Madras, Oregon is not the first place you would pick for a destination. It’s deserty and dry. A barren ranch-land that shoulders a reservation. But it’s also home to one of the world’s top collections of antique airplanes.
Inside the newly constructed space are nearly two dozen vintage airplanes and bombers. We walked around and underneath and peaked through these giant beasts of the air. As soon as we were impressed by one, the kids would race off to another. Each aircraft as dazzling as the one before.
We felt like ants next to the gigantic wings and weighty underbellies. And like ants living in a world of humans, we were both dwarfed and reverent.
As we left, Eloise exclaimed, “This is the best day of my life!” I smiled. Forget Disney. Or cruise ships. This is where it’s at. Exploring. Together.
On our drive home, we passed a decrepit and disfigured house. Left to the ravages of time and weather, I imagined that if the walls could talk, the stories they would spin. And yet there it was. Left alone and forgotten.
I wonder what makes certain objects worth preserving? Is it their significance? Their value? Why do we fill our junkyards with old machines while maintaining/protecting/polishing others? Perhaps it’s as simple as the fact that some things aren’t worth preserving. Maybe they’re better left forgotten.
The past holds us up. It provides the context and background to Our Story. The good, the bad, all it. But sometimes we have to let go. Is there a dream, a career, or a relationship that you’ve been preserving that isn’t worth the work? At one point it served a purpose, but now, it no longer does? It’s okay to let it go.
And let history be the judge.