Passing


In the car.

George Harrison said all things must pass.

Time passes. People pass. Places pass. Things pass.

That’s what I’ve been thinking about lately.

I don’t know where it started, maybe in a dream. I’ve probably said this, but many of my dreams are search dreams. Mostly the take place in a ruined city. Everything is rusty, dusty and grimy. I’ve never been to the golden city on the hill. Is this about heaven and hell? That’s beyond my pay grade.

Along a persistent dream. I was traveling through a city that changed from really broken to something that was a little more comfortable and finally into a park like setting. This dream returned again and again. I traveled this route so often that the guys hanging on the corner waved to me.

One day, in the worst part of this city, I ran into a guy who was terrified of crossing the city so I took him with me. When we got to the park he wanted to go fishing. I followed him to a lake. He was wearing a pink polo shirt. You know the ones. He turned around and he was my dad.

We were really happy to see each other. That’s strange. We weren’t particularly close in the real world. But, not here in my dream world.

That series of dreams came to an end.

I couldn’t help wonder if that was some kind of closure. I never had a chance to say goodbye. This was in my Hong Kong and Dallas days. I was in Dallas at the time. My dad’s doctor called and advised me to get to Reno. I called our travel agency and asked them to get me to Reno the fastest way and I headed to DFW.

I was jammed in traffic. So, I decided to make two calls. One to the hospital and one to find out what airline I was flying on, which was usually American.

I called the hospital was forwarded to the nurses station on my dad’s floor. When I identified myself, the duty nurse said, “Oh, Mr. Laskowitz? He died.” The head nurse must have grabbed the phone because she immediately apologized. I was stunned.

I called the travel agency, whose agents had gotten to know me and one of them said it was very hard to get me on an immediate flight. It was Friday night and all the road warriors were headed home. I said, very quietly, “That’s okay, let’s take the long way home.”

That was aviator’s code for the guy I was hoping to get to a MASH unit just died so I’m slowing, down. I guess she understood what I said because her next words were I’m so sorry.

I’ll tell you about my mom’s passing another time. I’m worn out.

It’s enough to say that this started me thinking all the things in my life — good and bad — that I missed because of the way I lived and live. Should I make some changes? I don’t know. I just made some pretty big changes.

Maybe I should just go to the car wash.

Published by Ray Laskowitz

I am a visual storyteller. I've been making pictures for some 40 years. I travel the world in search of the right image. in the right light at the right time. You can reach me by phone at 505.280.4686, or by email at Ray@Laskowitzpicturess.com or Pictures34@me.com. For a quick look at my work please go to www.laskowitzpictures.com.

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