I was inside my head, ruminating over circumstances, and I was
definitely feeling down. With about an hour to go before sunset, I
finally convinced myself to haul my body out of a chair and at least
get out for a walk. Three miles down and a cool shower later, I was
lying on my bed anticipating the next pass of the oscillating fan,
thinking that my sense of self-worth had racked up at least one
accomplishment.
Seriously. It was
that kind of day.
At some point, my
wife interrupted: Dinner would be ready in about five minutes, son
was in his wheelchair headed for the table, and daughter’s
boyfriend would be joining us. It didn’t matter that I was still
full from my pandemic sedentary one-meal-a-day and it didn’t matter
that I didn’t feel like I’d be particularly good company. “I’ll
be there.” The next act of will was just sitting back up and
getting dressed.
Again, yes.
Seriously. It was that kind of day.
I don’t know who
was talking or what the context was, but I somehow woke up at the
table hearing someone mention “helicopters.” So listen: I have
no particular love of helicopters – I’m not really an aficionado;
however, the sights, sounds, and memories of them sometimes take me
back to my service in the Army with the 101st Airborne
Division. While helicopters were not a specific part of my daily
life there, they were certainly part of the ambiance ~ and, yes, I do
have a few good personal stories guest-starring Hueys, Blackhawks,
Chinooks, and even Apaches. Before I knew it, I found myself at the
table, sharing a few of each.
In recounting each
story, one after another, I was transported back to another time and
into another set of circumstances. In one place and time, maybe there
was just something funny to see; in another, some obstacle to
overcome; and in yet another, a reminder of who I was or a clue of
how I came to be.
Looking a little to
the left and a little to the right of each event, there were
reminders of how I found myself in that situation and perhaps how I
was changed by it. That pattern became even more clear with a little
more altitude. Looking a bit to the left and a bit to the right, I
recalled myself a wandering aimlessly in college before my father
died. Working different jobs wasn’t moving me forward or getting
me back to college, so one day I hit the eject button and joined the
Army. While there, I had a basic plan. It was routinely confounded,
sure, but I remained on course – right until it was confounded. Once
I was injured, the Army – and all the things I intended to do
therein over the next 20 years or so – were no longer an option.
Over the next year, I worked to remain honorably engaged with the
mission In an environment hostile to the “invisibly broken,” and
I accumulated quite a few stories – and quite a few hours with the
helicopters. I also remained mercifully distracted from not knowing
what I’d do next with the rest of my life.
That was more
than 25 years ago… and this day felt very familiar. What
comes next? Who knows? What I do have now that I didn’t
have then are those stories reminding me that this isn’t the first
time my world’s been turned upside-down… and in this instance, I
had the nice distraction of sharing some of my stories with my kids
and with a young man who may have known little to nothing about me
except through hearsay.
No helicopters this
time ~ but maybe I picked up a worthwhile story for another day. In
the meantime, for the first time in a while, I slept peacefully.
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