Blast from the past . . . really!

The Experimental Aviation Association's restored B-17 Flying Fortress paid a visit to our local airport this past weekend. It was a rare opportunity to board and walk, or crawl, through one of the greatest airplanes in our military history. It's easy to understand why it was called a flying fortress.

More than 12,000 were built for the U.S. military by Lockheed and Boeing during World War II. The first war production models went from design to completion in less than a year. Each of the four engine prop bombers cost a little more than a quarter of a million dollars to build and their only defense was eight 50 caliber machine guns.

While they were designed to fly for ten hours at a time, they were totally void of any of the comforts that we require for a one hour flight. There was no sound proofing, no insulation, no padded seats, no peanuts, and certainly no room to stretch out or walk around with more than two tons of bombs and thousands of rounds of ammunition on board. In fact, when the bomb bay doors opened to drop its payload, a third of the plane's floor disappeared and you could see the ground 10,000 feet below your feet.

Here is the link to its fall tour schedule. They do charge a small admission fee, but if you are a veteran, it's free. Yes, you can book a half hour flight, but the fee is considerably higher and there is a waiting line, so it must be worth it!

Simplicity

In one of my former business lives, I worked for the director of interior design for a very upscale office furniture manufacturer. While he was passionate about furniture form and function in the work environment, when it came to designing an office space, he always said, “Simplicity is the essence of design.”

I have been out of that industry for twenty- five years now, but his words formed an indelible impression on my mind. And what could be simpler than the shadow of a chair on a floor mat. Upside down, it is only a form, but right side up, it has function.

So often, we work so hard, to make things so perfect, that we destroy the original concept, and the message is lost. It just seems ironic that so many people strive for degrees, titles, accolades, and recognition by others, yet our imaginations are stimulated by the mystery of something as basic as the shadow of a chair. My boss had it right, “Simplicity is the essence of design.”

Jars of clay

They are just clay pots, but like us, each one is different. Some are larger than others. Some are tall and others are not. Some have small mouths and others are more pronounced. Some have a spout to make it easier to pour out their contents. Some have handles to hold while others need to be hugged. Some are cool, and some are warm. It's hard to see inside some of the pots, especially the ones hidden in the back, but they all have scars and markings covered by a glaze. Some we see, and some we don't, but the potter knows them all.

We took a journey to a potter's house one day to photograph him at work. He talked about his pots as if they were his family. He would pick one up and look at it, then he would talk about it. As he spoke, I photographed. Tall, short, round, scarred, warm or cool, he could describe each one. We saw form and function, but he knew their character.

So often we are quick to make judgments and form opinions about people just by looking at them without taking the time to know their character, but like these jars of clay, each one of us is a treasure in the eyes of the master potter.