Out of the blue — a rare eagle-eye view!
Recently I had the great fortune to enjoy a flight in a small plane with a pilot who is a fellow bicyclist. Earlier in the summer he mentioned that I should go up with him, but I forgot about it until I received his invitation by email. I was excited to join him, and I was prepared to share whatever he wanted to do. Unexpectedly, as soon as we departed the airport vicinity above Junction City, he asked me what I wanted to see. And so I happily guided him to a destination in the Casey County knobs — for any red-blooded member of the Dixon Clan, it was unquestionably the “place to go.”
This is the part of the story where clearly I should provide some kind of apt description of just how magnificent that experience proved to be. Instead, I hope that a few pictures will capture the perspective better than anything I might write. I hadn’t been in a position to do any aerial photography for at least 15 years or more. At that time, I had borrowed superior camera equipment and was in an aircraft which enabled me to hang out an open window with Dana clutching my belt. Because I was on the clock for a client that day, the idea of heading toward Blue Bank Road wasn’t in the cards. This time around, I only had our inadequate digital, and the plane windows were picking up a lot of glare, so I did my best to grab some decent angles in the time available, falling short of the desired “full coverage.”
There was also a significant degree of turbulence that morning, and when my friend offered me the controls, I declined, believing that the constant bumpiness would deprive me of any true “feel” for whatever modest adjustments I would be brave enough to make. Nevertheless, one can’t ascend in a small craft without being gripped by the wonder of flight. We were soaring with the land, just as pioneering aviators had done. As we circled through Marion County, past Forkland and into the Boyle County I had crisscrossed on a bike for nearly 20 years, my “sense of place” shifted abruptly from a ground-based familiarity to an eagle-eye awareness. I was struck with the thought of my father leaving behind his life as a pilot, giving up flying after he had known these same awesome perceptions far more profoundly than me. Why? Was it the unpleasant “baggage” from too many wartime hours in the air? Was it the power of youth’s love for field, river bottom, and the woodland creatures of a surface world? Or was it something else entirely?
For John Edward, there must surely have been times during that first decade after the Pacific tour when he faced an opportunity to reclaim the sky. A different vision must have taken hold not long after he came home—a vision of family and fatherhood that had no meaningful role for skills he had learned, taught, and then relied upon to survive a hazardous duty. Perhaps he had read Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, the famous French writer and pioneer of flight who was lost over the Mediterranean in 1944. Of Saint-Exupéry, David McCullough says it best for me:
Central to all he wrote was the theme of responsibility. In The Little Prince, it is the fox, finally, that tells the Little Prince what really matters in life, by reminding him of the flower, the single rose, he had cared for at home… “Men have forgotten this truth,” says the fox. “But you must not forget it. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose.” Writing of his friend Guillaumet, an intrepid mail pilot, in Wind, Sand and Stars, Saint-Exupéry said that moral greatness derives more from a sense of responsibility than from courage or honesty. “To be a man is, precisely, to be responsible.”
Responsibility. Any of us would be challenged to find another word that better fit the man we knew as Grandy-bo, Dadbo, Eddie … that handsome young man of the open sky who would return to earth and become the founder of our Clan.
Aerials taken on Sunday morning, November 6, 2011.
Click photos to enlarge.
This is Clan Valley — the place to go . . .
The heartland of our Clan, the vision of a man . . .
The Blue Bank Farm and family cemetery . . .
The “Heartyard” and home to our Clan mother . . .
The Realm of Greystone includes Knob End . . .
The former Cabinhood recently changed hands . . .
The Shire — newest addition to Clan holdings . . .
And then, when Bruce was gravely ill and we spent a good portion of a year hanging out around Indianapolis, I began to favor the Colts. The clincher took place last year, when I worked professionally with local star Jacob T, a second-year back-up tight end and special team starter for the team, following his brilliant career at the University of Kentucky. After that I was hooked on Indy, deriving much pleasure from watching their “almost-perfect” season and playoff success. Nevertheless, despite my desire to see Jacob be part of a Super Bowl victory, I’m not sad that the Colts fell short against the Saints tonight, because my heart is with Kristi and the Hornsby family as they enjoy a wonderful celebration in New Orleans.
Saddest of all is when I realized that the awe of star-gazing had slipped away, as my ability to perceive the dimensionality of the night heavens declined. The optimistic hope for improvement, given the functional plasticity of brain neurons, is emphasized by both Susan Barry, Dr. G., and Debra (my therapist). I accept that, in spite of having no comprehension of the difficulties that lie ahead, or how “one must learn to align the eyes and fuse their images, while unlearning the unconscious habit of suppressing vision, which has been occurring perhaps for decades,” or how therapy “requires high motivation and self-awareness, as well as enormous perseverance, practice, and determination.”
