Work at the Saw Mill

Jack doesn't need to spend very much time on the regular school assignments so he's taking some courses by correspondence that aren't regularly available in a small community; some German, some Latin, and he works ahead a year in math. And he reads, and reads, and reads. Such a craving for input!

There is some talk of his skipping a grade but, probably because the teachers realize he does not relate that well socially, it is not done.

He sends away for a taxidermy course, which holds his attention for quite a while. It adds another dimension to his walks in the woods with the .22 rifle.

Jack has long legs and he has a habit, when going down stairways, especially the roomy wide ones at school, of making great bounds, using the hand rails to launch himself over some fifteen steps at a time. Enjoying this, thinking about it at night when he's falling asleep, often leads him into dreams of flying. He pushes off from some sort of railing and, instead of coming down to the bottom of a landing or half way down some steps, he keeps going. Or he stands teetering on the edge of a high flat roof, and when the urge becomes overpowering, lets himself fall forward, describing a down sloping curve and just missing the ground as he sweeps up again.

First he swoops down, and then, by means partly of giving up will, surrendering himself to some power above, and partly by sheer imagination and faith, he starts to rise, and then he flies on and on, over buildings, over trees, over the town. It's wonderful, so free, effortless! He can go anywhere, and look at anything. What freedom! What clarity! But it's so hard to remember, when you wake up, what has all happened.