So let's get to it shall we. Memorial day always makes me think of my Dad. My parents lived on military bases for roughly 10 years from Texas, to Nebraska to Florida. Both my brothers were born on the Lincoln Nebraska Airforce base, and this picture is of my older brother.
I remember lots of stories from my dad about flying, in harrowing situations. One that particularly stands out in my mind is one where dad was flying in a hurricane and was literally in the eye where it was calm, but impossible to maintain altitude. So he had to push into the storm in order to stay in flight. I cannot even imagine the nerve it takes to do that.
My dad was always strict growing up, but not necessarily mean. He had a low tolerance for laziness, and people who did not roll up their sleeves and pitch in. There was no sleeping in, at least never past 8am ... ever. When dinner was being made, you got up and helped, and when dinner was over you picked up and did dishes ... even if you were not yet tall enough to reach the sink. You simply pulled a chair over and climbed up.I remember this picture of dad taking a short nap on the base in McAllen Texas where he went to flight school. I asked dad about it, and he responded with a story. He told me how exhausting flight school was physically. And that the temperature was somewhere around 115 degrees, the flight suit was crazy hot, and then he'd climb into the cockpit of the plane where the temperature would be another +10-15 degrees. He said that running around in the heat was physically draining.
I did not grow up in an age where 'everyone gets a trophy.' If you received recognition you earned it. There are days when I wonder where the hell that work ethic has gone?
As I said above ... if you are interested in reading my rambles, then please do and visit often.
