Bayou Pilot

Life has segments and eras. Some of mine are New Mexico and early flying days, living in Point Barrow, then Houston, the big house, the Bayou, marriage, parenthood , tool making, flying, bidness of flying, more parenthood, more bidness, unemployment, more toolmaking, airline flying, violin work and grandparenthood along with more airline flying.

The bayou era remains special. The place is gone forever. The people remain though. We’re different but still the same as we were 40 years ago. If the three of us were back on our raft I think we would be exactly the same as we were then within about five minutes. Maybe not  as flexible as we were and a little wiser, but the same in important ways.

Jeff the corporate controller CFO kind of guy has Bananas and Pine Apples in production in his backyard. He tends to be decisive if not impulsive in the face of excessive deliberations. Chuck is an Architect now, he was always a careful designer. Looking to build on previous successes, avoid previous mistakes. I could always look smart by having Jeff execute Chuck’s ideas.

All of us have our kids in at least a low orbit if not fully launched. It’s not out of the question that the three of us could actually ply the seas again. Stranger things have been arranged.

Our poor bayou it turns out was the cause of the major flooding in Harris county and had to be straightened out by the Corps of engineers. 

It’s a lucky thing they didn’t try to do that while we were still teenagers. The corps would have probably gotten combat  pay but could have never completed the project with us in opposition. And there would have been opposition.

For all of those that thought the Bayou boys needed straightening out, we did just fine.


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