– Time For A Tiara: Column by Ginna Young – Skydiving whales, who knew?

If you’ve ever wondered why I look so tired most times, the mystery is solved. Yes, in part, it’s because I keep long hours, each week, but night is truly where the bigger part of my tired comes in. Although it’s not every night, pretty regularly, I have the weirdest, most vivid, detailed dreams, that go on until I’m awakened by the alarm.

One such example, was the other night, when I somehow ended up at SeaWorld in Orlando, Fla., covering a big (pun intended) news story. OK, buckle up, here we go.

So, for some reason I don’t remember, Sea-World had to get rid of their performing orca whale (also called killer whales, because they eat seals and other mammals), called Harpo. I don’t know, seems like a poor choice of names. Harpo...whale...harpoon the whale.

Anyway, the reason I traveled so far outside my coverage area, was that good Samaritans from Holcombe, had put up money to purchase the whale and transport it from Florida, all the way to Lake Holcombe, where it would be set free, in the flowage, making for a great story.

Apparently, when Googling the matter, yes, orcas can adapt to living in freshwater, even though they are saltwater creatures. Phew, I was worried this whole thing wouldn’t be plausible!

Everything went smoothly at SeaWorld, I got some great pictures, all my background information, I was set to hop a plane for home and await the arrival of Harpo, for one “whale of a story.” But, me being me, even in a dream, just had to volunteer to help.

I ended up on a big carrier helicopter, with the whale in a giant inflatable pool, just lounging until we got back to Cadott, where we would parachute out of the aircraft, instead of just landing on the ground (don’t ask me, it’s only my unconscious state). Not sure why we had to go to Cadott, when we’re supposed to be in Holcombe, but to continue on, we – and by we, I mean me and one other lady, who remained unidentified – got Harpo ready, by somehow flipping him so he was on his back, laying in an enormous duffle bag.

To keep him calm throughout this whole ordeal, we laid a layer of dead fish on his stomach and fed him one every couple minutes. Meanwhile, the unnamed lady and I suited up for the jump, I making sure I had my camera bag firmly attached. It was at this point, that I realized it would be a good idea to hit the bathroom before the jump, so I actually woke up and did what I needed to do for real, went back to bed, fell promptly asleep again and went right back to the dream, precisely where I left off.

OK, we were ready to jump and even though this is an orca, meaning this whale is HUGE, the two of us were able to drag the upturned mammal over to the open hatch and kind of ungracefully jumped out, holding tightly to the loops/straps on the now zipped duffle bag, that I zipped in mid-jump. I felt my breath leave me and you’d think that we’d have an altimeter to tell us when to open the parachutes, but nope, we had to judge by when the ground got closer.

Really should have made out my will before this trip.

Of course, being a Young, the multiple cords on Harpo’s bag were all stuck and knotted, so it took a couple good jerks on each to get them to release, as the ground got ever closer and I had to make sure to grab the lead rope, to hold onto him, while at the same time, pulling my own chute cord.

Not sure what happened to Anna (I now knew her name out of the blue, I think she was a marine biologist), because I never saw her again. Did she land somewhere and I didn’t know about it? Did she not make it? They say time will tell, but it didn’t in this dream.

Harpo and I plummeted toward the earth, much slower than before and the scene then changed from jumping out at the Truck Stop in Cadott, to right before the blue bridge in Cornell. I guided us and miraculously, I landed without a hitch, beyond the bridge. Because of his giant size and how hard it would be to move him once on the ground, Harpo’s chute was designed to turn into a big air balloon, which happened when I tugged on a thin line next to the lead line.

Since I had to get him over the bridge somehow, I had it all figured out. I threw the lead line over the trestle going up the hill into Cornell, then ran up the hill and grabbed it again. Now, if there was any doubt that this is a dream, I ask you, how do you think that would have gone in real life? Have you ever seen a Young chasing after a kite string that got away from them?

It ain’t pretty and it don’t go well! However, this is a dream and we continued on our journey, with me walking ( soooo would never happen), leading Harpo, who contentedly floated along in the air behind me. We went to Boyd (because Boyd is so near Holcombe), but that was just one of the towns we passed through. To recap, we were at Cadott, but then went to Cornell. Boyd is six minutes from Cadott, in the opposite direction and about 25 from Cornell, while our destination of Holcombe, is five minutes from Cornell.

So, we passed through Boyd, went all the way to Abbotsford, then to Medford, where we planned to stay the night, because it was getting dark. I must be a fast walker, to have put that many miles in, in just one day.

There, we reached a snag, because the assistant mayor had a conniption, saying we could not stay at the town hall (which looked suspiciously like the beautiful Mellen Public Library); he made such a fuss, screaming, with a red face, jumping up and down, while I showed him the email that had the prearranged overnight plans on it.

It was at this point, that the editor of the Star News, Brian Wilson, who writes the editorials for this publication (those are the ones at the very top of Page 2 each week), stepped up and said to the assistant mayor, “Jeff, why don’t you just shut up and let this girl into the hall, like you agreed!”

First, if there really is an assistant mayor in Medford, named Jeff, this is solely from my subconscious and in no way a libel upon your character, and two, Brian, thank you for calling me a “girl” and making my 40...cough...something self happy.

Anyway, we spent the night, with me reeling in Harpo, to bring him down to a level to fit under the large double doors of the town hall, which had another giant inflatable pool waiting (take that, Jeff!), before heading through Glidden, the next day (an hour and a half from Medford, and two and three/fourths hours from Holcombe, in the opposite direction), again with me on foot, leading Harpo, who was back up in the sky in his hot air balloon.

Eventually, we finally made it to Holcombe, amidst all the cheers from onlookers we’d drawn along the way (you’d think ONE of them could have offered me a ride) and released Harpo into the lake. I don’t know how he or the fish population fared from this rehoming effort, because I woke up, just as the alarm went off.

It’s plain to see this was nothing but a very wearing dream and totally unrealistic. I mean, I didn’t even stop at ONE McDonald’s along the way!