BREATHLESS DREAM

BREATHLESS DREAM

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Sailing a grand old vessel from L.A. to a Sand Diego boatyard marina, constricted my breath, and put pressure on my tear ducts.  This precious timeworn 52 footer, damaged by age, hapless retrofits, and repairs was the retirement fixation of an ex-counselor and landlubber along with his wife.  They were not buying a boat, but a dream of sailing around the world in their old age.  I told them that, though I would never buy a boat with all of its problems, that after appropriate repairs it might meet their live-aboard aspirations.  They boat their dreamboat, with all of its flaws.  However, as far as I know, they never sailed it off the dock.  Eventually, they put it up for sail.

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I experience the same breath restricted sensation, with its excess tear production as I assist the property owner, repairing the house we are renting to fulfill our dream of living in a mid-century modern home in the tree covered foothills of Eugene, Oregon.  The home is so precious, yet so damaged that it not only lifts me with delight on one hand, but also dips me into the reality that one day this dream will be lost forever.

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These are the same feelings that accompany my dream of our nation leading humanity toward a single globalized race of men and women that live cooperatively, harmoniously, and peacefully with each other.  Unfortunately, I am too old and weak to effectively repair her, myself… let alone make the needed upgrades.  If those with a like mind cannot work together, I must content myself with enjoying the dream of her as a precious yet broken nation, until she or I are no more.