Eagle’s Flight

As far as he could see, tons of steel hurled down the interstate at 70 mph.  The sheer insanity of it all should have been enough to wake him up.  But Franklin G. Harrison still drank his coffee. Lots of coffee. You can never have enough caffeine when facing Atlanta traffic.

A lady in a Honda Accord cut in front of him, nearly causing a multi-car pileup.  Her Pro-Life bumper sticker obviously did not refer to her driving ability.  He laid on the horn and got a middle finger in return.  “How sweet,” he thought.  A Dodge pickup weaved around two other cars, nearly causing another wreck.  Apparently it was “International Test Your Airbags” day and someone forgot to tell him.

Downtown Atlanta loomed in the distance.  Its buildings twinkled like fingers in a sequined glove.  He looked at the clock in his 2005 Impala.  It was 5:30 a.m.  Real rush hour was about to begin.  He had to get to the airport on time and was thankful the worst part of his drive down I-75 was now behind him. He zoomed past Turner Field and thought of all the amazing Braves games he had seen there.  He had been the clay and Atlanta had been the potters wheel.  His life was shaped by his time in the ATL.  But like Chipper Jones, it now was time to go.  It was time start the next chapter in his family’s life. The traffic reporter on the AM station reported a wreck on Camp Creek Parkway near the airport.  Life makes it tough on those who are trying to change it.

The Great Recession had hit his family with two body blows. First he lost his job his well-paying middle-management job at the big corporation. And then he lost his house.  The idyllic life his family had lived in the suburbs had turned into a big, fat pumpkin when the  economy struck midnight.  It would have been easy to curse everyone from the stockholders to his boss to even his co-workers.  But to him it was ancient history. While the potters wheel had shaped him, getting laid off had been the kiln that had fired the clay. He was harder now. More tough. Unbreakable. The day he had been let go, he walked up Kennesaw Mountain prepared to jump from the highest rock he could find.  He looked out at the Atlanta skyline in distance then at the ground below.  An eagle’s cry woke him out of his trance. He looked up and saw the majestic bird flying overhead.  It represented true freedom. His left foot and then right stepped back from the ledge.

Four thousand Americans had died on that Civil War battlefield. The bloody ground was not going to take another life.

He came down off that mountain and reinvented himself. He took a new approach with his wife. He spent more time with his daughter and son. He gave generously to his community.  They rented a smaller house in a good neighborhood. He cut up his credit cards and worked hard to repay his debtors. He began to write. And write well.

And ad for a politician came on the radio.  His soothing voice promised how he was going to make life so much better.  Franklin laughed. He knew the truth.  That change started with him. Not from Washington, D.C.

He pulled into the outer lot of Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport.  The giant white birds lifted off nearly continuously, taking their cargo to new beginnings and old reunions.  Franklin adjusted his tie as he grabbed his bag.  A big white bird was about to take him and his family on the next chapter in their lives.  In New York City, a publisher waited with a contract that would change everything. Because Franklin had been pushed out of his comfort zone, he began a successful career as an author.

His greatest failure had led to his greatest success.

His first book was called “Eagle’s Flight” and was dedicated to the raptor who flew over a particular North Georgia mountain. It went on to become a New York Times best seller and a box office smash starring Liam Neeson.

As Franklin G. Harrison sat on the cramped flight to LaGuardia, he pulled out a piece of paper and wrote this note to his former boss:

Dear Jim,

I know your decision was based purely on numbers. You had to make certain cuts to make your bonus. And I wanted you to know there are no hard feelings.  In fact, I wanted to take this moment to thank you. Because you made the decision you did, I’m now well on my way to becoming a bigger success. I could not have done it without you.

Thanks,

Frank

As the Boeing 757 leapt off the fourth runway like an eagle, Franklin looked down on his former life and smiled. The rising sun reflected off the golden dome of the Georgia Capitol and beamed off the glass of his former office building. He smiled, pulled the window shield down and fell into deep sleep.  And he dreamed as an eagle’s flight took him to a new and better life.