Escaping to the clouds!
Mark Pavilons

It was a sunny and mild Tuesday afternoon. I was driving down a typical Bolton subdivision street, listening to The Scorpions belching from the front factory speakers in my Dodge mini-van. Wow, this 40- something male driving slowly through town, listening to '80s music was me. And yes, I'll admit that I my head was slightly bobbing, and I may have mouthed the chorus to No One Like You.

If you witnessed this strange occurrence, please accept my apologies.

And there you have it. Wind playing with my first grey hairs; Arnold-like prescription sunglasses, rolling along in a purple (okay, Chrysler amethyst) Caravan. No fuzzy dice, no mags, no mural on the side of a Viking warrior in his chariot pulled by polar bears. It was like a bad Pepsi commercial, only it was all too real.

Maybe I should start a club for local fathers, just slightly past their prime, trying to regain some of their youth, while still raising kids and being "responsible." Any takers?

I think my new vitamin supplements are starting to kick in. Well, if you call laughing maniacally at myself in the mirrored sliding hall closet doors "kicking in." I think I heard the sound of a small spring letting loose, or a gear losing a tooth in my noggin. Nothing fell to the floor, so I assumed everything was a-okay.

There have been times lately, when I felt like curling up in the fetal position and not getting out of bed. Not, I don't foresee a midlife crisis on the horizon. It's merely a culmination of everyday stresses and a reexamining of my life to date.

Someone recently asked me whether there are things I'd change, or things I regret. There's really no point in dwelling on past decisions. The left turn I made more than 11 years ago led me here, today, surrounded by a loving, albeit boisterous family.

And that's something you can't trade for any corner office, Mercedes or season box seats.

But reflective thought is a good thing. Whether it involves music, art, old movies or toys, it's part of who we have become.

There has been a lot of discussion over the years about the "inner child" in each of us. Let me tell you from experience, mine talks to me daily, sometimes hourly. The superior sex has long believed men never grow up, that we're merely children in hairy bodies. I tell my extremely intelligent wife the fact is, my brain is wired differently than hers.

I often have dreams about floating, or doing the breaststroke in mid-air, propelling myself through the clouds. Dream experts will say this indicates my desire to leave my worries behind - to literally fly away from it all. Whatever the underlying stimulus, I've gotten quite good at it and if the time comes when I'm given super powers, I'll know exactly how to use them!

My inner child comes out to play every evening when I'm unwinding in front of the TV. I reach for my adult "pacifiers" - my collection of toy airplanes and spacecraft.

My largest collection numbers well over 100 aircraft from Japanese confectionery company Furuta. These Choco Eggs are Japan's version of Kinder Surprises - nifty toys hidden inside capsules surrounded by chocolate. They're highly sought after by collectors in the western world.

The recently released Fighter Series 6 contains a treasure trove for any aviation buff, young or old. These richly painted and detailed airplanes measure a mere 3.5 inches long and the lineup is a very accurate chronology of world aviation history. In this latest set, collectors are treated to the Sopwith triplane, F-16 Fighting Falcon, Y-35 and U-2 spy plane.

I've been amassing these intricate models for roughly four years now, but missed out on the first two sets - until recently. I managed to snag a full set of the very first series on eBay that contain two of my all-time favourites - the Eurofighter Typhoon and Saab JAS 39 Gripen.

Just as the "lost '80s" music tickles our eardrums and rekindles memories, these tiny trinkets are precious to this 40-something dad, seeking refuge from a soft real estate market, mortgage specialists, career stall and and demanding anklebiters. The more complicated the mind, the greater the need for the simplicity of "play."

While my aerial combat maneuvers still attract disapproving looks from my better half, my kids consider it "normal." A Rogers repairman who visited our house recently also couldn't take his eyes off my collection - and he could name each and every spaceship!

We're moving way too fast these days. I would encourage everyone to listen to their younger, inner selves and enjoy some old tunes or time with playthings. If you get a chance, do a couple of laps in the imaginary swimming pool in the sky, but watch out for the clouds!