Effects or Expectations?

The effect we have on others is often forgotten. Last night my past lover and now a close friend called. He has been busy and I have not heard from him in awhile so when he called I felt relieved. Hearing his voice, I cannot undo the memories of the time we spent together. We, of course have skillfully moved into a rewarding friendship. I won’t say this was easy but necessary because there was still love…maybe in a different form. Thinking, it is something everyone should do when they breakup. This happens when you have solidly developed a friendship when you are partners. I have two other past relationships, besides this one that have evolved into close friendships. Now, they are going on 10 and 20 years. I know it hard to be mature when a relationship breaks up, and feelings are raw. But look to the future and what you want to keep that you still find valuable. Looking at my photo, my father would often forget how the effect he had on me. What mistakes he made or where I would go in my career and when. Luckily, towards the latter part of his life, he tried much harder to be understanding, and compassionate. Sadly, it could not fully undo the damage he caused when I was a boy. But, I had matured in my expectations in the years after his death.

Era of Dreams

Dream catcher, Kent Couch flew 193 miles in a lawn chair fixed with 105 helium balloons. Wow! I had the same dream as a kid especially after my father gave me a weather balloon. I thought about trying to jump off the roof, after he filled it with helium he had from his garage shop. I ran around the yard jumping up, hoping it would lift me up. He tried to explain how much it would take to lift me, but I was already lost in dream projections of where I would fly. My father had he own dreams of flight after scaling the fence at Lockheed, to sketch planes as a boy. That later transferred to him being in the air force, sadly disqualified from flying by rheumatic fever. Nonetheless, he photographed enemy bridge building in Korea. We went to air shows watching old planes duel in the sky. One time watching the brand-new 747, skim the air show runway in its proud largess out of the blue. It was an era of dreams and possibilities. I often think if we had money he would have paid for me to go to flight school. As he grew, much like me, we still had the dreams morphing into many other areas. My father’s dreams where in his art, and sometimes spilled over in drunken discussions with me. I tried to become my own person, confused by who I am, oftentimes rejecting his vision to prove myself. But alas, no matter how I tried to be different, I am still a son of an artist who flew… if only in his dreams.