Loss

 Nothing quite brings home your age like the loss of an old friend. I didn't have many who were around from the beginning, just two who had been a part of my life since first or second grade. I lost the first a few years back and then the other a few days ago. I'm a bit devastated.

Friends who shared your life are always few. Yes, we make friends throughout our time here on earth ( if we're lucky). But old friends, people who watched you grow, who shared that growth with you are rare. And the true curse of growing older, is that we begin to lose those friends.

I'm ashamed to say that I failed them as a friend. I didn't keep in touch. I didn't make the effort to call, to visit, to reach out to them as I should have. I guess in some hidden part of my brain, I thought they would never die. That there would always be time to see them again. I was wrong.

I hope it's not to late to make amends for my stupidity. I'm going to do my best to talk to those that I love more often, To visit when I can. To let them all know what they mean to me. To not count on that beast we call " social media" to act on my behalf. To truly reach out and connect. I need to grow before someone else has the same regrets about me. The loss hurts to deep.

A New Beginning

 (Stolen from Star Wars)

Today, I'm starting a new adventure. Training for my Part 107 Commercial Drone License. 

I've been in aviation since 1982, in maintenance, training, and inspection so this seems like a natural progression. Involving myself in new tech.

Excited. Scared. Ready to begin.

Photo courtesy: Unsplash

Quiet vs Silence

 I love quiet. 

Not silence but the peaceful sounds made by nature and the environment around me. I find that the natural sounds lead my mind to deep thoughts and contemplation. 

Too many people have forgotten quiet. They've forgotten how to be lost in their thought and enjoy the peace that surrounds them. They are afraid of letting their subconscious loose and making them think.

We need quiet.

Sacrifice

 God bless those that defend all that we hold dear.

Renewel!

 Changes are happening. 

They're coming, regardless of my desire or fear. I hope they will be good (or great) but I will adapt, overcome and move forward.

Stay tuned...it's gonna be a ride!

Fragile

I hate being fragile.

I'm not a small, delicate flower. I'm a big guy with scars and wounds from many battles, both internal and out. But I'm fragile.

I hurt easily. Guess that comes with having a big heart and wearing it on your sleeve. I carry the pain inside and it builds till I break. Tears flow, my chest aches. I feel lost, like a rudderless ship about to crash onto the rocky shore. And if I don't find something to feel good about, if the winds don't shift and sail me into a safe harbor, I crash. Depression follows. Loneliness and fear and anguish surround me, crushing my heart, my soul.

I'm there now.  

I HATE being fragile.

Uisge Breatha

USIGE BREATHA...The Water of life! Thought to be the source of the word,

WHISK(E)Y!

Yes, I'm one of those. A whisk(e)y fan. An ardent lover of the drink! In all forms: Scotch, Irish, Japanese, American. Rums, blends, single malts...all are imbibed and savored.

Mind you not just for the drink; not to get hammered, sloshed, tipsy, wasted, or otherwise loosing my faculties. But for tasting, finding those subtle differences, those unique flavors that the distiller worked so diligently to infuse in his/her product.

I sit with my favorite tasting partner, my wife Amy, and we share our thoughts on that which we enjoy. The aromas, the color, the flavors. We talk and compare, each adding to our knowledge and enjoyment. It is a shared time of reflection and conversation.

We can be a bit snobby.
We use a Glencairn glass, designed to enhance the subtleties of the dram we pour. We swirl (never agitate), watching the legs of the whisk(e)y as they slide down the inside of the glass. We nose, always with open mouth in order to facilitate the use of all of our olfactory senses and try and find all the unique scents and aromas held within this wonderful nectar.

Then we taste, rolling the drink around in our mouths trying to touch all our taste sensors. Not a drink, mind you. A small sip. Just enough to allow the liquid full access to our taste buds. Then we drink.

Slowly, the drink unfolds. Sharing its secrets, allowing us into its recesses and embracing us in its warmth.

It's so sensual an act as to almost be indecent.

Then we let the drink rest. To allow it to bloom. To grow. To develop and change. And it does. Each taste becomes something of its own, Never the same. Always unique. And then a bit of water. Again, the drink changes. The alcohol becomes subdued and new flavors arise. Its as if we've poured a new dram.

Then we talk, At first its about the drink, What did you taste? Did you find the smoke, the sea, the cherry? The grass from the Highlands?

But then we just talk. About us, life, the world. All things and nothing.

The drink opens doors and paths and I take my wife's hand and we travel forward together.

Image courtesy: Brambleberry.com