I was on a plane to Seattle, then to Salt Lake, then to Phoenix sky bar, a Dakota, DC, to Portland, San Diego, LAX, St. Paul (both the island and the city) Grand Forks, Atlanta, New Orleans, back to DC and Seattle, Sitka, Juneau, Kotzebue, Kenai a couple of times, Tucson, Albuquerque, Dutch Harbor, Fairbanks four times, Denver twice, Portland a couple of more times, Boston three times as I imagined trees falling over and ice storms. Only prompting me to do it all over again, this time with a little “stank” on it.
Back to Seattle, this time watching for the pink glow of trees as I did when I was young and writing poems about Wesley, Cody, Trevor, Erin and Eric…
Back into Portland, as a 12 year old looking at Mt. hood taking pictures with a Polaroid that would never show up and my mother and father encouraging me, much like Kim and I spur on our kids with their fisher price digital camera. Back into Tucson and Phoenix as if I was a boy scout. Even LAX and the occasional landing in Las Vegas. Atlanta harvested the army, (not including Paris, Darmstadt, Charles De Gaul, Frankfurt, Heathrow, Glasgow) did if forget LaGuardia, JFK? Did I forget Hungary? Cairo?
Holding my camera the whole time
They were sending me again, to New York, New Orleans, New England. Landing in Austin at least twice. Wyoming have we captured you yet? We shall call you “New Wyoming”
Ok, we can do this right!
Back to Portland with Kim, and really paying attention to the rain falling and falling out into Hockison, as we switched cars with the wipers whipping away. Back to all over again to O’Hara where I held my sister Erin’s hand all the way to the next gate as a 12 and 10 year old traveling before companions existed. (I had her, I got this!) so ready to prove myself to my father.
To Orlando a couple of times, here is how it plays out
1. Once for boy scouts
2. Once for chris
3. Four times for work
Port Hardy, Nanaimo at my father’s request catching his boat the “the Cygnet” until our livers hurt
Ketchikan at least 5 times. Once when my mother was leaving my father and I didn’t get on the plane, just my sisters and my father, joseph Teckverk and I sailing the boat home all the way as it hurt into the wind.
Into Friday harbor a dozen times, back and forth from Lake Union and Boeing until they were stupid and we knew all the best places to eat on my father’s dime.
Into Metlakatla three times for good luck and without strings attached. Dillingham 4 times, Bethel and Nome a half of dozen.
Let me explain to you how it all changed…
I was nothing more than a satellite that seemed to be whizzing by over and over again. Taking pictures of Mars and Europa. Here I come now swooping in and I see you getting ready as I come, putting your best foot forward, picking out your best tee shirt and rearranging the house for this lost tumbling satellite. I would rather see you shit.
Wesley was always good at this. There was no fronting, Chris started out slow but became better at it… you can talk to this kid now without him totally exposing himself (it’s in his nature) that was what made Florida dreaming such a success.
But let’s go further back.
There moments when my arms seemed to be out there swinging in the wind and of course they were connected to my mind and the way I slept at night and tried to roll around and figure out what to do with all these arms of me. Always hurting from the shoulder to the neck to the eardrum.
I would leave…
Until I met Kim, I started throwing my arms under my hip and legs and over and out of windows. I would go back to all these flights over and over again, me flying into Seattle for the first time, the space needle, my mother pacified. Me flying into Portland the first time when they asked me to speak, “say new York”
My flying into Vancouver, do you want to know about this? Here is how it goes.
“Your father is a famous captain”
My life seems to be all these lives, but always a satellite of me skimming by as what it should look like,
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