"There is an art it says, or rather, a knack to flying. The knack lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss." -Douglas Adams
What is it that makes someone come back to a place they once called home? It must be a very good reason and in my case it was family.
This has been a time to look to the past to explain the present. In doing so, I realized one of the strongest influences was my grandfather who survived World War II and Stalinist era. He did so, I believe, by sheer strength of will and an iron clad discipline that was cemented during that era. He was a father figure of sorts and burned indelibly into me his values. Practice makes perfect. He brought us all to the United States and adopted brand USA so we could assimilate more easily. He loved country music, wore a Harley Davidson belt buckle, and held a great esteem for the famous aviator and World War II pilot, Chuck Yeager. He told me often that Chuck Yeager was such a great pilot, he could fly in between rain drops.
This has also been a time of transition and sorting of very conflicting emotions; I moved from Williamsburg to Port Washington. The transition was far from an easy one and I often sought solace in Manhasset Bay. I developed my own romance. After all, the Great Gatsby did take place right here. I learned that this very bay was home to a great deal of aviation where Pan AM, Boeing, and American Airlines put up hangers. I later learned that Charles Lindbergh, Amelia Earhart and none other than Chuck Yeager flew out of the very plot of land I now call home.
I can't help but to think of my grandfather and all the sacrifices in life that he made when I walk past the bay. Quite often I am reminded of his example. Piecing all of these coincidences together I realized that there is an art, an art to living. It seems it lies in not giving up and working at things till you just get them right.