dollar investment averaged out to be just
a penny a flight in the long run.
I’m pretty certain
that pleased my father too.
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