Seattle, Kites and LSD

I keep coming back to 1994. Either I am elevating it to myth or it has been the center of gravity of the space in which I now occupy. It was only a year but so much came out of that year I am only now beginning to understand the fallout.

In revisiting my past, mostly through music, I stumbled across an article I had published in the Seattle Times on October 2, 1994. It was my first published piece. Here it is in full:

Soaring Spirits -- A Brief Lesson In Kite-Flying Offered Pure Cleansing Energy

I read the letters to the editor daily and find myself wondering where the good is in the world. But sometimes, amidst the muck and the mire of the daily grind, there bursts a ray of shimmering hope. Spending a cathartic Sunday afternoon at Magnuson Park, I sat watching in fascination as a colorful array of sport kites, poetry in motion if you've never really watched them, circled in the crystal clear blue sky above, Mount Rainier in full splendor dwarfing the background.

After following one particular kite for a while, the man controlling it so gracefully sensed my awe and said hello. I commented on his kite and before I knew it he was teaching me to fly it using his own kite, a child's excitement in his voice as he performed this completely unselfish act. The beauty lies in the bond formed with the kite and the wind. If I took my eyes off the kite for two seconds it came crashing to the ground. When my focus was on the kite, not only did it fly smoothly but all other things were washed from my mind, there was simply no room. An act as simple as flying a kite was pure cleansing energy; one could say it was spiritual.

This man also introduced me to several gentlemen from Prism, a local company that crafts these high-tech, high-quality kites. They had volunteered their time and kites to show a local church group how to fly them. To see the joy in their faces as they learned; to feel it in the enthusiasm of the man who taught me; and to feel it in the pride of the guys at Prism, their dream, a perfect union of man and nature, soaring above their heads, made me realize there is hope in the world. And it felt good.

Sometimes the big picture that so terrifies us just needs a little fine tuning. So, to Pack and the guys at Prism, a heartfelt thanks.

The funny thing about the story, the subtext if you will, was that I had just taken a hit of acid. 

I own a Prism stunt kite and have flown it a few times since then.  A friend of mine fixed me up on a blind date because she had asked her if she liked flying kites.  Tough to build a relationship on that (well, that and smoking pot).  I vaguely remember driving about an hour from my home to look at new kites.  Seemed like kite flying could have been a big thing but I live in Ohio and the kites were sold out of some guy's basement.  Guess it wasn't a big thing.  Maybe somewhere other than Ohio... 

My family thought I was bizarre when, in more recent memory, I brought it to the Outer Banks on a family vacation.  Loved the reaction from one of the guys in the beach shop when I showed him my now "vintage" kite.  There was a moment where I thought it was kinda cool.

It was a joy to fly it on the beach but for some reason it just never lived up to that brief, fleeting moment written about for all the world to see.