Monday, April 14, 2003

KISS THE SKY

Despite some initial problems, the balloon launch turned out to be a resounding success. At 3:00 I had my doubts. The backyard was a sea of mud, I had received phone calls from my original attendees, pleading family issues –(sounding quite credible with screaming infants in the background)- and I was fresh out of the shower and still hadn’t figured out where to get latex balloons. You can only get Mylar downtown and they don’t fly nearly as well.

In discussing it with friends the night before, and taking the time zone into consideration, we had agreed there was a considerable window of time to launch without losing the element of releasing in solidarity with the folks in Vienna. We scheduled one for a downtown rooftop at 10:00, so I persevere in the search. I strike pay dirt at Party World, latex balloons imprinted with a world map. Inflated it becomes a huge floating globe. I buy two.

I prepare my first balloon passengers. I write “seeds of peace” and draw protective runes on the white square of tissue paper that will carry the seeds. The symbolism has become important to me. I have probably about 100 seeds and viability is certainly an issue. I found a bit of paper in the bottom of the container that said, 1/1/99. They were in a round blue tin with PANAMA boldly emblazoned in red across a map of the country, with an over wing airplane flying out of the graphic. I found it in the bottom of my underwear drawer a couple of weeks ago. I figure it was probably from that really good batch of Northern Lights…

I pour half in the center and gathering up the corner, attach it to the bottom of the balloon. It looks like a tropical flower with the excess paper ruffled out. By 6:30 I’m thinking I should have a launch before dark. By our calculations, (and no one checked) the march would be just about starting in an hour or so. I wanted to hit the right time zone to add to the synergy of the action and the night launch was scheduled for April’s party. I needed a back up flight and since a symbolic act needs witnesses, I take my balloon to the street and start looking for some.

I wave to the person who stopped at the crosswalk to let me pass. I realize it’s my old lover and his buddy. I consider for a moment just hopping into the back seat of the car and saying, “Quick, take me to the meadows. I have to launch this balloon”. They’re fun boys and would have appreciated the moment but I decide it would become too complicated and keep walking.

I run into Darren on the sidewalk. He has never done an illegal drug in his life yet we’re good friends. I ask him if he wants to participate. He laughs and hugs me, but backs away from the balloon, looking at the fluttering tissue paper as if I were holding a cobra, and declines. I press on to the Eagles club and here I find my participants.

My shuffleboard buddies are there. I explain to them, and in fact to the entire bar, what I’m doing and ask them to come outside. At 7:37, there were seven of us holding the string of this balloon on the sidewalk in front of the club. Two of them are in their 70s, WWII vets. Two are Viet Nam vets, a Navy guy and a Marine. The president of the Ladies Auxiliary and a young Hispanic guy that recently joined, rounds out the group.

Ziggy asks, “So what are we supposed to do”?

“Hold the ribbon and make a wish for me and for 1,000 balloons in Vienna” I reply.

“Okay. 1, 2, 3 - everybody. Please wish for marijuana to be legalized in my lifetime,” I say, and I cut the ribbon.

We cheered as the balloon shot like a rocket on a southwest trajectory. I was the last one back inside, staying until I saw the cloud cover pucker up its lips and swallow it whole. It was a fine moment with just the right amount of ceremony and an act of genuine friendship.

It would take a long time to explain how the biggest left wing liberal, pot smoking, peace symbol wearing hippie in town could end up as a cherished member of this aerie - the most conservative, my country love it or leave it, place in town. The old guard here are salt of the earth cranky Yankees, but they have come to enjoy my company all the same, as I have theirs. They care nothing about anti-prohibition. They care about me and in that moment, it felt like wishes could still come true.





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