Photography by Supreme Optics Photography
August 17, 2019
An Alaska Airlines marketing email brought me to write the story below. It’s a letter to the little boy who danced as I took off from runway 28L at PDX on August 1, 2019.
I sat at Tri-Met stop 17XX, soon to experience a sweaty forehead under a wet hat after boarding the 71. Two black dudes stared as I approached the bus stop. An Uber would have never brought me here — near the front of a bus to write the beginning journey of Budd’s writing on the run.
We arrived at the airport. Easy process. Boarding next to 28L I knew he was there watching. Pulling away from A9, preparing as Budd’s there gawking. Kick stand out as his bike rest. Southwest took flight first. We were up next.
Soon leaving was the man of the year. Who cried fearing he wouldn’t be here. But he kept going, through writing his faith kept glowing. Then an email one day to say we can take you there. Budd would love to see you take off in Horizon Air’s Embraers. Cool interior. Sweat dry now from walking under the sun’s inferior.
We did this all by believing right.
Budd danced as TK took off in flight.
Not a fear as his bike stands upright.
Smooth ride in-flight.
Hydrated now to write nice.
These words at a zero price.
There’s nothing much to view but beauty.
Where am I going?
I’m here and no continuity.
He likely made it back home by now.
Biking while hot as hell usually.
His pain pal higher in the clouds.
Writing back so he can rest now.
Writing for the best of thou.
Descending is the eternal cry now.
Sleeping from reading.
Budd what is it you wrote?
A million thoughts I spoke.
Chaotic & calm so I woke.
Some would give up broke.
Wealth means driving each stroke.
Ending at an abode, swimming in the mote.
Budd is the child in me — it’s also my nom de plume. He dreamt by 50 he’d finally live his dream. By living out a corporate dream, he got there at 31. Completing book one after losing the first manuscript, he knew he’d go for broke. And wouldn’t have been able to make it back to Brookfield Place in New York City.
This is where I was at the break writing book one. Three weeks later FocusWriter crashed. Soon after returning from Brazil, I had a book to re-write.
February 25, 2019
After leaving New York City, I made a promise that I’d be back at Brookfield place to show off my book. Starting off the summer broke, I felt that promise slipping away. But I didn’t know how to give up. Soon it would be an email reminding me of my past explorations and why we should always keep going.
In conclusion, here’s my letter to the little boy who nearly gave up…
Dear Little Black Kid,
We are often at places and not know it. If you are not there you’ll begin to feel the unthinking. Driven by what? The answer is often what got you there. Who in some respects — but the cause is how you let it. Allow yourself to be free. They’ll likely misread you, assume of you, but never let them misguide you.
They, you, and the in between will guilt you into the elsewhere. A place only they care. Be you — it’s only fair.
You’re young — do what the future settles.
The calm in bedlam will mold from jello.
Your world amongst others will soon be mellow.
They’ll inspire around you darkening the yellow.
Become one with the voice inside you.
For the voice aside you — are treading lower in view.
The email was a reminder of the airline miles I’ve accrued — enough for reward travel. Assuming spam email, fortunately I didn’t delete it. Fortunately I never gave up — it made an imaginary young boy dance at the end of 28L as I took off. Soon to close on a promise I share below.
August 5, 2019 – Brookfield Place New York City