There's no sound on earth as lonely to me as the sound of Canadian Geese flying south in the fall.
They go honking overhead, sometimes in 3's, sometimes in 5's, sometimes in massive flocks you can hear long before they arrive. Sometimes a single goose comes along, silent, striving against the wind. The sight is always enough to make me cry. As if it's not bad enough that they're all going away, laughing at me cuz I can't go with them, but now they've left that one to fly all alone.
Oh, sure, he'll get as far as the Mint (the oddly shaped coin plant at the south of the city) where thousands and thousands of geese gather each year before starting the long push south. When he lands on the vast lawn amidst all those geese, he's sure to make some friends and he won't fly any farther without company. In the mean time, however, the sight of him struggling along over my head while I walk from building to building just makes me sad.
Couple other goose stories. When I was in bible school I found myself in a vehicle with four other students driving back east to winnipeg...... and I looked out the window and spotted some geese flying north. I thought, wait, it's october, and without another thought I blurted out, "Those geese are flying the wrong way."
Of course the others hadn't noticed the geese, and thought it was odd that I would, never mind which direction they were flying in relation to the season, and since the school year had barely begun and I hadn't yet adjusted the sound of my own voice, they thought was even more odd that I had spoken.
Even earlier in my life, I spent a summer camping every weekend in Minnesota, at a christian retreat. I got to know the regulars and they became like family to me. Especially one couple, Rick and Gloria, who checked on me when the weather was bad and had me over for dinner. I'd have eaten nothing but beans that summer, were it not for their pizza and corn on the cob.
On the last weekend of the season, Rick was out alone, and winterizing his trailer, as well as his pastor's trailer, at the next site. He invited me to help him out. So we winterized the trailers and then went to the store to get a frozen pizza. We sat in the trailer eating pizza and nachos with salsa, just cracking jokes and having a good time. I can't describe the relationship we had.... at that point it was the closest thing to having a father I could remember. We were tight, we went for drives, just hung out all the time.
I felt the chill of the wind and heard some canadian geese overhead, and I said, "Those geese fly south every winter.... they spend as much time in the US as they do in Canada...... so why are they called Canadian geese?"
He got this funny look in his eye and I knew what was coming. "It's because of the sound they make when they fly overhead," he said, "Eh, Eh, Eh."
We parted ways that weekend and I cried like I hadn't in a very long time. I never saw him again. I wonder if I ever will.
They go honking overhead, sometimes in 3's, sometimes in 5's, sometimes in massive flocks you can hear long before they arrive. Sometimes a single goose comes along, silent, striving against the wind. The sight is always enough to make me cry. As if it's not bad enough that they're all going away, laughing at me cuz I can't go with them, but now they've left that one to fly all alone.
Oh, sure, he'll get as far as the Mint (the oddly shaped coin plant at the south of the city) where thousands and thousands of geese gather each year before starting the long push south. When he lands on the vast lawn amidst all those geese, he's sure to make some friends and he won't fly any farther without company. In the mean time, however, the sight of him struggling along over my head while I walk from building to building just makes me sad.
Couple other goose stories. When I was in bible school I found myself in a vehicle with four other students driving back east to winnipeg...... and I looked out the window and spotted some geese flying north. I thought, wait, it's october, and without another thought I blurted out, "Those geese are flying the wrong way."
Of course the others hadn't noticed the geese, and thought it was odd that I would, never mind which direction they were flying in relation to the season, and since the school year had barely begun and I hadn't yet adjusted the sound of my own voice, they thought was even more odd that I had spoken.
Even earlier in my life, I spent a summer camping every weekend in Minnesota, at a christian retreat. I got to know the regulars and they became like family to me. Especially one couple, Rick and Gloria, who checked on me when the weather was bad and had me over for dinner. I'd have eaten nothing but beans that summer, were it not for their pizza and corn on the cob.
On the last weekend of the season, Rick was out alone, and winterizing his trailer, as well as his pastor's trailer, at the next site. He invited me to help him out. So we winterized the trailers and then went to the store to get a frozen pizza. We sat in the trailer eating pizza and nachos with salsa, just cracking jokes and having a good time. I can't describe the relationship we had.... at that point it was the closest thing to having a father I could remember. We were tight, we went for drives, just hung out all the time.
I felt the chill of the wind and heard some canadian geese overhead, and I said, "Those geese fly south every winter.... they spend as much time in the US as they do in Canada...... so why are they called Canadian geese?"
He got this funny look in his eye and I knew what was coming. "It's because of the sound they make when they fly overhead," he said, "Eh, Eh, Eh."
We parted ways that weekend and I cried like I hadn't in a very long time. I never saw him again. I wonder if I ever will.
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