I’ve always been fascinated with dirigibles. This week, watching the Goodyear blimp floating above Tulsa covering the PGA, reminded me of the day I got a ride on the iconic airship.
My memory is fuzzy on the exact year, but it was early Seventies, so I was 10 or 12 years old. Dad, like a lot of Tulsa dads, worked for American Airlines. In the Seventies he was an inspector in the Gear & Brake Shop, which dealt with a lot of Goodyear products. As I understood it, the Goodyear rep offered him two tickets to ride the blimp during it’s upcoming visit to Tulsa.
We all have those cherished pieces of hardware in our lives. Tools or items that mean so much more than the mere metal or plastic or wood that comprise them. It might be a favorite hammer, Dad’s old multimeter, the family pickup or Grandma’s Singer Featherweight.
These mere things can connect us to experiences, projects, memories. Like a delicious smell wafting from the kitchen, they take us back. Maybe they are just worldly possessions… but sometimes they are much, much more.
A friend recently lamented, “I haven’t been inside a museum in months.”
It’s only one more collateral effect of this global mire we’re all living through. Museums have been shuttered, and exhibitions have been cancelled. Since March most of the world’s art and culture has been on hold. Or on Zoom.
There for a while we heard a lot about “flattening the curve” and how important it was. Most of America managed to meet the goal and avoid swamping hospitals with patients and running out of ventilators. While the death toll is tragic, it’s not as bad as it could have been.
Now we watch the curve of overall cases. Hopefully these will peak, then decline. This is happening in many states, as shown by the graphs at EndCoronavirus.org