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Fourth of July

     The parade starts at my house!

      I like the jets, Oregon Air Guard F-16’s out of Kingsley Field over in Klamath Falls. Most people wait for their roar as their signal to head downtown for the parade. I rush outside when I hear that low, mysterious hum, hoping I’m looking in the right direction when they suddenly appear; without a trace or hint of their visible presence, a shy whisper falling over our heads like a cloak of silence and suddenly they’re there!

Almost eye-level from Bob’s house on the hill, deafeningly silent, as single-minded as wasps, but flying in eerie formation, dark cockpit glass obscuring the joy-stick jockeys aiming for the big hotel downtown, then hitting the afterburners and aiming for the sky.

You see that in many parts of the world, that’s the last thing you see.


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