Week 16: Air
Still a week behind. Alas, that's probably how it's going to remain!
So, Air. This was acknowledged by Amy Johnson Crow to maybe be a hard one, and yeah, it is. No hot air balloonists in my family tree, nor ace pilots (well, that may not be true), but there are some small vignettes I'll share here. Looking at these stories now, they are kind of outlandish and I have not verified some of the details so no one starting writing a book based on this!
First, my mother's family had a friend whose name was Bob D. (I am not absolutely certain of the details about Bob but somewhere I have a contemporary news clipping about this and I when I find it, I'll add it in). Bob was a pilot for the Canadian RAF before the United States joined World War II. Obviously, he knew how to fly. For some reason, he was back home in or around Olympia and took my mother up in a small plane. My mother apparently got motion sickness and threw up something red, which Bob assumed initially was blood. Fortunately for everyone, it was the watermelon she'd had earlier that day. Mom never did really take to flying.
Second, my Uncle Dwight was a member of the Army Air Corps during the war, and was assigned to England (someone can probably give me the details of that but I believe he was a supply sergeant). Uncle Dwight ended up bringing home a war bride, my Aunt Celia, a great blessing to all of us.
Meanwhile, my dad was off repairing planes in the Aleutians even though he really didn't know much about planes, just engines. One of the few war stories he ever told me was of jumping out of a plane when it ran out of fuel--the fog was so heavy they couldn't land on their own territory and I think the Japanese were in possession of the next possible landing strip--anyway, out of the plane into knee deep water, which must have been plenty cold, but he survived.
Lastly, we all ended up being passengers on various airliners beginning in the early 1960s. As I said, Mom never really took to flying, and I went through a phase about two decades long of being afraid of flying (which just went away one day, thank goodness). This didn't stop us from traveling the world though, and I am eternally grateful for being able to use the highways in the air.
Edited: I found the clipping about Bob, which is substantially as I remembered it. I will try to attach it here.
So, Air. This was acknowledged by Amy Johnson Crow to maybe be a hard one, and yeah, it is. No hot air balloonists in my family tree, nor ace pilots (well, that may not be true), but there are some small vignettes I'll share here. Looking at these stories now, they are kind of outlandish and I have not verified some of the details so no one starting writing a book based on this!
First, my mother's family had a friend whose name was Bob D. (I am not absolutely certain of the details about Bob but somewhere I have a contemporary news clipping about this and I when I find it, I'll add it in). Bob was a pilot for the Canadian RAF before the United States joined World War II. Obviously, he knew how to fly. For some reason, he was back home in or around Olympia and took my mother up in a small plane. My mother apparently got motion sickness and threw up something red, which Bob assumed initially was blood. Fortunately for everyone, it was the watermelon she'd had earlier that day. Mom never did really take to flying.
Second, my Uncle Dwight was a member of the Army Air Corps during the war, and was assigned to England (someone can probably give me the details of that but I believe he was a supply sergeant). Uncle Dwight ended up bringing home a war bride, my Aunt Celia, a great blessing to all of us.
Meanwhile, my dad was off repairing planes in the Aleutians even though he really didn't know much about planes, just engines. One of the few war stories he ever told me was of jumping out of a plane when it ran out of fuel--the fog was so heavy they couldn't land on their own territory and I think the Japanese were in possession of the next possible landing strip--anyway, out of the plane into knee deep water, which must have been plenty cold, but he survived.
Lastly, we all ended up being passengers on various airliners beginning in the early 1960s. As I said, Mom never really took to flying, and I went through a phase about two decades long of being afraid of flying (which just went away one day, thank goodness). This didn't stop us from traveling the world though, and I am eternally grateful for being able to use the highways in the air.
Edited: I found the clipping about Bob, which is substantially as I remembered it. I will try to attach it here.
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