Shinybass journal entry 05-09-11

It’s ok that it’s Monday.  I promise.

Good afternoon!  I have to tell you, I am a grouch when it comes to holidays – you may or may not know this – but I have to make exceptions of course, and Mother’s Day is one of those I have to let under the velvet rope.  My approach to holidays is to make every day a holiday (look at my choice of profession), but no matter what your day/night job/situation, you can make every day special.  You can have a family over for a meal (Thanksgiving), you can make someone a paper heart and leave it on the car (Valentine’s Day), or you can throw a tree through the window of the neighbor whose dog barks incessantly (Arbor Day).  Sadly, we have been herded down the narrow-minded thinking that we half to be nice or thoughtful a few times a year.  If you can’t grasp this concept, then I will make it really easy to start: Tonight, grab 3 friends, dress in green and pretend it’s St. Patrick’s Day.  No charge for the hangover.

But aside from all that rambling, I still get Mom things for Mom’s Day.  And that’s because she deserves it.  I mean, she has to put up with my brothers and I, so a once-a-month spa visit is probably in order for back pay.  Of course, now that I say this, I am probably on the hook for it.  I hope that you all did something for your Moms, and that more than once a year you tell them how much you appreciate them.

Your parents shape who you are.  Sadly, at some point, we realize that we BECOME our parents, and realize that is not such a bad thing.  My Mom was the musician, and my Dad was a pilot, and since I didn’t have wings, I chose to play music.  She was key in getting me started on the violin at age 8, and driving me to all the early school rehearsals was something she didn’t have to do, but did.  And I know I was a pain in the ass.  No question.  But a Mother’s love knows no boundaries, so Mom, thanks for pushing me along and nurturing my musical journey, and for the input that continues to this day.

I was off from the road this past weekend, and Maegan had to work on Saturday, so here I was with everyone’s dream day – a day off with no place to be, and a warm spring sun inviting me outside.  The problem was that none of my friends could come out and play.  I had planned on taking Maegan to the Tennessee Air Show, but those plans were dashed.  I really didn’t feel like going out there by myself, but I got in the truck and made the drive.  About a mile from the airport, I remember why I came.

There was an F-15 flying along side a vintage WWII F4U Corsair (The Black Sheep Squadron plane for those old enough to remember), and I got chills.  After I parked and started walking around, I was a little mad at myself.  Why did I even hesitate to head out there?  Scared to be alone?  That’s not like me.  Getting old and crusty and not wanting to leave the house?  Maybe… Either way, I reaffirmed the fact that like dropping a kid off at day care, the first step out the door is the hardest.  I walked around for hours like a little kid, trying to snap the coolest cell phone pictures I could..

 

 

 

 

 

 

I have said it before, but I am an old soul.  If I could do it all again, I would be born in 1920 and fly during WWII.  Just like the people who serve today, they were heroes, but never considered themselves such, which makes it even cooler.  The roar of a fighter flying over head – the ‘Sound of Freedom’ – is pretty amazing, but for me the treat is hearing an old plane fire up and leak oil all over the tarmac.  That’s flying.

 

So there was my adventure for the week.  New adventures await this week as we head to Florida and then up to Illinois.  We’re at the speedway in Rockford, so maybe I’ll get an in- car picture or two.  Either way, I, Steve Cook, being of semi-sound mind and a road-worn body, do solemnly swear to enjoy my life as much as the law will allow, and in the future, when faced with a decision to attend an event or see a location that I know I will love, then I will do my best to get in the damn car and get to the events and activities I so enjoy.  There.  My new life oath.  Or something.  I would just hate to miss anything, and I would hate if you did, too.  Enjoy yourself.  It’s a celebration.

 


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