Flying, Junk Yards & Jones Art

The stories in this column are true. Averett lives a dull life in rural Southside Virginia with his wife Management, two children and a rotating assortment of goats, dogs, cats, snakes and other local fauna.

Shortly after my birth I remember thinking, “This light is a good thing. I am going to like it.” Then they gave me the first of many spankings, cleaned me up, wrapped me up and put me in a box lying on my back. I immediately knew that trying to put me in a box was going to be one of the things that would annoy me for the rest of my life. My immediate concern was that lying on my back would damage my wings.

Once I realized I did not have wings and would not be able to fly, I experienced my first and possibly my only permanent disappointment in life. As a small child I thought the story of Icarus was a “how to” manual. I have to say that apparently Greek birds were more willing to part with feathers than the Southside avian equivalent of my youth. My lack of wings and my attempts to fly without them resulted in a great many of the difficulties I experienced in my teenage years. Fortunately for me, my birth occurred after Orville and Wilbur’s so I have been able to fly in spite of my birth defect.

Interestingly, the son (who was also shorted in the wing department) has also wanted to fly since birth. Recently he has been able to take aerial photographs of community events from a helicopter. In my opinion, a helicopter is a rock with a rotor but he claims flying in one is wonderful.

Other than safety, flight distance, landing ability, comfort and a few other minor items, I consider flying ultra-light airplanes superior. You just can’t beat the wind in your face. My Bride, Management, claims that people who fly ultra-light airplanes just like to feel the wind blowing through the holes in their heads.   

In any case, the son took pictures of a local wedding and in the process took some of our home. He claims the pilot thought he was flying over a junkyard. Then in a moment of poor judgment Son showed the pictures to Management. Now, this showed poor judgment for multiple reasons; most importantly, it upset his mother.

He should have realized that all of my valuable collection of stuff (due to optical illusions, poor visibility, altitude, shadows, turbulence and so on) is not as attractive from the air as it is from ground level. Additionally, an incredibly attractive but slightly rusty 1940 Plymouth pickup looks like a blob of rust from 1000 feet. Furthermore (and more further), all of my stuff in a single picture rather than viewed individually makes it appear to be more than it actually is.

On the other hand, it may be possible that in arranging my collection I deliberately placed certain items so they will be seen from only one vantage point in order to maximize the effectiveness of the presentation and to minimize the sheer mass of the collection.

Consider any fine museum or art exhibit. Everything is displayed for maximum appreciation. Each statue stands on its own plinth. Visitors can view each from every vantage point with the exception of the soles of the feet. They don’t just dump a bunch of statues in a pile looking like Woodstock. I used this same technique in arranging my stuff. It was not just dumped off of a truck in the most convenient location, even if it may appear that way.   

The thing that concerned me most was the son could have easily photo-shopped a few things out of the picture of our estate. He could have photo-shopped in a couple of barns and sheds. He could have finished the deck, the porch roof and painted the siding.

In short, he could have corrected all of my perceived flaws just like they airbrush those skinny models in the ads.

Instead, he went for maximum shock value. I have to say I am shocked that he would do that to me but nowhere near as shocked as Management was by seeing all of my stuff at one time.