Mick McKellar Update -- Day +1662

Michael & Stefanie

Remembering Moments
As I think back, reflecting on my life, I remember moments. Moments of joy elevated my enjoyment of just being alive. Moments of sadness seasoned my existence with the bitter herbs of loss and the salty taste of tears. Moments of fear tingled my spine with the electric shock of adrenaline, and moments of anger scorched my fingers with sudden fire and intense heat. The cool, quiet moments of peace and harmony filled all my senses as cold spring water fills dark caverns and sunny valleys, eased my frantic brow as an icy stream freshens a mountain ravine, and stole away the fiery anger in my heart as twilight steals the heat of the day.

Most of what I remember are the moments, and I forget the years in which they were born, they lived, and they passed into my history. Hence, the telescoping effect of passing time seems to make it move faster than it truly moves, and I have forgotten my youthful ability to live in each moment as it passes, experiencing the fullness of time as it flows forward, and letting it carry me along.

As I age, my tendency is to stand firm and resist the flow, fearing I will come to the mouth of time’s river, slowly settling into its infinite delta and merging with the great sea of all things past. Resisting the flow causes the moments to flow by me so quickly, I only get to sample them instead of flowing with them and taking in their full measure. And so, I am learning to once again live in the moment and “go with the flow.”

Rafting Time’s River
Our recent trip to the state of Washington for the wedding of Michael and Stefanie caused a ripple in my experience of time’s flow because of the shifting time zones and different environment. Jet lag, even a simple three-hour shift, reset my time clock. Spending two weeks outside my normal environs shifted my view -- in much the same way our four-month stay in Rochester, MN altered my perceptions and granted me an opportunity to jump on a raft and ride the river of time.

Staying with Heather, Chris, Eli, and Rose allowed me to let go of at least some of my daily reminders of chores needing to be done and projects unfinished, of messes needing organizing and even those pesky bills that must be paid. Of course, their ghosts trailed me about, but I became a moving target for a time, and immersed myself in the joy of just being with my family and sharing in the happiness of a newly minted family -- just starting out.

At Snoqualmie Falls

We did a little sightseeing, visiting the Point Defiance Zoo and Aquarium with Eli and Rose and spending a day with Heather when we visited Snoqualmie Falls. However, I wasn’t there as a tourist. I came to enjoy family and share in their lives for a time. The wedding was wonderful. It was simple, elegant, and tasteful. There were few of the party trappings of some receptions (a band, dancing, hours of sitting on metal folding chairs), but there were the things that really count -- including some terrific food. It was a happy celebration with family and friends.

Perhaps the greatest gift I received from my recent raft ride on time’s river was the happiness I felt having all my children around me again. All of my grandchildren were within hugging distance -- at least for a day. Sharing a small part of their vibrant lives for this extended moment remains a cherished gift that will be with me always.

Good evening and God bless!

Mick
 

Mick McKellar Update -- Day +1654

Travel Agency

n.

A business that attends to the details of transportation, itinerary, and accommodations for travelers. Also called travel bureau.

Michael & Stefanie

I suggested we book our trip to Seattle/Tacoma for the wedding of Michael and Stefanie, and a visit with our children and grandchildren, through a local travel agency. Fear of mistakes and bad bookings forced my hand, and I ponied up additional dollars to guarantee no circus of horrors or the absurd on this special trip. Oops…

Stage One: Get to SeaTac

Our route to SeaTac was a bit circuitous, connecting via Chicago and San Francisco. Dressed for Summer, we loaded into the Skywest plane at Houghton County Airport and literally chilled for about 55 minutes to Chicago O’Hare. It was cold on the plane, but one can be stoic, I thought. Why not tough it out?

We scurried to make our connection to a United Airlines flight to San Francisco, making it just in time for boarding, and leaving me wheezing and honking enough to frighten folks into offering aid. As we clambered aboard, I noted with dismay a small pillow and blanket upon each seat. I never used an airline blanket, so I gave mine to Amanda -- a decision I later came to question. We waited to be pushed from the terminal, and waited, and waited. The captain’s disembodied voice came through the loudspeakers to announce a slight delay, to repair a broken arm rest. In about 15 minutes the plane began to move until a “crunch” was heard and it stopped. The tug driver cut the wheel too sharp and bent the push/tow connection to the plane. It would have to be examined...it would have to be replaced...more time was lost to mechanical delays.

As the refrigeration units came online, our chariot of the skies leapt into the morning sun. I shivered mightily for more than four hours, until we landed in San Francisco -- just as our connecting flight to SeaTac was taking off. The captain’s reassuring voice floated over our heads as he mentioned connections missed (ours included) and quickly rattled off a phone number for UA customer service. I fretted about having no pen or paper handy and a good samaritan handed me a PostIt note with the number. Thank you anonymous nice person! I called UA CS while afloat in the chaos of deplaning humanity and they booked us on another flight, leaving in about two hours. Great! I asked about our luggage. “Oh, you have to call Baggage -- Click!” Panicked, I cornered a hapless target -- the Customer Service agent at the gate through which we deplaned. He kindly followed up on my questions, and an hour and a half later, we journeyed on, with our luggage, to SeaTac Airport. Once again, our boxcar in the sky was a refrigerator car. Flash frozen, I shivered my way to join our luggage and Michael en route to the home of my daughter and her family.

Stage Two: Get Home

Despite the criticisms of my use of a travel agent, I considered the foibles of our flights as accidents and coincidences that could happen to any traveler, whether booked by agent or online. Enter the Trip from Hell.

We arrived two hours early at SeaTac for our red eye flight home to Hancock and points North. The line at the American Airlines counter (American Airlines? Yup, that’s what the itinerary says!) was longish, but not frightening. What was frightening was the look on the ticket agent’s face when I presented our receipts, all of which said: United Airlines. First she looked at the receipts. Then she looked again, quizzically. Then she mumbled, “I cannot accept these, they are from United.” Fear touched my spine (and other things) and my Scottish eyebrows went into scowl mode. I glared at her from under their canopies. She called her supervisor over, and both listened to my explanation.

More than an hour and four frustrated agents later, they had survived professional phone tag with United and reissued our tickets and our boarding passes. They also waived our baggage fees ($75) and marked our passes TSA Pre-checked, which saved us precious time. Once again, we arrived at our boarding gate just in time -- with me wheezing and wobbling about.

The plane felt cool, but not cold as we settled in our assigned seats for our midnight ride in a meat locker. Once the air started, triggering my goosebumps and shivering -- I asked for a blanket. The attendant replied: “We don’t provide blankets on this flight. I’ll ask the pilot to warm things up a bit” (He did warm it slightly. Note: as we later deplaned, we noted blankets scattered about in Business Class.) I quaked and quailed, shivered and shook, for nearly four hours in a dark aluminum tube. I could not sleep and read until my eyes were sore from reading in a dark place. No sleep was found in my vicinity. We arrived in Chicago just before 6:00 AM, perfectly chilled.

Our layover in Chicago was 4 hours and 41 minutes -- almost long enough to establish residency. At 10:00 AM, we started boarding our Skywest flight to Hancock. I was cheerfully optimistic because I finally had my window seat for a daytime flight. Then the cockpit door opened and the captain said, “I have bad news. Hancock has thunderstorms and heavy fog. Visibility is below our minimums. We can’t fly there now.” He said it would take some time for the weather to clear, so we deplaned and went back to warm our seats in the terminal. Eventually, things improved, and we arrived in Hancock at 1:58 PM instead of 12:50 PM. Safe and sound.

Oh, and did I mention that the wedding was wonderful, the visit was a total joy, and I would do it all again to see everyone I haven’t seen in so long...and thought I might never see again.

Good night, and God bless!

Mick