Mr. L and I are seated outside on his small porch listening to Frank Sinatra and looking for planes up in the sky. Though the temperature gauge out here reads in the mid 90’s, there is a small breeze that finds us on occasion, making this all the more pleasant. Mr. L enjoys looking up into the clouds for signs of airplanes. During World War 2, he was a ball turret gunner and on occasion will share stories with me about his time in the war. Sometimes he’ll tell me how much he loved having that job, while other times not so much. I suspect, there were days where both those scenarios existed and they reside somewhere in his muddled memories. But what’s important here is that he remembers them at all.
“Do you see anything in those clouds?” I asked him a few minutes ago, hoping he would be interested in identifying abstract animals in the cloud formations. “No. I don’t like the look of those clouds, I bet there is rain coming…” He remarked. “No, rain isn’t on the forecast,” I replied. “But it’s sure getting dark quick,” He said as a large bank of clouds moved overhead. “That is a beautiful sky though,” I said as a matter of fact. “Clouds are not beautiful, they’re dangerous and bounce you all over the place when you fly through them,” He explained. Amused I replied, “Oh I’m sure, but here on the ground, they sure are beautiful.” Looking back up, he said, “If you say so”.
Ha, I do!