by Gae Rusk
Today, seven helicopters went over Auntie Logy’s house. Each time it happened, Auntie panicked. Each time, Auntie ran down the steps and out onto the grass and hovered anxiously between farmhouse and orchard, tortured by the rotors’ whacking roar. Seven times today, Auntie’s heartbeat was sabotaged.
It is possible Auntie’s extreme reaction is due to being a citizen-veteran of two small wars. Being a citizen-veteran means Auntie has an exaggerated startle response. As a citizen-vet, Auntie fears the helicopters will fall from the sky.
This fear is real, helicopters do fall from the sky all the time. Auntie personally knows dead pilots and dead passengers from more than one helicopter crash, so it would be better if they all stayed offshore. If helicopters stayed above open water instead of above us, when they crash, which they will, at least they will land on water and not on Auntie, but helicopters give hostile excuses about needing to be over land for safety reasons.
I ask you, whose safety do they mean? Not the safety of people cowering below, that’s for sure. Not the safety of Auntie. Helicopters believe they are more important than Auntie, who lives and works at ground level. Helicopters have gotten away with this bizarre thinking, backwards thinking, opposite to logic thinking, to the point that no one knows how to stop them from chopping across the sky over our homes.
This enrages Auntie. Yes, helicopters flying over her quiet neighborhood incite rage in Auntie Logy, and not just for safety reasons. Some helicopters come over way too low, even though a minimum altitude rule exists, and Auntie’s neighbor has landed one in his front yard more than once. He did not care that Auntie had panic attacks when his machine spiralled down over her roof. None of those helicopters care that Auntie rushes outside and runs in circles with the desperate dogs, the horses next door fleeing from end to end of their pasture, eyes rolling wildly and all of us risking broken legs.
Auntie screams, “Sky scum!” at the helicopters. Hoarse from the effort, Auntie yells, “Bastards!” and Auntie vows yet again to paint this across the roof of the barn. Then, crippled by the rigor of her startle response to yet another murdering of peace and air, Auntie Logy limps inside and runs cold well water over her wrists.
Obviously, Auntie cannot stop those helicopters from going anywhere they want. They’ve had their way so long, since 1962, they claim a common law marriage with Kauai’s air space.
And Auntie cannot change the fact that living in war zones has shaped her response to helicopters. Auntie will never heal if they continue their wilful ways, violating and damaging Auntie from above. Seven times today, so far.
Is Auntie Logy the only one thinking this? Are there other citizen-vets disabled and destroyed by helicopters in our sky? Is there a County Council member who agrees with Auntie that helicopters should stay offshore? If so, may the island’s God of Peace and Quiet bless you forever.
There now, Auntie Logy spoke her mind. Auntie feels much better. A hui hou.
Please note: Antilogy is an inconsistency or contradiction in terms or ideas,
causing controversy and discussion.
Gae Rusk copyright 2006