Lawyers Road Review

So I have this dream. It is night and I am living alone in the house my grandparents built during the Second World War. It has been raining, in real life a rare thunder and lightening storm has blown through the Seattle area over night.

I look out the window and see my car is down the street somehow, my old mustang sold decades ago.

Next thing I know there is an intruder in the house. He doesn’t appear all that intimidating, yet I grab for the phone and hit the alarm function that I presume, but do not know if it will summon the police. Strange isn’t it? We have all this gear and no real chance to do a dry run with it before a crisis.

The guy is after my grandparents ticket on the Hindenberg. For a while I am thinking he seeks a lottery ticket that somehow was issued by Nazi Germany. I know of no such lottery. I have no ticket. He calls it the Hindenberg ticket.

Eventually I decide that what he speaking in is a metaphor. A ticket on the Hindenberg was chancy at best. Airships of this sort were risky. A passenger had a beautiful view world, was treated to first class accommodations, and lived in what was the highest form of modernity the 1930’s could offer.

And yet the Hindenberg caught fire and crashed to the ground while attempting to moor at Lakehurst New Jersey after crossing the Atlantic in 1937.

Airship travel was out of reach for my grandparents. Married in 1929 just as the Great Depression was gathering steam something like air travel at all was not possible. It took everything they had to start this house in 1941 and finish it in 1942, with considerable help from their friends. They couldn’t possibly pay anyone.

Now I am in it, alone with an intruder demanding something I do not have. Finally, a neighbor shows up about the time the intruder is asking for coffee and the whole thing is diffused.

I go out to retrieve my mustang and find it has turned into an early model Volkswagen, the kind Hitler had built to double as a squad car for officers of the Wehrmacht.

No ticket was produced, but the dream reminds me of where we are in history. Riding high, better than it has ever been for some, not so much for others. And one day, a gust of wind could blow our hydrogen airship into a hydrogen bomb. A spark ignites, and we go down in flames.