The Tower
A climbers quest for connection and liberation
By age eight, I had successfully climbed onto every garage on my block. I could easily climb tall trees, and I thought that I had conquered all fear of heights and of falling. By my freshman year of high school, I had bragged to anyone who would listen about my feats of climbing prowess, and then I was called out by David. David was an avid climber with a crazy streak. A boy willing to do anything, and he listened to my braggadocio and pointed to The T.V. 6 Tower, the tallest three sided lattice tower in the world; standing at 1,086 feet. It could be seen from everywhere in northeast Milwaukee, and it was a calling card for every lunatic climber in the area.
David said it was taller than the Eiffel Tower, that you could see a whole different state from up there. And there was even a tragic story of someone losing their life in a daring climb on a windy day. But those stories only drew me closer.
I was the younger one, the restless spirit with a taste for adventure. I craved the adrenaline rush, the thrill of testing my limits. The Tower was an invitation, a challenge that dared me to defy gravity. I had a reckless streak, a death wish that burned inside me, fueled by a sense of invincibility and the haunting feeling of being unnoticed by the world.
My friend, a couple of years older, carried his own burdens. He bore the weight of abandonment, a gnawing emptiness that plagued his heart. He sought solace in adventures, clinging to every moment as if it were a fleeting connection, a temporary respite from the fear of being forgotten. Constantly craving attention, he once captured a huge muskrat from the river shore and skinned it while its heart was still beating. He hung the carcass in the prom queens locker the next day and the police were called because the principal thought it was a fetus.
When David proposed climbing the Tower and hanging a flag from its summit, it was an invitation I couldn’t escape. I wanted to feel the rush of danger but deep down, I knew it was more than that. It was a way of screaming, “I exist! Look at me!”
As we approached the Tower, the cold wind from Lake Michigan greeted us with a chilling embrace. It was as if nature itself was cautioning us, warning us of the perils that lay ahead. But we were undeterred, drawn to the Tower like moths to a flame. The towering fence surrounding it served as a feeble barrier, easily overcome by our determination and youthful agility.
Standing at the base, I felt a surge of adrenaline mixed with a tinge of apprehension. It was a volatile cocktail, the perfect elixir for my restless soul. David, carrying the weight of his own past, looked at me with a mix of appreciation and uncertainty. I recognized his longing for connection, his yearning to be part of something bigger than himself.
We began the ascent, step by step, David’s audacious spirit led the way. The bitter wind cut through our clothes, but it only fueled my determination. I was intoxicated by the danger, the exhilaration of defying the odds.
Reaching the first platform, I looked up at the caged ladder that led to the summit. It was a vertical climb that seemed to stretch into eternity. But my death wish didn’t waver. I saw it as a chance to gain a reputation as a madman, to leave my mark on the world, no matter how dangerous.
My friend, burdened by his own demons, hesitated. His eyes betrayed his inner turmoil, a mix of longing and fear. I understood, but we had climbed too far to turn around.
From the ground, the ladder looks perfectly solid, but a few hundred feet from the ground you feel swaying with each step. The wind whipped around us, and I imagined being torn from the rungs. Fear gripped us both, intertwined with our distinct motivations. For us, it was a desperate bid for connection, an attempt to fill the void left by abandonment. But it was also a dance with death, an insatiable hunger for an extraordinary existence.
And then, against all odds, we reached the summit. There was nothing more to do, but as the world unfolded before us, a paralyzing fear crept into my veins. A feeling of wanting to live more than I had ever wanted to live filled my heart. The thought that one missed step, one flawed grip and I would plummet to my death filled my soul. My body felt heavy and uncoordinated, and I gripped through the rungs of the ladder with my arm at the elbow and in terror carefully descended. David, on the other hand, felt accomplished and free and descended a full hour before me. David went on to outstanding climbing adventures, and I lived with a new fear of heights that I could never shake.
