A Man Named Dave

lose sleep just to talk to some college dweebs, knowing full well whatever you say to them, they can get from a book, huh? They’re laughing, David. They’re all laughing at you.”
    With sarcasm I said, “Is that so? Did they laugh when you met the governor’s wife for the ceremony?”
    She shot back, “Well, if you must know, it wasn’t all that. In fact, at lunch the chicken was cold. All your work for what – a cold piece of chicken and some idiotic award? Like I said, someone gives you a call and you come runnin’. You may say it, but you don’t owe anybody a damn thing. And if you do, it’s me! You keep this up, and the day will come that you’ll have to decide between what you’re doing and me. The air force stuff I can take, but this ‘we are the children’ ‘save the planet’ thing is getting a bit too much.”
    “But,” I defended myself, “what if I’m on to something? I don’t know what it is, but I truly believe in what I’m doing. Maybe these late-night drives don’t add up to a hill of beans, but in my heart if I can go to bed knowing I took a chance and gave it my best, that’s good enough for me. That’s why I push myself. When I commit, I give it my all. I can’t explain it right now, but I feel I have this gift. I feel I’m making a difference. You gotta trust me on this, Patsy, for our sake, for the sake of Stephen. If we don’t do something, who will? And if we don’t step in now, then when? I’m just trying to make it a better place. You know what it’s like. I’m just trying to make it better for you and for Stephen. I can’t turn away. Please,” I added, “you just gotta trust me.”
    “Making a difference? I don’t see it,” Patsy said with a snap of her fingers. “Besides, it’s not like buying a kid a pair of shoes, giving them a video or a stupid Slurpie is gonna change anything,” she finished with a roll of her eyes before nodding back off to sleep.
    Patsy’s reference to a Slurpie struck a chord in me. When I was a foster child, people like my social worker Ms Gold had not only given me hope that I could make something of myself, but little things, like surprising me with an occasional Slurpie or Orange Julius. The sincerity of their gestures was something that I would never forget. And now seventeen years after others had made such an impact on my life, I reached out to lend a hand.
    Yet with every program I did, every contest I promoted, donation I made or mile I logged in the wee hours of the night, I simply did what I believed was true and just. In the midst of my crusade I was becoming enveloped in a certain peace. Besides dedicating myself to being the best father I could, I had made a pact that I would do what I had to in order to ensure that no one became anything like my mother.

12 – The Long Farewell
    In the summer of 1990, subtle changes began to take a toll on our marriage. As an air crew member it began in January with the retirement of the SR-71. After years of rumors of base closings and cutbacks in personnel, the Blackbird was deemed too expensive. The retirement festivities held an emotional significance for me. After years of studying and being part of the unique program, I had the chance to actually see my favorite plane up close. Dressed in my flight suit, with Stephen cradled in my arms, together for the first and only time we ran our hands lightly across the titanium skin of the spy plane.
    Before the aircraft’s last flight, as some personnel from the base worried about a new mission to fill the void left by the SR-71 Blackbird, a few members of my squadron, including myself, were tasked to mid-air refuel a new aircraft that was coming out from the highly shrouded world of “black operations” – the F-117 Stealth Fighter.
    Working with the F-117 meant no more lengthy overseas deployments. After we had spent months apart for the last five years, my being home more seemed to amplify stresses between Patsy and me. Without meaning to, I drove her crazy. Patsy had always had the run of the house, and now I got in her way. Even after a few weeks of coming home from work every day, I still felt more like a guest. When I began to become frustrated over petty little things, Patsy bore it with the patience of a saint, but I could sense that the number of these situations, however insignificant, was forming a wedge between us.
    But I knew my apprehension was due to matters of trust. After being together for nearly six years, I had grown to know by Patsy’s sudden eruptions