So Seafair is done. The sky is clear again. All the little city birds, and more range-y f-16s have departed. One winner stands alone. Graham Trucking’s driver J. Michael Kelly held his ground through the finals, and got her done.
I’m hearing complaints of a false start, and a watered down talent pool because of the Villwock and Shane kerfluffle on Saturday. I have to admit, I don’t care much about the complaints, since that’s a part of every great competition from NASCAR to World Cup. Even golf, tennis, and curling have oddball mix-ups that lead to questionable results. Maybe I just don’t like to dissect every last detail of events when my boat wins.
Regardless, the results are in, and life in my mom’s neighborhood will return to peace and tranquility once more. Was it last Thursday, that my Mom and I sat at Tutta Bella’s in the Columbia City neighborhood, eating delicious pistachio pizza and Napoli salad while the Graham boat was towed slowly up Rainier Avenue. I know for certain that was the moment that I picked my new favorite team.
The barricades and miles of fencing were in place, and the neighborhood was packed with the pre-event bustle. A moment before, I couldn’t decide if I was an Oberto fanboy for ol’ times sake, or if instead I’d be rooting for the boat that reminded me of my brother. And then she rolled by. And yesterday’s question faded from my lips, “O Miss Budweiser, where art thou now?”
I had a great time at a few little get-togethers, and am happy that the blue angels made their mark in our sky once more. The notable events were definitely meeting our neighbors for the first time, and realizing that one of their children won an award at my Lacrosse camp this Summer. Another nice shin-dig was this backyard party with a fire-pit, some breakdancing, and trips down to the water for late night swims. My favorite had to have been the secluded cheese and cracker porch-time with a few good friends, removed from but surrounded by grand spectacle.
There is no final thought, or morality in today’s post yet, and maybe there shouldn’t be. But for whatever reason, it’s sort of how I know my thoughts have come to a close. So here we are.
I love the blue angels. And I don’t care if it costs millions of dollars in gasoline and pollutes the airwaves and landscape when they come to town. For me, it’s a patriotic inspiration too valuable to pass up. The little boy in me screams with delight, and pretends he’s an ace for a day. I imagine all the youngsters out there thinking about what they want to be when they grow up, and I know they’ve seen a show of rare quality that took countless years of dedication to create. Well over 10,000 hours of giants standing on giants.
My position is definitely to take care of the Earth first, but in order to do that, I still believe we need to inspire the next generation to dream big, practice hard, and go for whatever sets a fire in their mind’s eye. The Blue Angels do it for me, as do space launches, fireworks, and bountiful food forests.
This idea might be forced in a little bit, but it is what’s on my mind. Take it or leave it; it’s meant for me, and, for you, only if you want it.
Peace & Love,