Airplane Thoughts
As I stood on the porch this morning after feeding the cats, I counted six planes in the air. Blinking lights against the dark sky moving with purpose against the backdrop of stars and planets. There’s likely a waypoint somewhere close. All the planes seemed to be streaming up from the south then making turns just to my east to find their final destinations.
It made me think of my travel days. Business mostly. Three kids made it a little impractical to fly, and there was always the matter of money. When we traveled, we camped, and that included a trip to Disney World. We were good at squeezing the life out of nickels. Oh, well. That was a long time ago, and the financial situation eventually improved. But that’s neither here nor there.
My first flight ever was to boot camp in 1965. I think I got sick or at least nauseated. And people smoked on the plane. I had a fear of flying well into the 70s. Then one day I thought of my uncle the waist gunner on a B-17. I realized my cabin was totally enclosed, I wasn’t manning a machine gun, and no one was shooting at me. Flying became easier. Later this month I’ll do it to visit my daughter and her family. Although, truth be told, I still like to drive, connected to earth, and looking at the sights as I pass by with no fear of falling.