I Know, It's Generational. Talk or Text.

   Today an Indy morning radio show host, top 40 station, was complaining about people calling him instead of texting. He stated that there was little reason for people to disrupt his busy life with talk. Just text him and let him get on with his life. He stated most of the time he will not answer a call since that could mean that 10 minutes of his precious time would be lost. But text him and he'll text you back, I imagine while on I-65 doing 70mph driving to his next appointment.
   First I thought; young guy that's the way they communicate, my kids text alot. Then upon further reflection I thought what a selfish attitude. Its all about his time and inconvenience. If a person (exemption for telemarketers, bill collectors and other scum) thinks about you enough to make the effort to call you, grateful your attitude should be. Sorry, our GPS has Yoda as its voice.  These thoughts were fleeting at best as the day got going. Then in the late afternoon my lifelong friend John called. We have been friends since the 5th grade. At the time  I was in Walmart with my wife rushing to get something to take to the picnic that we were running late for. We had all the little kids with us, I was busy. John and I talked for 20 minutes. Upon saying goodbye, I felt happy and blessed. Then the words from the DJ came back to me and I felt sorry for what he was missing. Sometimes the typed words that appear on our tiny screens are exactly what is needed and texting itself is a marvel. However hearing each others voices is a gift that should not be thrown away.
   Now time to pass this lesson to my children.

Reflection

REFLECTION

Placed in my arms, a reflection.

Spirit rejoices, heart pounds, thoughts race, breath breath.

Dark skin, eyes bright, out of love, creation.

She's crying! Doctor, nurse, wife, steady steady.

Two days pass, at home now, all is different.

Bassinet, carriage, crib. We are now three.

First bath given and diaper changed, only an hour spent.

Formula, bottles, pacifier, and joy, all provided.

Her first word spoken, step taken, and hurt felt all teach me to pray.

Pre-school, kindergarten, bike riding, too fast, too fast.

A flower with curly petals, toothless grin, years ago, just yesterday

Just a photo but so much more, wish time would slow.

Loves rain held, communion, dressed in white.

Soccer, report cards, concerts, birthdays, we go and go.

Bed time stories and a kiss is the hearts treasure each night.

Right on time high school starts, driving lessons, please do not stop.

Gods mercy, joy and love shown in an remarkable way.

Da, dada, daddy, dad, love swells.

Fathers pride more than letter, word, phrase dare say.

Placed in my soul, a reflection.

Written for my daughter on her graduation.

Still Flying

Yes I still stop and look up. Stand in wonder and a certain joy enters my soul. It does not matter if it's a jet, prop, helicopter or ultralight. This sculpture of the Wright Brothers first flight stirs me in the same way. This was the beginning, it flew! And I first flew here. My Alma Mater, Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University's main campus in Daytona Beach, Fl. On our recent trip to Daytona I visited my old school and the sculpture flew me back. My fascination with aviation started when I was 11 in Seattle. I was waiting for the Metro at SEA-TAC Airport when a beautiful sports car which I later learned was an E type Jag pulled up and a elegant looking woman stepped out of the car. She was there picking up her husband who was an airline captain. I remember him as very distinguished and the scene stirred in  me the desire to become like him. I started reading everything I could on  aviation and its history. Soon aviation became my passion and it continues. Once I learned about air traffic control I knew I had found my place in aviation and I have been privileged to be trusted in such a profession. My pray and advice to any young person; go after what stirs your soul. Life is too short not to. Enjoy the chaos along the way.

Big @$$ Grasshoppers

Let me introduce you to Mr. Eastern Lubber, the Hells Angel of the grasshopper world. We met him on our vacation when he scared the you know what out of my wife. The things are impressive and nasty. We pulled into Bahama House, the first hotel we stayed at in Daytona Beach. Great place but I had one complaint, get to that later. I backed into the parking space and the kids and Pam get out and go around to the back of the van to unload. That's when the screaming started. These things were all over the shrubbery and chewing apart the landscaping like they didn't give a damn. Mr. Lubber averages 5 inches in length, are toxic to most things that eat normal grasshoppers, and when ticked off will spray an irritating substance. These guys have no natural predators and are bug ugly to boot. They will also eat till the place resembles a desert. Oh, one more thing most pesticides have no affect on them.  Luckily they only come around under very specific climate conditions that rarely happens. We watched later that evening as hotel staff took long handled trash tongs to pick them off the plants and drown them in a bucket of water. The guy told us it was illegal to drown them in the Atlantic since they would unbalance the marine ecosystem. WOW! Yes that is the very one that scared my wife. He won't be terrorising any more women. Chaos at it's best.