Fun and Games Dept

From one of the greatest shows of our generation, “The West Wing”.  God I miss intelligent television that still entertained.  I’m a not a lowest common denominator.

I like to think of myself as a responsible citizen. I encourage recycling. I’m respectful in public. I smile at strangers. I try to be a positive influence on the world. I live by my credo of giving more than I take from society. My life is wonderful. I have a wonderful family. I have the ability to pursue my passion of aviation and I have a good career. 

But yet I’m angry.

I go onto Twitter and see endless streams of idiocy from the Oval Office, with seemingly rational people normalizing abhorrent behavior that would resulted in fits of rage if the president was black. The news is a constant barrage of pearls clutching, hyperbole and exaggeration. I still don’t know why I maintain a Facebook account, though I do post on there much more than I should. It’s my own damn fault that Facebook frustrates me. I let it frustrate me. 

The thing is, when I see friends or family defend the sheer stupidity of the Trump administration I just get angry. The fact that a reality start that ran for the presidency as an attention seeking exercise actually became the leader of the free world through the enormous ignorance of the American people angers me. It angers me a lot.

I’m also frustrated that the search for real estate has been reduced to “here’s a bunch of house you should look at on a website, let us know you’re interested.” The Internet has made so many people so lazy and ignorant. Technology was meant to enhance our lives, not reduce us to zombies without a single independent thought.

Maybe I need to go watch a cat video or something.

Even though it’s only Monday, I’m exhausted by the news coming out of Washington, D.C. this evening. As a distraction, let’s listen to Alisha sing “Into My Secret” in 1987.

https://youtu.be/2TC-SiAndUs

In 1957 or 58 my grandfather moved his family out of their farm house and into the first floor of one of the three barns on their property. The floor had been renovated so that it was a decent living space. He then ripped the old farm house down and built a new home. The new house was designed by a man that owed the family business money. The custom design, which underwent one revision when my grandmother provided input on the kitchen, came to fruition and I believe my grandparents moved the family out of the barn and into the new house in 1959. The house was decidedly what we call “Mid Century Modern” today, with pocket doors, a judicious use of slate and brick on the interior and a large basement that had its own fireplace and large windows. 

My fascination with Mid Century Modern began with this four bedroom, three and a half bath house that my grandparents called home for nearly 50 years. I struggle with seeing it in the somewhat run down state it’s in today; the guy that purchased the home from my grandfather’s estate using it as a camp of sorts.

I like to remember it in all its glory.

I’m on a flight from Syracuse to Laguardia at the moment. It’s a Delta flight and we are on a CRJ200. I used some of my accumulated miles to book seat 1A. It’s not first class but rather “Delta Comfort”. I have leg room in front of me but the seat width is reminiscent of a saddle. The man in 1B has his legs spread wide apart and gets startled when I’m suddenly pressing my leg against his to claim my personal space. 

Two women in row two, have never met before this flight, are chirping away like two canaries in a coal mine. One enjoys Lobster Poutine when she travels up north (which is not Canada, but Carthage, New York). The other woman has two children and they like McDonalds french fries. 

A couple of boarding passengers refused to believe that their bag would not fit in the overhead compartment of this CRJ200. One guy exclaimed, “it fit when I flew from Switzerland!” If he flew from Switzerland to the US on a CRJ200 I must commend him for dragging his ugly bag across the ocean while he was swimming. I will never understand why some Americans choose to battle with the flight crew. Perhaps they don’t realize that the flight crew has been exhausting trained on this particular airplane? 

There’s always more of a hassle when flying into one of the New York City airports. People just seem cantankerous. I will not miss having to jump from airport to airport after our move to Chicago. At least we have a decent chance of getting somewhere direct. 

And we’ll have leg room in the process. 

When Earl’s iMac is idle it displays a rotating slide show of our trip to Hawai’i in January. Even though it’s been only four months since we visited the Aloha State, I feel like a year has passed since that wonderful trip.

Our last two major vacations have been punctuated by the urinary system difficulties I had before the corrective surgery in March. During our cruise in June 2015 I had to always be cognizant of bathroom locations because I was headed there at least once an hour during my waking moments. While in Hawai’i it was much the same situation, with my pleading to the pee gods, “please let me just get through this trip, I’m getting everything fixed when we get home”. Having issues of this nature, in form or another, since puberty has had a profound impact on my life.

I’m still adjusting to not dealing with this anymore.

When I was commuting back and forth to an office 50 miles away on a daily basis, I had specific locations in the countryside where I knew I could pull the Jeep of the road so I could take a leak in the bushes. I was pretty much on a first name basis with the cattle at one location. They would always reply with the same thing, “Moo”. Then they’d do their business as well. The circle of life.

It’s been two months since that surgery, three weeks since the lifting of all surgical-related restrictions, and I still smile and can not believe that I can now go the bathroom without pain, without worrying if things are going to work and feeling like I have actually done my thing. 

The boost to my quality of life has been incredible.

When the doctor initially described an 11 week sequence of events that would be involved with this procedure I was worried that I would never make it through the seemingly long stretch of time required.  Looking back, any delay on my part was foolish because, at just shy of 49, I feel like a new man.

And that’s a pretty awesome thing.

I don’t feel like I do enough good in the world. I want to do more but I don’t know where to start. 

I’m sure I’ll find the path soon. 

I’m on board United Flight 4671 from Chicago/O’Hare to Greenville-Spartanburg. I’m headed down for work; we are having team meetings through Thursday. I’ll fly back to Chicago and then drive home with Earl on Sunday. Have I mentioned how much I love Chicago? I’m looking forward to our big move later this year. 

As I sit on this EMB-145, enjoying Pringles and a pop for lunch, I look outside in awe. Fluffy clouds. Just a little choppy to gain your attention. The horizon way off in the distance. As a private pilot and as a commercial passenger, I’m still thoroughly inspired by aviation. I have my goals as a pilot and they all boil down to becoming a Certified Flight Instructor by my 51st birthday, which is just over two years away. 
As a commercial passenger I have goals as well. I really have no aspirations to fly for the airlines but I want to fly with the airlines, especially other airlines outside of the U.S. mainstays. I’m curious as to what it’s like to fly on Etihad Airlines. I wonder what service is like on one of the Far Eastern airlines. 

I also want to fly on a Boeing 747 before they’re all grounded. I wish I had the opportunity to fly the Concorde and as the U.S. airlines phase out the 747, I’m worried I’ll never have the chance to fly on one. 

The A380 seems cool to me, though it doesn’t excite me as much as the 747. I think that’s the legacy aviator in me, I’m in awe of what we could do back when the 747 first took to the skies. I wouldn’t pass up the chance to fly in an A380, but I don’t feel as motivated to do so. 
As I reach what I consider to be the halfway point of my life my bucket list just continues to grow. And many items will take place while airborne or include a flight element getting from point A to point Z. 

Someone tell our accounting department to fire up the credit card. 

I walked six miles this morning. Walking about the streets of Chicago is always relaxing to me. Once off the main thoroughfares I find it to be very quiet. I do love the neighborhoods that I’ve been exploring.

The trees and flowers are coming into bloom, about a month ahead of schedule when compared to home. I find this a little odd, since Chicago has a similar climate as we have at home, though we definitely get more snow.

I stopped and said hello to a cat, who apparently has a fan club that stops by everyday and she performs by climbing up a tree and then jumping over to the roof of her catio. A woman stopped by and filled me in on the details of this famous feline. We chatted for about 15 minutes.

That would never happen back home. People aren’t particularly chatty in the Northeast.

This fluffy black cat reminded me of Cinders, a fluffy black kitten machine I had as a teenager. She was a bit spastic and not as charismatic as this lovely cat but then again she didn’t have an audience other than the other cats. She was fine in her own way.

After 15 minutes of chatter I never did find out this cat’s name.

I feel very comfortable here in the Windy City. I’m looking forward to another morning walk tomorrow before going to the Cubs game.