I like things that fly. I like airplanes, I like kites, and I like birds. I really like birds. I don’t study them, nor do I watch them like those pith-helmeted enthusiasts with binoculars. Truth is, I know little about them except that they are beautiful, jittery, and can fly. The flying alone would nail it for me.

Airplanes

When I was about six years old, I had a friend with whom I could only play “through the fence”. What I mean is, our playing was done with him in his yard, me in mine, and the backyard fence in between. If I recall this was his mother’s choice, and I never knew her reasons. Friend’s mothers are not obliged to give six year old boys reasons; at least not when I was six.

Chain-linked barrier aside, Johnny and I had a good friendship and we planned great things. Our greatest plan was to build an airplane in our mutual backyards. We would pass the necessary tools and materials over the fence. We were not going to build a single engine aircraft, but a jetliner. I didn’t know if we had everything we needed, but Johnny, a year older, was confident and I had no reason to doubt him.

We never finished the airplane because I had to move away with my family. We also had almost no aluminum, and no high octane aviation fuel. The project was scuttled, but my fascination with flight did not diminish. For several more years I would satisfy my yearning to soar by building model airplanes. Vicarious flight was better than no flight at all.

I started drawing, they tell me, when I was three years old. I drew everything that kids draw, animals, over-sized flowers, houses, trees. I recall when I was about five or six, I wanted to draw an airplane. Not just a side view, with clumsy wings abstractly protruding from a two dimensional fuselage, but a realistic plane in flight. My dad knew a lot about cars, so I figured he knew how to draw an airplane.  He drew a nice one, and I learned how to illustrate a realistic looking plane in flight. I’m grateful.

Birds

I like to draw birds. Funny birds. Silly birds. Birds that look like they can’t even fly. Perhaps it’s that Tennessee Tuxedo influence. Penguins like Tennessee swim rather than fly. Well, Tennessee walked. Enough of Tennessee, he got his fifteen minutes last week. I do get a kick out of drawing goofy birds, like that guy sitting on my shoulder up there. They are a complete cartoon package: beaks, funny feet, wings, ruffled feathers.

I have bird memories too. After we moved into our new home we got a canary. We also had pigeons in the neighborhood. Not native, city dwelling pigeons, but trained racing birds living in a coop a few doors from our house. Those folks also had a rooster, smack in the middle of the city. I wasn’t as fond of that bird. Birds are more agreeable after 5:00 a.m.

My favorite bird of all time however was not a real bird, but a papier-mache facsimile. This bird, named Bird, was made by my girl friend, now wife, Judy. It’s one of the earliest things I remember from her home. Bird sat atop the refrigerator peering down on all who went to make a sandwich or get a glass of milk.

Bird was marvelous. Judy constructed him from wire, duct tape, newspaper strips, wheat flour, and that wonderful smelling art class tempera. Bird had an overall green body painted with tiny white flowers, orange wire feet, a triangle shaped orange beak with polka dots, and all topped off with an amazing conical head of “hair” painted in purple and orange spiral. It was love at first sight for both Bird and his maker. That this creature was allowed to perch atop the fridge showed me that this was a home where whimsy was welcome.

Flying Dreams

Did you ever dream you were flying? Do you like those dreams? Aren’t they fun? The one this guy is having is certainly fun! He is probably not entirely in control, but neither is he out of control. He’s simply into it. I wonder if flying dreams existed before we developed powered flight? Humans have wanted to fly for centuries, that we know for sure. My guess is that flying dreams came before airplanes.

Flying dreams are interesting in that they are somewhat physical. I can’t speak for all dreamers everywhere, but I think most of these “flights” occur while in our bodies. I like that, because for me flying wouldn’t be as much fun if it lacked physicality. I mean, would you know it was flying? It seems there has to be some spatial relationship between things grounded and things aloft. I wonder if there’s a connection between flight dreams and dreams of some kind of expanded life?

Why did people ever want to fly? In an ancient world where most people probably never ventured 10 miles from their home, it would seem odd that long-distance travel was in mind. I think it may have had more to do with soaring and dreaming and freedom from fear. Birds do not sow or reap and yet they are cared for. They fly without fear and do not fall without being known. I dream about flying safely home.

All images ©2015 Ed Koehler