The sound of freedom

About that noisy Sisters airport...

I was able to spend the better part of last Sunday at the Sisters Airport 4th of July party.

Boy oh boy was it noisy.

Can you hear a smile? I like to think you can. If so, those smiles were loud.

I heard old friends reconnecting, new friends being made.

I heard grownups acting like children, gleeful while being able to look over a hot rod or an airplane.

I heard children acting like grownups, getting to sit in an airplane for the first time. Listening to a pilot explain the controls and instruments with attention. Asking intelligent questions. Soaking up information like a sponge.

I heard the owner of a 1940s aircraft explain why he continues to step up to keep the old girl going. The aircraft is older than he is, and will likely outlive him. He explained that his name may be on the registration, but he is simply a caretaker. Keeping the past alive for future generations, passing it along to the next caretaker when the time is right.

I heard the humble pride of a friend showing off his hot rod. He didn't buy it, he built it. He scrounged and fabricated and borrowed nearly everything on the car. It took him years of sweat and actual blood to make it. I'm embarrassed to say I thought he'd never be able to see it through. But he did it. There may be fancier or shinier cars, but none like his.

I heard the words of a proud mother watching her helicopter pilot son show a child how his aircraft works from afar. He's from Sisters, and now an instructor working his way up the aviation ladder. He was there early, stayed late and has a grownup's haircut. How's that for one of our oft maligned millennials?

I heard the airport owners and their team busily keeping the show going. Happy to sacrifice their time and money to bring this varied community together.

I heard people softly singing along with the National Anthem. Watching our flag coming to earth via skydiver.

I heard people cheering for the drag races. I guess the world has changed when a whisper-quiet all-electric Tesla is putting the beat down on some pretty quick cars.

I didn't think about it until later, but do you know what I didn't hear? Complaining. And not a word about Hillary's emails or The Donald's hair.

I did hear the occasional aircraft engine and propeller straining against air, pulling airframes skyward to their next adventure. Of course most of the planes were simply being flown to their home airports to be safely tucked away in their hangar on a decidedly breezy afternoon. But do you know what? That was their pilot's choice. There are 360 degrees on a compass, leading to millions of destinations and experiences.

And those, my friends, are the sounds of freedom.

There is an inherent problem with freedom. Our freedom in America is so ever-present, so all-encompassing, so pervasive that it becomes almost like white noise. We simply take it for granted most of the time. If you don't, you are a better person than I. Freedoms paid for by both my grandfathers, both my brothers, friends and neighbors. Probably yours, too.

On my 4th of July, the sound of freedom was deafening.