Living Under the Flight Pattern

 

Living Under the Flight Pattern

Noel Laflin

11-25-22

We get geese flying over our neighborhood at all hours of the day and night.

I was on a call with a friend recently when a gaggle let loose with their honking.

“What’s the racket I hear,” he asked.

“Geese leaving the pond,” I said.

“It’s nearly midnight,” he mumbled in surprise.

“Happens all the time here,” I replied.

“Huh,” he concluded.

The sound of Canadian geese flying at midnight is kind of cool.  I thought I might have been imagining it in the beginning, years ago, but neighbors back me up on the claim, as they hear it too. Sometimes the birds seem to be heading north (probably on their way to the big lagoon at Yorba Linda Regional Park), and sometimes they seem to be heading more northwest with the large pond at Eisenhower Park in the old town that was once known as Olive, as their destination. They don’t even seem to need moonlit skies to help them – just the Big Dipper and the North Star is guide enough. Or the lights down on Chapman, maybe.

Meanwhile, our little old reservoir is home to upwards of 50 or so most days.

But when they chatter and honk their intentions, before and after takeoff, either day or night, it’s a wonderful sound. And when it interrupts your dreams at the Witching Hour, it’s downright spooky – but in a good way.

 

Los Robles

Los Robles

Noel Laflin

11-24-22

I came across the little sheet of advertising I squirreled away on the day we first toured the new condos that had just gone up for sale some 39 years ago. As it turned out, we moved into said home 39 years ago Thanksgiving week. Something to be really grateful for, to be certain.

What's fun about the paper are all the hand scribbled notes on the back where I was calculating how I might finance the place. There was a bit of robbing Peter to pay Paul, but it all worked out in the end.

What's also funny is that the advertising guys dubbed our unit as Los Robles - The Oaks, even though there wasn't a single oak tree on the property, nor even in the entire complex, for that matter. One had to go across the street and to the hills around the old reservoir to find one. Actually, there are 17 lovely Live Oak trees surrounding the reservoir. Some appear to be quite old, too. Heck, they were old on the day I moved here, and that's obviously been a while.

Consequently, and quite unintentionally, it was from one of those very old oaks that I brought home a capful of acorns one day, by which to feed the backyard squirrels, and now have two tiny (but hardly) oak seedlings growing in the garden. One is already two feet tall. Some squirrel buried his excess loot one day, apparently, forgot about it, and wouldn't you know it, there's now oaks on the property!

I was never a fan of false advertising, like the name given to our humble unit.

But, it only took 39 years to rectify the situation.

The homes are worth a lot more than what I paid for at the time. But I have no intention of cashing in, as I have a couple of oak trees to tend to.

And I have the full support of all the squirrels around here too.

Exercising Restraint

 Exercising Restraint

Noel Laflin

11-23-22

It's a nice day outside and I promised myself much earlier in the day that I would be out in it enjoying the sunshine up close and personal-like. Heck, I've been up since before the butt crack of dawn. I'll get some decent exercise, I told myself

But home repairs and snacking in between got in the way and now I am in too deep with a good book, and I'm enjoying the breeze coming through the house and the midday sun shining through the open doors and windows, and the dozens of birds (at least six different varieties at last count) as they just keep flying in to bathe in the bird baths. l've had to get up to refill them on numerous occasions already. That counts as exercise, I suppose. So much exercise that it may be time for a nap soon.

So, l'll just work out tomorrow. At a well stocked Thanksgiving table.

I plan on exercising hand-to-mouth coordination.

No, no, I know. I am a glutton for punishment. But that's just me.

Dusty Brains

Dusty Brains

Noel Laflin

11-22-22

When I was young, and a sneeze would hit me right out of the blue, my mother would say it was due to dusty brains, a great name for a country western singer, by the way. I can't take credit for that, but owe that observation to an old friend.

But, as usual, I digress.

If she, mom, were around today and saw the dust residing about our house, she might revise the reason.

I, of course, blame it on the annual fall initiation of the furnace firing up and blowing out every nasty microscopic particle gathered in the attic for the last six or seven months.

Naw, mom would just, once again, resort to the brains reference and buy me some Pledge.

Meanwhile, I am searching the Internet just to see if there really is, or was, a country western singer by that name.

Bad Luck

 

Bad Luck

Noel Laflin

11-22-22

The Kennedy assassination took place 59 years ago today, and for the longest time 10-year-old me thought that I was partly to blame as I had worn a shirt to fifth grade that day, a pretty shirt that had, unfortunately, brought me bad luck on two other occasions: I had blown a spelling test a month before when wearing that shirt, and an injured sparrow that I had been caring for died the next time I donned the shirt - and now this, the worst luck of all.

Weeks later, I tearfully explained the situation to my mother when she asked me why I no longer wore that particular shirt any longer. She had always assumed it had been a favorite of mine.

It disappeared from my closet shortly thereafter, never to be seen again, and no further questions were asked by either party.

 

A Little Sorcery

 

A Little Sorcery

Noel Laflin

11-16-22

The first Harry Potter movie opened in theaters on this day twenty-one years ago.

I remember buying the book a couple of years before its release and reading it aloud to the six-year old kiddo snuggled in my lap. She eventually fell asleep but I continued on, reading silently now, as the story seemed pretty good. Eventually, the entire family would go on to read every installment, and catch every theatrical release.

It’s hard to beat magic.

But that first film remains the most significant. I watched it most recently while on a plane somewhere over Newfoundland and the North Atlantic. I needed a distraction as the movie I had viewed just prior to this was a bit depressing. The film was good, but sad.  So, I scanned the lists available and settled for a version of cinematic comfort food, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. It got me to thinking that maybe part of the Harry Potter phenomenon (the film anyway) was the timing of its release, as the country and its people were still reeling from the after effects of 9/11. It was such a sad, depressing, messed up time, that escaping to Hogwarts for a couple of hours seemed like a fine diversion.

Years ago I came across the 1941 movie classic, Sullivan’s  Travels, a story about a film director who wants to make a serious movie, but because of crazy personal circumstances affecting his life, and nearly killing him, ends up making comedies instead. It opened in theaters just weeks after the bombing of Pearl Harbor.  The New York Times described it as "the most brilliant picture yet this year", praising Sturges's (both writer and director) mix of escapist fun with underlying significance, and ranked it as one of the ten best films of 1941.

It’s safe to say that Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone would have been a hit regardless of timing.

But it sure came at a good time, nonetheless, even two decades later while flying over Newfoundland.

 

Keeping it Brief

 

Keeping it Brief

Noel Laflin

11-15-22

While cleaning out an over-stuffed closet yesterday, I came across an oversized briefcase that I used to haul around during my working days.

It had become a receptacle for all kinds of papers, pre and post retirement. I used to open the closet door, stuff what I thought was important in there, and promptly forget all about it.

Sorting it all out today took a couple of hours as I kept coming across a few treasures: an IOU from a friend who still has yet to pay me back, two funeral notices of close associates, my resignation notice from my last employer, thank you notes from three kids who liked the silver dollars I’d given them one Christmas (I am certain their father made them write them – but that’s okay, my folks used to make me do likewise a lifetime ago), a still-in-the-plastic-wrapped Camp Ahwahnee neckerchief from 1969, and our marriage certificates (two pristine copies) from nearly eight years ago.  I wondered where I had placed them … Glad no one ever asked to see one for all these years. 

Ninety-nine point nine percent of the contents have now been sorted, recycled, or ready for shredding.

But, I am keeping the thank you notes from the children, the marriage certificates, and the neckerchief that once belonged to a very good friend.

I don’t think that IOU will ever come to fruition.  But, hey, stranger things have happened – so I kept it, too.

And now, I have a perfectly fine, empty, oversized briefcase just calling out for new treasures to be stored and forgotten for another decade or so.