In August, usually during a heat wave, my fellow Chicagoans gather along the shores of Lake Michigan and watch the Air and Water Show.

The event has been a fixture in our summer calendar since 1959, although, like most cultural events during COVID, it has been scaled down.

Famous, or infamous, for too many other things (gang violence, political corruption, high taxes), it’s nice that locals can still come together around this event.

In 2020, a pared down air show took place in many cities across the country as a tribute to essential workers. Featuring flyovers by the Blue Angels, people seemed to be in need of looking upward or forward.

Being graced with an iconic skyline, miles of sand beaches, nearby military air bases, and a willingness of the city to open its coffers to sponsor such a public event, all that’s needed is a clear sky to create a memorable spectacle.

Fortunately, the weather gods cooperated for last weekend’s show.  For two forty-minute routines executed on each weekend day, we put down our worries and aggravations, and looked skyward.

Ahhhhh!

The program only showcased a performance by the famed Navy airmen and eliminated some of the side shows included in prior years, like parachutists and huge vintage transport planes, but the crowd’s favorite was always the Blue Angels (or The Thunderbirds, the Air Force equivalent).

Even though some people flocked to Oak Street or North Avenue beaches, for the most part, it was easy to maintain social distancing and enjoy the show. The clear expanse of a late summer blue sky was the stage. People had great views from apartment balconies and backyard decks, from Soldier Field, where an exhibition football game took place, even while stuck in traffic along Lake Shore Drive.

In general, I’m not one to go gaga over military displays. For holiday entertainment, I don’t seek out a parade of tanks or uniformed men and women marching in cadenced steps, but I love to follow the roaring sound of high-performing engines.

The sound seems muted at first. You’re not quite sure where the mechanical hum is coming from…

Then, in a flash, a vision of strange dark metal birds, flying unbelievably close together, take over a corner of your view.

Flying in formation, like Canadian Geese will in a few months, soon you focus on the six F-18 Super Hornets, following their movement with your eyes, then moving your head as you lock your sight on them dancing in the sky until they leave your field of vision.

They’re not slow-dancing, not by any means. They almost look like they’re standing still, but they’re traveling at around four hundred miles per hour. For the most part, except during special maneuvers, the wings of the six planes are only eighteen inches apart as they fly.

What an incredible sight! Inspiration and aspiration in one image.

In this time of tribalism and collective anxiety ­— to see something so graceful, fueled by cooperation, penetrated my heart. The planes cut through the sky as they were meant to do. I watched them disappear from sight without losing faith that each plane was still in the sky.

Watching these planes fly at such speeds is a triumph of man’s capabilities amidst the backdrop of nature. The beauty of flight is only enhanced by the trust that makes what I saw possible.

The pilots trusted the engineers who designed and checked each Hornet before flight. They also trusted their fellow pilots not to clip their wings, even as they flew unbelievably close to each other. This makes me believe we all could trust each other a little more.

Taking in the beauty of independent objects moving in unison and being very aware of the trust that exists between every person who brings us this vision is no small thing.