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Showing posts from June 27, 2010

Back to the "Deep South" in Duluth GA

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I get a kick out of hearing the term "Deep South" in 2026. It is a crazy incredibly outdated label. I think maybe I should start saying the "Deep Northeast". I am a Yankee. My family came over on the Mayflower and moved to Upstate NY via Connecticut. Terms used in the revolutionary and Civil war days are generally inappropriate. My family is all but totally out of NY State now. I find the term "deep south" to be of the same thinking that the movie "Heidi" is what contemporary Europe is like. Watching the fireworks in Rochester, NY from the back yard of a house in the city made it look like a real war zone. It is a long drive between Berkshire, NY and Duluth, GA. Most of the 35K miles on the truck were spent in between. I drove the truck about 3k miles in 2-1/2 weeks. It was great to spend time on the farm. It was good to make some progress on needed repairs and improvements. I also felt good about making some new friends up there. I will be...
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I have an apartment in Duluth. What a great deal. It is a 1050 Sq feet with a wood burning fireplace in between the den and living room, washer, dryer, exercise room, gated community, swimming pool all for 713.00 a month. I chickened out on buying a place on the lake right away. There appeared to be good deals in this market, but I still have to learn more. I snapped this on a 777 aircraft the other day. Some people will bring anything on as a "carry on."
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I was woke up last night about 1:00 AM. There appeared to be a party going on in the room next door. It wasn't totally loud. There wasn't any banging on the walls or anything. But it did wake me up and I didn't really get back to sleep for the rest of the night. When I went down for breakfast I noticed a "do not disturb" sign on my neighbors door. I was thinking these folks don't need that. So, I took it with me.
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Here is a poem, sent to me, worthy of repeating. "Designed to Fly" by Ellen Waterston After ten hours of trying the instructor undid my fingers, peeled them one by one off the joystick. "You don't need to hold the plane in the air," he advised. "It's designed to fly. vA hint of aileron, a touch of rudder, is all that is required." I looked at him like I'd seen God. Those props and struts he mentioned, they too, I realized, all contrived. I grew dizzy from the elevation from looking so far down at the surmise: the airspeed of faith underlies everything. Lives are designed to fly.
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I drove down to Florida over the weekend to visit with my Mom and Sister. I purposely retraced some of the roads I used a long time ago. I rode my KZ400 motorcycle to Florida alone 30 years ago (almost to the day). The roads looked a lot the way I remembered them. Although there were more fancy houses and Dollar General stores. The roads commonly had that "go on forever" look and drove into the vanishing point of tall trees. And yes, I did get a speeding ticket from a local sheriff.
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