Slim Randles' Home Country
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[April 20, 2010]
Marjorie Pincus looked out the front window at her
husband, Marvin, and smiled. No matter how old he gets, she thought,
he'll always be the boy I remember, riding his bicycle through this
town so many years ago.
Marvin had stopped picking out the nutgrass and was watching a small
group of children across the street in the park. Two of them had
kites, and the brisk wind of morning had them both up as high as
string would allow. Soon, Marvin had ambled across the street and
was standing behind the children, watching the taut dip in the
string and listening to the rattle of the tight paper.
time Marvin Pincus flew a kite in this park, airplanes didn't go
very far or very fast. The other side of the moon was a mystery in
those days, and no one really thought man would ever go there and
back. Not really.
And here these kids are, flying their kites the very same way,
with the very same rag tails, and looking up at the earth-tied
fliers climbing with the gusts and settling with the relaxation of
[to top of second
Marjorie watched from across the street as the Herrera boy walked
over to Marvin, whispering something as Marvin leaned down to hear,
and then handed the stick with the kite string tied to it to the old
man. His face beamed as he controlled flight once again. The kids
smiled, too, probably not realizing kite flying was the same when
Mr. Pincus was a kid.
But what about the dreams? Marjorie thought about this. What goes
through the minds of today's kite fliers who know what the surface
of Mars looks like, who know what the far side of the moon looks
like, who know there are human beings in a space station, living up
there, right now? What will their dreams be as the kites dance?
What dreams will dance now as they stand there and hold the
miracle of flight in their fingers?
[Text from file received from Slim Randles]
Brought to you by "The Long Dark, An Alaska
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