Imagination Migration

"He who has imagination without learning has wings but no feet." Joseph Joubert

Learning usually does enhance our imagination. But sometimes the reality new knowledge brings can leave us with feeling we've lost a little wonder. Has that ever happened to you?

 Before you say no, think Easter Bunny, Santa Claus. While we usually associate these experiences with childhood, losses like that can happen at any age.

Recently, I learned the Monarch butterflies that leave our Island before the winter sets in do not fly all the way to Mexico. That discovery was a bit like losing Santa Claus all over again. My friend, Stu, explained, "It's several generations later that get there." 

My first reaction, disappointment. My second, questions: How did I live this long and never learn this fact? Was it because I never really wanted to know? Or was it because I chose to embrace the mythic concept that this very small fragile being could fly all those miles?

Although, this is my second post that mentions the Monarch butterfly, I'm not usually that absorbed with nature. I have no pets, and unlike my grandson, Joe, who could remain glued to the Animal Planet channel in his younger years, I never watch those shows. For me, I guess the fascination with what I thought was the true Monarch story was the tenacity and bravery the small creature exhibited.

There's definitely an allure to winged creatures—consider angels, Superman, birds, in addition to butterflies—soaring high on a mission. They spark our imagination as we envision them far above us.

I reflect again on what I've learned about the Monarch and how it takes several generations to reach their destination, and the succeeding generations it takes to return to our Island in the spring. And I find I can relate the promise their migration holds to that of our human story.

Like these butterflies, we hold the promise of our future with the knowledge our children and our children's children will accomplish what we first set to do. Yet, our role is key, too, for without us beginning the journey, that could not happen. I now view the Monarch's odyssey in a new light and appreciation. It, too, can ignite the imagination of our own migration.

Thanks, Stu! 

Airport Musing: Passing the time and pondering the prosaic

When we looked for flights to Charlotte, North Carolina, we knew we wanted to avoid the Philadelphia airport at all costs. Living on the New Jersey coast, shooting down the Garden State Parkway sans lights and heavy traffic to the Atlantic City airport seemed worth it even though we had to change planes in Atlanta. Although we still had to leave our Island sanctuary, we could travel to and from the airport without going too far inland.

Our youngest daughter, Sandy, who travels a great deal, never does connections. She always opts for a direct commute or what some people refer to as a "nonstop" flight. My husband, Will, likes to emphasize that there's no such thing as "nonstop" since sooner or later the plane has to stop. Old joke, and one that's not that funny, but I give the obligatory half chuckle, half groan each time he says it. After all, it's those little concessions that keep a relationship going.

It had been a while since I'd flown and I'd forgotten how deadening a layover in an airport can be, especially when the book you've brought doesn't turn out to be that good and you've played enough rummy to last a lifetime. Besides, you're in a losing streak. No fun to lose (or win!) all the time. Our three hour layover wasn't going as fast as I'd thought it would.

Initially, I enjoyed the people watching - so many people, in so many sizes, shapes, and colors, so many different languages spoken so rapidly on cell phones. I saw enough different laptops and notebooks to stock a megastore. If all these folks could pool their resources, they could help stimulate the economy. After a while, everyone seems to wear the same harried look.

Checking my watch, I realize we still have an hour before we board. What can we do now? I turn to Will and suggest we brainstorm ideas for future blogs. We started out slowly and proceeded to silly, but perhaps it was delirium setting in?

We began to make up a list of unimportant questions like:

• Why does it seem so many overweight people eat cottage cheese? Is that what is causing the problem?
• Does a black dress really make you thinner? Sexier? More sophisticated? Or is the aura of the "little black dress" just one of those myths propagated by some fashion designer stuck with a lot of black material?
• What are all these people thinking while they sit and wait as we do?
• How many coffees could I drink while waiting for our plane to come in?
• What's the most popular single item in all these carryon bags?
• How many bars are in Concourse C?
• Will the two men with oversize bags get to take them on the plane? And if so, will they manage to stuff them in the overhead?

I cannot take credit for this entire sampling of questions because the woman sitting on the other side of Will joined in. She, too, was waiting for the plane to Charlotte and was as bored as we were. As often happens in an airport, we quickly shared some of our life story with her. She, too, is a blogger. Her blog site is travlintracey@blogspot.com. Check her out. She is one of those rare individuals born, raised, and still living in Florida which prompted another question: Where have all the native Floridians gone? Tracey contributed this question when we expressed amazement at her brief telling of her life story. I thought it was noteworthy because during our winter sojourn in Florida, at least 90% of the people we met were from somewhere else.

One last question: Would I do the layover thing again now that I found how long it seems? Or will I opt for the busy Philadelphia or Newark airport and a nonstop (except for the landing!) next time? Hands down, I'll go for the small Atlantic City airport and the layover. Next time, however, I'll take extra books, a bigger notebook to write in, and possibly brush up on my poker skills.