A Parable
St Louis, MO
January 18, 2018
One day a farmer forgets to latch the barn door and his horse escapes.
January 18, 2018
One day a farmer forgets to latch the barn door and his horse escapes.
“That’s bad news,” his neighbors tell him.
But the farmer is more circumspect. “Maybe,” he says.
The next day, the horse returns… with several other wild horses as well.
“Wow, that’s great,” the neighbors say.
“Maybe,” says the farmer.
The next day, the farmer’s son breaks his leg after being thrown by one of the new horses.
“That’s rotten luck,” the neighbors say.
“Maybe,” says the farmer.
The next day, there is a war. Men come to the village to draft soldiers. The farmer’s son does not have to go.
“What good luck,” the neighbors say.
“Maybe,” says the farmer.
You get the point of this familiar parable.
My afternoon meetings today were cancelled, allowing me to book an earlier flight home. Great news!
Maybe.
I am now riding a cascading wave of flight delays. For all I know, the 1:20p flight to which I re-booked may end up departing after the 5:50p flight I abandoned.
Atlanta is apparently digging out from another snow-dusting, prompting these flight disruptions as well as school closures that raise to seven the added days Alexander and David have enjoyed away from their respective education centers.
While both love having extra days off, feelings below the surface are a more nuanced.
Alexander, now a sophomore, thoroughly enjoys his school. He is in several advance placement classes and plays trombone in one of the more prominent high school bands in the country.
They compete annually in the Bands of America contest, this year finishing 12th in the National Finals in Indianapolis.
For the Spring semester he shifts to Jazz Band which, despite early morning practices, entails a much less rigorous schedule than the Marching Band during football season.
He has his sights set high, wanting to be a pilot and scoping Auburn as a school with a top-notch flight program.
I’ve also made mention of the flight school st Western Michigan, but he is put off by the rumor that snow dustings have been known to occur there too.
We’ll see, but just the notion of college visits this summer is enough to bring me back to earth.
David, meanwhile, is not as enthused by his school. He likes other kids there, but is not so fond of his teachers and is more burdened by torrents of busy-work than enlightened by waves of knowledge.
He very much wants to attend a nearby Catholic School when he starts high school year after next.
Maybe.
We’ll explore that option between now and then. Meanwhile, he bides his time with golf, piano, and basketball.
Wait…what’s this?
Our flight has been delayed another 45 minutes. More rotten luck!
Well, Maybe…
A pleasant surprise since I was last here: Vino Vino wine bar (someone sure knows how to bait a hook) opened in Terminal One.
Previously, Shannon’s restaurant and Beers of the World were the only options to kill time in the St Louis airport.
Unfortunately, walking into either ensured time would not only be killed, but massacred.
Unfortunately, walking into either ensured time would not only be killed, but massacred.
If a flight departs within two hours, the check should be ordered with the meal since the waitress can be expected to appear no more than twice (at long intervals) in a sitting.
Where I now sit, however, attention is frequent, wine is plentiful, and food good, yet with relaxing ambiance and unhurried pace.
Moreover, the soft jazz tones emanating from above are more conducive to thought than the soothing sounds of “Shock the Monkey” descending from the typical airport bar.
Looking up, I notice several patrons paying their bill and dragging their bag into the concourse…only to return several minutes later.
I pity those poor vagabonds, consigned indefinitely to the purgatory of an airport delay.
I, however, being a practitioner and beneficiary of good living, have just received assurance that my flight will depart at its most recently announced time.
Deo Gratias, I will again be home tonight.
Maybe.
JD
