Contrails 2-3-10

Anderson, South Carolina

It is the 3rd of February with grand cerulean skies and a balmy 54 degrees. All the doors are open with a fine breeze blowing out the stagnancy of winter that has accreted in the house during the past three months of seasonal darkness. The sky is crisscrossed with contrails, which have always inspired and enthralled me, giving me the inspiration for some of my best poems. I derive grand pleasures from ruminating about the possible dreams people are being carried to on them, especially the vermillion ones at sunset. Living one hundred thirty miles east of the busiest airport in the world, most twilights afford a view of as many as a dozen of these translucent heavenly wakes at any given time; that hundred and thirty miles giving jets time to climb seven miles or more above me into the last gleaming remains of the day.

As far as I know, February 3rd has no grand significance in our recent history. What is true is almost no one seemed to notice the significance of yesterday’s date in history. There was nothing whatever on the wire services that I could find. What is absolutely certain is that for at least seven families, perhaps many more, Feb 2nd will forever remain one of the most significant days in their lives. No reminders needed; one wonders about the incredible varieties of life experience that can co-exist. For me it was an ordinary day with my greatest decision being about what to order for lunch. For others it is a day of inconceivable angst and bewilderment, every year.

Seven years ago on the date, at midmorning, contrails lost some of their luster. We all watched a large high one as it pulsated in the cobalt Texas sky and split into multiple streams at Mach 18. Another one of those seminal images had been etched into our memories, only too soon. It proved to be a harbinger of doom as America and Israel lost seven of their best high-flyers, just sixteen minutes before a happy reunion with family and those that dreamed and dared to do big things, impossible things.

Tragically, both of our countries have become expert at suffering hideous losses. One can only hope that one day we will all be able to simply picnic on warm fields of spring grass rather than search out our fallen comrades and the detritus of their once gleaming chariots and towers.

Be honest with yourself. Did you even notice the date? Remember to pray for them?