Soaring With The Eagles
When I was younger I climbed a mountain. I was with my family, and the family of a friend.
I sit here, wracking my brain, trying to remember the name of it, and it just won't come to me.
I spent hours winding my way up the side of this piece of rock, making barely perceptible vertical progress with every mile that I hiked.
The higher we climbed, the less motivated I was to keep going. In an effort to buoy my spirits, my friend's dad told me "this is the final assault,"
meaning that at the end of this part of the climb, we'd be at the top of the mountain.
So I sulked along the trail, and was bitterly disappointed when that leg of the journey ended, not with the summit, but rather with another leg of the journey.
I was close to the limits of my both physical and emotional endurance, but my friend's dad said to me "this one has got to be the final assault."
And like Charlie Brown and the football, I believed him. It wasn't the final assault. None of the next dozen or so final assaults were the actual final assault, but by this time it didn't matter.
Each time my friend's dad was proved wrong was funnier than the last. By the time I reached the top, tears of laughter were streaming down my face.
So, in keeping with one of my favourite traditions of prematurely declaring a task finished, I'm proud to present "The Final Assault" of Freelance Blues Issue One.
We've still got a long way to go, but occasionally, it helps to hear that we're almost there.
Thanks for sticking with us this far, and I hope you enjoy the rest of our climb.
Mike Leone
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