The Sound Of Freedom...

This morning, after breakfast, I opened the back door and waited for the yearly Independence Day tradition of hearing jets fly over our home as they fly from Hill Air Force Base to parade routes around the state. It's a sound I love to hear, the sound of jets screaming overhead. I loved that sound when I attended jr. high school/high school in Kaysville and again when I worked in Layton, just a few miles from the base.

But today, I heard another sound, and to me, it sounded like freedom.

It was the sound of an ice cream maker creating deliciousness. Check out the video--is that, or is that not a true sound of freedom?

I'm sure you'll agree, it is.

Oh, and the ice cream tasted divine.

Now, I know it's not a real sound of freedom, but if you think about it, the appliance and its purpose does represent a sort of freedom. My father passed away in the mid-1970s. He would have been constantly amazed at the life we live today. Having access to all the world's information our phones with us at all times is only one example. And we can make ice cream in a matter of minutes.

If that's not a type of freedom, then I don't know what is.

Waiting For The Jets...On Independence Day

The first time I saw the jets flying on July 4th was probably more than a decade ago. We were at my in-law's neighborhood enjoying a holiday breakfast. We're used to having military aircraft taking off from Hill Air Force Base to the north, but rarely do they fly directly over our little town. That morning years ago I watched as several jets flew in formation heading south to give parade attendees an extra thrill for the holiday.

I've tried to watch for them--when I remember--ever since.

I woke this morning earlier than I normally would, thanks to the puppy (see blog post from 7/2/18...). Around 8am I decided to take a chair out to the back porch and wait.

And I waited...

And I waited.

It was a nice morning to be out in the fresh air. I sat and watched the sunlight slowly creep toward me. The moon in the southern sky also was beautiful. Plus, I couldn't leave--I felt like if I did, the jets would fly by at any moment. Because of their incredible speed, my window of filming opportunity was very small. Around 8:20am, I did a quick Siri search to see if the plane's schedule was on-line. Turns out, it was. A report in the Ogden Standard Examiner said the jets would be flying around between 9am and 11am.

Still, I sat and waited. Because I knew that even though it only takes a few minutes for the jets to reach almost any city on the Wasatch Front, if I left my chair at 8:45am, for example, the jets would fly majestically by at that very moment. And when I did go inside thinking I'll hear the planes, the sounds of large trucks hauling stuff up and down the mountain one street over tricked me several times in thinking I was missing it.

Finally, my patience paid off. Just after 9am, I heard the rumbling. I rushed outside, activated the video mode on my phone and recorded. Luckily, I was able to catch them as they returned to base. And since there's opposition in all things, I succeeded, but my wife did not. In an attempt to see the jets in person, my wife hurried outside. She bruised a muscle or damaged a tendon trying to get down the front steps in a hurry. She now has a fashionable boot as evidence of her zeal.

Next year--hopefully--the jets will again return to the sky to entertain and act as a reminder of their true calling. I plan on doing the same thing. I'm sure my wife will not. Happy Independence Day, everyone!