Helicopters

Our first summer in our little village, I was visiting with a neighbor when we heard a helicopter approaching. The neighbor was in her early 60s, and was not a country rube. The words out of her mouth surprised the heck outta me, and stuck with me. It wasn't until my outing with the dog this weekend that I finally understood it.

What'd she say?

"Wow, a helicopter!" as if she was three years old.

Now, you're probably judging me up and down for mocking this poor woman. In my defense, growing up in DC we heard helicopters at least once a day. They were no cause for celebration, concern, or even curiosity. They were just part of the atmospheric noise. (Incidentally, in French they have a term for that noise that is always around in electrified parts of the world - larsen. I don't understand why English doesn't have a similar word. Ever notice how quiet it is when the power's out? The larsen is silenced)

Fast forward five years. I was sitting on a picnic bench sunning myself, enjoying what I was sure would be the last warm-ish, sunny day, in a very peaceful setting:

How peaceful, indeed!

Suddenly, the relative silence was broken by a whop-whop-whop sound. And literally, I said aloud, "wow, a helicopter!" as if I was three years old.

Kind neighbor lady, I apologize for judging you all those years ago.