The birth of meaning

Today is my sister's birthday and she is what most people consider a lucky girl.  She flew the not so friendly skies as they became, for over three decades, retiring more than a year ago.  I remember many phone calls as she was in the van to the airport or walking on the jet bridge towards the plane, about to leave the country and so we would check in just in case.  Just in case.  A very frightening thought for me who is still so terrified to fly not to mention the thought of my sister dying at all.

And so as the years today feel like they sped by as I remember her first and last union strike and how proud I was of her walking the picket line.  I remember our discussions later about the "scabs" and how those people walked back onto the planes after betraying their coworkers.  I remember my sister's terrified and distraught phone message on 9/11 as I walked to my cubicle job for the government.  I remember my sister's terror of returning to work after the trauma and deaths of 9/11.  I remember how she tried to cope with the murders of her coworkers.

Most of all I remember how my sister became one of my heroes, attired in the dark blue uniform, flying hither and yon as the culture of our world began to change radically. Passengers became more and more tense and acted out on the flights, privileged, angry and edgy.  The same thing began to happen to me at work, though it took the melting down of financial markets and truckloads upon truckloads of foreclosures to turn the public against my former profession.  Still, the sea of humans on the planet began to gather arms, spew vindictive around them, approach those in helping professions with derision and hostility because they were stressed, disrespected, violated, cheated, slewed, broken and terrified.  They fought back and I just wish it had been fruitful against the corrupt sources who created our demise not the fellow participants.

My sister "retired" and yet I know she would say those were such great years of working and playing. I know that for each of us, working without a net means different things.  For her, there is a great freedom in not putting on that dark blue uniform and enacting the persona of a flight deck member.  She is now walking the world and not constrained to the jet bridge.  For me, there is little freedom in the untethered experience that I am having.  Yet we are both, in our own way, searching for the birth of meaning.  Happy Birthday Sister.