{"id":2220,"date":"2016-08-29T18:06:48","date_gmt":"2016-08-29T18:06:48","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.reggiemorrisey.com\/?p=2220"},"modified":"2016-08-30T18:43:58","modified_gmt":"2016-08-30T18:43:58","slug":"going-going","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.reggiemorrisey.com\/?p=2220","title":{"rendered":"Going, Going …"},"content":{"rendered":"

Winding our way through airport check-in and security in Tampa for a recent flight to New York, we sat in the waiting area to people watch, removed from the bustle of travelers.<\/p>\n

We see a Coppertoned, six-ish-year old girl with blonde pigtails is somersaulting at a dizzying rate. Watching her is mesmerizing. All that's missing is an Olympian roar of the crowd. Her equally tanned brother, maybe\u00a0nine years old, fixates on a video game and rolls his eyes at the continual near misses of her foot in his face. Their beautiful companion, whom I presume is mom, focuses on a cell phone call, then a cell screen read, before lifting her eyes to issue a cautionary frown at the little girl's antics. But, whiz, bang, the bouncing girl\u00a0is soon at it again, head-over-heels over heels over heels.<\/p>\n

It's hard for me to raise an eyebrow in disapproval because I was like that as a child. My two daughters were like that. My granddaughter is<\/em> like that. Pigtails flying, shrugging off\u00a0the hard falls. Going, going ...<\/p>\n

This threesome sat directly behind us on the plane, and miracle of miracles, the children were statues during the two-plus hour flight. At first, I cocked an ear for potential spats and waited for a kick of the seat. Nothing. When we landed, I turned to lavish praise on the children's plane manners. \"Make sure you tell your dad you were very good passengers.\"<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 *\u00a0 *\u00a0 *<\/p>\n

Between any airport waiting room and plane, I can bank on one thing happening:\u00a0As the attendant at the gate murmurs, \"Have a nice flight,\" and I step into the corridor leading to the plane, my heart quickens with\u00a0excitement. We all seem purposeful with only one way to go; whether rushing toward business or adventure or trudging home, heading for a kiss or wistfully touching a cheek where we felt the last one. No matter what my \u00a0circumstance, in that moment I\u00a0always picture my\u00a0big brother Jim. I swallow hard. How dearly I miss him. How much he taught me about living\u00a0large.<\/p>\n

James F. Morrisey, Jr. was a pilot for Trans World Airlines for over 30 years, flying domestic and international flights, and loving every minute in what turned out to be a flawless career. He was so careful he could cover for our present-day hero, Sully. Captain Morrisey, training to fly off a naval carrier and later in years as a naval reservist,\u00a0made a name for himself as a supremely safe, dependable pilot. He also taught me to love to fly.<\/p>\n

Fourteen years my senior, Jim had left home at 14 to study to be a Christian brother. When I finally met him, he was a lanky 17 year old\u00a0in black brotherhood robe, and I was perhaps three. According to family lore, I gazed up and asked him with much confusion, \"Whose mother are you?\"<\/p>\n

Jim left the brotherhood, hunkering down\u00a0to concentrate on college studies in our bustling home - despite all my somersaults and twirls - earning an engineering degree and heading for the prized role of pilot. When he died in 1996, he was a husband, father of four and\u00a0ever-faithful big brother. He taught us to strive, take care\u00a0and savor. What a gift his lessons have been.<\/p>\n

I invite you to listen to\u00a0two audio poems in which I\u00a0expressed what Jim meant to me and\u00a0those knew him.\u00a0(Note the\u00a0raptor image to the right, a painting by another dearly missed big brother whose work is featured on\u00a0my site.)<\/p>\n

To hear a poem, click an arrow in one of the\u00a0following audio status bars.\u00a0<\/p>\n

Flying Home after the Funeral<\/h4>\n

John:21<\/h4>\n

https:\/\/www.reggiemorrisey.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/08\/RM_John21.mp3<\/a><\/audio><\/p>\n

\"When people die, they cannot be replaced. They leave holes that cannot be filled, for it is the fate \u2014 the genetic and neural fate \u2014 of every human being to be a unique individual, to find his own path, to live his own life, to die his own death.\"
Oliver Sacks, a professor of neurology, authored many books, including \u201cAwakenings.\u201d<\/div>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div>

\"Raptor<\/a>

Raptor, a painting by Ed Morrisey<\/p><\/div><\/p>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Winding our way through airport check-in and security in Tampa for a recent flight to New York, we sat in the waiting area to people watch, removed from the bustle of travelers.We see a Coppertoned, six-ish-year old girl with blonde pigtails is somersaulting at a dizzying rate. Watching her is mesmerizing. All that’s missing is […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2220","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.reggiemorrisey.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2220","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.reggiemorrisey.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.reggiemorrisey.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.reggiemorrisey.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.reggiemorrisey.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2220"}],"version-history":[{"count":10,"href":"https:\/\/www.reggiemorrisey.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2220\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2226,"href":"https:\/\/www.reggiemorrisey.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2220\/revisions\/2226"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.reggiemorrisey.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2220"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.reggiemorrisey.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2220"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.reggiemorrisey.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2220"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}