I had been in Wisconsin for more than half a year.
I sat fidgeting in my chair one night trying to figure out what was bothering me. I had been restlessly channel surfing without finding anything of interest. I picked up the book I was currently reading and almost immediately put it down. Why was I so unsettled?
Then the thought came. “You’re bored, son! You need a hobby!” My “critical parent” is never far away and almost always ready with some ‘handy advice’. I normally ignored him, but this time he was making a bit of sense.
Now, I never have been the craftsman type, although I did my share as a kid. I always thought my ‘hobby’ was reading. When I got to WA, I took up cruising the county roads on an 800 Suzuki Volusia for a while, but had sold the bike to the pastor two doors down when I packed up the van to head east. So, when I found myself wandering the isles of Popes Hobby store, I thought, “Just look and see if anything grabs your attention. If not, well it must be something else.”
I kept trying to imagine myself attempting the various crafts and hobbies that filled the shelves. Needle point? Sure! I’ll be another Rosey Greer! Painting? Um, no. Hey! You could start with the ‘paint by numbers’! Do I look twelve to you? Doll houses.. bird houses? No and… No. R/C planes? Hmmm.
The image stirred my imagination! Seeing myself thumbing the controls and watching the aerobatics of a plane made by my own hands! The soft breeze blowing in my face… the ‘errrrrr’ of the little engine as the bright yellow Goldberg turned and dipped… my eyes going wild as the object of my devotion slips out of flight glide and falls 50 feet – straight down! A hundred fifty bucks for 30 seconds of joy, then one big pile of broken balsa, wire and paper!” Get real!
Trains? No. Trains? No. Trains? This place is loaded with the ’em!
Models? cars? boats? trucks? Wait, boats?
There ware battleships, tugboats, the “Santa Maria”, “Old Ironsides”. Well, now there might be a possibility.
I walked on looking at the easels, brushes and yarn.
And found myself holding the Revel box containing the USS Constitution in my hand.
Well, if it doesn’t work out, it’ll only cost the price of a decent dinner with Diane!