1999: Wings of Icarus

I recently listened to Two for the Show for the first time in a long time and found myself transported in my mind more than twenty years back in time to when I was fifteen years old and first becoming a Kansas fan.  I already owned copies of Leftoverture and Point of Know Return, but Two for the Show was the album the fired my growing appreciation for this band and inspired me to do something rather drastic for a teenager with limited funds: to get copies of all the Kansas albums then available, even though I had only heard live versions of a couple of songs from each of them.

Over the next eight months I saved my allowance and lawn-mowing money and, one by one, picked up copies of Masque, Monolith (which came out during my quest), Kansas and Song for America.  Needless to say, I was not disappointed.  As I immersed myself in the magic and wonder of their music, I found myself especially drawn to the lyrics of Kerry Livgren, which spoke to my soul in a way that I could not then explain or describe.  I came to regard his songs as a musical and lyrical "canon" for my own personal and spiritual growth, both before and after he made his own momentous decisions regarding his own personal and spiritual direction in life.

In the midst of my incorporation of Kerry's pre- and post-conversion lyrics and music into my own sense of personal identity, I became aware that in this "canon" of his music there was one song that was for me the "odd man out," so to speak: the song "Icarus - Borne on Wings of Steel."  I couldn't understand what it was that struck me as odd about this song.  It had great music, evocative lyrics and a "timeless" feel to it, but something nevertheless bothered me about it.  Although I was vaguely familiar with the Greek myth of Icarus, I suppose that if I had had more of an interest in airplanes and flying the song might have spoken more completely to me.  Kerry himself didn't even mention "Icarus" in his autobiography, and this omission only solidified my impression that there was something "missing" from the song.

It wasn't until my senior year in college in 1985 that I unexpectedly found a clue as to what troubled me about this song.  (I did, incidentally, do more in college than worry about "Icarus.")  In a "Religion in Art History" class the instructor one day discussed with us the meaning and purpose of icons in religious art.  An icon's significance, such as that of a picture or sculpture, lies not in the icon itself but rather in what it points to, what it links one to.  An image of a saint, for example, is of no significance in and of itself but rather has its significance in the deeper reality that it indicates and signifies, in the power and presence of the saint who is the meaning behind the icon.

From this particular class discussion I suddenly had an insight to what had bothered me all those years about the song "Icarus."  For me, the significance of the vast majority of Kerry's songs lay not in the songs themselves but in what they pointed to or (at least) seemed to point to, both in his pre- and post-conversion music.  There was for me a meaning, a message, a reality behind his songs that went beyond the songs themselves.  And for the first time I understood what my problem was with "Icarus."  Unlike the majority of Kerry's other songs, there seemed to be no message behind "Icarus," no deeper meaning to which it pointed beyond its own lyrical and musical exultation.  In short, I suddenly realized that, to my twenty-two-year-old mind, the song "Icarus" simply didn't point to anything beyond itself...

...until that fateful morning thirteen years ago, when seven brave souls climbed aboard a gleaming, white-winged chariot and, before the eyes of millions, thundered into the heavens upon a towering whirlwind of smoke and flame, bearing with them the hopes and dreams, the pride and joy of a nation... and then, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, soared out of time ... and into eternity ... Borne on Wings of Steel.

"Challenger, go at throttle up..."

    Here I'll live and die with my wings in the sky
    And I won't come down no more

On this day in 1986 seven American heroes risked and lost their lives pursuing a dream that they believed in with all their hearts.  Please visit my Challenger memorial site at http://www.datamanos2.com/icarus_rising.html.

"The mission continues..."

(In the paragraph that begins with the words "...until that fateful morning," I have made use of Judeo-Christian imagery representing resurrection and ascension into heaven to memorialize the crew of the Challenger.  The first use of such imagery, the reference to the crew's boarding "a gleaming, white-winged chariot" and soaring heavenward "upon a towering whirlwind of smoke and flame," echoes the story of Elijah's ascension into heaven in 2 Kings 2:11: "Then it came about as [Elijah and Elisha] were going along and talking, that behold, there appeared a chariot of fire and horses of fire which separated the two of them.  And Elijah went up by a whirlwind to heaven."

(The second use is found in the reference to the crew's soaring from time to eternity "in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye"; this is taken from the words of the Apostle Paul regarding the resurrection of the dead in 1 Corinthians 15:51-52: "Behold, I tell you a mystery; we shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet; for the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed.")