Twilight Music.

The evening sky is indigo, shot through with streaks of crimson. The clamour of the crowd is omnipresent. A guide tries to shoo me, but my resolution sends him off, baffled. I know where and why I am here. She is about to sing.

She is old, but still beautiful. She sits still, quiet, seemingly asleep. Yet I can feel the energy in Her, the sheer power of Her voice. The crowd vanishes from my awareness – though I am surrounded by thousands, She and I are alone in the moment.

Then She stirs. She groans a bit, time taking its’ toll on her. She coughs a few times, and then … Music. No, more than that. Rapture. I am aware of the sound of Her, the smell of Her, and my heart vibrates to Her voice. Time stands still.

Then, She is done. All too quickly, with a tiny shudder and bit of a wheeze, She falls silent. This was just a rehearsal, a brief test of Her power. Yet it was magic, it was beauty, it was more than words can describe. She is relaxing now, seeming to doze off. But I can still feel that energy, that warmth, that magic She created. I walk away, left breathless, grinning from ear to ear. My wife shakes her head at me, but understands. My wife knows she married a guy who would always be drawn to that kind of lady. I give my wife a hug, but I look back as we walk away, knowing I’ll be back for more. And I can tell She knows, too, as a last wisp of her perfume wafts past. She knows I will always come back for more.

–  –   –

More than two decades ago, my wife and I used to travel to airshows to see WW2 warbirds. One evening at the Kalamazoo Air Zoo, I overheard that the crew of a P-47 Thunderbolt were about to turn the engine over. I immediately charged over, and stood just behind the left rear of her tail, waiting. A crowd control guy came over and warned me that the engine would create a lot of smoke, and I replied that I knew exactly what that big air-cooled radial would produce. and I was standing right where I wanted to be, on purpose. He looked at me like I’d grown a third arm, shook his head, and walked away muttering. Yes, I stood there while they fired up that 18-cylinder engine, and stood wrapped in the smoke as it belched its’ way into life. I didn’t leave until the prop had stopped turning, and yes, my wife was standing at a safe distance, grinning and shaking her head at my silliness. What can I say – how many times in my life was I going to get the chance to be THAT close to a (at that time) 50+ year old WW2 aircraft? I’ve been prop blasted by a B-17, a couple P-51s. several trainers, and a B-25 with whom I spent a romantic foggy night in Aurora, Illinois. But the P-47 was THE best …. um, prop-job? .. I have ever received.

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5 Responses to Twilight Music.

  1. Margarita says:

    Forty years ago, we flew a Cherokee 140 from Linden, NJ to Eleuthera, Bahamas, hand-propping for each take-off. Not the same kind of prop-job. Unusual, nonetheless. Happy flying! 😉 xoM

    • As Scotty once said, “All women have their own charms. You just need to know where to look.” All prop planes have their charm, especially if you have to get dirty with them once in a while. (Um, can I change that to “hands-on”? No, with the phrase “propjob” in mind, EVERYTHING I could say sounds sexual. Sorry. 😉 )

  2. Archon's Den says:

    I thought you were going to talk about a song-bird. 😯 Silly me.
    I noticed that you wrote the British ‘clamour.’ You could slip into Canada, and no-one would notice, although I and several others would celebrate.

    • I picked up the bad habit of British grammar when I got into sci-fi conventions with British shows. Trying to put out activities lilsts for the celebs, along with some good-natured ribbing from some of said guests, kinda steered me into the “u” thing and the American “z” becoming the British “s” as in “organising”. But gray has always been “grey” to me – that goes back to reading too many WW2 books written by British or Commonwealth authors.
      As to speaking Canadian (well, English Canadian, as opposed to that Frog stuff in Quebec), I think I have the “eh”s and “oot and aboot” down pretty good. But I need to be careful with that – I was riding in a jeep and started into my Canadian accent, and made the driver laugh so hard we barely missed a tree at 30mph+ at a campsite. Wat an epitaph THAT could’ve caused! 😀

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