The Goodyear Blimp flew over Portland today, for the first time in a long time. My initial surprise at seeing it was about to lead to the usual deductive reasoning about what could have brought it here, when suddenly I realized what a warm feeling I was getting just looking at it.

In the several hours since, I have tried to lay my finger on a reason for this dirigible-induced euphoria. Maybe it's the shape of the blimp, reminiscent of a friendly cartoon whale.

Maybe it's nostalgia, for the days when seeing the blimp meant that it was a holiday, or that a special sporting event was taking place, or a big civic event. That something was going on nearby that was so big, so cool, that they brought the huge zeppelin in to be part of it. Of course, nowadays promotional blimps are a dime a dozen, but the one today had that old-time logo on it that brought back the days when there was only one commercial blimp in operation.

When I first gazed up at the blimp in my childhood, I could go to sporting events and civic events without thinking about how athletes are all spoiled, money-grubbing steroid-poppers and gangster wannabes, or how politicians of all parties are crooks, dummies, or both. Back then, I could look at a corporate logo like the Goodyear winged foot (I think that's what it is, isn't it?) without brooding about the evils of the military industrial complex, and the stealing that goes on in broad daylight, much less the cheating that goes on behind the corporate curtains.

Maybe I was just dehydrated in a hot car. But I loved seeing the blimp. Now I'm humming the old jingle, "Go, go, go, go, Goodyear! Da-da-dah-da-da-dah..."