antenna

Grandad & Carolyn's house had a sort of balcony on the second story which was accessible via a door at the top of the stairs. This door was always closed and usually locked. But nothing interests young kids as much as a place they're not supposed to go, so we always wanted to go out on the balcony. It didn't matter so much that we were told the roof might not support us and we could come crashing down through the balcony into the kitchen. We were sure that we could be careful and step lightly and enjoy viewing the yard from on high. We did manage to go out a few times, and perhaps a good scolding made it seem that we shouldn't try to open that door again.
The house also had a large television antenna. There was a control inside which controlled a motor on top of the antenna to point it towards Chicago or Milwaukee or wherever there might be a television station for better reception. It was a great marvel to us, since we had mostly experience with rabbit ear antennas and we often looked up at in wonder.
At some point, we noticed that the television antenna tower passed very close to the balcony, and to us, the structure of the tower looked very much like a small ladder. After some consideration of the merits of trying to climb this ladder, we came to the conclusion that it was a good idea. I think it was Ross who first carefully stepped over Carolyn's flowers, tried out the handhold, then the foothold and began to climb. It looked easy and exciting and fun so I was quick to follow. It became more difficult as we climbed. And when we came next to the balcony, it didn't seem likely that we'd be able to get over to it, so the logical thing to do was to continue climbing up. We had a great view of the yard, front and back, and I think it was sometime around this time that we began to realize how high up we were. I also have a vague memory of trying to go down, and feeling empty space under my foot when I began to take a step down and not liking that at all. My arms and legs were getting tired, and I was wishing there was a way to get down without having to take all of those backwards steps into potentially empty space.
I'm not sure if it was Grandad or Carolyn who noticed that we weren't around, but Grandad came out and called us, and we watched him look out front, then come around back. We were so proud of our accomplishment that we didn't stop to consider that our accomplishment could get us in trouble, so we said, "Hi Grandad!" and waved to him. He looked around and couldn't tell where we were so we yelled some more and he finally looked up and we waved again. Perhaps fortunately, we were too far away to see the expression on his face, but for some reason he didn't seem as pleased about what we had done as we were. Carolyn had come out, and went inside to get the camera, and took a picture of us up on the antenna, and Grandad commanded us to come down.
Suddenly the fear of putting my foot down onto a rung of the improvised ladder that wasn't there seemed a minor thing compared to the fear of further stoking Grandad's quite evident ire (though, could it be that he also laughed for some reason?). We descended as rapidly as possible, to meet our doom at the hands of the Judge. I don't remember the exact nature of the punishment, but it could have been as bad as a long lecture of safety and common sense.
I haven't seen that picture for many years. In fact, I sometimes wonder if it ever existed.