As a young farm boy, I would often gaze skyward to see the white contrail of a jet or hear the distant hum of a propeller plane. The few times my family attended a Minnesota Twins game (always a double header because of the value) I watched airplanes take off and land from Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport. The bleachers of Metropolitan Stadium (the cheap seats) were a fine location to satisfy my lust for viewing the airport. Needless to say, the airplanes captured my interest more than the game of baseball. In the fervor of my obsession, I mailed a letter to the United States Air Force asking for photographs of their jets. To my surprise, I received a large, manila envelope filled with over a dozen glossy photographs of aircraft. It was my massive treasure. I developed a weekly rotation of the pictures on the bedroom wall. Orville Wright,
|Northwest was based at|
My dreams and desires never materialized due to my need for corrective lenses. Decades ago the sight requirements were more rigid than today. I also learned that heights, spinning, and hanging in the air messed with my balance, perception, and bodily functions. Too many amusement park rides, along with a couple of turbulent flights in small aircraft created physical conditions which demonstrated my deficiencies for flight. However, I still enjoy not only watching aircraft, but traveling by air imparts a pleasant mystique.
|An author I enjoy|
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