I first heard that song when some friends took me skiing. I had never skied before, but they said “Don’t worry, we’ll teach you.”
There was a really big hill on Loring AFB in northern Maine. It served as the ski slope for the base. It was roughly the same size as Lost Valley in Auburn, Maine.
It had a rope-pull for a lift. It was well lit. Huge speakers with music blasting.
I got into my rental skis. Managed to make it to the top. Asked one of my buddies when they were going to teach me how to ski.
And he pushed me.
I figured it out fast. Nothing like being 14.
“A Man I’ll Never Be” was blasting from the speakers as I careened down the hill.
It was years later before I realized that song was a poignant masterpiece. That growl at 2:52 always punches me in the chest.
Apparently a cold front moved through last night and took the oppressive humidity with it. The sun came out and I thought I might mow the lawn. Then the sky darkened and it rained.
I hate mowing wet grass.
Today is Dad’s 75th birthday. Strange to think he missed half of my childhood because he was always deployed. Once he retired I was in the service. Hard to think I was gone for most of my son’s childhood. Cat’s in the Cradle?
We are good friends now. We shoot the shit a few times a week, usually swapping war stories and flying stories. He was a combat flight engineer on C-123s during Vietnam.
Two tours.
C-123s were the C-130s little brother. It could land on unimproved airstrips on forward operating bases.
The only thing he says about that time was “we flew bullets and beans in, and took body bags out.”
He will talk about technical aspects of flying, and stupid pilot tricks. That’s about it.
He was always fascinated with aircraft, and I got that from him. I am a few minutes off a phone call from him where we were disparaging the latest breed of military aviators because they rely too much on the ARI - aileron-rudder-interconnect instead of knowing how to actually use the rudder.
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