So Dad and I took his new model airplane – with remote control and four little propellers – to the park to fly it. He had another one, but this one is brand new.

click to embiggen

It made three short flights and crashed, snapping its styrofoam body in half. It lay there on the outfield grass in two pieces and he picked it up and did not cry. I wanted to do that for him, not for his hundred dollars but for the time spent in careful assembly, aligning the props, and for all the decades spent in countdown to flight that fell to disappointment. I guess if he’s not too old for such grief, sadly I am. But he deserved to see it soar.