Free Charting the Unknown by Kim Petersen Page B

patting his shoulder affectionately.
    â€œHmmm,” he said, but I could tell he hadn't really heard me. He had refolded the paper and inadvertently raised it to his nose and was breathing in.

8
    Dreams come full circle when we gaze at our own children and wonder what the future will hold for them. One day during the hot summer Stefan was four, we sat together on the back porch reading a Richard Scarry book on careers. The book covered all the usual professions that might capture a child's imagination: policeman, fireman, astronaut.
    â€œWhat do you think you'd like to be when you grow up?” I asked.
    He shrugged his shoulders. I looked deep into his eyes like they were crystal balls, with a heart full of a million hopes, trying to decipher his future. After discussing the pros and cons of several honorable choices and receiving little enthusiasm from him, I assumed he wasn't interested and we moved on to other books. Unknown to me was that he had taken the question seriously.
    Several nights later, I learned of this firsthand at a rather formal dinner party we hosted with some of Mike's co-workers and their spouses. When Stefan came in to say goodnight, our friends made much of him. One of them asked, “So young man, what would you like to be when you grow up?”
    Without hesitating, he smiled broadly and said decidedly, “I want to be a garbage man when I grow up!”
    Fortunately, he took their laughter and applause as approval, made a gallant bow, and tumbled off to bed. While grinning at some good natured ribbing, I thought about his response and tried to figure out where it had come from.
    The next morning, he climbed into my lap, and I asked him why he wanted to be a garbage man. He had it all worked out: “For one thing they drive the coolest truck. It is loud and you can hear it coming from a long way off. I would be the guy hanging off the back of the truck. The one who hops off the end and grabs the garbage cans. That guy always has big muscles. I think it would be the greatest to hang off the back of that truck and go fast and loud down the street.”
    In a moment of comprehension, I remembered that anytime the garbage was being picked up, Stefan was at the window watching with envious eyes. I wondered how those men would have felt to know that someone was watching and admiring them. I told him it was a fantastic dream and that I would do anything in my power to help him accomplish it.
    Years later, I supportively told him as he trudged out the door to take out the trash, “Just think, you're only nine years old and already you have accomplished your dream of being a garbage man.”
    He was not amused. He told me it certainly wasn't what he expected, nor did he think a career as a garbage man was in his future.

~Part Two~
    Come about : to tack, to change direction relative to the wind.

9
    The dream list I had excavated in our basement floated around the family room for a few weeks before Mike brought home several boating magazines. At first, I read them with casual interest, but the idea of living on a boat was subversive. It morphed into a small, brown field mouse that left droppings all over my mind when I wasn't looking. Of course, I set traps. I put an aromatic havarti on the small trigger plate, and carefully laid the traps in every nook and cranny I could think of. The mouse was clever, I'll give him that. Not only did he eat the cheese, he avoided being snapped under the bar. After some time, he became comfortable in his new digs, and I saw him brazenly cross the hearth of my brain. He looked right at me, his little nose wriggling, his whiskers shaking, brown eyes alert and mischievous, and I thought how cute he was. I agreed to let him stay if he didn't wreak too much havoc. Never make a deal with a mouse.
    While I toyed with a couple of boating articles on exotic ports, I kept a wary eye on Mike, who was gulping down several periodicals in a single sitting. In