Jay Honeck
December 16th 06, 04:13 AM
Today a family arrived at the inn for mid-term university graduation.
This is a much smaller affair than the more traditional spring
graduation, but it's a happy event nonetheless, with lots of extended
family joining in the graduation celebration.
This family brought Grandpa along, a fine old gentleman of 84 years.
While checking in, his son told me that he had been in instructor pilot
in Martin B-26 Marauders -- the infamous "widow-maker" -- back in World
War II, but had not flown in 63 years.
You see, he was an only son, of an only son -- and they had a family
farm to run. Duty called after the war, and, while his colleagues went
on to illustrious careers at Pan Am and TWA, Grandpa went home to help
his folks run the farm. He got married, kids came along, and soon
decades had passed, and he never got the chance to fly again...
Until today. His son spotted the Kiwi (which was "idling" in the
theater, after the last guy had flown it), and inquired about it.
This, of course, was all I needed to abandon all thought of doing any
real work, and I was soon showing them the ins and outs of our new toy.
Mounting the "Kiwi" (our full-sized flight simulator -- see it here:
http://alexisparkinn.com/the_kiwi_is_born.htm ) wasn't going to be easy
for Grandpa, and I knew getting out was going to be even harder -- but
after seeing the images of flight projected so realistically on the big
screen while I demonstrated a quick trip around the patch -- he was as
eager as a school boy.
Setting him up in a Maule (on tundra tires, of course) in a
back-country Idaho strip, I let him go. He had a helluva time keeping
things straight, at first, but soon got the hang of the controls again.
After buzzing around the mountains for a while, I transferred him to
his home strip in a Mooney -- and he took to the air like he'd never
left.
His family watched in awe as Grandpa -- who had apparently talked about
flying all of his life -- tranformed back into that 21-year old
hot-shot instructor pilot. They snapped pictures, and whooped and
hollered as his plane rocked and rolled through the skies -- and you
could tell that Grandpa didn't ever want it to end.
At last he crashed, with a great big laugh, and his son and I hoisted
him out of the chair so they could head off to dinner with their new
graduate. Having received more than I could ever hope to give, I shook
his hand and thanked him for coming to our little hotel.
With a smile, Grandpa said "This thing sure beats hell out of those
damned Link trainers we had to fly back in the war.", and he toddled
off with his wife on his arm, a few inches taller.
--
Jay Honeck
Iowa City, IA
Pathfinder N56993
www.AlexisParkInn.com
"Your Aviation Destination"
This is a much smaller affair than the more traditional spring
graduation, but it's a happy event nonetheless, with lots of extended
family joining in the graduation celebration.
This family brought Grandpa along, a fine old gentleman of 84 years.
While checking in, his son told me that he had been in instructor pilot
in Martin B-26 Marauders -- the infamous "widow-maker" -- back in World
War II, but had not flown in 63 years.
You see, he was an only son, of an only son -- and they had a family
farm to run. Duty called after the war, and, while his colleagues went
on to illustrious careers at Pan Am and TWA, Grandpa went home to help
his folks run the farm. He got married, kids came along, and soon
decades had passed, and he never got the chance to fly again...
Until today. His son spotted the Kiwi (which was "idling" in the
theater, after the last guy had flown it), and inquired about it.
This, of course, was all I needed to abandon all thought of doing any
real work, and I was soon showing them the ins and outs of our new toy.
Mounting the "Kiwi" (our full-sized flight simulator -- see it here:
http://alexisparkinn.com/the_kiwi_is_born.htm ) wasn't going to be easy
for Grandpa, and I knew getting out was going to be even harder -- but
after seeing the images of flight projected so realistically on the big
screen while I demonstrated a quick trip around the patch -- he was as
eager as a school boy.
Setting him up in a Maule (on tundra tires, of course) in a
back-country Idaho strip, I let him go. He had a helluva time keeping
things straight, at first, but soon got the hang of the controls again.
After buzzing around the mountains for a while, I transferred him to
his home strip in a Mooney -- and he took to the air like he'd never
left.
His family watched in awe as Grandpa -- who had apparently talked about
flying all of his life -- tranformed back into that 21-year old
hot-shot instructor pilot. They snapped pictures, and whooped and
hollered as his plane rocked and rolled through the skies -- and you
could tell that Grandpa didn't ever want it to end.
At last he crashed, with a great big laugh, and his son and I hoisted
him out of the chair so they could head off to dinner with their new
graduate. Having received more than I could ever hope to give, I shook
his hand and thanked him for coming to our little hotel.
With a smile, Grandpa said "This thing sure beats hell out of those
damned Link trainers we had to fly back in the war.", and he toddled
off with his wife on his arm, a few inches taller.
--
Jay Honeck
Iowa City, IA
Pathfinder N56993
www.AlexisParkInn.com
"Your Aviation Destination"