My trip to the moon

A few years ago, I had this boyfriend who dreamed of going to the moon. It wasn’t really an active dream, as he was doing nothing whatsoever to pursue it. He would just mention it every now and then, thinking he hadn’t told me about it yet. It seemed to haunt him though, and it came up a lot in our short romance.

Whenever the moon came up in conversation, he’d look off into the distance and, in a tone which almost sounded hurt, say something like, “If someone told me I could go to the moon, but that it would be a one way trip, and I’d never come home again, I’d do it. Just to be there once.”

I thought it was silly, and alarming, at the time. How could you leave everything you know and love for something as trivial as Zero G, and a whole lot of monotonous rock? He, who was so potent, and young, and who had so much to live for. What could the moon possibly hold to take him away from all of that? That could take him away from me?

I think I finally understand his “give everything up for it” kind of dream; I now have one of my own. Although I must say, I find it much more compelling than something so trivial as a visit to the moon.

I try not to pine for things which are impossible, as my dream very much is; there are far too many things which are tangible to focus on. But now and then, I let myself slip into it.

I’d give up my body, my self, all the knowledge I possess for it. I frequently find myself wishing I were there, wondering if there’s any way I could conjure myself up a substitute for it in modern day time. Knowing that, given the advance of technology, and economy, and the current political state of California, there’s virtually no way of recreating that era.

I’d work with the crane crew in Enniss’ golden age. I’d be doing the ironworks; fabricating beams, stairs, plates, all kinds of things. And then, I’d ride with the crew to LA and set it up. We would be doing building after building, cell phone towers galore, torching up the worlds biggest helium tank…

I hear so many stories of that age; from my grandfather, from Uncle Wade, from Jimmy, from Russ, from Uncle Chad. It’s a world I escape into sometimes. Imagining what it was like is my guilty pleasure; it gives me an incredible high, but at the same time, I know those days are gone, and I end my nostalgia for their experiences with a sadness of my own.

Even if I’d been born 7 years earlier, I could have been on the tail end of it.

Why that age passed, there isn’t really a clear answer for. Grandad shrunk the business down from about 200 employees down to 1/2 of that at one point, simply because the business wasn’t as efficient, or as profitable, with that many employees. Of course we can blame the economy, as seems to be the trend these days, but I find that to be a bad excuse; there are many construction companies which pulled thru the down-turn. And besides, we sold off the crane division in 2001, far before the recessions. The selling of the cranes is a clear turning point.

To be continued…


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