The Art of Crazy:
After years of being told that I might be crazy, I had a bit of an epiphany. It occurred to me that I may well, indeed be nuts. As a matter of fact, I may be insane….well, antisocial at the very least. Accepting that my own sanity could be problematic, I decided to try and figure out where it all went wrong.
As a kid, things were pretty normal. We spent a lot of time breaking into my Dad’s stash of Dynamite, setting the local forest on fire, building soap box cars and then crashing them and having monster spaghetti and meatball wars when my Mum was remiss enough to leave us alone with a full pot of sauce. All systems clear…smacks of normalcy.
Once school started, I remember becoming a little withdrawn until I hit grade three and discovered that I could be smart. The rest of my academic career saw me spend as much time on the honour roll as it did in detention hall. In grade 7, my Dad refused to continue signing my report card and told me that I would be signing it from now on as I would be responsible for the rest of my education. At that point, my parents were only ever called if someone required medical attention, property had been damaged or if it was honour roll award time. I had a great circle of friends consisting chiefly of my pony and a falcon that was rescued at birth. My teen years were obviously quite balanced.
Early adult life was a blast. As soon as I kicked my first real bf to the curb I developed a surplus of funds. First thing on the shopping list was a car; the second was my first aircraft. Traveling, flying, parachuting and driving way too fast took up my early adult life. A bit adventurous but still all quite normal and acceptable behaviour.
I saw wing walking, fell in love, and became a wing walker. This could be the turning point but many individuals discover passions that they wish to explore. Wing walking on a jet air craft and wing walking in the dead of winter are things that I can’t easily justify but one was for love, the other for money but maybe it was already too late by then.
What I do know is this. Once you are willing to step outside of your comfort zone, a toggle in your brain switches over and it opens up a whole new world that beforehand, existed in fiction only. Things that seemed impossible simply require forethought and things that had previously seemed death defying become life defining.
I may well be the definition of crazy or maybe I’m the end result of daring to dream and then getting it done.
tswingwalking 
Crazy, I think, is in the eye of the beholder. My friend’s five year old, after witnessing her first wing walking performance (With Tony Kazian), ran up to the show line as they were taxiing by and shouted “You’re a crazy man!”. I’m sure he couldn’t hear her over the engine, but it did make me chuckle. You see, she named their cat Mr. Brown Pita Pita Cat Food Eater Pattymelt. And, once broke open a can of paint and attempted to color a Saint Bernard lavender. So, while she may not realize it, she could very well be on a path similar to yours. If she gives 110 percent to her dreams, and does amazing things, as you have, who cares if people call her crazy. I’d look back at them and say, “Call it what you want, I’m having the time of my life!”. As the old saying goes, a life without risk, is not a life lived. Hope you have a great New Year!
Peace and Love 🙂
Interresting read