South of Ordinary Now Published.
/Well, I went through some changes writing this book. I started as a person writing from a distance and changed to— up close and personal. I finally allowed myself to remember the love story that Dave and I had forty years ago. Divorce can put a pall on a twenty-eight year marriage and cause you to focus on the last crummy years when in truth there were many good years and many good times in the relationship. I am thankful I was able to peel away the resentment so I could write a more true and interesting story. Here is an excerpt from my journal two years ago when I was writing the book and reflecting on what the book is about.
Each person gets to decide their fate, their passions, their dreams and this is sacred and number one. That is what I believed. And then I thought well, I can just go along with it. This is what love is . It is sacrifice and you do it for love. For him to have a partner it has to be someone who will let him be him. And that was my goal and my cherished lot in life. Sacrifice for the sake of love. And so I did . I never thought of myself as a victim. I thought of myself as lucky to be with him. I was lucky to be exposed to all this adventure and hang gliding and amazing things and it was to be a glorious life together. I could hack it. Not many women could do this. But I could. I was tough. I had the right stuff. I had great determination.
So I followed and I hiked in the jungle and I flew off mountains. I didn’t crash in creeks or get blown apart on the top of the continental divide to learn. No, I started at the bottom of the hill and I did a thousand take-offs and landings from the bottom just skimming my feet off the ground until I built my confidence and skill and then I flew from the top. I was sometimes pushed. You are ready Dave would say. You can do it. I was numb with fear and thought I had to push myself to fly. But I could have kept going at my pace and it would have been longer before I decided I was ready. Oh my god, was I scared as I took off the top and the ground dropped below me and there I was suspended in the air high above the grasses of the south side and the wind sock a little toothpick with a red ribbon waving in the air. He said, “don’t focus on the wind sock pick a place to the side to focus on. If you focus on the sock, you’ll hit it.”
Oh man, his warnings always had the worst case scenario laid out in black and white. Don’t fly behind the ridge or you will get in the rotor and tumble and break the glider and die. Always pass on the right or you could get a head on collision. Watch the clouds and the winds. If the winds get too high you could lose penetration and be pushed backwards. The consequences were always a part of the lesson. This scared the shit out of me. Oh yeah, and how about the time that we took off tandem and he looked up at the webbing that held us into the glider and said OH SHIT. What/ what? I was so scared. I lost my breath and became weak and light headed and charged with adrenaline. I forgot to hook us into the safety he said. Oh so surely our main hook will break now that he forgot to hook in the backup loop to catch us if the main broke. Never was I so glad to set foot on the ground.
These experiences were not pleasant but hang gliding also gave me the highest feeling. Like I was more than human. I could fly. I could fly on wings that felt like my own. I had the skill to maneuver the glider, hugging the hillside back and forth so I could soar. It was a feeling like being one with the wind, with nature, just like a bird. Oh it was glorious. And then I would come in to land, the ground would rush beneath my feet and at the last moment I would push out, flare the glider and the nose would rise and the tail would come down and it would set me on the ground like a feather and then the glider was heavy on my shoulders without the windspeed holding it up and I would walk over to the parked cars and the other pilots on the ground and some would nod and say, Nice landing, you nailed the landing. And I would be full of glory. I did it. I defied gravity. And I would pack up my glider and go pump some gas for my car and look at the people nearby and think, you have no idea where I have been. I have been soaring with the birds I am superhuman and I feel it. Your life must be sooo boring and mundane. Yes, I would even think that. I was puffed up.
The times that my flights were great like this could be counted on one hand. There were the ones where I got blasted and pummeled by cooling bumps in the late evening on the north side. It felt like Mohammed Ali was grabbing the wings and giving them a punch. Times when I had no control and would just fall out of the sky for 30 feet or more and then catch the wind again and sail on. Then white as a sheet I would land and not feel so self important. I felt as low as you could go. How stupid I was to be up there and almost kill myself and when I pumped gas, on the way home, I didn’t want to look at anyone. I kind of hated them because they were smart enough to stay safe and didn’t have to risk everything for a stupid flight on the north side.
