Tuesday, April 27, 2010
This time Vancouver didn't feel like home. It felt like an old friend and neither of us seemed overly animated to see each other. There were still signs of the Olympics but the money had been placed on the dresser and that Jon had moved on and nobody seemed to care.
Some non-family drama with bad timing and gray skies ruled the day. I took my daughter to a bar to watch a hockey game and wet met up with a friend for a fun night of cheering the Canucks.
A 17 hour drive home found me standing in the kitchen asking if it was just me trembling or if anyone else was feeling an earthquake. The next morning I kissed the wife goodbye and said, "back to rest". It was never more true.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Sunday, April 11, 2010
I travel to Bolivia soon. I have never felt so strongly about staying there. cashing in the job and just staying. But I still have things to do before the "clean break" is possible. Eight more years
Sunday, April 04, 2010
I had the thrill of being able to get onboard one of the very few B17's that still fly. I was like a little boy at first looking at the REAL machine guns and the REAL (but disarmed of course) bombs in the bomb bay. I climbed with glee into the pilot's chair. It was one of those once in a lifetime thrills. THIS picture is the important picture. A friend took it without realizing that I had just spent a few minutes in the realization of what happened in many plane like this. 18-19 year-old boys freezing, praying, fighting for their lives. Enemy bullets tearing through the metal without slowing down and ripping into boys who months earlier had been at dinner tables with family, or on ballfields with childhood friends. Too many young lives taken. A Bishop of my church was a pilot of a plane like this. His was one of 30 bomber crews that went over to Europe. Three came home. There was thrill to this experience for me. But there was also reverence.
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