[1974]: I was a new crew member on the aircraft carrier USS Saratoga, heading across the Atlantic Ocean. Young, naive and ridden with chronic anxiety. So anxiety-ridden in fact that I was unsure if I would even be up to the challenge of living my own life. Cut loose from all that was familiar and dumped into a new and strange life for which I was utterly unprepared and unsuited. Living and working with strange and often callous people, people I did not understand, in difficult, stressful and frustrating conditions.

But some nights when we were at sea I would wait until it was late and there were very few people about, and go up to the flight deck and stand on a catwalk overlooking the ocean, and watch the moon over the water. It seemed to be flying across the darkness, with its glittering reflection that looked like fire racing across the water’s surface underneath it. I heard the hissing, rushing sound of the ship’s wake and knew that I and the ship were racing along with the moon. We were flying. We were all flying through the night into a dark future.

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