Posted by Weave on Dec 12, 2000 in Articles, Personal | 0 comments
Somewhere over Fort Dodge, Iowa
39,000 FEET ABOVE FORT DODGE, IOWA – December 2000 – It’s midnight, and I’m high above the Great Plains on a flight to see my family in Michigan. I can see the ground covered in snow from here… a white blanket broken up by squiggling rivers. I can see cities and towns below me… beautiful, lonely patchworks of sodium light on a white...
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Posted by Weave on Jul 3, 2000 in Articles, Personal | 0 comments
Earlier this trip: Colin at Slea Head
DUBLIN, IRELAND – July 3, 2000 – Back at Dublin airport after our stay at Ross Castle. It’s been a great trip to Ireland… especially so because of Colin. We’ve explored the entire country, gone out to the Aran Islands, explored ruins and stayed in a haunted castle. We’ve both had a great time and it feels so good to spend time with...
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Posted by Weave on Jan 1, 1999 in Articles, Personal | 0 comments
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS, USA – January 1, 1999 – Caught in a snowstorm that’s all but shutting down O’Hare – sitting in a United heavy at the gate – I think back to my ancestors who boarded frigates from England, or braved Conestoga wagon trains through Montana, wondering what their lives would be like upon arrival in the strange new land… or if they’d...
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Posted by Weave on Jul 3, 1998 in Articles, Personal | 0 comments
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS, USA – July 3, 1998 – My subconscious was trying to tell me something.
She sat at an information kiosk – one of those help-yourself, walk-up workstations – in the lower level of O’Hare. Short dress, long curly blonde hair clipped back, long legs crossed as she intently browsed the screen.
I had been sleeping, upstairs, on a bench near my gate,...
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Posted by Weave on Apr 2, 1998 in Personal | 0 comments
DULLES, VIRGINIA, USA – April 2, 1998 – They dock behind closed sliding doors at the gates at Dulles.
Long white buses, each with strange fiberglass towers protruding from the top like horns. They raise and lower themselves between gate and plane door, rolling out across the tarmac like plastic lowriders.
The pilots and gate attendants call them “mobile lounges”. They...
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